CHAPTER II--A DOUBLE QUARTETTE

  These Parisians came, one from Toulouse, another from Limoges, the thirdfrom Cahors, and the fourth from Montauban; but they were students; andwhen one says student, one says Parisian: to study in Paris is to beborn in Paris.

  These young men were insignificant; every one has seen such faces; fourspecimens of humanity taken at random; neither good nor bad, neitherwise nor ignorant, neither geniuses nor fools; handsome, with thatcharming April which is called twenty years. They were four Oscars; for,at that epoch, Arthurs did not yet exist. _Burn for him the perfumes ofAraby!_ exclaimed romance. _Oscar advances. Oscar, I shall behold him!_People had just emerged from Ossian; elegance was Scandinavian andCaledonian; the pure English style was only to prevail later, andthe first of the Arthurs, Wellington, had but just won the battle ofWaterloo.

  These Oscars bore the names, one of Félix Tholomyès, of Toulouse; thesecond, Listolier, of Cahors; the next, Fameuil, of Limoges; the last,Blachevelle, of Montauban. Naturally, each of them had his mistress.Blachevelle loved Favourite, so named because she had been in England;Listolier adored Dahlia, who had taken for her nickname the name of aflower; Fameuil idolized Zéphine, an abridgment of Joséphine; Tholomyèshad Fantine, called the Blonde, because of her beautiful, sunny hair.

  Favourite, Dahlia, Zéphine, and Fantine were four ravishing young women,perfumed and radiant, still a little like working-women, and not yetentirely divorced from their needles; somewhat disturbed by intrigues,but still retaining on their faces something of the serenity of toil,and in their souls that flower of honesty which survives the first fallin woman. One of the four was called the young, because she wasthe youngest of them, and one was called the old; the old one wastwenty-three. Not to conceal anything, the three first were moreexperienced, more heedless, and more emancipated into the tumult of lifethan Fantine the Blonde, who was still in her first illusions.

  Dahlia, Zéphine, and especially Favourite, could not have said as much.There had already been more than one episode in their romance, thoughhardly begun; and the lover who had borne the name of Adolph in thefirst chapter had turned out to be Alphonse in the second, and Gustavein the third. Poverty and coquetry are two fatal counsellors; one scoldsand the other flatters, and the beautiful daughters of the people haveboth of them whispering in their ear, each on its own side. These badlyguarded souls listen. Hence the falls which they accomplish, and thestones which are thrown at them. They are overwhelmed with splendor ofall that is immaculate and inaccessible. Alas! what if the Jungfrau werehungry?

  Favourite having been in England, was admired by Dahlia and Zéphine. Shehad had an establishment of her own very early in life. Her father wasan old unmarried professor of mathematics, a brutal man and a braggart,who went out to give lessons in spite of his age. This professor, whenhe was a young man, had one day seen a chambermaid's gown catch ona fender; he had fallen in love in consequence of this accident. Theresult had been Favourite. She met her father from time to time, and hebowed to her. One morning an old woman with the air of a devotee,had entered her apartments, and had said to her, "You do not know me,Mamemoiselle?" "No." "I am your mother." Then the old woman opened thesideboard, and ate and drank, had a mattress which she owned brought in,and installed herself. This cross and pious old mother never spoke toFavourite, remained hours without uttering a word, breakfasted, dined,and supped for four, and went down to the porter's quarters for company,where she spoke ill of her daughter.

  It was having rosy nails that were too pretty which had drawn Dahlia toListolier, to others perhaps, to idleness. How could she make such nailswork? She who wishes to remain virtuous must not have pity on her hands.As for Zéphine, she had conquered Fameuil by her roguish and caressinglittle way of saying "Yes, sir."

  The young men were comrades; the young girls were friends. Such lovesare always accompanied by such friendships.

  Goodness and philosophy are two distinct things; the proof of thisis that, after making all due allowances for these little irregularhouseholds, Favourite, Zéphine, and Dahlia were philosophical youngwomen, while Fantine was a good girl.

  Good! some one will exclaim; and Tholomyès? Solomon would reply thatlove forms a part of wisdom. We will confine ourselves to saying thatthe love of Fantine was a first love, a sole love, a faithful love.

  She alone, of all the four, was not called "thou" by a single one ofthem.

  Fantine was one of those beings who blossom, so to speak, from the dregsof the people. Though she had emerged from the most unfathomable depthsof social shadow, she bore on her brow the sign of the anonymous and theunknown. She was born at M. sur M. Of what parents? Who can say? She hadnever known father or mother. She was called Fantine. Why Fantine? Shehad never borne any other name. At the epoch of her birth the Directorystill existed. She had no family name; she had no family; no baptismalname; the Church no longer existed. She bore the name which pleasedthe first random passer-by, who had encountered her, when a very smallchild, running bare-legged in the street. She received the name as shereceived the water from the clouds upon her brow when it rained. She wascalled little Fantine. No one knew more than that. This human creaturehad entered life in just this way. At the age of ten, Fantine quittedthe town and went to service with some farmers in the neighborhood. Atfifteen she came to Paris "to seek her fortune." Fantine was beautiful,and remained pure as long as she could. She was a lovely blonde, withfine teeth. She had gold and pearls for her dowry; but her gold was onher head, and her pearls were in her mouth.

  She worked for her living; then, still for the sake of her living,--forthe heart, also, has its hunger,--she loved.

  She loved Tholomyès.

  An amour for him; passion for her. The streets of the Latin quarter,filled with throngs of students and grisettes, saw the beginning oftheir dream. Fantine had long evaded Tholomyès in the mazes of the hillof the Pantheon, where so many adventurers twine and untwine, but insuch a way as constantly to encounter him again. There is a way ofavoiding which resembles seeking. In short, the eclogue took place.

  Blachevelle, Listolier, and Fameuil formed a sort of group of whichTholomyès was the head. It was he who possessed the wit.

  Tholomyès was the antique old student; he was rich; he had an income offour thousand francs; four thousand francs! a splendid scandal onMount Sainte-Geneviève. Tholomyès was a fast man of thirty, and badlypreserved. He was wrinkled and toothless, and he had the beginning of abald spot, of which he himself said with sadness, _the skull at thirty,the knee at forty_. His digestion was mediocre, and he had been attackedby a watering in one eye. But in proportion as his youth disappeared,gayety was kindled; he replaced his teeth with buffooneries, his hairwith mirth, his health with irony, his weeping eye laughed incessantly.He was dilapidated but still in flower. His youth, which was packingup for departure long before its time, beat a retreat in good order,bursting with laughter, and no one saw anything but fire. He had had apiece rejected at the Vaudeville. He made a few verses now and then. Inaddition to this he doubted everything to the last degree, which is avast force in the eyes of the weak. Being thus ironical and bald, hewas the leader. _Iron_ is an English word. Is it possible that irony isderived from it?

  One day Tholomyès took the three others aside, with the gesture of anoracle, and said to them:--

  "Fantine, Dahlia, Zéphine, and Favourite have been teasing us for nearlya year to give them a surprise. We have promised them solemnly that wewould. They are forever talking about it to us, to me in particular,just as the old women in Naples cry to Saint Januarius, '_Facciagialluta, fa o miracolo_, Yellow face, perform thy miracle,' so ourbeauties say to me incessantly, 'Tholomyès, when will you bring forthyour surprise?' At the same time our parents keep writing to us.Pressure on both sides. The moment has arrived, it seems to me; let usdiscuss the question."

  Thereupon, Tholomyès lowered his voice and articulated something somirthful, that a vast and enthusiastic grin broke out upon the fourmouths simultaneously, and Blachevelle exclaimed, "That is an idea."

  A smoky tap-room presented itself; they entered, and the remainder oftheir confidential colloquy was lost in shadow.

  The result of these shades was a dazzling pleasure party which tookplace on the following Sunday, the four young men inviting the fouryoung girls.