Ah! those friends of yours do pretty things.
By the way, aren’t they erecting a fountain in the place of the monument of M. le Duc de Berry?
So you want to marry?
Whom? Can one inquire without indiscretion?”
He paused, and, before Marius had time to answer, he added violently:—
“Come now, you have a profession?
A fortune made?
How much do you earn at your trade of lawyer?”
“Nothing,” said Marius, with a sort of firmness and resolution that was almost fierce.
“Nothing?
Then all that you have to live upon is the twelve hundred livres that I allow you?”
Marius did not reply.
M. Gillenormand continued:—
“Then I understand the girl is rich?”
“As rich as I am.”
“What!
No dowry?”
“No.”
“Expectations?”
“I think not.”
“Utterly naked!
What’s the father?”
“I don’t know.”
“And what’s her name?”
“Mademoiselle Fauchelevent.”
“Fauchewhat?”
“Fauchelevent.”
“Pttt!” ejaculated the old gentleman.
“Sir!” exclaimed Marius.
M. Gillenormand interrupted him with the tone of a man who is speaking to himself:—
“That’s right, one and twenty years of age, no profession, twelve hundred livres a year, Madame la Baronne de Pontmercy will go and purchase a couple of sous’ worth of parsley from the fruiterer.”
“Sir,” repeated Marius, in the despair at the last hope, which was vanishing,
“I entreat you! I conjure you in the name of Heaven, with clasped hands, sir, I throw myself at your feet, permit me to marry her!”
The old man burst into a shout of strident and mournful laughter, coughing and laughing at the same time.
“Ah! ah! ah!
You said to yourself:
‘Pardine! I’ll go hunt up that old blockhead, that absurd numskull!
What a shame that I’m not twenty-five!
How I’d treat him to a nice respectful summons!
How nicely I’d get along without him!
It’s nothing to me, I’d say to him:
“You’re only too happy to see me, you old idiot, I want to marry, I desire to wed Mamselle No-matter-whom, daughter of Monsieur No-matter-what, I have no shoes, she has no chemise, that just suits; I want to throw my career, my future, my youth, my life to the dogs; I wish to take a plunge into wretchedness with a woman around my neck, that’s an idea, and you must consent to it!” and the old fossil will consent.’
Go, my lad, do as you like, attach your paving-stone, marry your Pousselevent, your Coupelevent—Never, sir, never!”
“Father—”
“Never!”
At the tone in which that “never” was uttered, Marius lost all hope.
He traversed the chamber with slow steps, with bowed head, tottering and more like a dying man than like one merely taking his departure.
M. Gillenormand followed him with his eyes, and at the moment when the door opened, and Marius was on the point of going out, he advanced four paces, with the senile vivacity of impetuous and spoiled old gentlemen, seized Marius by the collar, brought him back energetically into the room, flung him into an armchair and said to him:—
“Tell me all about it!”
“It was that single word “father” which had effected this revolution.