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Updated: June 12, 2025
He hadn't the heart even to go as high as a hundred francs! And how he swallowed my platitudes! That did amuse me. I said to myself: 'Blockhead! Come, I've got you! I lick your paws this morning, but I'll gnaw your heart this evening!" Thenardier paused. He was out of breath. His little, narrow chest panted like a forge bellows.
As he had not been able to bend down, for fear of betraying himself, he had not cut the bonds of his left leg. The ruffians had recovered from their first surprise. "Be easy," said Bigrenaille to Thenardier. "He still holds by one leg, and he can't get away. I'll answer for that. I tied that paw for him." In the meanwhile, the prisoner had begun to speak:
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.
Cosette had a little pocket on one side of her apron; she took the coin without saying a word, and put it in that pocket. Then she stood motionless, bucket in hand, the open door before her. She seemed to be waiting for some one to come to her rescue. "Get along with you!" screamed the Thenardier. Cosette went out. The door closed behind her.
The realism of the latter author is converted without difficulty into the former's romanticism, or, rather, the alloy of romanticism is so considerable in Balzac's work that there is little conversion to make. Ferragus and Vautrin are prototypes of Valjean, just as Valjean's Cosette exploited by Madame Thenardier is an adaptation of Ferragus' daughter or Doctor Minoret's Ursula.
The impossibility of approaching too close, his costume of an emigre preceptor, the declaration of Thenardier which made a grandfather of him, and, finally, the belief in his death in prison, added still further to the uncertainty which gathered thick in Javert's mind.
Moreover, there was in all these words of Thenardier, in his accent, in his gesture, in his glance which darted flames at every word, there was, in this explosion of an evil nature disclosing everything, in that mixture of braggadocio and abjectness, of pride and pettiness, of rage and folly, in that chaos of real griefs and false sentiments, in that immodesty of a malicious man tasting the voluptuous delights of violence, in that shameless nudity of a repulsive soul, in that conflagration of all sufferings combined with all hatreds, something which was as hideous as evil, and as heart-rending as the truth.
A little more and he will be saying Your Majesty to her, as though to the Duchess de Berry! Is there any sense in it? Is he mad, then, that mysterious old fellow?" "Why! it is perfectly simple," replied Thenardier, "if that amuses him! It amuses you to have the little one work; it amuses him to have her play. He's all right. A traveller can do what he pleases when he pays for it.
Jean Valjean had made up his mind to quit Paris, and even France, and go over to England. He had warned Cosette. He wished to set out before the end of the week. He had seated himself on the slope in the Champ-de-Mars, turning over all sorts of thoughts in his mind, Thenardier, the police, the journey, and the difficulty of procuring a passport. He was troubled from all these points of view.
Meanwhile, the drinkers, all three-quarters intoxicated, were repeating their unclean refrain with redoubled gayety; it was a highly spiced and wanton song, in which the Virgin and the infant Jesus were introduced. The Thenardier went off to take part in the shouts of laughter. Cosette, from her post under the table, gazed at the fire, which was reflected from her fixed eyes.
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