Editing Volume 3/Book 2/Chapter 6

Les Mis&eacute;rables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Second: The Great Bourgeois, Chapter 6: In which Magnon and her Two Children are seen<br />
(Tome 3: Marius, Livre deuxi&egrave;me: Le grand bourgeois, Chapitre 6: O&ugrave; l'on entrevoit la Magnon et ses deux petits)

==General notes on this chapter==

==French text==

 
Chez M. Gillenormand la douleur se traduisait en col&egrave;re; il &eacute;tait
furieux d'&ecirc;tre d&eacute;sesp&eacute;r&eacute;. Il avait tous les pr&eacute;jug&eacute;s et prenait toutes
les licences. Une des choses dont il composait son relief ext&eacute;rieur et
sa satisfaction intime, c'&eacute;tait, nous venons de l'indiquer, d'&ecirc;tre rest&eacute;
vert galant, et de passer &eacute;nergiquement pour tel. Il appelait cela avoir
&laquo;royale renomm&eacute;e&raquo;. La royale renomm&eacute;e lui attirait parfois de
singuli&egrave;res aubaines. Un jour on apporta chez lui dans une bourriche,
comme une cloy&egrave;re d'hu&icirc;tres, un gros gar&ccedil;on nouveau-n&eacute;, criant le diable
et d&ucirc;ment emmitoufl&eacute; de langes, qu'une servante chass&eacute;e six mois
auparavant lui attribuait. M. Gillenormand avait alors ses parfaits
quatrevingt-quatre ans. Indignation et clameur dans l'entourage. Et &agrave;
qui cette effront&eacute;e dr&ocirc;lesse esp&eacute;rait-elle faire accroire cela? Quelle
audace! quelle abominable calomnie! M. Gillenormand, lui, n'eut aucune
col&egrave;re. Il regarda le maillot avec l'aimable sourire d'un bonhomme
flatt&eacute; de la calomnie, et dit &agrave; la cantonade: &laquo;&mdash;Eh bien quoi?
qu'est-ce? qu'y a-t-il? qu'est-ce qu'il y a? vous vous &eacute;bahissez
bellement, et, en v&eacute;rit&eacute;, comme aucunes personnes ignorantes. Monsieur
le duc d'Angoul&ecirc;me, b&acirc;tard de sa majest&eacute; Charles IX, se maria &agrave;
quatrevingt-cinq ans avec une p&eacute;ronnelle de quinze ans, monsieur
Virginal, marquis d'Alluye, fr&egrave;re du cardinal de Sourdis, archev&ecirc;que de
Bordeaux, eut &agrave; quatrevingt-trois ans d'une fille de chambre de madame
la pr&eacute;sidente Jacquin un fils, un vrai fils d'amour, qui fut chevalier
de Malte et conseiller d'&eacute;tat d'&eacute;p&eacute;e; un des grands hommes de ce
si&egrave;cle-ci, l'abb&eacute; Tabaraud, est fils d'un homme de quatrevingt-sept ans.
Ces choses-l&agrave; n'ont rien que d'ordinaire. Et la Bible donc! Sur ce, je
d&eacute;clare que ce petit monsieur n'est pas de moi. Qu'on en prenne soin. Ce
n'est pas sa faute.&raquo;&mdash;Le proc&eacute;d&eacute; &eacute;tait d&eacute;bonnaire. La cr&eacute;ature, celle-l&agrave;
qui se nommait Magnon, lui fit un deuxi&egrave;me envoi l'ann&eacute;e d'apr&egrave;s.
C'&eacute;tait encore un gar&ccedil;on. Pour le coup, M. Gillenormand capitula. Il
remit &agrave; la m&egrave;re les deux mioches, s'engageant &agrave; payer pour leur
entretien quatre-vingts francs par mois, &agrave; la condition que ladite m&egrave;re
ne recommencerait plus. Il ajouta: &laquo;J'entends que la m&egrave;re les traite
bien. Je les irai voir de temps en temps.&raquo; Ce qu'il fit. Il avait eu un
fr&egrave;re pr&ecirc;tre, lequel avait &eacute;t&eacute; trente-trois ans recteur de l'acad&eacute;mie de
Poitiers, et &eacute;tait mort &agrave; soixante-dix-neuf ans. ''Je l'ai perdu jeune'',
disait-il. Ce fr&egrave;re, dont il est rest&eacute; peu de souvenir, &eacute;tait un
paisible avare qui, &eacute;tant pr&ecirc;tre, se croyait oblig&eacute; de faire l'aum&ocirc;ne
aux pauvres qu'il rencontrait, mais il ne leur donnait jamais que des
monnerons ou des sous d&eacute;mon&eacute;tis&eacute;s, trouvant ainsi moyen d'aller en enfer
par le chemin du paradis. Quant &agrave; M. Gillenormand a&icirc;n&eacute;, il ne
marchandait pas l'aum&ocirc;ne et donnait volontiers, et noblement. Il &eacute;tait
bienveillant, brusque, charitable, et s'il e&ucirc;t &eacute;t&eacute; riche, sa pente e&ucirc;t
&eacute;t&eacute; le magnifique. Il voulait que tout ce qui le concernait f&ucirc;t fait
grandement, m&ecirc;me les friponneries. Un jour, dans une succession, ayant
&eacute;t&eacute; d&eacute;valis&eacute; par un homme d'affaires d'une mani&egrave;re grossi&egrave;re et visible,
il jeta cette exclamation solennelle:&mdash;&laquo;Fi! c'est malproprement fait!
j'ai vraiment honte de ces grivelleries. Tout a d&eacute;g&eacute;n&eacute;r&eacute; dans ce si&egrave;cle,
m&ecirc;me les coquins. Morbleu! ce n'est pas ainsi qu'on doit voler un homme
de ma sorte. Je suis vol&eacute; comme dans un bois, mais mal vol&eacute;. ''Sylvae
sint consule dignae!&raquo;''&mdash;il avait eu, nous l'avons dit, deux femmes; de
la premi&egrave;re une fille qui &eacute;tait rest&eacute;e fille, et de la seconde une autre
fille, morte vers l'&acirc;ge de trente ans, laquelle avait &eacute;pous&eacute; par amour
ou hasard ou autrement un soldat de fortune qui avait servi dans les
arm&eacute;es de la R&eacute;publique et de l'Empire, avait eu la croix &agrave; Austerlitz
et avait &eacute;t&eacute; fait colonel &agrave; Waterloo. ''C'est la honte de ma famille'',
disait le vieux bourgeois. Il prenait force tabac, et avait une gr&acirc;ce
particuli&egrave;re &agrave; chiffonner son jabot de dentelle d'un revers de main. Il
croyait fort peu en Dieu.

 
==English text==

 
With M. Gillenormand, sorrow was converted into wrath; he was furious at
being in despair. He had all sorts of prejudices and took all sorts of
liberties. One of the facts of which his exterior relief and his internal
satisfaction was composed, was, as we have just hinted, that he had
remained a brisk spark, and that he passed energetically for such. This he
called having "royal renown." This royal renown sometimes drew down upon
him singular windfalls. One day, there was brought to him in a basket, as
though it had been a basket of oysters, a stout, newly born boy, who was
yelling like the deuce, and duly wrapped in swaddling-clothes, which a
servant-maid, dismissed six months previously, attributed to him. M.
Gillenormand had, at that time, fully completed his eighty-fourth year.
Indignation and uproar in the establishment. And whom did that bold hussy
think she could persuade to believe that? What audacity! What an
abominable calumny! M. Gillenormand himself was not at all enraged. He
gazed at the brat with the amiable smile of a good man who is flattered by
the calumny, and said in an aside: "Well, what now? What's the matter? You
are finely taken aback, and really, you are excessively ignorant. M. le
Duc d'Angoulême, the bastard of his Majesty Charles IX., married a silly
jade of fifteen when he was eighty-five; M. Virginal, Marquis d'Alluye,
brother to the Cardinal de Sourdis, Archbishop of Bordeaux, had, at the
age of eighty-three, by the maid of Madame la Présidente Jacquin, a son, a
real child of love, who became a Chevalier of Malta and a counsellor of
state; one of the great men of this century, the Abbé Tabaraud, is the son
of a man of eighty-seven. There is nothing out of the ordinary in these
things. And then, the Bible! Upon that I declare that this little
gentleman is none of mine. Let him be taken care of. It is not his fault."
This manner of procedure was good-tempèred. The woman, whose name was
Magnon, sent him another parcel in the following year. It was a boy again.
Thereupon, M. Gillenormand capitulated. He sent the two brats back to
their mother, promising to pay eighty francs a month for their
maintenance, on the condition that the said mother would not do so any
more. He added: "I insist upon it that the mother shall treat them well. I
shall go to see them from time to time." And this he did. He had had a
brother who was a priest, and who had been rector of the Academy of
Poitiers for three and thirty years, and had died at seventy-nine. "I lost
him young," said he. This brother, of whom but little memory remains, was
a peaceable miser, who, being a priest, thought himself bound to bestow
alms on the poor whom he met, but he never gave them anything except bad
or demonetized sous, thereby discovering a means of going to hell by way
of paradise. As for M. Gillenormand the elder, he never haggled over his
alms-giving, but gave gladly and nobly. He was kindly, abrupt, charitable,
and if he had been rich, his turn of mind would have been magnificent. He
desired that all which concerned him should be done in a grand manner,
even his rogueries. One day, having been cheated by a business man in a
matter of inheritance, in a gross and apparent manner, he uttered this
solemn exclamation: "That was indecently done! I am really ashamed of this
pilfering. Everything has degenerated in this century, even the rascals.
Morbleu! this is not the way to rob a man of my standing. I am robbed as
though in a forest, but badly robbed. Silva, sint consule dignae!" He had
had two wives, as we have already mentioned; by the first he had had a
daughter, who had remained unmarried, and by the second another daughter,
who had died at about the age of thirty, who had wedded, through love, or
chance, or otherwise, a soldier of fortune who had served in the armies of
the Republic and of the Empire, who had won the cross at Austerlitz and
had been made colonel at Waterloo. "He is the disgrace of my family," said
the old bourgeois. He took an immense amount of snuff, and had a
particularly graceful manner of plucking at his lace ruffle with the back
of one hand. He believed very little in God.


==Translation notes==

==Textual notes==

==Citations==
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