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Three of the men, of whom Jondrette had said: "They are chimney-builders," had armed themselves from the pile of old iron, one with a heavy pair of shears, the second with weighing-tongs, the third with a hammer, and had placed themselves across the entrance without uttering a syllable. The old man had remained on the bed, and had merely opened his eyes.
The other two seemed to be young; one wore a beard, the other wore his hair long. None of them had on shoes; those who did not wear socks were barefooted. Jondrette noticed that M. Leblanc's eye was fixed on these men. "They are friends. They are neighbors," said he. "Their faces are black because they work in charcoal. They are chimney-builders.
And, catching sight of the old man who had been stretched across the room by the blow from M. Leblanc's fist, and who made no movement, he added: "Is Boulatruelle dead?" "No," replied Bigrenaille, "he's drunk." "Sweep him into a corner," said Thenardier. Two of the "chimney-builders" pushed the drunken man into the corner near the heap of old iron with their feet.
M. Leblanc seemed to have renounced the idea of resistance. They searched him. He had nothing on his person except a leather purse containing six francs, and his handkerchief. Thenardier put the handkerchief into his own pocket. "What! No pocket-book?" he demanded. "No, nor watch," replied one of the "chimney-builders."
He was half out when six robust fists seized him and dragged him back energetically into the hovel. These were the three "chimney-builders," who had flung themselves upon him. At the same time the Thenardier woman had wound her hands in his hair. At the trampling which ensued, the other ruffians rushed up from the corridor.
And passing them in review with a glance of a Frederick II. at a Potsdam parade, he said to the three "chimney-builders": "Good day, Bigrenaille! good day, Brujon! good day, Deuxmilliards!" Then turning to the three masked men, he said to the man with the meat-axe: "Good day, Gueulemer!" And to the man with the cudgel: "Good day, Babet!" And to the ventriloquist: "Your health, Claquesous."
One of the "chimney-builders," whose smirched face was lighted up by the candle, and in whom Marius recognized, in spite of his daubing, Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille, lifted above M. Leblanc's head a sort of bludgeon made of two balls of lead, at the two ends of a bar of iron. Marius could not resist this sight. "My father," he thought, "forgive me!"
With one blow full in the chest, M. Leblanc had sent the old man tumbling, rolling in the middle of the room, then with two backward sweeps of his hand he had overthrown two more assailants, and he held one under each of his knees; the wretches were rattling in the throat beneath this pressure as under a granite millstone; but the other four had seized the formidable old man by both arms and the back of his neck, and were holding him doubled up over the two "chimney-builders" on the floor.
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