“But how did you manage it, little pa?
You must have been very clever to get out of that.
Tell me about it!
And my mother?
Where is mother?
Tell me about mamma.”
Thenardier replied:— “She’s well. I don’t know, let me alone, and be off, I tell you.”
“I won’t go, so there now,” pouted Eponine like a spoiled child; “you send me off, and it’s four months since I saw you, and I’ve hardly had time to kiss you.”
And she caught her father round the neck again.
“Come, now, this is stupid!” said Babet.
“Make haste!” said Guelemer, “the cops may pass.”
The ventriloquist’s voice repeated his distich:—
“Nous n’ sommes pas le jour de l’an,
“This isn’t New Year’s day A becoter papa, maman.” To peck at pa and ma.”
Eponine turned to the five ruffians.
“Why, it’s Monsieur Brujon.
Good day, Monsieur Babet.
Good day, Monsieur Claquesous.
Don’t you know me, Monsieur Guelemer?
How goes it, Montparnasse?”
“Yes, they know you!” ejaculated Thenardier. “But good day, good evening, sheer off! leave us alone!”
“It’s the hour for foxes, not for chickens,” said Montparnasse.
“You see the job we have on hand here,” added Babet.
Eponine caught Montparnasse’s hand.
“Take care,” said he, “you’ll cut yourself, I’ve a knife open.”
“My little Montparnasse,” responded Eponine very gently, “you must have confidence in people.
I am the daughter of my father, perhaps.
Monsieur Babet, Monsieur Guelemer, I’m the person who was charged to investigate this matter.”
It is remarkable that Eponine did not talk slang.
That frightful tongue had become impossible to her since she had known Marius.
She pressed in her hand, small, bony, and feeble as that of a skeleton, Guelemer’s huge, coarse fingers, and continued:—
“You know well that I’m no fool.
Ordinarily, I am believed.
I have rendered you service on various occasions.
Well, I have made inquiries; you will expose yourselves to no purpose, you see.
I swear to you that there is nothing in this house.”
“There are lone women,” said Guelemer.
“No, the persons have moved away.”
“The candles haven’t, anyway!” ejaculated Babet.
And he pointed out to Eponine, across the tops of the trees, a light which was wandering about in the mansard roof of the pavilion.
It was Toussaint, who had stayed up to spread out some linen to dry.
Eponine made a final effort.
“Well,” said she, “they’re very poor folks, and it’s a hovel where there isn’t a sou.”
“Go to the devil!” cried Thenardier. “When we’ve turned the house upside down and put the cellar at the top and the attic below, we’ll tell you what there is inside, and whether it’s francs or sous or half-farthings.”
And he pushed her aside with the intention of entering.
“My good friend, Mr. Montparnasse,” said Eponine, “I entreat you, you are a good fellow, don’t enter.”
“Take care, you’ll cut yourself,” replied Montparnasse.
Thenardier resumed in his decided tone:—
“Decamp, my girl, and leave men to their own affairs!”
Eponine released Montparnasse’s hand, which she had grasped again, and said:— “So you mean to enter this house?”