“Speak.”
“Monsieur le Baron, you have in your house a thief and an assassin.”
Marius shuddered.
“In my house? no,” said he.
The imperturbable stranger brushed his hat with his elbow and went on:
“An assassin and a thief.
Remark, Monsieur le Baron, that I do not here speak of ancient deeds, deeds of the past which have lapsed, which can be effaced by limitation before the law and by repentance before God.
I speak of recent deeds, of actual facts as still unknown to justice at this hour.
I continue.
This man has insinuated himself into your confidence, and almost into your family under a false name.
I am about to tell you his real name.
And to tell it to you for nothing.”
“I am listening.”
“His name is Jean Valjean.”
“I know it.”
“I am going to tell you, equally for nothing, who he is.”
“Say on.”
“He is an ex-convict.”
“I know it.”
“You know it since I have had the honor of telling you.”
“No.
I knew it before.”
Marius’ cold tone, that double reply of “I know it,” his laconicism, which was not favorable to dialogue, stirred up some smouldering wrath in the stranger.
He launched a furious glance on the sly at Marius, which was instantly extinguished.
Rapid as it was, this glance was of the kind which a man recognizes when he has once beheld it; it did not escape Marius.
Certain flashes can only proceed from certain souls; the eye, that vent-hole of the thought, glows with it; spectacles hide nothing; try putting a pane of glass over hell!
The stranger resumed with a smile:
“I will not permit myself to contradict Monsieur le Baron.
In any case, you ought to perceive that I am well informed.
Now what I have to tell you is known to myself alone.
This concerns the fortune of Madame la Baronne.
It is an extraordinary secret.
It is for sale—I make you the first offer of it.
Cheap.
Twenty thousand francs.”
“I know that secret as well as the others,” said Marius.
The personage felt the necessity of lowering his price a trifle.
“Monsieur le Baron, say ten thousand francs and I will speak.”
“I repeat to you that there is nothing which you can tell me.
I know what you wish to say to me.”
A fresh flash gleamed in the man’s eye.
He exclaimed:
“But I must dine to-day, nevertheless.
It is an extraordinary secret, I tell you.
Monsieur le Baron, I will speak.
I speak.
Give me twenty francs.”
Marius gazed intently at him:
“I know your extraordinary secret, just as I knew Jean Valjean’s name, just as I know your name.”
“My name?”