10 ”
Candle . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
5 ”
Fire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
4 ”
Service . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 ”
————— Total . . . . . .
23 francs.
Service was written servisse.
“Twenty-three francs!” cried the woman, with an enthusiasm which was mingled with some hesitation.
Like all great artists, Thenardier was dissatisfied.
“Peuh!” he exclaimed.
It was the accent of Castlereagh auditing France’s bill at the Congress of Vienna.
“Monsieur Thenardier, you are right; he certainly owes that,” murmured the wife, who was thinking of the doll bestowed on Cosette in the presence of her daughters. “It is just, but it is too much.
He will not pay it.”
Thenardier laughed coldly, as usual, and said:—
“He will pay.”
This laugh was the supreme assertion of certainty and authority.
That which was asserted in this manner must needs be so.
His wife did not insist.
She set about arranging the table; her husband paced the room.
A moment later he added:—
“I owe full fifteen hundred francs!”
He went and seated himself in the chimney-corner, meditating, with his feet among the warm ashes.
“Ah! by the way,” resumed his wife, “you don’t forget that I’m going to turn Cosette out of doors to-day?
The monster!
She breaks my heart with that doll of hers!
I’d rather marry Louis XVIII. than keep her another day in the house!”
Thenardier lighted his pipe, and replied between two puffs:—
“You will hand that bill to the man.”
Then he went out.
Hardly had he left the room when the traveller entered.
Thenardier instantly reappeared behind him and remained motionless in the half-open door, visible only to his wife.
The yellow man carried his bundle and his cudgel in his hand.
“Up so early?” said Madame Thenardier; “is Monsieur leaving us already?”
As she spoke thus, she was twisting the bill about in her hands with an embarrassed air, and making creases in it with her nails.
Her hard face presented a shade which was not habitual with it,—timidity and scruples.
To present such a bill to a man who had so completely the air “of a poor wretch” seemed difficult to her.
The traveller appeared to be preoccupied and absent-minded.
He replied:— “Yes, Madame, I am going.”
“So Monsieur has no business in Montfermeil?”
“No, I was passing through.
That is all.
What do I owe you, Madame,” he added.
The Thenardier silently handed him the folded bill.
The man unfolded the paper and glanced at it; but his thoughts were evidently elsewhere.
“Madame,” he resumed, “is business good here in Montfermeil?”
“So so, Monsieur,” replied the Thenardier, stupefied at not witnessing another sort of explosion. She continued, in a dreary and lamentable tone:— “Oh! Monsieur, times are so hard! and then, we have so few bourgeois in the neighborhood!
All the people are poor, you see.
If we had not, now and then, some rich and generous travellers like Monsieur, we should not get along at all.