Editing Volume 3/Book 6/Chapter 1

Les Mis&eacute;rables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Sixth: The Conjunction of Two Stars, Chapter 1: The Sobriquet; Mode of Formation of Family Names<br />
(Tome 3: Marius, Livre sixi&egrave;me: TITLE, Chapitre 1: Le sobriquet: mode de formation des noms de familles)

==General notes on this chapter==

==French text==

 
Marius &agrave; cette &eacute;poque &eacute;tait un beau jeune homme de moyenne taille, avec
d'&eacute;pais cheveux tr&egrave;s noirs, un front haut et intelligent, les narines
ouvertes et passionn&eacute;es, l'air sinc&egrave;re et calme, et sur tout son visage
je ne sais quoi qui &eacute;tait hautain, pensif et innocent. Son profil, dont
toutes les lignes &eacute;taient arrondies sans cesser d'&ecirc;tre fermes, avait
cette douceur germanique qui a p&eacute;n&eacute;tr&eacute; dans la physionomie fran&ccedil;aise par
l'Alsace et la Lorraine, et cette absence compl&egrave;te d'angles qui rendait
les Sicambres si reconnaissables parmi les romains et qui distingue la
race l&eacute;onine de la race aquiline. Il &eacute;tait &agrave; cette saison de la vie o&ugrave;
l'esprit des hommes qui pensent se compose, presque &agrave; proportions
&eacute;gales, de profondeur et de na&iuml;vet&eacute;. Une situation grave &eacute;tant donn&eacute;e,
il avait tout ce qu'il fallait pour &ecirc;tre stupide; un tour de clef de
plus, il pouvait &ecirc;tre sublime. Ses fa&ccedil;ons &eacute;taient r&eacute;serv&eacute;es, froides,
polies, peu ouvertes. Comme sa bouche &eacute;tait charmante, ses l&egrave;vres les
plus vermeilles et ses dents les plus blanches du monde, son sourire
corrigeait ce que toute sa physionomie avait de s&eacute;v&egrave;re. &Agrave; de certains
moments, c'&eacute;tait un singulier contraste que ce front chaste et ce
sourire voluptueux. Il avait l'&oelig;il petit et le regard grand.

 
Au temps de sa pire mis&egrave;re, il remarquait que les jeunes filles se
retournaient quand il passait, et il se sauvait ou se cachait, la mort
dans l'&acirc;me. Il pensait qu'elles le regardaient pour ses vieux habits et
qu'elles en riaient; le fait est qu'elles le regardaient pour sa gr&acirc;ce
et qu'elles en r&ecirc;vaient.

 
Ce muet malentendu entre lui et les jolies passantes l'avait rendu
farouche. Il n'en choisit aucune, par l'excellente raison qu'il
s'enfuyait devant toutes. Il v&eacute;cut ainsi ind&eacute;finiment,&mdash;b&ecirc;tement, disait
Courfeyrac.

 
Courfeyrac lui disait encore:&mdash;N'aspire pas &agrave; &ecirc;tre v&eacute;n&eacute;rable (car ils se
tutoyaient; glisser au tutoiement est la pente des amiti&eacute;s jeunes). Mon
cher, un conseil. Ne lis pas tant dans les livres et regarde un peu plus
les margotons. Les coquines ont du bon, &ocirc; Marius! &Agrave; force de t'enfuir et
de rougir, tu t'abrutiras.

 
D'autres fois Courfeyrac le rencontrait et lui disait:

 
&mdash;Bonjour, monsieur l'abb&eacute;.

 
Quand Courfeyrac lui avait tenu quelque propos de ce genre, Marius &eacute;tait
huit jours &agrave; &eacute;viter plus que jamais les femmes, jeunes et vieilles, et
il &eacute;vitait par-dessus le march&eacute; Courfeyrac.

 
Il y avait pourtant dans toute l'immense cr&eacute;ation deux femmes que Marius
ne fuyait pas et auxquelles il ne prenait point garde. &Agrave; la v&eacute;rit&eacute; on
l'e&ucirc;t fort &eacute;tonn&eacute; si on lui e&ucirc;t dit que c'&eacute;taient des femmes. L'une
&eacute;tait la vieille barbue qui balayait sa chambre et qui faisait dire &agrave;
Courfeyrac: Voyant que sa servante porte sa barbe, Marius ne porte point
la sienne. L'autre &eacute;tait une esp&egrave;ce de petite fille qu'il voyait tr&egrave;s
souvent et qu'il ne regardait jamais.

 
Depuis plus d'un an, Marius remarquait dans une all&eacute;e d&eacute;serte du
Luxembourg, l'all&eacute;e qui longe le parapet de la P&eacute;pini&egrave;re, un homme et
une toute jeune fille presque toujours assis c&ocirc;te &agrave; c&ocirc;te sur le m&ecirc;me
banc, &agrave; l'extr&eacute;mit&eacute; la plus solitaire de l'all&eacute;e, du c&ocirc;t&eacute; de la rue de
l'Ouest. Chaque fois que ce hasard qui se m&ecirc;le aux promenades des gens
dont l'&oelig;il est retourn&eacute; en dedans amenait Marius dans cette all&eacute;e, et
c'&eacute;tait presque tous les jours, il y retrouvait ce couple. L'homme
pouvait avoir une soixantaine d'ann&eacute;es, il paraissait triste et s&eacute;rieux;
toute sa personne offrait cet aspect robuste et fatigu&eacute; des gens de
guerre retir&eacute;s du service. S'il avait eu une d&eacute;coration, Marius e&ucirc;t dit:
c'est un ancien officier. Il avait l'air bon, mais inabordable, et il
n'arr&ecirc;tait jamais son regard sur le regard de personne. Il portait un
pantalon bleu, une redingote bleue et un chapeau &agrave; bords larges, qui
paraissaient toujours neufs, une cravate noire et une chemise de quaker,
c'est-&agrave;-dire, &eacute;clatante de blancheur, mais de grosse toile. Une grisette
passant un jour pr&egrave;s de lui, dit: Voil&agrave; un veuf fort propre. Il avait
les cheveux tr&egrave;s blancs.

 
La premi&egrave;re fois que la jeune fille qui l'accompagnait vint s'asseoir
avec lui sur le banc qu'ils semblaient avoir adopt&eacute;, c'&eacute;tait une fa&ccedil;on
de fille de treize ou quatorze ans, maigre, au point d'en &ecirc;tre presque
laide, gauche, insignifiante, et qui promettait peut-&ecirc;tre d'avoir
d'assez beaux yeux. Seulement ils &eacute;taient toujours lev&eacute;s avec une sorte
d'assurance d&eacute;plaisante. Elle avait cette mise &agrave; la fois vieille et
enfantine des pensionnaires de couvent; une robe mal coup&eacute;e de gros
m&eacute;rinos noir. Ils avaient l'air du p&egrave;re et de la fille.

 
Marius examina pendant deux ou trois jours cet homme vieux qui n'&eacute;tait
pas encore un vieillard et cette petite fille qui n'&eacute;tait pas encore une
personne, puis il n'y fit plus aucune attention. Eux de leur c&ocirc;t&eacute;
semblaient ne pas m&ecirc;me le voir. Ils causaient entre eux d'un air
paisible et indiff&eacute;rent. La fille jasait sans cesse, et ga&icirc;ment. Le
vieux homme parlait peu, et, par instants, il attachait sur elle des
yeux remplis d'une ineffable paternit&eacute;.

 
Marius avait pris l'habitude machinale de se promener dans cette all&eacute;e.
Il les y retrouvait invariablement.

 
Voici comment la chose se passait:

 
Marius arrivait le plus volontiers par le bout de l'all&eacute;e oppos&eacute; &agrave; leur
banc. Il marchait toute la longueur de l'all&eacute;e, passait devant eux, puis
s'en retournait jusqu'&agrave; l'extr&eacute;mit&eacute; par o&ugrave; il &eacute;tait venu, et
recommen&ccedil;ait. Il faisait ce va-et-vient cinq ou six fois dans sa
promenade, et cette promenade cinq ou six fois par semaine sans qu'ils
en fussent arriv&eacute;s, ces gens et lui, &agrave; &eacute;changer un salut. Ce personnage
et cette jeune fille, quoiqu'ils parussent et peut-&ecirc;tre parce qu'ils
paraissaient &eacute;viter les regards, avaient naturellement quelque peu
&eacute;veill&eacute; l'attention des cinq ou six &eacute;tudiants qui se promenaient de
temps en temps le long de la P&eacute;pini&egrave;re, les studieux apr&egrave;s leur cours,
les autres apr&egrave;s leur partie de billard. Courfeyrac, qui &eacute;tait un des
derniers, les avait observ&eacute;s quelque temps, mais trouvant la fille
laide, il s'en &eacute;tait bien vite et soigneusement &eacute;cart&eacute;. Il s'&eacute;tait enfui
comme un Parthe en leur d&eacute;cochant un sobriquet. Frapp&eacute; uniquement de la
robe de la petite et des cheveux du vieux, il avait appel&eacute; la fille
''mademoiselle Lanoire'' et le p&egrave;re ''monsieur Leblanc'', si bien que,
personne ne les connaissant d'ailleurs, en l'absence du nom, le surnom
avait fait loi. Les &eacute;tudiants disaient:&mdash;Ah! monsieur Leblanc est &agrave; son
banc! et Marius, comme les autres, avait trouv&eacute; commode d'appeler ce
monsieur inconnu M. Leblanc.

 
Nous ferons comme eux, et nous dirons M. Leblanc pour la facilit&eacute; de ce
r&eacute;cit.

 
Marius les vit ainsi presque tous les jours &agrave; la m&ecirc;me heure pendant la
premi&egrave;re ann&eacute;e. Il trouvait l'homme &agrave; son gr&eacute;, mais la fille assez
maussade.

 
==English text==

 
Marius was, at this epoch, a handsome young man, of medium stature, with
thick and intensely black hair, a lofty and intelligent brow, well-opened
and passionate nostrils, an air of calmness and sincerity, and with
something indescribably proud, thoughtful, and innocent over his whole
countenance. His profile, all of whose lines were rounded, without thereby
losing their firmness, had a certain Germanic sweetness, which has made
its way into the French physiognomy by way of Alsace and Lorraine, and
that complete absence of angles which rendered the Sicambres so easily
recognizable among the Romans, and which distinguishes the leonine from
the aquiline race. He was at that period of life when the mind of men who
think is composed, in nearly equal parts, of depth and ingenuousness. A
grave situation being given, he had all that is required to be stupid: one
more turn of the key, and he might be sublime. His manners were reserved,
cold, polished, not very genial. As his mouth was charming, his lips the
reddest, and his teeth the whitest in the world, his smile corrected the
severity of his face, as a whole. At certain moments, that pure brow and
that voluptuous smile presented a singular contrast. His eyes were small,
but his glance was large.

 
At the period of his most abject misery, he had observed that young girls
turned round when he passed by, and he fled or hid, with death in his
soul. He thought that they were staring at him because of his old clothes,
and that they were laughing at them; the fact is, that they stared at him
because of his grace, and that they dreamed of him.

 
This mute misunderstanding between him and the pretty passers-by had made
him shy. He chose none of them for the excellent reason that he fled from
all of them. He lived thus indefinitely,&mdash;stupidly, as Courfeyrac
said.

 
Courfeyrac also said to him: "Do not aspire to be venerable" [they called
each other thou; it is the tendency of youthful friendships to slip into
this mode of address]. "Let me give you a piece of advice, my dear fellow.
Don't read so many books, and look a little more at the lasses. The jades
have some good points about them, O Marius! By dint of fleeing and
blushing, you will become brutalized."

 
On other occasions, Courfeyrac encountered him and said:&mdash;"Good
morning, Monsieur l' Abbé!"

 
When Courfeyrac had addressed to him some remark of this nature, Marius
avoided women, both young and old, more than ever for a week to come, and
he avoided Courfeyrac to boot.

 
Nevertheless, there existed in all the immensity of creation, two women
whom Marius did not flee, and to whom he paid no attention whatever. In
truth, he would have been very much amazed if he had been informed that
they were women. One was the bearded old woman who swept out his chamber,
and caused Courfeyrac to say: "Seeing that his servant woman wears his
beard, Marius does not wear his own beard." The other was a sort of little
girl whom he saw very often, and whom he never looked at.

 
For more than a year, Marius had noticed in one of the walks of the
Luxembourg, the one which skirts the parapet of the Pepiniere, a man and a
very young girl, who were almost always seated side by side on the same
bench, at the most solitary end of the alley, on the Rue de l'Ouest side.
Every time that that chance which meddles with the strolls of persons
whose gaze is turned inwards, led Marius to that walk,&mdash;and it was
nearly every day,&mdash;he found this couple there. The man appeared to be
about sixty years of age; he seemed sad and serious; his whole person
presented the robust and weary aspect peculiar to military men who have
retired from the service. If he had worn a decoration, Marius would have
said: "He is an ex-officer." He had a kindly but unapproachable air, and
he never let his glance linger on the eyes of any one. He wore blue
trousers, a blue frock coat and a broad-brimmed hat, which always appeared
to be new, a black cravat, a quaker shirt, that is to say, it was
dazzlingly white, but of coarse linen. A grisette who passed near him one
day, said: "Here's a very tidy widower." His hair was very white.

 
The first time that the young girl who accompanied him came and seated
herself on the bench which they seemed to have adopted, she was a sort of
child thirteen or fourteen years of age, so thin as to be almost homely,
awkward, insignificant, and with a possible promise of handsome eyes.
Only, they were always raised with a sort of displeasing assurance. Her
dress was both aged and childish, like the dress of the scholars in a
convent; it consisted of a badly cut gown of black merino. They had the
air of being father and daughter.

 
Marius scanned this old man, who was not yet aged, and this little girl,
who was not yet a person, for a few days, and thereafter paid no attention
to them. They, on their side, did not appear even to see him. They
conversed together with a peaceful and indifferent air. The girl chattered
incessantly and merrily. The old man talked but little, and, at times, he
fixed on her eyes overflowing with an ineffable paternity.

 
Marius had acquired the mechanical habit of strolling in that walk. He
invariably found them there.

 
This is the way things went:&mdash;

 
Marius liked to arrive by the end of the alley which was furthest from
their bench; he walked the whole length of the alley, passed in front of
them, then returned to the extremity whence he had come, and began again.
This he did five or six times in the course of his promenade, and the
promenade was taken five or six times a week, without its having occurred
to him or to these people to exchange a greeting. That personage, and that
young girl, although they appeared,&mdash;and perhaps because they
appeared,&mdash;to shun all glances, had, naturally, caused some attention
on the part of the five or six students who strolled along the Pepiniere
from time to time; the studious after their lectures, the others after
their game of billiards. Courfeyrac, who was among the last, had observed
them several times, but, finding the girl homely, he had speedily and
carefully kept out of the way. He had fled, discharging at them a
sobriquet, like a Parthian dart. Impressed solely with the child's gown
and the old man's hair, he had dubbed the daughter Mademoiselle Lanoire,
and the father, Monsieur Leblanc, so that as no one knew them under any
other title, this nickname became a law in the default of any other name.
The students said: "Ah! Monsieur Leblanc is on his bench." And Marius,
like the rest, had found it convenient to call this unknown gentleman
Monsieur Leblanc.

 
We shall follow their example, and we shall say M. Leblanc, in order to
facilitate this tale.

 
So Marius saw them nearly every day, at the same hour, during the first
year. He found the man to his taste, but the girl insipid.

 
==Translation notes==

==Textual notes==

==Citations==
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