“But this is outrageous!” exclaimed Marius.
It is certain, that, at that moment, no abuse of power, no violence, not one of the abominations of the worst tyrants, no action of Busiris, of Tiberius, or of Henry VIII., could have equalled this in atrocity, in the opinion of Marius; M. Fauchelevent taking his daughter off to England because he had business there.
He demanded in a weak voice:— “And when do you start?”
“He did not say when.”
“And when shall you return?”
“He did not say when.”
Marius rose and said coldly:—
“Cosette, shall you go?”
Cosette turned toward him her beautiful eyes, all filled with anguish, and replied in a sort of bewilderment:—
“Where?”
“To England.
Shall you go?”
“Why do you say you to me?”
“I ask you whether you will go?”
“What do you expect me to do?” she said, clasping her hands.
“So, you will go?”
“If my father goes.”
“So, you will go?”
Cosette took Marius’ hand, and pressed it without replying.
“Very well,” said Marius, “then I will go elsewhere.”
Cosette felt rather than understood the meaning of these words.
She turned so pale that her face shone white through the gloom.
She stammered:— “What do you mean?”
Marius looked at her, then raised his eyes to heaven, and answered: “Nothing.”
When his eyes fell again, he saw Cosette smiling at him.
The smile of a woman whom one loves possesses a visible radiance, even at night.
“How silly we are!
Marius, I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
“If we go away, do you go too!
I will tell you where!
Come and join me wherever I am.”
Marius was now a thoroughly roused man.
He had fallen back into reality.
He cried to Cosette:— “Go away with you! Are you mad?
Why, I should have to have money, and I have none!
Go to England?
But I am in debt now, I owe, I don’t know how much, more than ten louis to Courfeyrac, one of my friends with whom you are not acquainted!
I have an old hat which is not worth three francs, I have a coat which lacks buttons in front, my shirt is all ragged, my elbows are torn, my boots let in the water; for the last six weeks I have not thought about it, and I have not told you about it.
You only see me at night, and you give me your love; if you were to see me in the daytime, you would give me a sou!
Go to England!
Eh! I haven’t enough to pay for a passport!”
He threw himself against a tree which was close at hand, erect, his brow pressed close to the bark, feeling neither the wood which flayed his skin, nor the fever which was throbbing in his temples, and there he stood motionless, on the point of falling, like the statue of despair.
He remained a long time thus.
One could remain for eternity in such abysses.
At last he turned round.
He heard behind him a faint stifled noise, which was sweet yet sad.
It was Cosette sobbing.
She had been weeping for more than two hours beside Marius as he meditated.
He came to her, fell at her knees, and slowly prostrating himself, he took the tip of her foot which peeped out from beneath her robe, and kissed it.