Difference between revisions of "Volume 3/Book 8/Chapter 11"

From Les Misérables Annotation Project
Jump to: navigation, search
(Created page with "Les Misérables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Eighth: The Wicked Poor Man, Chapter 11: Offers of Service from Misery to Wretchedness<br /> (Tome 3: Marius, Livre huitiè...")
 
(ZtcYtrfvAyI)
 
(5 intermediate revisions by the same user not shown)
Line 1: Line 1:
Les Mis&eacute;rables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Eighth: The Wicked Poor Man, Chapter 11: Offers of Service from Misery to Wretchedness<br />
+
hPfxHX  <a href="http://dzfcceehmftx.com/">dzfcceehmftx</a>, [url=http://ggvydmnmljio.com/]ggvydmnmljio[/url], [link=http://qkxrpnaoqlyl.com/]qkxrpnaoqlyl[/link], http://fisixbrkenkr.com/
(Tome 3: Marius, Livre huiti&egrave;me: Le mauvais pauvre, Chapitre 11: Offres de service de la mis&egrave;re &agrave; la douleur)
 
 
 
==General notes on this chapter==
 
 
 
==French text==
 
 
 
 
Marius monta l'escalier de la masure &agrave; pas lents; &agrave; l'instant o&ugrave; il
 
allait rentrer dans sa cellule, il aper&ccedil;ut derri&egrave;re lui dans le corridor
 
la Jondrette a&icirc;n&eacute;e qui le suivait. Cette fille lui fut odieuse &agrave; voir,
 
c'&eacute;tait elle qui avait ses cinq francs, il &eacute;tait trop tard pour les lui
 
redemander, le cabriolet n'&eacute;tait plus l&agrave;, le fiacre &eacute;tait bien loin.
 
D'ailleurs elle ne les lui rendrait pas. Quant &agrave; la questionner sur la
 
demeure des gens qui &eacute;taient venus tout &agrave; l'heure, cela &eacute;tait inutile,
 
il &eacute;tait &eacute;vident qu'elle ne la savait point, puisque la lettre sign&eacute;e
 
Fabantou &eacute;tait adress&eacute;e ''au monsieur bienfaisant de l'&eacute;glise
 
Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas''.
 
 
 
 
Marius entra dans sa chambre et poussa sa porte derri&egrave;re lui.
 
 
 
 
Elle ne se ferma pas; il se retourna et vit une main qui retenait la
 
porte entr'ouverte.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Qu'est-ce que c'est? demanda-t-il, qui est l&agrave;?
 
 
 
 
C'&eacute;tait la fille Jondrette.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;C'est vous? reprit Marius presque durement, toujours vous donc! Que me
 
voulez-vous?
 
 
 
 
Elle semblait pensive et ne regardait pas. Elle n'avait plus son
 
assurance du matin. Elle n'&eacute;tait pas entr&eacute;e et se tenait dans l'ombre du
 
corridor, o&ugrave; Marius l'apercevait par la porte entre-b&acirc;ill&eacute;e.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Ah &ccedil;&agrave;, r&eacute;pondrez-vous? fit Marius. Qu'est-ce que vous me voulez?
 
 
 
 
Elle leva sur lui son &oelig;il morne o&ugrave; une esp&egrave;ce de clart&eacute; semblait
 
s'allumer vaguement, et lui dit:
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Monsieur Marius, vous avez l'air triste. Qu'est-ce que vous avez?
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Moi! dit Marius.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Oui, vous.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Je n'ai rien.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Si!
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Non.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Je vous dis que si!
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Laissez-moi tranquille!
 
 
 
 
Marius poussa de nouveau la porte, elle continua de la retenir.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Tenez, dit-elle, vous avez tort. Quoique vous ne soyez pas riche, vous
 
avez &eacute;t&eacute; bon ce matin. Soyez-le encore &agrave; pr&eacute;sent. Vous m'avez donn&eacute; de
 
quoi manger, dites-moi maintenant ce que vous avez. Vous avez du
 
chagrin, cela se voit. Je ne voudrais pas que vous eussiez du chagrin.
 
Qu'est-ce qu'il faut faire pour cela? Puis-je servir &agrave; quelque chose?
 
Employez-moi. Je ne vous demande pas vos secrets, vous n'aurez pas
 
besoin de me dire, mais enfin je peux &ecirc;tre utile. Je peux bien vous
 
aider, puisque j'aide mon p&egrave;re. Quand il faut porter des lettres, aller
 
dans les maisons, demander de porte en porte, trouver une adresse,
 
suivre quelqu'un, moi je sers &agrave; &ccedil;a. Eh bien, vous pouvez bien me dire ce
 
que vous avez, j'irai parler aux personnes. Quelquefois quelqu'un qui
 
parle aux personnes, &ccedil;a suffit pour qu'on sache les choses, et tout
 
s'arrange. Servez-vous de moi.
 
 
 
 
Une id&eacute;e traversa l'esprit de Marius. Quelle branche d&eacute;daigne-t-on quand
 
on se sent tomber?
 
 
 
 
Il s'approcha de la Jondrette.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;&Eacute;coute... lui dit-il.
 
 
 
 
Elle l'interrompit avec un &eacute;clair de joie dans les yeux.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Oh! oui, tutoyez-moi! j'aime mieux cela.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Eh bien, reprit-il, tu as amen&eacute; ici ce vieux monsieur avec sa
 
fille....
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Oui.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Sais-tu leur adresse?
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Non.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Trouve-la-moi.
 
 
 
 
L'&oelig;il de la Jondrette, de morne, &eacute;tait devenu joyeux, de joyeux il
 
devint sombre.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;C'est l&agrave; ce que vous voulez? demanda-t-elle.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Oui.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Est-ce que vous les connaissez?
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Non.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;C'est-&agrave;-dire, reprit-elle vivement, vous ne la connaissez pas, mais
 
vous voulez la conna&icirc;tre.
 
 
 
 
Ce ''les'' qui &eacute;tait devenu ''la'' avait je ne sais quoi de significatif et
 
d'amer.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Enfin, peux-tu? dit Marius.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Vous avoir l'adresse de la belle demoiselle?
 
 
 
 
Il y avait encore dans ces mots &laquo;la belle demoiselle&raquo; une nuance qui
 
importuna Marius. Il reprit:
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Enfin n'importe! l'adresse du p&egrave;re et de la fille. Leur adresse,
 
quoi!
 
 
 
 
Elle le regarda fixement.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Qu'est-ce que vous me donnerez?
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Tout ce que tu voudras!
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Tout ce que je voudrai?
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Oui.
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Vous aurez l'adresse.
 
 
 
 
Elle baissa la t&ecirc;te, puis d'un mouvement brusque elle tira la porte qui
 
se referma.
 
 
 
 
Marius se retrouva seul.
 
 
 
 
Il se laissa tomber sur une chaise, la t&ecirc;te et les deux coudes sur son
 
lit, ab&icirc;m&eacute; dans des pens&eacute;es qu'il ne pouvait saisir et comme en proie &agrave;
 
un vertige. Tout ce qui s'&eacute;tait pass&eacute; depuis le matin, l'apparition de
 
l'ange, sa disparition, ce que cette cr&eacute;ature venait de lui dire, une
 
lueur d'esp&eacute;rance flottant dans un d&eacute;sespoir immense, voil&agrave; ce qui
 
emplissait confus&eacute;ment son cerveau.
 
 
 
 
Tout &agrave; coup il fut violemment arrach&eacute; &agrave; sa r&ecirc;verie.
 
 
 
 
Il entendit la voix haute et dure de Jondrette prononcer ces paroles
 
pleines du plus &eacute;trange int&eacute;r&ecirc;t pour lui:
 
 
 
 
&mdash;Je te dis que j'en suis s&ucirc;r et que je l'ai reconnu.
 
 
 
 
De qui parlait Jondrette? il avait reconnu qui? M. Leblanc? le p&egrave;re de
 
&laquo;son Ursule&raquo;? quoi! est-ce que Jondrette le connaissait? Marius
 
allait-il avoir de cette fa&ccedil;on brusque et inattendue tous les
 
renseignements sans lesquels sa vie &eacute;tait obscure pour lui-m&ecirc;me?
 
allait-il savoir enfin qui il aimait, qui &eacute;tait cette jeune fille? qui
 
&eacute;tait son p&egrave;re? l'ombre si &eacute;paisse qui les couvrait &eacute;tait-elle au moment
 
de s'&eacute;claircir? Le voile allait-il se d&eacute;chirer? Ah! ciel!
 
 
 
 
Il bondit, plut&ocirc;t qu'il ne monta, sur la commode, et reprit sa place
 
pr&egrave;s de la petite lucarne de la cloison.
 
 
 
 
Il revoyait l'int&eacute;rieur du bouge Jondrette.
 
 
 
 
==English text==
 
 
 
 
Marius ascended the stairs of the hovel with slow steps; at the moment
 
when he was about to re-enter his cell, he caught sight of the elder
 
Jondrette girl following him through the corridor. The very sight of this
 
girl was odious to him; it was she who had his five francs, it was too
 
late to demand them back, the cab was no longer there, the fiacre was far
 
away. Moreover, she would not have given them back. As for questioning her
 
about the residence of the persons who had just been there, that was
 
useless; it was evident that she did not know, since the letter signed
 
Fabantou had been addressed "to the benevolent gentleman of the church of
 
Saint-Jacquesdu-Haut-Pas."
 
 
 
 
Marius entered his room and pushed the door to after him.
 
 
 
 
It did not close; he turned round and beheld a hand which held the door
 
half open.
 
 
 
 
"What is it?" he asked, "who is there?"
 
 
 
 
It was the Jondrette girl.
 
 
 
 
"Is it you?" resumed Marius almost harshly, "still you! What do you want
 
with me?"
 
 
 
 
She appeared to be thoughtful and did not look at him. She no longer had
 
the air of assurance which had characterized her that morning. She did not
 
enter, but held back in the darkness of the corridor, where Marius could
 
see her through the half-open door.
 
 
 
 
"Come now, will you answer?" cried Marius. "What do you want with me?"
 
 
 
 
She raised her dull eyes, in which a sort of gleam seemed to flicker
 
vaguely, and said:&mdash;
 
 
 
 
"Monsieur Marius, you look sad. What is the matter with you?"
 
 
 
 
"With me!" said Marius.
 
 
 
 
"Yes, you."
 
 
 
 
"There is nothing the matter with me."
 
 
 
 
"Yes, there is!"
 
 
 
 
"No."
 
 
 
 
"I tell you there is!"
 
 
 
 
"Let me alone!"
 
 
 
 
Marius gave the door another push, but she retained her hold on it.
 
 
 
 
"Stop," said she, "you are in the wrong. Although you are not rich, you
 
were kind this morning. Be so again now. You gave me something to eat, now
 
tell me what ails you. You are grieved, that is plain. I do not want you
 
to be grieved. What can be done for it? Can I be of any service? Employ
 
me. I do not ask for your secrets, you need not tell them to me, but I may
 
be of use, nevertheless. I may be able to help you, since I help my
 
father. When it is necessary to carry letters, to go to houses, to inquire
 
from door to door, to find out an address, to follow any one, I am of
 
service. Well, you may assuredly tell me what is the matter with you, and
 
I will go and speak to the persons; sometimes it is enough if some one
 
speaks to the persons, that suffices to let them understand matters, and
 
everything comes right. Make use of me."
 
 
 
 
An idea flashed across Marius' mind. What branch does one disdain when one
 
feels that one is falling?
 
 
 
 
He drew near to the Jondrette girl.
 
 
 
 
"Listen&mdash;" he said to her.
 
 
 
 
She interrupted him with a gleam of joy in her eyes.
 
 
 
 
"Oh yes, do call me thou! I like that better."
 
 
 
 
"Well," he resumed, "thou hast brought hither that old gentleman and his
 
daughter!"
 
 
 
 
"Yes."
 
 
 
 
"Dost thou know their address?"
 
 
 
 
"No."
 
 
 
 
"Find it for me."
 
 
 
 
The Jondrette's dull eyes had grown joyous, and they now became gloomy.
 
 
 
 
"Is that what you want?" she demanded.
 
 
 
 
"Yes."
 
 
 
 
"Do you know them?"
 
 
 
 
"No."
 
 
 
 
"That is to say," she resumed quickly, "you do not know her, but you wish
 
to know her."
 
 
 
 
This them which had turned into her had something indescribably
 
significant and bitter about it.
 
 
 
 
"Well, can you do it?" said Marius.
 
 
 
 
"You shall have the beautiful lady's address."
 
 
 
 
There was still a shade in the words "the beautiful lady" which troubled
 
Marius. He resumed:&mdash;
 
 
 
 
"Never mind, after all, the address of the father and daughter. Their
 
address, indeed!"
 
 
 
 
She gazed fixedly at him.
 
 
 
 
"What will you give me?"
 
 
 
 
"Anything you like."
 
 
 
 
"Anything I like?"
 
 
 
 
"Yes."
 
 
 
 
"You shall have the address."
 
 
 
 
She dropped her head; then, with a brusque movement, she pulled to the
 
door, which closed behind her.
 
 
 
 
Marius found himself alone.
 
 
 
 
He dropped into a chair, with his head and both elbows on his bed,
 
absorbed in thoughts which he could not grasp, and as though a prey to
 
vertigo. All that had taken place since the morning, the appearance of the
 
angel, her disappearance, what that creature had just said to him, a gleam
 
of hope floating in an immense despair,&mdash;this was what filled his
 
brain confusedly.
 
 
 
 
All at once he was violently aroused from his revery.
 
 
 
 
He heard the shrill, hard voice of Jondrette utter these words, which were
 
fraught with a strange interest for him:&mdash;
 
 
 
 
"I tell you that I am sure of it, and that I recognized him."
 
 
 
 
Of whom was Jondrette speaking? Whom had he recognized? M. Leblanc? The
 
father of "his Ursule"? What! Did Jondrette know him? Was Marius about to
 
obtain in this abrupt and unexpected fashion all the information without
 
which his life was so dark to him? Was he about to learn at last who it
 
was that he loved, who that young girl was? Who her father was? Was the
 
dense shadow which enwrapped them on the point of being dispelled? Was the
 
veil about to be rent? Ah! Heavens!
 
 
 
 
He bounded rather than climbed upon his commode, and resumed his post near
 
the little peep-hole in the partition wall.
 
 
 
 
Again he beheld the interior of Jondrette's hovel.
 
 
 
 
 
==Translation notes==
 
 
 
==Textual notes==
 
 
 
==Citations==
 
<references />
 

Latest revision as of 17:12, 7 March 2015

hPfxHX <a href="http://dzfcceehmftx.com/">dzfcceehmftx</a>, [url=http://ggvydmnmljio.com/]ggvydmnmljio[/url], [link=http://qkxrpnaoqlyl.com/]qkxrpnaoqlyl[/link], http://fisixbrkenkr.com/