All at once, profiting by a moment when the newcomers were questioning the child with interest as to her injured hand, he passed near his wife, who lay in her bed with a stupid and dejected air, and said to her in a rapid but very low tone:—
“Take a look at that man!”
Then, turning to M. Leblanc, and continuing his lamentations:—
“You see, sir! All the clothing that I have is my wife’s chemise!
And all torn at that!
In the depths of winter!
I can’t go out for lack of a coat.
If I had a coat of any sort, I would go and see Mademoiselle Mars, who knows me and is very fond of me.
Does she not still reside in the Rue de la Tour-des-Dames?
Do you know, sir? We played together in the provinces. I shared her laurels.
Celimene would come to my succor, sir!
Elmire would bestow alms on Belisaire!
But no, nothing!
And not a sou in the house!
My wife ill, and not a sou!
My daughter dangerously injured, not a sou!
My wife suffers from fits of suffocation.
It comes from her age, and besides, her nervous system is affected.
She ought to have assistance, and my daughter also!
But the doctor!
But the apothecary!
How am I to pay them?
I would kneel to a penny, sir!
Such is the condition to which the arts are reduced.
And do you know, my charming young lady, and you, my generous protector, do you know, you who breathe forth virtue and goodness, and who perfume that church where my daughter sees you every day when she says her prayers?—For I have brought up my children religiously, sir.
I did not want them to take to the theatre.
Ah! the hussies!
If I catch them tripping!
I do not jest, that I don’t!
I read them lessons on honor, on morality, on virtue!
Ask them!
They have got to walk straight.
They are none of your unhappy wretches who begin by having no family, and end by espousing the public.
One is Mamselle Nobody, and one becomes Madame Everybody. Deuce take it! None of that in the Fabantou family!
I mean to bring them up virtuously, and they shall be honest, and nice, and believe in God, by the sacred name!
Well, sir, my worthy sir, do you know what is going to happen to-morrow?
To-morrow is the fourth day of February, the fatal day, the last day of grace allowed me by my landlord; if by this evening I have not paid my rent, to-morrow my oldest daughter, my spouse with her fever, my child with her wound,—we shall all four be turned out of here and thrown into the street, on the boulevard, without shelter, in the rain, in the snow.
There, sir.
I owe for four quarters—a whole year! that is to say, sixty francs.”
Jondrette lied.
Four quarters would have amounted to only forty francs, and he could not owe four, because six months had not elapsed since Marius had paid for two.
M. Leblanc drew five francs from his pocket and threw them on the table.
Jondrette found time to mutter in the ear of his eldest daughter:—
“The scoundrel!
What does he think I can do with his five francs?
That won’t pay me for my chair and pane of glass!
That’s what comes of incurring expenses!”
In the meanwhile, M. Leblanc had removed the large brown great-coat which he wore over his blue coat, and had thrown it over the back of the chair.
“Monsieur Fabantou,” he said, “these five francs are all that I have about me, but I shall now take my daughter home, and I will return this evening,—it is this evening that you must pay, is it not?”
Jondrette’s face lighted up with a strange expression.