cosette could not refrain from casting a sidelong glance at the big doll, which was still displayed at the toy-merchant's; then she knocked. the door opened. the thenardier appeared with a candle in her hand.
"ah! so it's you, you little wretch! good mercy, but you've taken your time! the hussy has been amusing herself!"
"madame," said cosette, trembling all over, "here's a gentleman who wants a lodging."
the thenardier speedily replaced her gruff air by her amiable grimace, a change of aspect common to tavern-keepers, and eagerly sought the new-comer with her eyes.
"this is the gentleman?" said she.
"yes, madame," replied the man, raising his hand to his hat.
wealthy travellers are not so polite. this gesture, and an inspection of the stranger's costume and baggage, which the thenardier passed in review with one glance, caused the amiable grimace to vanish, and the gruff mien to reappear. she resumed dryly:--
"enter, my good man."
the "good man" entered. the thenardier cast a second glance at him, paid particular attention to his frock-coat, which was absolutely threadbare, and to his hat, which was a little battered, and, tossing her head, wrinkling her nose, and screwing up her eyes, she consulted her husband, who was still drinking with the carters. the husband replied by that imperceptible movement of the forefinger, which, backed up by an inflation of the lips, signifies in such cases: a regular beggar. thereupon, the thenardier exclaimed:--
"ah! see here, my good man; i am very sorry, but i have no room left."
"put me where you like," said the man; "in the attic, in the stable. i will pay as though i occupied a room."
"forty sous."
"forty sous; agreed."
"very well, then!"
"forty sous!" said a carter, in a low tone, to the thenardier woman; "why, the charge is only twenty sous!"
"it is forty in his case," retorted the thenardier, in the same tone. "i don't lodge poor folks for less."
"that's true," added her husband, gently; "it ruins a house to have such people in it."
in the meantime, the man, laying his bundle and his cudgel on a bench, had seated himself at a table, on which cosette made haste to place a bottle of wine and a glass. the merchant who had demanded the bucket of water took it to his horse himself. cosette resumed her place under the kitchen table, and her knitting.
the man, who had barely moistened his lips in the wine which he had poured out for himself, observed the child with peculiar attention.
cosette was ugly. if she had been happy, she might have been pretty. we have already given a sketch of that sombre little figure. cosette was thin and pale; she was nearly eight years old, but she seemed to be hardly six. her large eyes, sunken in a sort of shadow, were almost put out with weeping. the corners of her mouth had that curve of habitual anguish which is seen in condemned persons and desperately sick people. her hands were, as her mother had divined, "ruined with chilblains." the fire which illuminated her at that moment brought into relief all the angles of her bones, and rendered her thinness frightfully apparent. as she was always shivering, she had acquired the habit of pressing her knees one against the other. her entire clothing was but a rag which would have inspired pity in summer, and which inspired horror in winter. all she had on was hole-ridden linen, not a scrap of woollen. her skin was visible here and there and everywhere black and blue spots could be descried, which marked the places where the thenardier woman had touched her. her naked legs were thin and red. the hollows in her neck were enough to make one weep. this child's whole person, her mien, her attitude, the sound of her voice, the intervals which she allowed to elapse between one word and the next, her glance, her silence, her slightest gesture, expressed and betrayed one sole idea,--fear.
fear was diffused all over her; she was covered with it, so to speak; fear drew her elbows close to her hips, withdrew her heels under her petticoat, made her occupy as little space as possible, allowed her only the breath that was absolutely necessary, and had become what might be called the habit of her body, admitting of no possible variation except an increase. in the depths of her eyes there was an astonished nook where terror lurked.
her fear was such, that on her arrival, wet as she was, cosette did not dare to approach the fire and dry herself, but sat silently down to her work again.
the expression in the glance of that child of eight years was habitually so gloomy, and at times so tragic, that it seemed at certain moments as though she were on the verge of becoming an idiot or a demon.
as we have stated, she had never known what it is to pray; she had never set foot in a church. "have i the time?" said the thenardier.
the man in the yellow coat never took his eyes from cosette.
all at once, the thenardier exclaimed:--
"by the way, where's that bread?"
cosette, according to her custom whenever the thenardier uplifted her voice, emerged with great haste from beneath the table.
she had completely forgotten the bread. she had recourse to the expedient of children who live in a constant state of fear. she lied.
"madame, the baker's shop was shut."
"you should have knocked."
"i did knock, madame."
"well?"
"he did not open the door."
"i'll find out to-morrow whether that is true," said the thenardier; "and if you are telling me a lie, i'll lead you a pretty dance. in the meantime, give me back my fifteen-sou piece."
cosette plunged her hand into the pocket of her apron, and turned green. the fifteen-sou piece was not there.
"ah, come now," said madame thenardier, "did you hear me?"
cosette turned her pocket inside out; there was nothing in it. what could have become of that money? the unhappy little creature could not find a word to say. she was petrified.
"have you lost that fifteen-sou piece?" screamed the thenardier, hoarsely, "or do you want to rob me of it?"
at the same time, she stretched out her arm towards the cat-o'-nine-tails which hung on a nail in the chimney-corner.
this formidable gesture restored to cosette sufficient strength to shriek:--
"mercy, madame, madame! i will not do so any more!"
the thenardier took down the whip.
in the meantime, the man in the yellow coat had been fumbling in the fob of his waistcoat, without any one having noticed his movements. besides, the other travellers were drinking or playing cards, and were not paying attention to anything.
cosette contracted herself into a ball, with anguish, within the angle of the chimney, endeavoring to gather up and conceal her poor half-nude limbs. the thenardier raised her arm.
"pardon me, madame," said the man, "but just now i caught sight of something which had fallen from this little one's apron pocket, and rolled aside. perhaps this is it."
at the same time he bent down and seemed to be searching on the floor for a moment.
"exactly; here it is," he went on, straightening himself up.
and he held out a silver coin to the thenardier.
"yes, that's it," said she.
it was not it, for it was a twenty-sou piece; but the thenardier found it to her advantage. she put the coin in her pocket, and confined herself to casting a fierce glance at the child, accompanied with the remark, "don't let this ever happen again!"
cosette returned to what the thenardier called "her kennel," and her large eyes, which were riveted on the traveller, began to take on an expression such as they had never worn before. thus far it was only an innocent amazement, but a sort of stupefied confidence was mingled with it.
"by the way, would you like some supper?" the thenardier inquired of the traveller.
he made no reply. he appeared to be absorbed in thought.
"what sort of a man is that?" she muttered between her teeth. "he's some frightfully poor wretch. he hasn't a sou to pay for a supper. will he even pay me for his lodging? it's very lucky, all the same, that it did not occur to him to steal the money that was on the floor."
in the meantime, a door had opened, and eponine and azelma entered.
they were two really pretty little girls, more bourgeois than peasant in looks, and very charming; the one with shining chestnut tresses, the other with long black braids hanging down her back, both vivacious, neat, plump, rosy, and healthy, and a delight to the eye. they were warmly clad, but with so much maternal art that the thickness of the stuffs did not detract from the coquetry of arrangement. there was a hint of winter, though the springtime was not wholly effaced. light emanated from these two little beings. besides this, they were on the throne. in their toilettes, in their gayety, in the noise which they made, there was sovereignty. when they entered, the thenardier said to them in a grumbling tone which was full of adoration, "ah! there you are, you children!"
then drawing them, one after the other to her knees, smoothing their hair, tying their ribbons afresh, and then releasing them with that gentle manner of shaking off which is peculiar to mothers, she exclaimed, "what frights they are!"
they went and seated themselves in the chimney-corner. they had a doll, which they turned over and over on their knees with all sorts of joyous chatter. from time to time cosette raised her eyes from her knitting, and watched their play with a melancholy air.
eponine and azelma did not look at cosette. she was the same as a dog to them. these three little girls did not yet reckon up four and twenty years between them, but they already represented the whole society of man; envy on the one side, disdain on the other.
the doll of the thenardier sisters was very much faded, very old, and much broken; but it seemed none the less admirable to cosette, who had never had a doll in her life, a real doll, to make use of the expression which all children will understand.
all at once, the thenardier, who had been going back and forth in the room, perceived that cosette's mind was distracted, and that, instead of working, she was paying attention to the little ones at their play.
"ah! i've caught you at it!" she cried. "so that's the way you work! i'll make you work to the tune of the whip; that i will."
the stranger turned to the thenardier, without quitting his chair.
"bah, madame," he said, with an almost timid air, "let her play!"
such a wish expressed by a traveller who had eaten a slice of mutton and had drunk a couple of bottles of wine with his supper, and who had not the air of being frightfully poor, would have been equivalent to an order. but that a man with such a hat should permit himself such a desire, and that a man with such a coat should permit himself to have a will, was something which madame thenardier did not intend to tolerate. she retorted with acrimony:--
"she must work, since she eats. i don't feed her to do nothing."
"what is she making?" went on the stranger, in a gentle voice which contrasted strangely with his beggarly garments and his porter's shoulders.
the thenardier deigned to reply:--
"stockings, if you please. stockings for my little girls, who have none, so to speak, and who are absolutely barefoot just now."
the man looked at cosette's poor little red feet, and continued:--
"when will she have finished this pair of stockings?"
"she has at least three or four good days' work on them still, the lazy creature!"
"and how much will that pair of stockings be worth when she has finished them?"
the thenardier cast a glance of disdain on him.
"thirty sous at least."
"will you sell them for five francs?" went on the man.
"good heavens!" exclaimed a carter who was listening, with a loud laugh; "five francs! the deuce, i should think so! five balls!"
thenardier thought it time to strike in.
"yes, sir; if such is your fancy, you will be allowed to have that pair of stockings for five francs. we can refuse nothing to travellers."
"you must pay on the spot," said the thenardier, in her curt and peremptory fashion.
"i will buy that pair of stockings," replied the man, "and," he added, drawing a five-franc piece from his pocket, and laying it on the table, "i will pay for them."
then he turned to cosette.
"now i own your work; play, my child."
the carter was so much touched by the five-franc piece, that he abandoned his glass and hastened up.
"but it's true!" he cried, examining it. "a real hind wheel! and not counterfeit!"
thenardier approached and silently put the coin in his pocket.
the thenardier had no reply to make. she bit her lips, and her face assumed an expression of hatred.
in the meantime, cosette was trembling. she ventured to ask:--
"is it true, madame? may i play?"
"play!" said the thenardier, in a terrible voice.
"thanks, madame," said cosette.
and while her mouth thanked the thenardier, her whole little soul thanked the traveller.
thenardier had resumed his drinking; his wife whispered in his ear:--
"who can this yellow man be?"
"i have seen millionaires with coats like that," replied thenardier, in a sovereign manner.
cosette had dropped her knitting, but had not left her seat. cosette always moved as little as possible. she picked up some old rags and her little lead sword from a box behind her.
eponine and azelma paid no attention to what was going on. they had just executed a very important operation; they had just got hold of the cat. they had thrown their doll on the ground, and eponine, who was the elder, was swathing the little cat, in spite of its mewing and its contortions, in a quantity of clothes and red and blue scraps. while performing this serious and difficult work she was saying to her sister in that sweet and adorable language of children, whose grace, like the splendor of the butterfly's wing, vanishes when one essays to fix it fast.
"you see, sister, this doll is more amusing than the other. she twists, she cries, she is warm. see, sister, let us play with her. she shall be my little girl. i will be a lady. i will come to see you, and you shall look at her. gradually, you will perceive her whiskers, and that will surprise you. and then you will see her ears, and then you will see her tail and it will amaze you. and you will say to me, `ah! mon dieu!' and i will say to you: `yes, madame, it is my little girl. little girls are made like that just at present.'"
azelma listened admiringly to eponine.
in the meantime, the drinkers had begun to sing an obscene song, and to laugh at it until the ceiling shook. thenardier accompanied and encouraged them.
as birds make nests out of everything, so children make a doll out of anything which comes to hand. while eponine and azelma were bundling up the cat, cosette, on her side, had dressed up her sword. that done, she laid it in her arms, and sang to it softly, to lull it to sleep.
the doll is one of the most imperious needs and, at the same time, one of the most charming instincts of feminine childhood. to care for, to clothe, to deck, to dress, to undress, to redress, to teach, scold a little, to rock, to dandle, to lull to sleep, to imagine that something is some one,--therein lies the whole woman's future. while dreaming and chattering, making tiny outfits, and baby clothes, while sewing little gowns, and corsages and bodices, the child grows into a young girl, the young girl into a big girl, the big girl into a woman. the first child is the continuation of the last doll.
a little girl without a doll is almost as unhappy, and quite as impossible, as a woman without children.
so cosette had made herself a doll out of the sword.
madame thenardier approached the yellow man; "my husband is right," she thought; "perhaps it is m. laffitte; there are such queer rich men!"
she came and set her elbows on the table.
"monsieur," said she. at this word, monsieur, the man turned; up to that time, the thenardier had addressed him only as brave homme or bonhomme.
"you see, sir," she pursued, assuming a sweetish air that was even more repulsive to behold than her fierce mien, "i am willing that the child should play; i do not oppose it, but it is good for once, because you are generous. you see, she has nothing; she must needs work."
"then this child is not yours?" demanded the man.
"oh! mon dieu! no, sir! she is a little beggar whom we have taken in through charity; a sort of imbecile child. she must have water on the brain; she has a large head, as you see. we do what we can for her, for we are not rich; we have written in vain to her native place, and have received no reply these six months. it must be that her mother is dead."
"ah!" said the man, and fell into his revery once more.
"her mother didn't amount to much," added the thenardier; "she abandoned her child."
during the whole of this conversation cosette, as though warned by some instinct that she was under discussion, had not taken her eyes from the thenardier's face; she listened vaguely; she caught a few words here and there.
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. she had begun to rock the sort of baby which she had made, and, as she rocked it, she sang in a low voice, "my mother is dead! my mother is dead! my mother is dead!"
on being urged afresh by the hostess, the yellow man, "the millionaire," consented at last to take supper.
"what does monsieur wish?"
"bread and cheese," said the man.
"decidedly, he is a beggar" thought madame thenardier.
the drunken men were still singing their song, and the child under the table was singing hers.
all at once, cosette paused; she had just turned round and caught sight of the little thenardiers' doll, which they had abandoned for the cat and had left on the floor a few paces from the kitchen table.
then she dropped the swaddled sword, which only half met her needs, and cast her eyes slowly round the room. madame thenardier was whispering to her husband and counting over some money; ponine and zelma were playing with the cat; the travellers were eating or drinking or singing; not a glance was fixed on her. she had not a moment to lose; she crept out from under the table on her hands and knees, made sure once more that no one was watching her; then she slipped quickly up to the doll and seized it. an instant later she was in her place again, seated motionless, and only turned so as to cast a shadow on the doll which she held in her arms. the happiness of playing with a doll was so rare for her that it contained all the violence of voluptuousness.
no one had seen her, except the traveller, who was slowly devouring his meagre supper.
this joy lasted about a quarter of an hour.
but with all the precautions that cosette had taken she did not perceive that one of the doll's legs stuck out and that the fire on the hearth lighted it up very vividly. that pink and shining foot, projecting from the shadow, suddenly struck the eye of azelma, who said to eponine, "look! sister."
the two little girls paused in stupefaction; cosette had dared to take their doll!
eponine rose, and, without releasing the cat, she ran to her mother, and began to tug at her skirt.
"let me alone!" said her mother; "what do you want?"
"mother," said the child, "look there!"
and she pointed to cosette.
cosette, absorbed in the ecstasies of possession, no longer saw or heard anything.
madame thenardier's countenance assumed that peculiar expression which is composed of the terrible mingled with the trifles of life, and which has caused this style of woman to be named megaeras.
on this occasion, wounded pride exasperated her wrath still further. cosette had overstepped all bounds; cosette had laid violent hands on the doll belonging to "these young ladies." a czarina who should see a muzhik trying on her imperial son's blue ribbon would wear no other face.
she shrieked in a voice rendered hoarse with indignation:--
"cosette!"
cosette started as though the earth had trembled beneath her; she turned round.
"cosette!" repeated the thenardier.
cosette took the doll and laid it gently on the floor with a sort of veneration, mingled with despair; then, without taking her eyes from it, she clasped her hands, and, what is terrible to relate of a child of that age, she wrung them; then--not one of the emotions of the day, neither the trip to the forest, nor the weight of the bucket of water, nor the loss of the money, nor the sight of the whip, nor even the sad words which she had heard madame thenardier utter had been able to wring this from her-- she wept; she burst out sobbing.
meanwhile, the traveller had risen to his feet.
"what is the matter?" he said to the thenardier.
"don't you see?" said the thenardier, pointing to the corpus delicti which lay at cosette's feet.
"well, what of it?" resumed the man.
"that beggar," replied the thenardier, "has permitted herself to touch the children's doll!"
"all this noise for that!" said the man; "well, what if she did play with that doll?"
"she touched it with her dirty hands!" pursued the thenardier, "with her frightful hands!"
here cosette redoubled her sobs.
"will you stop your noise?" screamed the thenardier.
the man went straight to the street door, opened it, and stepped out.
as soon as he had gone, the thenardier profited by his absence to give cosette a hearty kick under the table, which made the child utter loud cries.
the door opened again, the man re-appeared; he carried in both hands the fabulous doll which we have mentioned, and which all the village brats had been staring at ever since the morning, and he set it upright in front of cosette, saying:--
"here; this is for you."
it must be supposed that in the course of the hour and more which he had spent there he had taken confused notice through his revery of that toy shop, lighted up by fire-pots and candles so splendidly that it was visible like an illumination through the window of the drinking-shop.
cosette raised her eyes; she gazed at the man approaching her with that doll as she might have gazed at the sun; she heard the unprecedented words, "it is for you"; she stared at him; she stared at the doll; then she slowly retreated, and hid herself at the extreme end, under the table in a corner of the wall.
she no longer cried; she no longer wept; she had the appearance of no longer daring to breathe.
the thenardier, eponine, and azelma were like statues also; the very drinkers had paused; a solemn silence reigned through the whole room.
madame thenardier, petrified and mute, recommenced her conjectures: "who is that old fellow? is he a poor man? is he a millionaire? perhaps he is both; that is to say, a thief."
the face of the male thenardier presented that expressive fold which accentuates the human countenance whenever the dominant instinct appears there in all its bestial force. the tavern-keeper stared alternately at the doll and at the traveller; he seemed to be scenting out the man, as he would have scented out a bag of money. this did not last longer than the space of a flash of lightning. he stepped up to his wife and said to her in a low voice:--
"that machine costs at least thirty francs. no nonsense. down on your belly before that man!"
gross natures have this in common with naive natures, that they possess no transition state.
"well, cosette," said the thenardier, in a voice that strove to be sweet, and which was composed of the bitter honey of malicious women, "aren't you going to take your doll?"
cosette ventured to emerge from her hole.
"the gentleman has given you a doll, my little cosette," said thenardier, with a caressing air. "take it; it is yours."
cosette gazed at the marvellous doll in a sort of terror. her face was still flooded with tears, but her eyes began to fill, like the sky at daybreak, with strange beams of joy. what she felt at that moment was a little like what she would have felt if she had been abruptly told, "little one, you are the queen of france."
it seemed to her that if she touched that doll, lightning would dart from it.
this was true, up to a certain point, for she said to herself that the thenardier would scold and beat her.
nevertheless, the attraction carried the day. she ended by drawing near and murmuring timidly as she turned towards madame thenardier:--
"may i, madame?"
no words can render that air, at once despairing, terrified, and ecstatic.
"pardi!" cried the thenardier, "it is yours. the gentleman has given it to you."
"truly, sir?" said cosette. "is it true? is the `lady' mine?"
the stranger's eyes seemed to be full of tears. he appeared to have reached that point of emotion where a man does not speak for fear lest he should weep. he nodded to cosette, and placed the "lady's" hand in her tiny hand.
cosette hastily withdrew her hand, as though that of the "lady" scorched her, and began to stare at the floor. we are forced to add that at that moment she stuck out her tongue immoderately. all at once she wheeled round and seized the doll in a transport.
"i shall call her catherine," she said.
it was an odd moment when cosette's rags met and clasped the ribbons and fresh pink muslins of the doll.
"madame," she resumed, "may i put her on a chair?"
"yes, my child," replied the thenardier.
it was now the turn of eponine and azelma to gaze at cosette with envy.
cosette placed catherine on a chair, then seated herself on the floor in front of her, and remained motionless, without uttering a word, in an attitude of contemplation.
"play, cosette," said the stranger.
"oh! i am playing," returned the child.
this stranger, this unknown individual, who had the air of a visit which providence was making on cosette, was the person whom the thenardier hated worse than any one in the world at that moment. however, it was necessary to control herself. habituated as she was to dissimulation through endeavoring to copy her husband in all his actions, these emotions were more than she could endure. she made haste to send her daughters to bed, then she asked the man's permission to send cosette off also; "for she has worked hard all day," she added with a maternal air. cosette went off to bed, carrying catherine in her arms.
from time to time the thenardier went to the other end of the room where her husband was, to relieve her soul, as she said. she exchanged with her husband words which were all the more furious because she dared not utter them aloud.
"old beast! what has he got in his belly, to come and upset us in this manner! to want that little monster to play! to give away forty-franc dolls to a jade that i would sell for forty sous, so i would! 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. if the old fellow is a philanthropist, what is that to you? if he is an imbecile, it does not concern you. what are you worrying for, so long as he has money?"
the language of a master, and the reasoning of an innkeeper, neither of which admitted of any reply.
the man had placed his elbows on the table, and resumed his thoughtful attitude. all the other travellers, both pedlers and carters, had withdrawn a little, and had ceased singing. they were staring at him from a distance, with a sort of respectful awe. this poorly dressed man, who drew "hind-wheels" from his pocket with so much ease, and who lavished gigantic dolls on dirty little brats in wooden shoes, was certainly a magnificent fellow, and one to be feared.
many hours passed. the midnight mass was over, the chimes had ceased, the drinkers had taken their departure, the drinking-shop was closed, the public room was deserted, the fire extinct, the stranger still remained in the same place and the same attitude. from time to time he changed the elbow on which he leaned. that was all; but he had not said a word since cosette had left the room.
the thenardiers alone, out of politeness and curiosity, had remained in the room.
"is he going to pass the night in that fashion?" grumbled the thenardier. when two o'clock in the morning struck, she declared herself vanquished, and said to her husband, "i'm going to bed. do as you like." her husband seated himself at a table in the corner, lighted a candle, and began to read the courrier francais.
a good hour passed thus. the worthy inn-keeper had perused the courrier francais at least three times, from the date of the number to the printer's name. the stranger did not stir.
thenardier fidgeted, coughed, spit, blew his nose, and creaked his chair. not a movement on the man's part. "is he asleep?" thought thenardier. the man was not asleep, but nothing could arouse him.
at last thenardier took off his cap, stepped gently up to him, and ventured to say:--
"is not monsieur going to his repose?"
not going to bed would have seemed to him excessive and familiar. to repose smacked of luxury and respect. these words possess the mysterious and admirable property of swelling the bill on the following day. a chamber where one sleeps costs twenty sous; a chamber in which one reposes costs twenty francs.
"well!" said the stranger, "you are right. where is your stable?"
"sir!" exclaimed thenardier, with a smile, "i will conduct you, sir."
he took the candle; the man picked up his bundle and cudgel, and thenardier conducted him to a chamber on the first floor, which was of rare splendor, all furnished in mahogany, with a low bedstead, curtained with red calico.
"what is this?" said the traveller.
"it is really our bridal chamber," said the tavern-keeper. "my wife and i occupy another. this is only entered three or four times a year."
"i should have liked the stable quite as well," said the man, abruptly.
thenardier pretended not to hear this unamiable remark.
he lighted two perfectly fresh wax candles which figured on the chimney-piece. a very good fire was flickering on the hearth.
on the chimney-piece, under a glass globe, stood a woman's head-dress in silver wire and orange flowers.
"and what is this?" resumed the stranger.
"that, sir," said thenardier, "is my wife's wedding bonnet."
the traveller surveyed the object with a glance which seemed to say, "there really was a time, then, when that monster was a maiden?"
thenardier lied, however. when he had leased this paltry building for the purpose of converting it into a tavern, he had found this chamber decorated in just this manner, and had purchased the furniture and obtained the orange flowers at second hand, with the idea that this would cast a graceful shadow on "his spouse," and would result in what the english call respectability for his house.
when the traveller turned round, the host had disappeared. thenardier had withdrawn discreetly, without venturing to wish him a good night, as he did not wish to treat with disrespectful cordiality a man whom he proposed to fleece royally the following morning.
the inn-keeper retired to his room. his wife was in bed, but she was not asleep. when she heard her husband's step she turned over and said to him:--
"do you know, i'm going to turn cosette out of doors to-morrow."
thenardier replied coldly:--
"how you do go on!"
they exchanged no further words, and a few moments later their candle was extinguished.
as for the traveller, he had deposited his cudgel and his bundle in a corner. the landlord once gone, he threw himself into an arm-chair and remained for some time buried in thought. then he removed his shoes, took one of the two candles, blew out the other, opened the door, and quitted the room, gazing about him like a person who is in search of something. he traversed a corridor and came upon a staircase. there he heard a very faint and gentle sound like the breathing of a child. he followed this sound, and came to a sort of triangular recess built under the staircase, or rather formed by the staircase itself. this recess was nothing else than the space under the steps. there, in the midst of all sorts of old papers and potsherds, among dust and spiders' webs, was a bed--if one can call by the name of bed a straw pallet so full of holes as to display the straw, and a coverlet so tattered as to show the pallet. no sheets. this was placed on the floor.
in this bed cosette was sleeping.
the man approached and gazed down upon her.
cosette was in a profound sleep; she was fully dressed. in the winter she did not undress, in order that she might not be so cold.
against her breast was pressed the doll, whose large eyes, wide open, glittered in the dark. from time to time she gave vent to a deep sigh as though she were on the point of waking, and she strained the doll almost convulsively in her arms. beside her bed there was only one of her wooden shoes.
a door which stood open near cosette's pallet permitted a view of a rather large, dark room. the stranger stepped into it. at the further extremity, through a glass door, he saw two small, very white beds. they belonged to eponine and azelma. behind these beds, and half hidden, stood an uncurtained wicker cradle, in which the little boy who had cried all the evening lay asleep.
the stranger conjectured that this chamber connected with that of the thenardier pair. he was on the point of retreating when his eye fell upon the fireplace--one of those vast tavern chimneys where there is always so little fire when there is any fire at all, and which are so cold to look at. there was no fire in this one, there was not even ashes; but there was something which attracted the stranger's gaze, nevertheless. it was two tiny children's shoes, coquettish in shape and unequal in size. the traveller recalled the graceful and immemorial custom in accordance with which children place their shoes in the chimney on christmas eve, there to await in the darkness some sparkling gift from their good fairy. eponine and azelma had taken care not to omit this, and each of them had set one of her shoes on the hearth.
the traveller bent over them.
the fairy, that is to say, their mother, had already paid her visit, and in each he saw a brand-new and shining ten-sou piece.
the man straightened himself up, and was on the point of withdrawing, when far in, in the darkest corner of the hearth, he caught sight of another object. he looked at it, and recognized a wooden shoe, a frightful shoe of the coarsest description, half dilapidated and all covered with ashes and dried mud. it was cosette's sabot. cosette, with that touching trust of childhood, which can always be deceived yet never discouraged, had placed her shoe on the hearth-stone also.
hope in a child who has never known anything but despair is a sweet and touching thing.
there was nothing in this wooden shoe.
the stranger fumbled in his waistcoat, bent over and placed a louis d'or in cosette's shoe.
then he regained his own chamber with the stealthy tread of a wolf.
那个大娃娃还一直摆在玩具店里，珂赛特经过那地方，不能不斜着眼睛再瞅它一下，瞅过后她才敲门。门开了。德纳第大娘端着一支蜡烛走出来。
“啊！是你这个小化子！谢谢天主，你去了多少时间！你玩够了吧，小贱货！”
“太太，”珂赛特浑身发抖地说，“有位先生来过夜。”
德纳第大娘的怒容立即变成了笑脸，这是客店老板们特有的机变，她连忙睁眼去找那新来的客人。
“是这位先生吗？”她说。
“是，太太。”那人一面举手到帽边，一面回答。
有钱的客人不会这么客气。德纳第大娘一眼望见他那手势和他的服装行李，又立即收起了那副笑容，重行摆出她生气的面孔。她冷冰冰地说：
“进来吧，汉子。”
“汉子”进来了。德纳第大娘又重新望了他一眼，特别注意到他那件很旧的大衣和他那顶有点破的帽子，她对她那位一直陪着车夫们喝酒的丈夫点头，皱鼻，眨眼，征求他的意见。她丈夫微微地摇了摇食指，努了努嘴唇，这意思就是说：完全是个穷光蛋。于是，德纳第大娘提高了嗓子说：
“喂！老头儿，对不起，我这儿已经没有地方了。”“请您随便把我安置在什么地方，”那人说，“顶楼上，马棚里，都可以。我仍按一间屋子付账。”
“四十个苏。”
“四十个苏，可以。”
“好吧。”
“四十个苏！”一个赶车的对德纳第大娘细声说，“不是二十就够了吗？”
“对他是四十个苏，”德纳第大娘用原来的口吻回答说，“穷人来住，更不能少给呀！”
“这是真话，”她丈夫斯斯文文地补上一句，“在家接待这种人，算是够倒霉的了。”
这时，那人已把他的包袱和棍子放在板凳上，继又靠近一张桌子坐下来，珂赛特也赶忙摆上了一瓶葡萄酒和一只玻璃杯。那个先头要水的商人亲自提了水桶去喂马。珂赛特也回到她那切菜桌子下面，坐下去打毛活。
那人替自己斟上了一杯酒，刚刚送到嘴边，他已带着一种奇特的神情，留心观察那孩子。
珂赛特的相貌丑。假使她快乐，也许会漂亮些。我们已经约略描绘过这个沉郁的小人儿的形象。珂赛特体瘦面黄，她已快满八岁，但看上去还以为是个六岁的孩子。两只大眼睛深深隐在一层阴影里，已经失去光彩，这是由于经常哭的原故。她嘴角的弧线显示出长时期内心的痛苦，使人想起那些待决的囚犯和自知无救的病人。她的手，正如她母亲猜想过的那样，已经“断送在冻疮里了”。当时炉里的火正照着她，使她身上的骨头显得格外突出，显得她瘦到令人心酸。由于她经常冷到发抖，她已有了紧紧靠拢两个膝头的习惯。她所有的衣服只是一身破布，夏季见到会使人感到可怜，冬季使人感到难受。她身上只有一件满是窟窿的布衣，绝无一寸毛织物。到处都露出她的肉，全身都能看到德纳第婆娘打出来的青块和黑块。两条光腿，又红又细。锁骨的窝使人见了心痛。那孩子，从头到脚，她的态度，她的神情，说话的声音，说话的迟钝，看人的神气，见了人不说话，一举一动，都只表现和透露了一种心情：恐惧。
恐惧笼罩着她，我们可以说，她被恐惧围困了，恐惧使她的两肘紧缩在腰旁，使她的脚跟紧缩在裙下，使她尽量少占地方，尽量少吸不必要的空气，那种恐惧可以说已经变成她的常态，除了有增无减以外，没有其他别的变化。在她眸子的一角有着惊惶不定的神色，那便是恐怖藏身的地方。
珂赛特的恐惧心情竟达到了这样一种程度：她回到家里，浑身透湿，却不敢到火旁去烤干衣服，而只是一声不响地走去干她的活。
这个八岁孩子的眼神常是那么愁闷，有时还那么凄楚，以致某些时刻，她看起来好象正在变成一个白痴或是一个妖怪。
我们已经说过，她从来不知道祈祷是怎么回事，她也从不曾踏进礼拜堂的大门。“我还有那种闲空吗？”德纳第大娘常这么说。
那个穿黄大衣的人一直望着珂赛特，眼睛不曾离开过她。
德纳第大娘忽然喊道：
“我想起了！面包呢？”
珂赛特每次听到德纳第大娘提高了嗓子，总赶忙从那桌子下面钻出来，现在她也照例赶忙钻了出来。
她早已把那面包忘到一干二净了。她只得采用那些经常在惊骇中度日的孩子的应付办法：撒谎。
“太太，面包店已经关了门。”
“你应当敲门呀。”
“我敲过了，太太。”
“敲后怎么样呢？”
“他不开。”
“是真是假，我明天会知道的，”德纳第大娘说，“要是你说谎，看我不抽到你乱蹦乱跳。等着，先把那十五个苏还来。”
珂赛特把她的手插到围裙袋里，脸色变得铁青。那个值十五个苏的钱已经不在了。
“怎么回事！”德纳第大娘说，“你听到我的话没有？”
珂赛特把那口袋翻过来看，什么也没有。那钱到什么地方去了呢？可怜的孩子一句话也说不出来。她吓呆了。
“那十五个苏你丢了吗？”德纳第大娘暴跳如雷，“还是你想骗我的钱？”
同时她伸手去取挂在壁炉边的那条皮鞭。
这一骇人的姿势使珂赛特叫喊得很响：
“饶了我！太太！太太！我不敢了。”
德纳第大娘已经取下了那条皮鞭。
这时，那个穿黄大衣的人在他背心的口袋里掏了一下，别人都没有看见他这一动作，其他的客人都正在喝酒或是玩纸牌，什么也没有注意到。
珂赛特，心惊肉跳，蜷缩在壁炉角落里，只想把她那露在短袖短裙外的肢体藏起来。德纳第大娘举起了胳膊。“对不起，大嫂，”那人说“刚才我看见有个东西从小姑娘的围裙袋里掉出来，在地上滚。也许就是那钱了。”
同时他弯下腰，好象在地上找了一阵。
“没错，在这儿了。”他立起来说。
他把一枚银币递给德纳第大娘。
“对，就是它。”她说。
不是它，因为那是一枚值二十个苏的钱，不过德纳第大娘却因此占了便宜。她把那钱塞进衣袋，横着眼对孩子说：“下次可不准你再这样，绝对不可以！”
珂赛特又回到她的老地方，也就是德纳第大娘叫做“她的窠”的那地方。她的一双大眼睛老望着那个陌生的客人，开始表现出一种从来不曾有过的神情，那还只是一种天真的惊异之色，但已有一种恓惶不定的依慕心情在里面了。
“喂，您吃不吃晚饭？”德纳第大娘问那客人。
他不回答。他仿佛正在细心思考问题。
“这究竟是个什么人？”她咬紧牙说，“一定是个穷光蛋。这种货色哪会有钱吃晚饭？我的房钱也许他还付不出呢。地上的那个银币他没有想到塞进腰包，已算是了不起的了。”
这时，有扇门开了，爱潘妮和阿兹玛走了进来。
那确是两个漂亮的小姑娘，落落大方，很少村气，极惹人爱，一个挽起了又光又滑的栗褐色麻花髻，一个背上拖着两条乌黑的长辫子，两个都活泼、整洁、丰腴、红润、强健、悦目。她们都穿得暖，由于她们的母亲手艺精巧，衣料虽厚，却绝不影响她们服装的秀气，既御冬寒，又含春意。两个小姑娘都喜气洋洋。除此以外，她们颇有一些主人家的气派。她们的装饰、嬉笑、吵闹都表现出一种自以为高人一等的味道。她们进来时，德纳第大娘用一种极慈爱的谴责口吻说：“哈！你们跑来做什么，你们这两个家伙！”
接着，她把她们一个个拉到膝间，替她们理好头发，结好丝带，才放她们走，在放走以前，她用慈母所独有的那种轻柔的手法，把她们摇了一阵，口里喊道：“去你们的，丑八怪！”
她们走去坐在火旁边。她们有个娃娃，她们把它放在膝上，转过来又转过去，嘴里叽叽喳喳，有说有笑。珂赛特的眼睛不时离开毛活，凄惨惨地望着她们玩。
爱潘妮和阿兹玛都不望珂赛特。在她们看来，那好象只是一条狗。这三个小姑娘的年龄合起来都还不到二十四岁，可是她们已经代表整个人类社会了，一方面是羡慕，一方面是鄙视。
德纳第姊妹俩的那个娃娃已经很破很旧，颜色也褪尽了，可是在珂赛特的眼里，却并不因此而显得不可爱，珂赛特出世以来从来不曾有过一个娃娃，照每个孩子都懂得的说法，那就是她从来都不曾有过“一个真的娃娃”。
德纳第大娘原在那厅堂里走来走去，她忽然发现珂赛特的思想开了小差，她没有专心工作，却在留意那两个正在玩耍的小姑娘。
“哈！这下子，你逃不了了吧！”她大声吼着说，“你是这样工作的！我去拿鞭子来教你工作，让我来。”
那个外来人，仍旧坐在椅子上，转过身来望着德纳第大娘。
“大嫂，”他带着笑容，不大敢开口似的说，“算了！您让她玩吧！”
这种愿望，要是出自一个在晚餐时吃过一盘羊腿、喝过两瓶葡萄酒、而没有“穷光蛋”模样的客人的口，也许还有商量余地，但是一个戴着那样一种帽子的人竟敢表示一种希望，穿那样一件大衣的人而竟敢表示一种意愿，这在德纳第大娘看来是不能容忍的。她气冲冲地说：
“她既要吃饭，就得干活。我不能白白养着她。”
“她到底是在干什么活？”那外来人接着说，说话声调的柔和，恰和他那乞丐式的服装和脚夫式的肩膀形成一种异常奇特的对比。
德纳第大娘特别赏脸，回答他说：
“她在打毛袜，这没错吧。我两个小女儿的毛袜，她们没有袜子，等于没有，马上就要赤着脚走路了。”
那个人望着珂赛特的两只红得可怜的脚，接着说：
“她还要多少时间才能打完这双袜子？”
“她至少还得花上整整三四天，这个懒丫头。”
“这双袜子打完了，可以值多少钱呢？”
德纳第大娘对他轻蔑地瞟了一眼。
“至少三十个苏。”
“为这双袜子我给您五个法郎1行吗？”那人接着说。
1每法郎合二十个苏。
“老天！”一个留心听着的车夫呵呵大笑说，“五个法郎！真是好价钱！五块钱！”
德纳第认为应当发言了。
“好的，先生，假使您高兴，这双袜子我们就折成五个法郎让给您。我们对客人总是尽量奉承的。”
“得立刻付钱。”德纳第大娘直截了当地说。
“我买这双袜子，”那人说，他从口袋里掏出一个五法郎的钱，放在桌子上说，“我付现钱。”
接着，他转向珂赛特说：
“现在你的工作归我了。玩吧，我的孩子。”
那车夫见了那枚值五法郎的钱大受感动，他丢下酒杯走来看。
“这钱倒是真的呢！”他一面细看一面喊，“一个真正的后轮1！一点不假！”
1后轮，五法郎钱币的俗称。
德纳第大娘走过来，一声不响，把那钱揣进了衣袋。
德纳第大娘无话可说，她咬着自己的嘴唇，满脸恨容。
珂赛特仍旧在发抖。她冒险问道：
“太太，是真的吗？我可以玩吗？”
“玩你的！”德纳第大娘猛吼一声。
“谢谢，太太。”珂赛特说。
她嘴在谢德纳第大娘的同时，整个小心灵却在谢那陌生人。
德纳第重行开始喝酒。他婆娘在他耳边说：
“那个黄人究竟是个什么东西？”
“我见过许多百万富翁，”德纳第无限庄严地说，“是穿着这种大衣的。”
珂赛特已经放下了她的毛线活，但是没有从她那地方钻出来。珂赛特已经养成尽量少动的习惯。她从她背后的一只盒子里取出几块破布和她那把小铅刀。
爱潘妮和阿兹玛一点没有注意到当时发生的事。她们刚完成了一件重要工作，她们捉住了那只猫。她们把娃娃丢在地上，爱潘妮，大姐，拿了许许多多红蓝破布去包缠那只猫，不管它叫也不管它辗转挣扎。她一面干着那种严肃艰苦的工作，一面用孩子们那种娇柔可爱的妙语棗就象彩蝶双翼上的光彩，想留也留不住棗对她的小妹说：
“你瞧，妹妹，这个娃娃比那个好玩多了。它会动，它会叫，它是热的。你瞧，妹妹，我们拿它来玩。它做我的小宝宝。我做一个阔太太。我来看你，而你就看着它。慢慢地你看见它的胡子，这会吓你一跳。接着你看见了它的耳朵、它的尾巴，这又吓你一跳。你就对我说：‘唉！我的天主！’我就对你说：‘是呀，太太，我的小姑娘是这个样的。现在的小姑娘都是这个样的。’”
阿兹玛听着爱潘妮说，感到津津有味。
这时，那些喝酒的人唱起了一首淫歌，边唱边笑，天花板也被震动了。德纳第从旁助兴，陪着他们一同唱。
雀鸟营巢，不择泥草，孩子们做玩偶，也可以用任何东西。和爱潘妮、阿兹玛包扎那小猫的同时，珂赛特也包扎了她的刀。包好以后，她把它平放在手臂上，轻轻歌唱，催它入睡。
娃娃是女孩童年时代一种最迫切的需要，同时也是一种最动人的本能。照顾，穿衣，打扮，穿了又脱，脱了又穿，教导，轻轻责骂，摇它，抱它，哄它入睡，把一件东西想象成一个人，女性的未来全在这儿了。在一味幻想，一味闲谈，一味缝小衣裳和小襁褓、小裙袍和小短衫的岁月中，女孩长大成小姑娘，小姑娘长大成大姑娘，大姑娘又成了妇女。第一个孩子接替着最末一个娃娃。
一个没有娃娃的女孩和一个没有孩子的妇女几乎是同样痛苦的，而且也完全是不可能的。
因此珂赛特把她那把刀当成自己的娃娃。
至于德纳第大娘，她朝着那“黄人”走来，她心里想：“我的丈夫说得对，这也许就是拉菲特先生。阔佬们常爱开玩笑。”
她走近前来，用肘支在他的桌子上。
“先生……”她说。
那人听到“先生”两字，便转过身来。德纳第大娘在这以前对他还只称“汉子”或“老头儿”。
“您想想吧，先生，”她装出一副比她原先那种凶横模样更使人受不了的巴结样子往下说，“我很愿意让那孩子玩，我并不反对，而且偶然玩一次也没有什么不好，因为您为人慷慨。
您想，她什么也没有。她就得干活。”
“她难道不是您的吗，那孩子？”那人问。
“呵，我的天主，不是我的，先生！那是个穷苦人家的娃娃，我们为了做好事随便收来的。是个蠢孩子。她的脑袋里一定有水。她的脑袋那么大，您看得出来。我们尽我们的力量帮助她，我们并不是有钱的人。我们写过信，寄到她家乡去，没有用，六个月过去了，再也没有回信来。我想她妈一定死了。”
“啊！”那人说，他又回到他的梦境中去了。
“她妈也是个没出息的东西，”德纳第大娘又补上一句，“她抛弃了自己的孩子。”
在他们谈话的整个过程中，珂赛特，好象受到一种本能的暗示，知道别人正在谈论她的事，她的眼睛便没有离开过德纳第大娘。她似懂非懂地听着，她偶然也听到了几个字。
那时，所有的酒客都已有了七八分醉意，都反复唱着猥亵的歌曲，兴致越来越高。他们唱的是一首趣味高级、有圣母圣子耶稣名字在内的风流曲调。德纳第大娘也混到他们中间狂笑去了。珂赛特待在桌子下面，呆呆地望着火，眼珠反映着火光，她又把她先头做好的那个小包抱在怀里，左右摇摆，并且一面摇，一面低声唱道：“我的母亲死了！我的母亲死了！我的母亲死了！”
通过女主人的再三劝说，那个黄人，“那个百万富翁”，终于同意吃一顿晚饭。
“先生想吃点什么？”
“面包和干酪。”那人说。
“肯定是个穷鬼。”德纳第大娘心里想。
那些醉汉一直在唱他们的歌，珂赛特，在那桌子底下，也唱着她的。
珂赛特忽然不唱了。她刚才回转头，一下发现了小德纳第的那个娃娃，先头她们在玩猫时，把它抛弃在那切菜桌子旁边了。
于是她放下那把布包的小刀，她对那把小刀原来就不大满意，接着她慢慢移动眼珠，把那厅堂四周望了一遍。德纳第大娘正在和她的丈夫谈话，数着零钱，潘妮和兹玛在玩猫，客人们也都在吃，喝，歌唱，谁也没有注意她。她的机会难得。她用膝头和手从桌子底下爬出来，再张望一遍，知道没有人监视她，便连忙溜到那娃娃旁边，一手抓了过来。一会儿过后，她又回到她原来的位置，坐着不动，只不过转了方向，好让她怀里的那个娃娃隐在黑影中。抚弄娃娃的幸福对她来说，确是绝无仅有的，所以一时竟感到极强烈的陶醉。
除了那个慢慢吃着素饭的客人以外，谁也没有看见她。
那种欢乐延续了将近一刻钟。
但是，尽管珂赛特十分注意，她却没有发现那娃娃有只脚“现了形”，壁炉里的火光早已把它照得雪亮了。那只突出在黑影外面显得耀眼的粉红脚，突然引起了阿兹玛的注意，她向爱潘妮说：“你瞧！姐！”
那两个小姑娘呆住了，为之骇然。珂赛特竟敢动那娃娃！
爱潘妮立起来，仍旧抱着猫，走到她母亲身旁去扯她的裙子。
“不要吵！”她母亲说，“你又来找我干什么？”
“妈，”那孩子说，“你瞧嘛！”
同时她用手指着珂赛特。
珂赛特完全浸沉在那种占有所引起的心醉神迷的状态中，什么也看不见，什么也听不见了。
从德纳第大娘脸上表现出来的是那种明知无事却又大惊小怪、使妇女立即转为恶魔的特别表情。
一次，她那受过创伤的自尊心使她更加无法抑制自己的愤怒了。珂赛特行为失检，珂赛特亵渎了“小姐们”的娃娃。
俄罗斯女皇看见农奴偷试皇太子的大蓝佩带，也不见得会有另外一副面孔。
她猛吼一声，声音完全被愤怒梗塞住了：
“珂赛特！”
珂赛特吓了一跳，以为地塌下去了。她转回头。
“珂赛特！”德纳第大娘又叫了一声。
珂赛特把那娃娃轻轻放在地上，神情虔敬而沮丧。她的眼睛仍旧望着它，她叉起双手，并且，对那样年纪的孩子来说也真使人寒心，她还叉着双手的手指拗来拗去，这之后，她哭起来了，她在那一整天里受到的折磨，如树林里跑进跑出，水桶的重压，丢了的钱，打到身边的皮鞭，甚至从德纳第大娘口中听到的那些伤心话，这些都不曾使她哭出来，现在她却伤心地痛哭起来了。
这时，那陌生客人立起来了。
“什么事？”他问德纳第大娘。
“您瞧不见吗？”德纳第大娘指着那躺在珂赛特脚旁的罪证说。
“那又怎么样呢？”那人又问。
“这贱丫头，”德纳第大娘回答说，“好大胆，她动了孩子们的娃娃！”
“为了这一点事就要大叫大嚷！”那个人说，“她玩了那娃娃又怎么样呢？”
“她用她那脏手臭手碰了它！”德纳第大娘紧接着说。
这时，珂赛特哭得更悲伤了。
“不许哭！”德纳第大娘大吼一声。
那人直冲到临街的大门边，开了门，出去了。
他刚出去，德纳第大娘趁他不在，对准桌子底下狠狠地给了珂赛特一脚尖，踢得那孩子连声惨叫。
大门又开了，那人也回来了，双手捧着我们先头谈过的、全村小把戏都瞻仰了一整天的那个仙女似的娃娃，把它立在珂赛特的面前，说：
“你的，这给你。”
那人来到店里已一个多钟头了，当他独坐深思时，他也许从那餐厅的玻璃窗里早已约略望见窗外的那家灯烛辉煌的玩具店。
珂赛特抬起眼睛，看见那人带来的那个娃娃，就好象看见他捧着太阳向她走来似的，她听见了那从来不曾听见过的话：“这给你。”她望望他，又望望那娃娃，她随即慢慢往后退，紧紧缩到桌子底下墙角里躲起来。
她不再哭，也不再叫，仿佛也不敢再呼吸。
德纳第大娘、爱潘妮、阿兹玛都象木头人似的呆住了。那些喝酒的人也都停了下来。整个店寂静无声。
德纳第大娘一点也不动，一声也不响，心里又开始猜想起来：“这老头儿究竟是个什么人？是个穷人还是个百万富翁？也许两样都是，就是说，是个贼。”
她丈夫德纳第的脸上起了一种富有表现力的皱纹，那种皱纹，每当主宰一个人的那种本能凭它全部的粗暴表现出来时，就会显示在那个人的面孔上。那客店老板反反复复地仔细端详那玩偶和那客人，他仿佛是在嗅那人，嗅到了一袋银子似的。那不过是一刹那间的事。他走近他女人的身边，低声对她说：
“那玩意儿至少值三十法郎。傻事干不得。快低声下气好好伺候他。”
鄙俗的性格和天真的性格有一共同点，两者都没有过渡阶段。
“怎么哪，珂赛特！你怎么还不来拿你的娃娃？”德纳第大娘说，她极力想让说话的声音显得柔和，其实那声音里充满了泼辣妇人的又酸又甜的滋味。
珂赛特，半信半疑。从她那洞里钻了出来。
“我的小珂赛特，”德纳第老板也带着一种不胜怜爱的神气跟着说，“这位先生给你一个娃娃。快来拿。它是你的。”
珂赛特怀着恐惧的心情望着那美妙的玩偶。她脸上还满是眼泪，但是她的眼睛，犹如拂晓的天空，已开始显出欢乐奇异的曙光。她当时的感受仿佛是突然听见有人告诉她：“小宝贝，你是法兰西的王后。”
她仿佛觉得，万一她碰一下那娃娃，那就会打雷。
那种想法在一定程度上是正确的，因为她认为德纳第大娘会骂她，并且会打她。
可是诱惑力占了上风。她终于走了过来，侧转头，战战兢兢地向着德纳第大娘细声说：
“我可以拿吗，太太？”
任何语言都无法形容那种又伤心、又害怕、又快乐的神情。
“当然可以，”德纳第大娘说，“那是你的。这位先生已经把它送给你了。”
“真的吗，先生？”珂赛特又问，“是真的吗？是给我的吗，一阵极其微弱而又甜蜜的声音，好象是一个孩子的鼾声。他顺着那声音走去，看见在楼梯下有一间三角形的小屋子，其实就是楼梯本身构成的。不是旁的，只是楼梯底下的空处。那里满是旧筐篮、破瓶罐、灰尘和蜘蛛网，还有一张床，所谓床，只不过是一条露出了草的草褥和一条露出草褥的破被。绝没有垫单。并且是铺在方砖地上的。珂赛特正睡在那床上。
这人走近前去，望着她。
珂赛特睡得正酣。她是和衣睡的。冬天她不脱衣，可以少冷一点。
她抱着那个在黑暗中睁圆着两只亮眼睛的娃娃。她不时深深叹口气，好象要醒似的，再把那娃娃紧紧地抱在怀里。在她床边，只有一只木鞋。
在珂赛特的那个黑洞附近，有一扇门，门里是一间黑魆魆的大屋子。这外来人跨了进去。在屋子尽头，一扇玻璃门后露出一对白洁的小床。那是爱潘妮和阿兹玛的床。小床后面有个没有挂帐子的柳条摇篮，只露出一半，睡在摇篮里的便是那个哭了一整夜的小男孩了。
外来人猜想这间屋子一定和德纳第夫妇的卧室相通，他正预备退出，忽然瞧见一个壁炉，那是客店中那种多少总有一点点火、看去却又使人感到特别冷的大壁炉。在这? 5<亨那种激动却不是她所能忍受得了的。她赶忙叫她的两个女儿去睡，随即又请那黄人“允许”她把珂赛特也送去睡。“她今天已经很累了。”她还慈母似的加上那么一句。珂赛特双手抱着卡特琳走去睡了。
德纳第大娘不时走到厅的那一端她丈夫待的地方，让“她的灵魂减轻负担”，她这样说。她和她丈夫交谈了几句，由于谈话的内容非常刻毒，因而她不敢大声说出。
“这老畜生！他肚里究竟怀着什么鬼胎？跑到这儿来打搅我们！要那小怪物玩！给她娃娃！把一个四十法郎的娃娃送给一个我情愿卖四十个苏的小母狗！再过一会儿，他就会象对待贝里公爵夫人那样称她‘陛下’了！这合情理吗？难道他疯了，那老妖精？”
“为什么吗？很简单，”德纳第回答说，“只要他高兴！你呢，你高兴要那孩子干活，他呢，他高兴要她玩。他有那种权利。一个客人，只要他付钱，什么事都可以做。假使那老头儿是个慈善家，那和你有什么相干？假使他是个傻瓜，那也不关你事。他有钱，你何必多管闲事？”
家主公的吩咐，客店老板的推论，两者都不容反驳。
那人一手托腮，弯着胳膊，靠在桌上，恢复了那种想心事的姿态。所有看他的客人，商贩们和车夫们，都彼此分散开，也不再歌唱了。大家都怀着敬畏的心情从远处望着他。这个怪人，衣服穿得这么破旧，从衣袋里摸出“后轮”来却又这么随便，拿着又高又大的娃娃随意送给一个穿木鞋的邋遢小姑娘，这一定是个值得钦佩、不能乱惹的人了。
好几个钟点过去了。夜半弥撒已经结束，夜宴也已散了，酒客们都走了，店门也关了，厅里冷清清的，火也熄了，那外来人却一直坐在原处，姿势也没有改，只有时替换一下那只托腮的手。如是而已。自从珂赛特走后，他一句话也没有说。惟有德纳第夫妇俩，由于礼貌和好奇，还都留在厅里。“他打算就这样过夜吗？”德纳第大娘咬着牙说。夜里两点钟敲过了，她支持不住，便对丈夫说：“我要去睡了。随你拿他怎么办。”她丈夫坐在厅角上的一张桌子边，燃起一支烛，开始读《法兰西邮报》。
这样又足足过了一个钟头。客店大老板把那份《法兰西邮报》至少念了三遍，从那一期的年月日直到印刷厂的名称全念到了。那位陌生客人还是坐着不动。
德纳第扭动身体
