“We owe three quarters rent.”
“In three months, we shall owe him for four quarters.”
“He says that he will turn you out to sleep.”
“I will go.”
“The green-grocer insists on being paid.
She will no longer leave her fagots.
What will you warm yourself with this winter?
We shall have no wood.”
“There is the sun.”
“The butcher refuses to give credit; he will not let us have any more meat.”
“That is quite right.
I do not digest meat well.
It is too heavy.”
“What shall we have for dinner?”
“Bread.”
“The baker demands a settlement, and says, ‘no money, no bread.’”
“That is well.”
“What will you eat?”
“We have apples in the apple-room.”
“But, Monsieur, we can’t live like that without money.”
“I have none.”
The old woman went away, the old man remained alone.
He fell into thought.
Gavroche became thoughtful also.
It was almost dark.
The first result of Gavroche’s meditation was, that instead of scaling the hedge, he crouched down under it.
The branches stood apart a little at the foot of the thicket.
“Come,” exclaimed Gavroche mentally, “here’s a nook!” and he curled up in it.
His back was almost in contact with Father Mabeuf’s bench.
He could hear the octogenarian breathe.
Then, by way of dinner, he tried to sleep.
It was a cat-nap, with one eye open.
While he dozed, Gavroche kept on the watch.
The twilight pallor of the sky blanched the earth, and the lane formed a livid line between two rows of dark bushes.
All at once, in this whitish band, two figures made their appearance.
One was in front, the other some distance in the rear.
“There come two creatures,” muttered Gavroche.
The first form seemed to be some elderly bourgeois, who was bent and thoughtful, dressed more than plainly, and who was walking slowly because of his age, and strolling about in the open evening air.
The second was straight, firm, slender.
It regulated its pace by that of the first; but in the voluntary slowness of its gait, suppleness and agility were discernible.
This figure had also something fierce and disquieting about it, the whole shape was that of what was then called an elegant; the hat was of good shape, the coat black, well cut, probably of fine cloth, and well fitted in at the waist.
The head was held erect with a sort of robust grace, and beneath the hat the pale profile of a young man could be made out in the dim light. The profile had a rose in its mouth.
This second form was well known to Gavroche; it was Montparnasse.
He could have told nothing about the other, except that he was a respectable old man.
Gavroche immediately began to take observations.
One of these two pedestrians evidently had a project connected with the other.
Gavroche was well placed to watch the course of events.
The bedroom had turned into a hiding-place at a very opportune moment.
Montparnasse on the hunt at such an hour, in such a place, betokened something threatening.
Gavroche felt his gamin’s heart moved with compassion for the old man.