8 (9)
JONDRETTE WEEPS ALMOST
THE DEN was so dark that people who came from outdoors felt as if they were entering a cellar on coming in. The two new-comers stepped forward, therefore, with some hesitation, hardly discerning the dim forms about them, while they were seen and examined with perfect ease by the tenants of the garret, whose eyes were accustomed to this twilight.
Monsieur Leblanc approached with his kind and compassionate look, and said to the father:
“Monsieur, you will find in this package some new clothes, some stockings, and some new blankets.”
“Our angelic benefactor overwhelms us,” said Jondrette, bowing down to the floor. Then, stooping to his eldest daughter’s ear, while the two visitors were examining this lamentable abode, he added rapidly in a whisper:
“Well! what did I tell you? rags? no money. They are all alike! Tell me, how was the letter to this old blubber-lip signed?”
“Fabantou,” answered the daughter.
“The dramatic artist, good!”
This was lucky for Jondrette, for at that very moment Monsieur Leblanc turned towards him and said to him, with the appearance of one who is trying to recollect a name:
“I see that you are indeed to be pitied, Monsieur—”
“Fabantou,” said Jondrette quickly.
“Monsieur Fabantou, yes, that is it. I remember.”
“Dramatic artist, monsieur, and who has had his successes.”
Here Jondrette evidently thought the moment come to make an impression upon the “philanthropist.” He exclaimed in a tone of voice which belongs to the braggadocio of the juggler at a fair, and, at the same time, to the humility of a beggar on the highway: “Pupil of Talma! Monsieur! I am a pupil of Talma! Fortune once smiled on me. Alas! now it is the turn of misfortune. Look, my benefactor, no bread, no fire. My poor darlings have no fire! My only chair unseated! A broken window! in such weather as is this! My spouse in bed! sick!”
“Poor woman!” said Monsieur Leblanc.
“My child injured!” added Jondrette.
The child, whose attention had been diverted by the arrival of the strangers, was staring at “the young lady,” and had ceased her sobbing.
“Why don’t you cry? why don’t you scream?” said Jondrette to her in a whisper.
At the same time he pinched her injured hand. All this with the skill of a juggler.
The little one uttered loud cries.
The adorable young girl whom Marius in his heart called “his Ursula” went quickly to her:
“Poor, dear child!” said she.
“Look, my beautiful young lady,” pursued Jondrette, “her bleeding wrist! It is an accident which happened in working at a machine by which she earned six sous a day. It may be necessary to cut off her arm.”
“Indeed!” said the old gentleman alarmed.
The little girl, taking this seriously, began to sob again beautifully.
“Alas, yes, my benefactor!” answered the father.
For some moments, Jondrette had been looking at “the philanthropist” in a strange manner. Even while speaking, he seemed to scrutinise him closely as if he were trying to recall some reminiscence. Suddenly, taking advantage of a moment when the new-comers were anxiously questioning the smaller girl about her mutilated hand, he passed over to his wife who was lying in her bed, appearing to be overwhelmed and stupid, and said to her quickly and in a very low tone:
“Get a good look at that man!”
Then turning towards M. Leblanc, and continuing his lamentation:
“You see, monsieur! my only clothes are nothing but a chemise of my wife‘s! and that all torn! in the heart of winter. I cannot go out, for lack of a coat. If I had any kind of a coat, I should go to see Mademoiselle Mars, who knows me, and of whom I am a great favourite. She is still living in the Rue de la Tour des Dames, is not she? You know, monsieur, we have acted together in the provinces. I shared her laurels. Celimène would come to my relief, monsieur! Elmira would give alms to Belisarius! But no, nothing ! And not a sou in the house! My wife sick, not a sou! My daughter dangerously injured, not a sou! My spouse has choking fits. It is her time of life, and then the nervous system has something to do with it. She needs aid, and my daughter also! But the doctor! but the druggist! how can I pay them! not a penny! I would fall on my knees before a penny, monsieur! You see how the arts are fallen! And do you know, my charming young lady, and you, my generous patron, do you know, you who breathe virtue and goodness, and who perfume that church where my daughter, in going to say her prayers, sees you every day? For I bring up my daughters religiously, monsieur. I have not allowed them to take to the theatre. Ah! the rogues! if I should see them slip! I do not jest! I fortify them with sermons about honour, about morals, about virtue! Ask them! They must walk straight. They have a father. They are none of those unfortunates, who begin by having no family, and who end by marrying the public. They are Mamselle Nobody, and become Madame Everybody. Thank heaven! none of that in the Fabantou family! I mean to educate them virtuously, and that they may be honest, and that they may be genteel, and that they may believe in God’s sacred name! Well, monsieur, my worthy monsieur, do you know what is going to happen to-morrow? To-morrow is the 4th of February, the fatal day, the last delay that my landlord will give me; if I do not pay him this evening, tomorrow my eldest daughter, myself, my spouse with her fever, my child with her wound, we shall all four be turned out of doors, and driven off into the street, upon the boulevard, without shelter, into the rain, upon the snow. You see, monsieur, I owe four quarters, a year! that is sixty francs.”
Jondrette lied. Four quarters would have made but forty francs, and he could not have owed for four, since it was not six months since Marius had paid for two.
M. Leblanc took five francs from his pocket and threw them on the table.
Jondrette had time to mutter into the ear of his elder daughter:
“The whelp! what does he think I am going to do with his five francs? That will not pay for my chair and my window! I must make my expenses!”
Meantime, M. Leblanc had taken off a large brown overcoat, which he wore over his blue overcoat, and hung it over the back of the chair.
“Monsieur Fabantou,” said he, “I have only these five francs with me; but I am going to take my daughter home, and I will return this evening; is it not this evening that you have to pay?”
Jondrette’s face lighted up with a strange expression. He answered quickly:
“Yes, my noble monsieur. At eight o‘clock, I must be at my landlord’s.”
“I will be here at six o‘clock, and I will bring you the sixty francs.”
“My benefactor!” cried Jondrette, distractedly.
And he added in an undertone:
“Take a good look at him, wife!”
M. Leblanc took the arm of the beautiful young girl, and turned towards the door:
“Till this evening, my friends,” said he.
“Six o‘clock,” said Jondrette.
“Six o‘clock precisely.”
Just then the overcoat on the chair caught the eye of the elder daughter.
“Monsieur,” said she, “you forget your coat.”
Jondrette threw a crushing glance at his daughter, accompanied by a terrible shrug of the shoulders.
M. Leblanc turned and answered with a smile:
“I do not forget it, I leave it.”
“O my patron,” said Jondrette, “my noble benefactor, I am melting into tears! Allow me to conduct you to your carriage.”
“If you go out,” replied M. Leblanc, “put on this overcoat. It is really very cold.”
Jondrette did not make him say it twice. He put on the brown overcoat very quickly.
And they went out all three, Jondrette preceding the two strangers.