Here I am all alone.
My God! My God! I shall never see her again!”
At that moment there came a knock at the door.
CHAPTER IV—A BOTTLE OF INK WHICH ONLY SUCCEEDED IN WHITENING
That same day, or to speak more accurately, that same evening, as Marius left the table, and was on the point of withdrawing to his study, having a case to look over, Basque handed him a letter saying:
“The person who wrote the letter is in the antechamber.”
Cosette had taken the grandfather’s arm and was strolling in the garden.
A letter, like a man, may have an unprepossessing exterior.
Coarse paper, coarsely folded—the very sight of certain missives is displeasing.
The letter which Basque had brought was of this sort.
Marius took it.
It smelled of tobacco.
Nothing evokes a memory like an odor.
Marius recognized that tobacco.
He looked at the superscription:
“To Monsieur, Monsieur le Baron Pommerci.
At his hotel.”
The recognition of the tobacco caused him to recognize the writing as well.
It may be said that amazement has its lightning flashes.
Marius was, as it were, illuminated by one of these flashes.
The sense of smell, that mysterious aid to memory, had just revived a whole world within him.
This was certainly the paper, the fashion of folding, the dull tint of ink; it was certainly the well-known handwriting, especially was it the same tobacco.
The Jondrette garret rose before his mind.
Thus, strange freak of chance! one of the two scents which he had so diligently sought, the one in connection with which he had lately again exerted so many efforts and which he supposed to be forever lost, had come and presented itself to him of its own accord.
He eagerly broke the seal, and read:
“Monsieur le Baron:—If the Supreme Being had given me the talents, I might have been baron Thenard, member of the Institute [acadenmy of ciences], but I am not.
I only bear the same as him, happy if this memory recommends me to the eccellence of your kindnesses.
The benefit with which you will honor me will be reciprocle.
I am in possession of a secret concerning an individual.
This individual concerns you.
I hold the secret at your disposal desiring to have the honor to be huseful to you.
I will furnish you with the simple means of driving from your honorabel family that individual who has no right there, madame la baronne being of lofty birth.
The sanctuary of virtue cannot cohabit longer with crime without abdicating.
“I awate in the entichamber the orders of monsieur le baron.
“With respect.”
The letter was signed
“Thenard.”
This signature was not false.
It was merely a trifle abridged.
Moreover, the rigmarole and the orthography completed the revelation.
The certificate of origin was complete.
Marius’ emotion was profound.
After a start of surprise, he underwent a feeling of happiness.
If he could now but find that other man of whom he was in search, the man who had saved him, Marius, there would be nothing left for him to desire.
He opened the drawer of his secretary, took out several bank-notes, put them in his pocket, closed the secretary again, and rang the bell.
Basque half opened the door.
“Show the man in,” said Marius.
Basque announced:
“Monsieur Thenard.”
A man entered.