y another exactly like her. I know not what philosopher has
said: "Old women are never lacking."

This new old woman was named Madame Bourgon, and had nothing remarkable
about her life except a dynasty of three paroquets, who had reigned in
succession over her soul.

The most miserable of those who inhabited the hovel were a family of
four persons, consisting of father, mother, and two daughters, already
well grown, all four of whom were lodged in the same attic, one of the
cells which we have already mentioned.

At first sight, this family presented no very special feature except its
extreme destitution; the father, when he hired the chamber, had stated
that his name was Jondrette. Some time after his moving in, which had
borne a singular resemblance to the entrance of nothing at all, to
borrow the memorable expression of the principal tenant, this Jondrette
had said to the woman, who, like her predecessor, was at the same time
portress and stair-sweeper: "Mother So-and-So, if any one should chance
to come and inquire for a Pole or an Italian, or even a Spaniard,
perchance, it is I."

This family was that of the merry barefoot boy. He arrived there and
found distress, and, what is still sadder, no smile; a cold hearth
and cold hearts. When he entered, he was asked: "Whence come you?" He
replied: "From the street." When he went away, they asked him: "Whither
are you going?" He replied: "Into the streets." His mother said to him:
"What did you come here for?"

This child lived, in this absence of affection, like the pale plants
which spring up in cellars. It did not cause him suffering, and he
blamed no one. He did not know exactly how a father and mother should
be.

Nevertheless, his mother loved his sisters.

We have forgotten to mention, that on the Boulevard du Temple this child
was called Little Gavroche. Why was he called Little Gavroche?

Probably because his father's name was Jondrette.

It seems to be the instinct of certain wretched families to break the
thread.

The chamber which the Jondrettes inhabited in the Gorbeau hovel was the
last at the end of the corridor. The cell next to it was occupied by a
very poor young man who was called M. Marius.

Let us explain who this M. Marius was.

BOOK SECOND.--THE GREAT BOURGEOIS

CHAPTER I--NINETY YEARS AND THIRTY-TWO TEETH

In the Rue Boucherat, Rue de Normandie and the Rue de Saintonge there
still exist a few ancient inhabitants who hav