CHAPTER XIX--OCCUPYING ONE'S SELF WITH OBSCURE DEPTHS

  Hardly was M. Leblanc seated, when he turned his eyes towards thepallets, which were empty.

  "How is the poor little wounded girl?" he inquired.

  "Bad," replied Jondrette with a heart-broken and grateful smile, "verybad, my worthy sir. Her elder sister has taken her to the Bourbe tohave her hurt dressed. You will see them presently; they will be backimmediately."

  "Madame Fabantou seems to me to be better," went on M. Leblanc, castinghis eyes on the eccentric costume of the Jondrette woman, as she stoodbetween him and the door, as though already guarding the exit, and gazedat him in an attitude of menace and almost of combat.

  "She is dying," said Jondrette. "But what do you expect, sir! She has somuch courage, that woman has! She's not a woman, she's an ox."

  The Jondrette, touched by his compliment, deprecated it with theaffected airs of a flattered monster.

  "You are always too good to me, Monsieur Jondrette!"

  "Jondrette!" said M. Leblanc, "I thought your name was Fabantou?"

  "Fabantou, alias Jondrette!" replied the husband hurriedly. "An artisticsobriquet!"

  And launching at his wife a shrug of the shoulders which M. Leblanc didnot catch, he continued with an emphatic and caressing inflection ofvoice:--

  "Ah! we have had a happy life together, this poor darling and I! Whatwould there be left for us if we had not that? We are so wretched, myrespectable sir! We have arms, but there is no work! We have the will,no work! I don't know how the government arranges that, but, on my wordof honor, sir, I am not Jacobin, sir, I am not a bousingot.30 I don'twish them any evil, but if I were the ministers, on my most sacred word,things would be different. Here, for instance, I wanted to have mygirls taught the trade of paper-box makers. You will say to me: 'What!a trade?' Yes! A trade! A simple trade! A bread-winner! What a fall,my benefactor! What a degradation, when one has been what we have been!Alas! There is nothing left to us of our days of prosperity! One thingonly, a picture, of which I think a great deal, but which I am willingto part with, for I must live! Item, one must live!"

  While Jondrette thus talked, with an apparent incoherence whichdetracted nothing from the thoughtful and sagacious expression of hisphysiognomy, Marius raised his eyes, and perceived at the other end ofthe room a person whom he had not seen before. A man had just entered,so softly that the door had not been heard to turn on its hinges. Thisman wore a violet knitted vest, which was old, worn, spotted, cut andgaping at every fold, wide trousers of cotton velvet, wooden shoes onhis feet, no shirt, had his neck bare, his bare arms tattooed, and hisface smeared with black. He had seated himself in silence on the nearestbed, and, as he was behind Jondrette, he could only be indistinctlyseen.

  That sort of magnetic instinct which turns aside the gaze, caused M.Leblanc to turn round almost at the same moment as Marius. He could notrefrain from a gesture of surprise which did not escape Jondrette.

  "Ah! I see!" exclaimed Jondrette, buttoning up his coat with an air ofcomplaisance, "you are looking at your overcoat? It fits me! My faith,but it fits me!"

  "Who is that man?" said M. Leblanc.

  "Him?" ejaculated Jondrette, "he's a neighbor of mine. Don't pay anyattention to him."

  The neighbor was a singular-looking individual. However, manufactoriesof chemical products abound in the Faubourg Saint-Marceau. Many of theworkmen might have black faces. Besides this, M. Leblanc's whole personwas expressive of candid and intrepid confidence.

  He went on:--

  "Excuse me; what were you saying, M. Fabantou?"

  "I was telling you, sir, and dear protector," replied Jondrette placinghis elbows on the table and contemplating M. Leblanc with steady andtender eyes, not unlike the eyes of the boa-constrictor, "I was tellingyou, that I have a picture to sell."

  A slight sound came from the door. A second man had just entered andseated himself on the bed, behind Jondrette.

  Like the first, his arms were bare, and he had a mask of ink orlampblack.

  Although this man had, literally, glided into the room, he had not beenable to prevent M. Leblanc catching sight of him.

  "Don't mind them," said Jondrette, "they are people who belong in thehouse. So I was saying, that there remains in my possession a valuablepicture. But stop, sir, take a look at it."

  He rose, went to the wall at the foot of which stood the panel which wehave already mentioned, and turned it round, still leaving it supportedagainst the wall. It really was something which resembled a picture, andwhich the candle illuminated, somewhat. Marius could make nothing out ofit, as Jondrette stood between the picture and him; he only saw a coarsedaub, and a sort of principal personage colored with the harsh crudityof foreign canvasses and screen paintings.

  "What is that?" asked M. Leblanc.

  Jondrette exclaimed:--

  "A painting by a master, a picture of great value, my benefactor! I amas much attached to it as I am to my two daughters; it recalls souvenirsto me! But I have told you, and I will not take it back, that I am sowretched that I will part with it."

  Either by chance, or because he had begun to feel a dawning uneasiness,M. Leblanc's glance returned to the bottom of the room as he examinedthe picture.

  There were now four men, three seated on the bed, one standing near thedoor-post, all four with bare arms and motionless, with faces smearedwith black. One of those on the bed was leaning against the wall, withclosed eyes, and it might have been supposed that he was asleep. Hewas old; his white hair contrasting with his blackened face produced ahorrible effect. The other two seemed to be young; one wore a beard, theother wore his hair long. None of them had on shoes; those who did notwear socks were barefooted.

  Jondrette noticed that M. Leblanc's eye was fixed on these men.

  "They are friends. They are neighbors," said he. "Their faces are blackbecause they work in charcoal. They are chimney-builders. Don't troubleyourself about them, my benefactor, but buy my picture. Have pity onmy misery. I will not ask you much for it. How much do you think it isworth?"

  "Well," said M. Leblanc, looking Jondrette full in the eye, and with themanner of a man who is on his guard, "it is some signboard for a tavern,and is worth about three francs."

  Jondrette replied sweetly:--

  "Have you your pocket-book with you? I should be satisfied with athousand crowns."

  M. Leblanc sprang up, placed his back against the wall, and cast a rapidglance around the room. He had Jondrette on his left, on the side nextthe window, and the Jondrette woman and the four men on his right, onthe side next the door. The four men did not stir, and did not even seemto be looking on.

  Jondrette had again begun to speak in a plaintive tone, with so vaguean eye, and so lamentable an intonation, that M. Leblanc might havesupposed that what he had before him was a man who had simply gone madwith misery.

  "If you do not buy my picture, my dear benefactor," said Jondrette, "Ishall be left without resources; there will be nothing left for me butto throw myself into the river. When I think that I wanted to have mytwo girls taught the middle-class paper-box trade, the making of boxesfor New Year's gifts! Well! A table with a board at the end to keep theglasses from falling off is required, then a special stove is needed, apot with three compartments for the different degrees of strength ofthe paste, according as it is to be used for wood, paper, or stuff, aparing-knife to cut the cardboard, a mould to adjust it, a hammer tonail the steels, pincers, how the devil do I know what all? And all thatin order to earn four sous a day! And you have to work fourteen hours aday! And each box passes through the workwoman's hands thirteen times!And you can't wet the paper! And you mustn't spot anything! And you mustkeep the paste hot. The devil, I tell you! Four sous a day! How do yousuppose a man is to live?"

  As he spoke, Jondrette did not look at M. Leblanc, who was observinghim. M. Leblanc's eye was fixed on Jondrette, and Jondrette's eye wasfixed on the door. Marius' eager attention was transferred from oneto the other. M. Leblanc seemed to be asking himself: "Is this man anidiot?" Jondrette repeated two or three distinct times, with all mannerof varying inflections of the whining and supplicating order: "Thereis nothing left for me but to throw myself into the river! I went downthree steps at the side of the bridge of Austerlitz the other day forthat purpose."

  All at once his dull eyes lighted up with a hideous flash; the littleman drew himself up and became terrible, took a step toward M. Leblancand cried in a voice of thunder: "That has nothing to do with thequestion! Do you know me?"