Editing Volume 3/Book 8/Chapter 9

Les Mis&eacute;rables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Eighth: The Wicked Poor Man, Chapter 9: Jondrette comes near Weeping<br />
(Tome 3: Marius, Livre huiti&egrave;me:  Le mauvais pauvre, Chapitre 9: Jondrette pleure presque)

==General notes on this chapter==

==French text==

 
Le taudis &eacute;tait tellement obscur que les gens qui venaient du dehors
&eacute;prouvaient en y p&eacute;n&eacute;trant un effet d'entr&eacute;e de cave. Les deux nouveaux
venus avanc&egrave;rent donc avec une certaine h&eacute;sitation, distinguant &agrave; peine
des formes vagues autour d'eux, tandis qu'ils &eacute;taient parfaitement vus
et examin&eacute;s par les yeux des habitants du galetas, accoutum&eacute;s &agrave; ce
cr&eacute;puscule.

 
M. Leblanc s'approcha avec son regard bon et triste, et dit au p&egrave;re
Jondrette:

 
&mdash;Monsieur, vous trouverez dans ce paquet des hardes neuves, des bas et
des couvertures de laine.

 
&mdash;Notre ang&eacute;lique bienfaiteur nous comble, dit Jondrette en s'inclinant
jusqu'&agrave; terre.&mdash;Puis, se penchant &agrave; l'oreille de sa fille a&icirc;n&eacute;e, pendant
que les deux visiteurs examinaient cet int&eacute;rieur lamentable, il ajouta
bas et rapidement:

 
&mdash;Hein? qu'est-ce que je disais? des nippes! pas d'argent. Ils sont tous
les m&ecirc;mes! &Agrave; propos, comment la lettre &agrave; cette vieille ganache
&eacute;tait-elle sign&eacute;e?

 
&mdash;Fabantou, r&eacute;pondit la fille.

 
&mdash;L'artiste dramatique, bon!

 
Bien en prit &agrave; Jondrette, car en ce moment-l&agrave; m&ecirc;me M. Leblanc se
retournait vers lui, et lui disait de cet air de quelqu'un qui cherche
le nom:

 
&mdash;Je vois que vous &ecirc;tes bien &agrave; plaindre, monsieur....

 
&mdash;Fabantou, r&eacute;pondit vivement Jondrette.

 
&mdash;Monsieur Fabantou, oui, c'est cela, je me rappelle.

 
&mdash;Artiste dramatique, monsieur, et qui a eu des succ&egrave;s.

 
Ici Jondrette crut &eacute;videmment le moment venu de s'emparer du
&laquo;philanthrope&raquo;. Il s'&eacute;cria avec un son de voix qui tenait tout &agrave; la fois
de la gloriole du bateleur dans les foires et de l'humilit&eacute; du mendiant
sur les grandes routes:

 
&mdash;&Eacute;l&egrave;ve de Talma, monsieur! je suis &eacute;l&egrave;ve de Talma! La fortune m'a souri
jadis. H&eacute;las! maintenant c'est le tour du malheur. Voyez, mon
bienfaiteur, pas de pain, pas de feu. Mes pauvres m&ocirc;mes n'ont pas de
feu! Mon unique chaise d&eacute;paill&eacute;e! Un carreau cass&eacute;! par le temps qu'il
fait! Mon &eacute;pouse au lit! malade!

 
&mdash;Pauvre femme! dit M. Leblanc.

 
&mdash;Mon enfant bless&eacute;e! ajouta Jondrette.

 
L'enfant, distraite par l'arriv&eacute;e des &eacute;trangers, s'&eacute;tait mise &agrave;
contempler &laquo;la demoiselle&raquo;, et avait cess&eacute; de sangloter.

 
&mdash;Pleure donc! braille donc! lui dit Jondrette bas.

 
En m&ecirc;me temps il lui pin&ccedil;a sa main malade. Tout cela avec un talent
d'escamoteur.

 
La petite jeta les hauts cris.

 
L'adorable jeune fille que Marius nommait dans son c&oelig;ur &laquo;son Ursule&raquo;
s'approcha vivement:

 
&mdash;Pauvre ch&egrave;re enfant! dit-elle.

 
&mdash;Voyez, ma belle demoiselle, poursuivit Jondrette, son poignet
ensanglant&eacute;! C'est un accident qui est arriv&eacute; en travaillant sous une
m&eacute;canique pour gagner six sous par jour. On sera peut-&ecirc;tre oblig&eacute; de lui
couper le bras!

 
&mdash;Vraiment? dit le vieux monsieur alarm&eacute;.

 
La petite fille, prenant cette parole au s&eacute;rieux, se remit &agrave; sangloter
de plus belle.

 
&mdash;H&eacute;las, oui, mon bienfaiteur! r&eacute;pondit le p&egrave;re.

 
Depuis quelques instants, Jondrette consid&eacute;rait, &laquo;le philanthrope&raquo; d'une
mani&egrave;re bizarre. Tout en parlant, il semblait le scruter avec attention
comme s'il cherchait &agrave; recueillir des souvenirs. Tout &agrave; coup, profitant
d'un moment o&ugrave; les nouveaux venus questionnaient avec int&eacute;r&ecirc;t la petite
sur sa main bless&eacute;e, il passa pr&egrave;s de sa femme qui &eacute;tait dans son lit
avec un air accabl&eacute; et stupide, et lui dit vivement et tr&egrave;s bas:

 
&mdash;Regarde donc cet homme-l&agrave;!

 
Puis se retournant vers M. Leblanc, et continuant sa lamentation:

 
&mdash;Voyez, monsieur! je n'ai, moi, pour tout v&ecirc;tement qu'une chemise de ma
femme! et toute d&eacute;chir&eacute;e! au c&oelig;ur de l'hiver. Je ne puis sortir faute
d'un habit. Si j'avais le moindre habit, j'irais voir mademoiselle Mars
qui me conna&icirc;t et qui m'aime beaucoup. Ne demeure-t-elle pas toujours
rue de la Tour-des-Dames? Savez-vous, monsieur? nous avons jou&eacute; ensemble
en province. J'ai partag&eacute; ses lauriers. C&eacute;lim&egrave;ne viendrait &agrave; mon
secours, monsieur! Elmire ferait l'aum&ocirc;ne &agrave; B&eacute;lisaire! Mais non, rien!
Et pas un sou dans la maison! Ma femme malade, pas un sou! Ma fille
dangereusement bless&eacute;e, pas un sou! Mon &eacute;pouse a des &eacute;touffements. C'est
son &acirc;ge, et puis le syst&egrave;me nerveux s'en est m&ecirc;l&eacute;. Il lui faudrait des
secours, et &agrave; ma fille aussi! Mais le m&eacute;decin! mais le pharmacien!
comment payer? pas un liard! Je m'agenouillerais devant un d&eacute;cime,
monsieur! Voil&agrave; o&ugrave; les arts en sont r&eacute;duits! Et savez-vous, ma charmante
demoiselle, et vous, mon g&eacute;n&eacute;reux protecteur, savez-vous, vous qui
respirez la vertu et la bont&eacute;, et qui parfumez cette &eacute;glise o&ugrave; ma
pauvre fille en venant faire sa pri&egrave;re vous aper&ccedil;oit tous les jours?...
Car j'&eacute;l&egrave;ve mes filles dans la religion, monsieur. Je n'ai pas voulu
qu'elles prissent le th&eacute;&acirc;tre. Ah! les dr&ocirc;lesses; que je les voie
broncher! Je ne badine pas, moi! Je leur flanque des bouzins sur
l'honneur, sur la morale, sur la vertu! Demandez-leur. Il faut que &ccedil;a
marche droit. Elles ont un p&egrave;re. Ce ne sont pas de ces malheureuses qui
commencent par n'avoir pas de famille et qui finissent par &eacute;pouser le
public. On est mamselle Personne, on devient madame Tout-le-Monde.
Crebleur! pas de &ccedil;a dans la famille Fabantou! J'entends les &eacute;duquer
vertueusement, et que &ccedil;a soit honn&ecirc;te, et que &ccedil;a soit gentil, et que &ccedil;a
croie en Dieu! sacr&eacute; nom!&mdash;Eh bien, monsieur, mon digne monsieur,
savez-vous ce qui va se passer demain? Demain, c'est le 4 f&eacute;vrier, le
jour fatal, le dernier d&eacute;lai que m'a donn&eacute; mon propri&eacute;taire; si ce soir
je ne l'ai pas pay&eacute;, demain ma fille a&icirc;n&eacute;e, moi, mon &eacute;pouse avec sa
fi&egrave;vre, mon enfant avec sa blessure, nous serons tous quatre chass&eacute;s
d'ici, et jet&eacute;s dehors, dans la rue, sur le boulevard, sans abri, sous
la pluie, sur la neige. Voil&agrave;, monsieur. Je dois quatre termes, une
ann&eacute;e! c'est-&agrave;-dire une soixantaine de francs.

 
Jondrette mentait. Quatre termes n'eussent fait que quarante francs, et
il n'en pouvait devoir quatre, puisqu'il n'y avait pas six mois que
Marius en avait pay&eacute; deux.

 
M. Leblanc tira cinq francs de sa poche et les posa sur la table.

 
Jondrette eut le temps de grommeler &agrave; l'oreille de sa grande fille:

 
&mdash;Gredin! que veut-il que je fasse avec ses cinq francs? Cela ne me paye
pas ma chaise et mon carreau! Faites donc des frais!

 
Cependant, M. Leblanc avait quitt&eacute; une grande redingote brune qu'il
portait par-dessus sa redingote bleue et l'avait jet&eacute;e sur le dos de la
chaise.

 
&mdash;Monsieur Fabantou, dit-il, je n'ai plus que ces cinq francs sur moi,
mais je vais reconduire ma fille &agrave; la maison et je reviendrai ce soir;
n'est-ce pas ce soir que vous devez payer?...

 
Le visage de Jondrette s'&eacute;claira d'une expression &eacute;trange.

 
Il r&eacute;pondit vivement:

 
&mdash;Oui, mon respectable monsieur. &Agrave; huit heures je dois &ecirc;tre chez mon
propri&eacute;taire.

 
&mdash;Je serai ici &agrave; six heures, et je vous apporterai les soixante francs.

 
&mdash;Mon bienfaiteur! cria Jondrette &eacute;perdu.

 
Et il ajouta tout bas:

 
&mdash;Regarde-le bien, ma femme!

 
M. Leblanc avait repris le bras de la belle jeune fille et se tournait
vers la porte:

 
&mdash;&Agrave; ce soir, mes amis, dit-il.

 
&mdash;Six heures? fit Jondrette.

 
&mdash;Six heures pr&eacute;cises.

 
En ce moment le par-dessus rest&eacute; sur la chaise frappa les yeux de la
Jondrette a&icirc;n&eacute;e.

 
&mdash;Monsieur, dit-elle, vous oubliez votre redingote.

 
Jondrette dirigea vers sa fille un regard foudroyant accompagn&eacute; d'un
haussement d'&eacute;paules formidable.

 
M. Leblanc se retourna et r&eacute;pondit avec un sourire:

 
&mdash;Je ne l'oublie pas, je la laisse.

 
&mdash;&Ocirc; mon protecteur, dit Jondrette, mon auguste bienfaiteur, je fonds en
larmes! Souffrez que je vous reconduise jusqu'&agrave; votre fiacre.

 
&mdash;Si vous sortez, repartit M. Leblanc, mettez ce par-dessus. Il fait
vraiment tr&egrave;s froid.

 
Jondrette ne se le fit pas dire deux fois. Il endossa vivement la
redingote brune.

 
Et ils sortirent tous les trois, Jondrette pr&eacute;c&eacute;dant les deux &eacute;trangers.

 
==English text==

 
The hovel was so dark, that people coming from without felt on entering it
the effect produced on entering a cellar. The two new-comers advanced,
therefore, with a certain hesitation, being hardly able to distinguish the
vague forms surrounding them, while they could be clearly seen and
scrutinized by the eyes of the inhabitants of the garret, who were
accustomed to this twilight.

 
M. Leblanc approached, with his sad but kindly look, and said to Jondrette
the father:&mdash;

 
"Monsieur, in this package you will find some new clothes and some woollen
stockings and blankets."

 
"Our angelic benefactor overwhelms us," said Jondrette, bowing to the very
earth.

 
Then, bending down to the ear of his eldest daughter, while the two
visitors were engaged in examining this lamentable interior, he added in a
low and rapid voice:&mdash;

 
"Hey? What did I say? Duds! No money! They are all alike! By the way, how
was the letter to that old blockhead signed?"

 
"Fabantou," replied the girl.

 
"The dramatic artist, good!"

 
It was lucky for Jondrette, that this had occurred to him, for at the very
moment, M. Leblanc turned to him, and said to him with the air of a person
who is seeking to recall a name:&mdash;

 
"I see that you are greatly to be pitied, Monsieur&mdash;"

 
"Fabantou," replied Jondrette quickly.

 
"Monsieur Fabantou, yes, that is it. I remember."

 
"Dramatic artist, sir, and one who has had some success."

 
Here Jondrette evidently judged the moment propitious for capturing the
"philanthropist." He exclaimed with an accent which smacked at the same
time of the vainglory of the mountebank at fairs, and the humility of the
mendicant on the highway:&mdash;

 
"A pupil of Talma! Sir! I am a pupil of Talma! Fortune formerly smiled on
me&mdash;Alas! Now it is misfortune's turn. You see, my benefactor, no
bread, no fire. My poor babes have no fire! My only chair has no seat! A
broken pane! And in such weather! My spouse in bed! Ill!"

 
"Poor woman!" said M. Leblanc.

 
"My child wounded!" added Jondrette.

 
The child, diverted by the arrival of the strangers, had fallen to
contemplating "the young lady," and had ceased to sob.

 
"Cry! bawl!" said Jondrette to her in a low voice.

 
At the same time he pinched her sore hand. All this was done with the
talent of a juggler.

 
The little girl gave vent to loud shrieks.

 
The adorable young girl, whom Marius, in his heart, called "his Ursule,"
approached her hastily.

 
"Poor, dear child!" said she.

 
"You see, my beautiful young lady," pursued Jondrette "her bleeding wrist!
It came through an accident while working at a machine to earn six sous a
day. It may be necessary to cut off her arm."

 
"Really?" said the old gentleman, in alarm.

 
The little girl, taking this seriously, fell to sobbing more violently
than ever.

 
"Alas! yes, my benefactor!" replied the father.

 
For several minutes, Jondrette had been scrutinizing "the benefactor" in a
singular fashion. As he spoke, he seemed to be examining the other
attentively, as though seeking to summon up his recollections. All at
once, profiting by a moment when the new-comers were questioning the child
with interest as to her injured hand, he passed near his wife, who lay in
her bed with a stupid and dejected air, and said to her in a rapid but
very low tone:&mdash;

 
"Take a look at that man!"

 
Then, turning to M. Leblanc, and continuing his lamentations:&mdash;

 
"You see, sir! All the clothing that I have is my wife's chemise! And all
torn at that! In the depths of winter! I can't go out for lack of a coat.
If I had a coat of any sort, I would go and see Mademoiselle Mars, who
knows me and is very fond of me. Does she not still reside in the Rue de
la Tour-des-Dames? Do you know, sir? We played together in the provinces.
I shared her laurels. Celimene would come to my succor, sir! Elmire would
bestow alms on Belisaire! But no, nothing! And not a sou in the house! My
wife ill, and not a sou! My daughter dangerously injured, not a sou! My
wife suffers from fits of suffocation. It comes from her age, and besides,
her nervous system is affected. She ought to have assistance, and my
daughter also! But the doctor! But the apothecary! How am I to pay them? I
would kneel to a penny, sir! Such is the condition to which the arts are
reduced. And do you know, my charming young lady, and you, my generous
protector, do you know, you who breathe forth virtue and goodness, and who
perfume that church where my daughter sees you every day when she says her
prayers?&mdash;For I have brought up my children religiously, sir. I did
not want them to take to the theatre. Ah! the hussies! If I catch them
tripping! I do not jest, that I don't! I read them lessons on honor, on
morality, on virtue! Ask them! They have got to walk straight. They are
none of your unhappy wretches who begin by having no family, and end by
espousing the public. One is Mamselle Nobody, and one becomes Madame
Everybody. Deuce take it! None of that in the Fabantou family! I mean to
bring them up virtuously, and they shall be honest, and nice, and believe
in God, by the sacred name! Well, sir, my worthy sir, do you know what is
going to happen to-morrow? To-morrow is the fourth day of February, the
fatal day, the last day of grace allowed me by my landlord; if by this
evening I have not paid my rent, to-morrow my oldest daughter, my spouse
with her fever, my child with her wound,&mdash;we shall all four be turned
out of here and thrown into the street, on the boulevard, without shelter,
in the rain, in the snow. There, sir. I owe for four quarters&mdash;a
whole year! that is to say, sixty francs."

 
Jondrette lied. Four quarters would have amounted to only forty francs,
and he could not owe four, because six months had not elapsed since Marius
had paid for two.

 
M. Leblanc drew five francs from his pocket and threw them on the table.

 
Jondrette found time to mutter in the ear of his eldest daughter:&mdash;

 
"The scoundrel! What does he think I can do with his five francs? That
won't pay me for my chair and pane of glass! That's what comes of
incurring expenses!"

 
In the meanwhile, M. Leblanc had removed the large brown great-coat which
he wore over his blue coat, and had thrown it over the back of the chair.

 
"Monsieur Fabantou," he said, "these five francs are all that I have about
me, but I shall now take my daughter home, and I will return this evening,&mdash;it
is this evening that you must pay, is it not?"

 
Jondrette's face lighted up with a strange expression. He replied
vivaciously:&mdash;

 
"Yes, respected sir. At eight o'clock, I must be at my landlord's."

 
"I will be here at six, and I will fetch you the sixty francs."

 
"My benefactor!" exclaimed Jondrette, overwhelmed. And he added, in a low
tone: "Take a good look at him, wife!"

 
M. Leblanc had taken the arm of the young girl, once more, and had turned
towards the door.

 
"Farewell until this evening, my friends!" said he.

 
"Six o'clock?" said Jondrette.

 
"Six o'clock precisely."

 
At that moment, the overcoat lying on the chair caught the eye of the
elder Jondrette girl.

 
"You are forgetting your coat, sir," said she.

 
Jondrette darted an annihilating look at his daughter, accompanied by a
formidable shrug of the shoulders.

 
M. Leblanc turned back and said, with a smile:&mdash;

 
"I have not forgotten it, I am leaving it."

 
"O my protector!" said Jondrette, "my august benefactor, I melt into
tears! Permit me to accompany you to your carriage."

 
"If you come out," answered M. Leblanc, "put on this coat. It really is
very cold."

 
Jondrette did not need to be told twice. He hastily donned the brown
great-coat. And all three went out, Jondrette preceding the two strangers.


==Translation notes==

==Textual notes==

==Citations==
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