Editing Volume 3/Book 8/Chapter 22

Les Mis&eacute;rables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Eighth: The Wicked Poor Man, Chapter 22: The Little One who was crying in Volume Two<br />
(Tome 3: Marius, Livre huiti&egrave;me:  Le mauvais pauvre, Chapitre 22: Le petit qui criait au tome deux)

==General notes on this chapter==

==French text==

 
Le lendemain du jour o&ugrave; ces &eacute;v&eacute;nements s'&eacute;taient accomplis dans la
maison du boulevard de l'H&ocirc;pital, un enfant, qui semblait venir du c&ocirc;t&eacute;
du pont d'Austerlitz, montait par la contre-all&eacute;e de droite dans la
direction de la barri&egrave;re de Fontainebleau. Il &eacute;tait nuit close. Cet
enfant &eacute;tait p&acirc;le, maigre, v&ecirc;tu de loques, avec un pantalon de toile au
mois de f&eacute;vrier, et chantait &agrave; tue-t&ecirc;te.

 
Au coin de la rue du Petit-Banquier, une vieille courb&eacute;e fouillait dans
un tas d'ordures &agrave; la lueur du r&eacute;verb&egrave;re; l'enfant la heurta en passant,
puis recula en s'&eacute;criant:

 
&mdash;Tiens! moi qui avait pris &ccedil;a pour un &eacute;norme, un &eacute;norme chien!

 
Il pronon&ccedil;a le mot &eacute;norme pour la seconde fois avec un renflement de
voix goguenarde que des majuscules exprimeraient assez bien: un &eacute;norme,
un &Eacute;NORME chien!

 
La vieille se redressa furieuse.

 
&mdash;Carcan de moutard! grommela-t-elle. Si je n'avais pas &eacute;t&eacute; pench&eacute;e, je
sais bien o&ugrave; je t'aurais flanqu&eacute; mon pied!

 
L'enfant &eacute;tait d&eacute;j&agrave; &agrave; distance.

 
&mdash;Kisss! kisss! fit-il. Apr&egrave;s &ccedil;a, je ne me suis peut-&ecirc;tre pas tromp&eacute;.

 
La vieille, suffoqu&eacute;e d'indignation, se dressa tout &agrave; fait, et le
rougeoiement de la lanterne &eacute;claira en plein sa face livide, toute
creus&eacute;e d'angles et de rides, avec des pattes d'oie rejoignant les coins
de la bouche. Le corps se perdait dans l'ombre et l'on ne voyait que la
t&ecirc;te. On e&ucirc;t dit le masque de la D&eacute;cr&eacute;pitude d&eacute;coup&eacute; par une lueur dans
la nuit. L'enfant la consid&eacute;ra.

 
&mdash;Madame, dit-il, n'a pas le genre de beaut&eacute; qui me conviendrait.

 
Il poursuivit son chemin et se remit &agrave; chanter:

 
''Le roi Coupdesabot''<br> ''S'en allait &agrave; la chasse,''<br> ''&Agrave; la chasse aux corbeaux...''<br>

 
Au bout de ces trois vers, il s'interrompit. Il &eacute;tait arriv&eacute; devant le
num&eacute;ro 50-52, et, trouvant la porte ferm&eacute;e, il avait commenc&eacute; &agrave; la
battre &agrave; coups de pied, coups de pied retentissants et h&eacute;ro&iuml;ques,
lesquels d&eacute;celaient plut&ocirc;t les souliers d'homme qu'il portait que les
pieds d'enfant qu'il avait.

 
Cependant cette m&ecirc;me vieille qu'il avait rencontr&eacute;e au coin de la rue du
Petit-Banquier accourait derri&egrave;re lui poussant des clameurs et
prodiguant des gestes d&eacute;mesur&eacute;s.

 
&mdash;Qu'est-ce que c'est? qu'est-ce que c'est? Dieu Seigneur! on enfonce la
porte! on d&eacute;fonce la maison!

 
Les coups de pied continuaient.

 
La vieille s'&eacute;poumonait.

 
&mdash;Est-ce qu'on arrange les b&acirc;timents comme &ccedil;a &agrave; pr&eacute;sent!

 
Tout &agrave; coup elle s'arr&ecirc;ta. Elle avait reconnu le gamin.

 
&mdash;Quoi! c'est ce satan!

 
&mdash;Tiens, c'est la vieille, dit l'enfant. Bonjour, la Burgonmuche. Je
viens voir mes anc&ecirc;tres.

 
La vieille r&eacute;pondit, avec une grimace composite, admirable
improvisation de la haine tirant parti de la caducit&eacute; et de la laideur,
qui fut malheureusement perdue dans l'obscurit&eacute;:

 
&mdash;Il n'y a personne, mufle.

 
&mdash;Bah! reprit l'enfant, o&ugrave; donc est mon p&egrave;re?

 
&mdash;&Agrave; la Force.

 
&mdash;Tiens! et ma m&egrave;re?

 
&mdash;&Agrave; Saint-Lazare.

 
&mdash;Eh bien! et mes s&oelig;urs?

 
&mdash;Aux Madelonnettes.

 
L'enfant se gratta le derri&egrave;re de l'oreille, regarda mame Burgon, et
dit:

 
&mdash;Ah!

 
Puis il pirouetta sur ses talons, et, un moment apr&egrave;s, la vieille rest&eacute;e
sur le pas de la porte l'entendit qui chantait de sa voix claire et
jeune en s'enfon&ccedil;ant sous les ormes noirs frissonnant au vent d'hiver:

''Le roi Coupdesabot''<br> ''S'en allait &agrave; la chasse,''<br> ''&Agrave; la chasse aux corbeaux,''<br> ''Mont&eacute; sur des &eacute;chasses.''<br> ''Quand on passait dessous''<br> ''On lui payait deux sous.''<br>

 

 
==English text==

 
On the day following that on which these events took place in the house on
the Boulevard de l'Hopital, a child, who seemed to be coming from the
direction of the bridge of Austerlitz, was ascending the side-alley on the
right in the direction of the Barriere de Fontainebleau.

 
Night had fully come.

 
This lad was pale, thin, clad in rags, with linen trousers in the month of
February, and was singing at the top of his voice.

 
At the corner of the Rue du Petit-Banquier, a bent old woman was rummaging
in a heap of refuse by the light of a street lantern; the child jostled
her as he passed, then recoiled, exclaiming:&mdash;

 
"Hello! And I took it for an enormous, enormous dog!"

 
He pronounced the word enormous the second time with a jeering swell of
the voice which might be tolerably well represented by capitals: "an
enormous, ENORMOUS dog."

 
The old woman straightened herself up in a fury.

 
"Nasty brat!" she grumbled. "If I hadn't been bending over, I know well
where I would have planted my foot on you."

 
The boy was already far away.

 
"Kisss! kisss!" he cried. "After that, I don't think I was mistaken!"

 
The old woman, choking with indignation, now rose completely upright, and
the red gleam of the lantern fully lighted up her livid face, all hollowed
into angles and wrinkles, with crow's-feet meeting the corners of her
mouth.

 
Her body was lost in the darkness, and only her head was visible. One
would have pronounced her a mask of Decrepitude carved out by a light from
the night.

 
The boy surveyed her.

 
"Madame," said he, "does not possess that style of beauty which pleases
me."

 
He then pursued his road, and resumed his song:&mdash;

 
<pre>
"Le roi Coupdesabot
S'en allait à la chasse,
A la chasse aux corbeaux&mdash;"

</pre>
 
At the end of these three lines he paused. He had arrived in front of No.
50-52, and finding the door fastened, he began to assault it with
resounding and heroic kicks, which betrayed rather the man's shoes that he
was wearing than the child's feet which he owned.

 
In the meanwhile, the very old woman whom he had encountered at the corner
of the Rue du Petit-Banquier hastened up behind him, uttering clamorous
cries and indulging in lavish and exaggerated gestures.

 
"What's this? What's this? Lord God! He's battering the door down! He's
knocking the house down."

 
The kicks continued.

 
The old woman strained her lungs.

 
"Is that the way buildings are treated nowadays?"

 
All at once she paused.

 
She had recognized the gamin.

 
"What! so it's that imp!"

 
"Why, it's the old lady," said the lad. "Good day, Bougonmuche. I have
come to see my ancestors."

 
The old woman retorted with a composite grimace, and a wonderful
improvisation of hatred taking advantage of feebleness and ugliness, which
was, unfortunately, wasted in the dark:&mdash;

 
"There's no one here."

 
"Bah!" retorted the boy, "where's my father?"

 
"At La Force."

 
"Come, now! And my mother?"

 
"At Saint-Lazare."

 
"Well! And my sisters?"

 
"At the Madelonettes."

 
The lad scratched his head behind his ear, stared at Ma'am Bougon, and
said:&mdash;

 
"Ah!"

 
Then he executed a pirouette on his heel; a moment later, the old woman,
who had remained on the door-step, heard him singing in his clear, young
voice, as he plunged under the black elm-trees, in the wintry wind:&mdash;

 

              "Le roi Coupdesabot
              S'en allait à la chasse,
              A la chasse aux corbeaux,
              Monté sur deux échasses.
              Quand on passait dessous,
              On lui payait deux sous." [[31]]

==Textual notes==

===Bonjour, la Burgonmuche / Good day, Bougonmuche===

I can't detemine if the old woman, Madame Bougon, reacts to the gamin's harassment because she knows the meaning of the "-muche" in "Bougonmuche", or if it's only obvious to her that he's making fun of her (since Hugo shows us it is obvious to her).  According to an unconfirmed source, adding the suffix -''muche'' to any word is a rare French slang, making any word the suffic -''muche'' is attached to more incomprehensible. <ref> "-muche", https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/-muche </ref>  "Muche" also has a long history in Middle-English, and signified 'much', 'great', 'large', and 'magnitude'. <ref> Stratmann, Francis Henry. ''A Middle-English Dictionary Containing Words Used By English Writers From The Twelfth To The Fifteenth Century''.  New edition revised, &c. by Henry Bradley.  Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1891.  Page 438.  Original copy held at Havard University Library. https://books.google.com/books?id=4rIVAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false </ref>  This certainly would have been an insult to the Madame Bougon if this word's English meaning was understood by early 19th century poor Parisians.  Yet, l'ancien langage françois provides another possibility.  "Muche" and related words, such as "muce", "mucer", "mucier", "muchette", "mucheure", and "muchier" mean "hide" or "hiding place". <ref> La Curne De Sainte-Palaye, ''Dictionnaire Historique De L'Ancien Langage François Depuis Son Origene Jusqu'au Siècle De Louis XIV, Tome Septième (Volume 7)''. Edited by L. Favre and M. Pajot.  Paris (Quai Malaquais, 15): H. Champion, Libraire, 1880. Page 446.  Original held by Harvard University. https://books.google.com/books?id=FnsaAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&source=gbs_ge_summary_r&cad=0#v=onepage&q&f=false </ref>.  In the scene, Madame Bougon was concealed by the darkness, which Hugo duly points out, so the -''muche'' suffix is very likely Hugo's expression of the gamin's wit in stating a light joke in the darkness.

==Citations==
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