the bed near the fireplace, with a face indicative
of astonishment. Jondrette was pacing up and down the garret with long
strides. His eyes were extraordinary.

The woman, who seemed timid and overwhelmed with stupor in the presence
of her husband, turned to say:--

"What, really? You are sure?"

"Sure! Eight years have passed! But I recognize him! Ah! I recognize
him. I knew him at once! What! Didn't it force itself on you?"

"No."

"But I told you: 'Pay attention!' Why, it is his figure, it is his face,
only older,--there are people who do not grow old, I don't know how they
manage it,--it is the very sound of his voice. He is better dressed,
that is all! Ah! you mysterious old devil, I've got you, that I have!"

He paused, and said to his daughters:--

"Get out of here, you!--It's queer that it didn't strike you!"

They arose to obey.

The mother stammered:--

"With her injured hand."

"The air will do it good," said Jondrette. "Be off."

It was plain that this man was of the sort to whom no one offers to
reply. The two girls departed.

At the moment when they were about to pass through the door, the father
detained the elder by the arm, and said to her with a peculiar accent:--

"You will be here at five o'clock precisely. Both of you. I shall need
you."

Marius redoubled his attention.

On being left alone with his wife, Jondrette began to pace the room
again, and made the tour of it two or three times in silence. Then he
spent several minutes in tucking the lower part of the woman's chemise
which he wore into his trousers.

All at once, he turned to the female Jondrette, folded his arms and
exclaimed:--

"And would you like to have me tell you something? The young lady--"

"Well, what?" retorted his wife, "the young lady?"

Marius could not doubt that it was really she of whom they were
speaking. He listened with ardent anxiety. His whole life was in his
ears.

But Jondrette had bent over and spoke to his wife in a whisper. Then he
straightened himself up and concluded aloud:--

"It is she!"

"That one?" said his wife.

"That very one," said the husband.

No expression can reproduce the significance of the mother's words.
Surprise, rage, hate, wrath, were mingled and combined in one monstrous
intonation. The pronunciation of a few words, the name, no doubt, which
her husband had whispered in her ear, had sufficed to rouse this huge,
somnolent woman, and from being repulsive she be