CHAPTER VI--WHICH POSSIBLY PROVES BOULATRUELLE'S INTELLIGENCE

  On the afternoon of that same Christmas Day, 1823, a man had walkedfor rather a long time in the most deserted part of the Boulevard del'Hôpital in Paris. This man had the air of a person who is seekinglodgings, and he seemed to halt, by preference, at the most modesthouses on that dilapidated border of the faubourg Saint-Marceau.

  We shall see further on that this man had, in fact, hired a chamber inthat isolated quarter.

  This man, in his attire, as in all his person, realized the type of whatmay be called the well-bred mendicant,--extreme wretchedness combinedwith extreme cleanliness. This is a very rare mixture which inspiresintelligent hearts with that double respect which one feels for the manwho is very poor, and for the man who is very worthy. He wore a veryold and very well brushed round hat; a coarse coat, worn perfectlythreadbare, of an ochre yellow, a color that was not in the leasteccentric at that epoch; a large waistcoat with pockets of a venerablecut; black breeches, worn gray at the knee, stockings of black worsted;and thick shoes with copper buckles. He would have been pronounced apreceptor in some good family, returned from the emigration. He wouldhave been taken for more than sixty years of age, from his perfectlywhite hair, his wrinkled brow, his livid lips, and his countenance,where everything breathed depression and weariness of life. Judging fromhis firm tread, from the singular vigor which stamped all his movements,he would have hardly been thought fifty. The wrinkles on his brow werewell placed, and would have disposed in his favor any one who observedhim attentively. His lip contracted with a strange fold which seemedsevere, and which was humble. There was in the depth of his glance anindescribable melancholy serenity. In his left hand he carried a littlebundle tied up in a handkerchief; in his right he leaned on a sort of acudgel, cut from some hedge. This stick had been carefully trimmed, andhad an air that was not too threatening; the most had been made of itsknots, and it had received a coral-like head, made from red wax: it wasa cudgel, and it seemed to be a cane.

  There are but few passers-by on that boulevard, particularly in thewinter. The man seemed to avoid them rather than to seek them, but thiswithout any affectation.

  At that epoch, King Louis XVIII. went nearly every day to Choisy-le-Roi:it was one of his favorite excursions. Towards two o'clock, almostinvariably, the royal carriage and cavalcade was seen to pass at fullspeed along the Boulevard de l'Hôpital.

  This served in lieu of a watch or clock to the poor women of the quarterwho said, "It is two o'clock; there he is returning to the Tuileries."

  And some rushed forward, and others drew up in line, for a passing kingalways creates a tumult; besides, the appearance and disappearance ofLouis XVIII. produced a certain effect in the streets of Paris. It wasrapid but majestic. This impotent king had a taste for a fast gallop;as he was not able to walk, he wished to run: that cripple would gladlyhave had himself drawn by the lightning. He passed, pacific and severe,in the midst of naked swords. His massive couch, all covered withgilding, with great branches of lilies painted on the panels, thunderednoisily along. There was hardly time to cast a glance upon it. In therear angle on the right there was visible on tufted cushions of whitesatin a large, firm, and ruddy face, a brow freshly powdered _à l'oiseauroyal_, a proud, hard, crafty eye, the smile of an educated man, twogreat epaulets with bullion fringe floating over a bourgeois coat, theGolden Fleece, the cross of Saint Louis, the cross of the Legion ofHonor, the silver plaque of the Saint-Esprit, a huge belly, and a wideblue ribbon: it was the king. Outside of Paris, he held his hat deckedwith white ostrich plumes on his knees enwrapped in high Englishgaiters; when he re-entered the city, he put on his hat and salutedrarely; he stared coldly at the people, and they returned it in kind.When he appeared for the first time in the Saint-Marceau quarter,the whole success which he produced is contained in this remark of aninhabitant of the faubourg to his comrade, "That big fellow yonder isthe government."

  This infallible passage of the king at the same hour was, therefore, thedaily event of the Boulevard de l'Hôpital.

  The promenader in the yellow coat evidently did not belong in thequarter, and probably did not belong in Paris, for he was ignorant as tothis detail. When, at two o'clock, the royal carriage, surrounded by asquadron of the body-guard all covered with silver lace, debouchedon the boulevard, after having made the turn of the Salpêtrière, heappeared surprised and almost alarmed. There was no one but himself inthis cross-lane. He drew up hastily behind the corner of the wall of anenclosure, though this did not prevent M. le Duc de Havré from spyinghim out.

  M. le Duc de Havré, as captain of the guard on duty that day, was seatedin the carriage, opposite the king. He said to his Majesty, "Yonderis an evil-looking man." Members of the police, who were clearing theking's route, took equal note of him: one of them received an order tofollow him. But the man plunged into the deserted little streets of thefaubourg, and as twilight was beginning to fall, the agent lost trace ofhim, as is stated in a report addressed that same evening to M. le Comted'Anglès, Minister of State, Prefect of Police.

  When the man in the yellow coat had thrown the agent off his track,he redoubled his pace, not without turning round many a time to assurehimself that he was not being followed. At a quarter-past four, that isto say, when night was fully come, he passed in front of the theatre ofthe Porte Saint-Martin, where _The Two Convicts_ was being played thatday. This poster, illuminated by the theatre lanterns, struck him; for,although he was walking rapidly, he halted to read it. An instant laterhe was in the blind alley of La Planchette, and he entered the _Platd'Etain_ [the Pewter Platter], where the office of the coach for Lagnywas then situated. This coach set out at half-past four. The horses wereharnessed, and the travellers, summoned by the coachman, were hastilyclimbing the lofty iron ladder of the vehicle.

  The man inquired:--

  "Have you a place?"

  "Only one--beside me on the box," said the coachman.

  "I will take it."

  "Climb up."

  Nevertheless, before setting out, the coachman cast a glance at thetraveller's shabby dress, at the diminutive size of his bundle, and madehim pay his fare.

  "Are you going as far as Lagny?" demanded the coachman.

  "Yes," said the man.

  The traveller paid to Lagny.

  They started. When they had passed the barrier, the coachman triedto enter into conversation, but the traveller only replied inmonosyllables. The coachman took to whistling and swearing at hishorses.

  The coachman wrapped himself up in his cloak. It was cold. The mandid not appear to be thinking of that. Thus they passed Gournay andNeuilly-sur-Marne.

  Towards six o'clock in the evening they reached Chelles. The coachmandrew up in front of the carters' inn installed in the ancient buildingsof the Royal Abbey, to give his horses a breathing spell.

  "I get down here," said the man.

  He took his bundle and his cudgel and jumped down from the vehicle.

  An instant later he had disappeared.

  He did not enter the inn.

  When the coach set out for Lagny a few minutes later, it did notencounter him in the principal street of Chelles.

  The coachman turned to the inside travellers.

  "There," said he, "is a man who does not belong here, for I do not knowhim. He had not the air of owning a sou, but he does not consider money;he pays to Lagny, and he goes only as far as Chelles. It is night; allthe houses are shut; he does not enter the inn, and he is not to befound. So he has dived through the earth."

  The man had not plunged into the earth, but he had gone with greatstrides through the dark, down the principal street of Chelles, then hehad turned to the right before reaching the church, into the cross-roadleading to Montfermeil, like a person who was acquainted with thecountry and had been there before.

  He followed this road rapidly. At the spot where it is intersected bythe ancient tree-bordered road which runs from Gagny to Lagny, he heardpeople coming. He concealed himself precipitately in a ditch, and therewaited until the passers-by were at a distance. The precaution wasnearly superfluous, however; for, as we have already said, it was a verydark December night. Not more than two or three stars were visible inthe sky.

  It is at this point that the ascent of the hill begins. The man did notreturn to the road to Montfermeil; he struck across the fields to theright, and entered the forest with long strides.

  Once in the forest he slackened his pace, and began a carefulexamination of all the trees, advancing, step by step, as though seekingand following a mysterious road known to himself alone. There came amoment when he appeared to lose himself, and he paused in indecision. Atlast he arrived, by dint of feeling his way inch by inch, at a clearingwhere there was a great heap of whitish stones. He stepped up briskly tothese stones, and examined them attentively through the mists of night,as though he were passing them in review. A large tree, covered withthose excrescences which are the warts of vegetation, stood a few pacesdistant from the pile of stones. He went up to this tree and passedhis hand over the bark of the trunk, as though seeking to recognize andcount all the warts.

  Opposite this tree, which was an ash, there was a chestnut-tree,suffering from a peeling of the bark, to which a band of zinc had beennailed by way of dressing. He raised himself on tiptoe and touched thisband of zinc.

  Then he trod about for awhile on the ground comprised in the spacebetween the tree and the heap of stones, like a person who is trying toassure himself that the soil has not recently been disturbed.

  That done, he took his bearings, and resumed his march through theforest.

  It was the man who had just met Cosette.

  As he walked through the thicket in the direction of Montfermeil, he hadespied that tiny shadow moving with a groan, depositing a burden onthe ground, then taking it up and setting out again. He drew near, andperceived that it was a very young child, laden with an enormous bucketof water. Then he approached the child, and silently grasped the handleof the bucket.