Only, Courfeyrac saw this change in Marius, that his taciturnity was of the beaming order.
During this sweet month of May, Marius and Cosette learned to know these immense delights.
To dispute and to say you for thou, simply that they might say thou the better afterwards.
To talk at great length with very minute details, of persons in whom they took not the slightest interest in the world; another proof that in that ravishing opera called love, the libretto counts for almost nothing;
For Marius, to listen to Cosette discussing finery;
For Cosette, to listen to Marius talk in politics;
To listen, knee pressed to knee, to the carriages rolling along the Rue de Babylone;
To gaze upon the same planet in space, or at the same glowworm gleaming in the grass;
To hold their peace together; a still greater delight than conversation;
Etc., etc.
In the meantime, divers complications were approaching.
One evening, Marius was on his way to the rendezvous, by way of the Boulevard des Invalides. He habitually walked with drooping head. As he was on the point of turning the corner of the Rue Plumet, he heard some one quite close to him say:—
“Good evening, Monsieur Marius.”
He raised his head and recognized Eponine.
This produced a singular effect upon him.
He had not thought of that girl a single time since the day when she had conducted him to the Rue Plumet, he had not seen her again, and she had gone completely out of his mind.
He had no reasons for anything but gratitude towards her, he owed her his happiness, and yet, it was embarrassing to him to meet her.
It is an error to think that passion, when it is pure and happy, leads man to a state of perfection; it simply leads him, as we have noted, to a state of oblivion.
In this situation, man forgets to be bad, but he also forgets to be good.
Gratitude, duty, matters essential and important to be remembered, vanish.
At any other time, Marius would have behaved quite differently to Eponine.
Absorbed in Cosette, he had not even clearly put it to himself that this Eponine was named Eponine Thenardier, and that she bore the name inscribed in his father’s will, that name, for which, but a few months before, he would have so ardently sacrificed himself.
We show Marius as he was.
His father himself was fading out of his soul to some extent, under the splendor of his love.
He replied with some embarrassment:— “Ah! so it’s you, Eponine?”
“Why do you call me you?
Have I done anything to you?”
“No,” he answered.
Certainly, he had nothing against her.
Far from it.
Only, he felt that he could not do otherwise, now that he used thou to Cosette, than say you to Eponine.
As he remained silent, she exclaimed:—
“Say—” Then she paused.
It seemed as though words failed that creature formerly so heedless and so bold.
She tried to smile and could not.
Then she resumed:— “Well?”
Then she paused again, and remained with downcast eyes.
“Good evening, Mr. Marius,” said she suddenly and abruptly; and away she went.
CHAPTER IV—A CAB RUNS IN ENGLISH AND BARKS IN SLANG
The following day was the 3d of June, 1832, a date which it is necessary to indicate on account of the grave events which at that epoch hung on the horizon of Paris in the state of lightning-charged clouds. Marius, at nightfall, was pursuing the same road as on the preceding evening, with the same thoughts of delight in his heart, when he caught sight of Eponine approaching, through the trees of the boulevard.
Two days in succession—this was too much.
He turned hastily aside, quitted the boulevard, changed his course and went to the Rue Plumet through the Rue Monsieur.
This caused Eponine to follow him to the Rue Plumet, a thing which she had not yet done.
Up to that time, she had contented herself with watching him on his passage along the boulevard without ever seeking to encounter him. It was only on the evening before that she had attempted to address him.
So Eponine followed him, without his suspecting the fact.
She saw him displace the bar and slip into the garden.
She approached the railing, felt of the bars one after the other, and readily recognized the one which Marius had moved.
She murmured in a low voice and in gloomy accents:— “None of that, Lisette!”
She seated herself on the underpinning of the railing, close beside the bar, as though she were guarding it.
It was precisely at the point where the railing touched the neighboring wall. There was a dim nook there, in which Eponine was entirely concealed.