5 (7)
GAVROCHE A PROFOUND CALCULATOR OF DISTANCES
MARIUS KEPT his promise. He kissed that livid forehead from which oozed an icy sweat. This was not infidelity to Cosette; it was a thoughtful and gentle farewell to an unhappy soul.
He had not taken the letter which Eponine had given him without a thrill. He had felt at once the presence of an event. He was impatient to read it. The heart of man is thus made; the unfortunate child had hardly closed her eyes when Marius thought to unfold this paper. He laid her gently upon the ground, and went away. Something told him that he could not read that letter in sight of this corpse.
He went to a candle in the basement-room. It was a little note, folded and sealed with the elegant care of a woman. The address was in a woman’s hand, and ran:
“To Monsieur, Monsieur Marius Pontmercy, at M. Courfeyrac‘s, Rue de la Verrerie, No.16.”
He broke the seal and read:
“My beloved, alas! my father wishes to start immediately. We shall be to-night in the Rue de l‘Homme Armé, No.7. In a week we shall be in England. COSETTE June 4th.”
Such was the innocence of this love that Marius did not even know Cosette’s handwriting.
What happened may be told in a few words. Eponine had done it all. After the evening of the 3rd of June, she had had a double thought, to thwart the projects of her father and the bandits upon the house in the Rue Plumet, and to separate Marius from Cosette. She had changed rags with the first young rogue who thought it amusing to dress as a woman while Eponine disguised herself as a man. It was she who, in the Champ de Mars, had given Jean Valjean the expressive warning: Move out. Jean Valjean returned home, and said to Cosette: we start to-night, and we are going to the Rue de l‘Homme Armé with Toussaint. Next week we shall be in
London. Cosette, prostrated by this unexpected blow, had hastily written two lines to Marius. But how should she get the letter to the post? She did not go out alone, and Toussaint, surprised at such an errand, would surely show the letter to M. Fauchelevent. In this anxiety, Cosette saw, through the grating, Eponine in men’s clothes, who was now prowling continually about the garden. Cosette called “this young working-man” and handed him five francs and the letter, saying to him: “carry this letter to its address right away.” Eponine put the letter in her pocket. The next day, June 5th, she went to Courfeyrac’s to ask for Marius, not to give him the letter, but, a thing which every jealous and loving soul will understand, “to see.” There she waited for Marius, or, at least, for Courfeyrac—still to see. When Courfeyrac said to her: we are going to the barricades, an idea flashed across her mind. To throw herself into that death as she would have thrown herself into any other, and to push Marius into it. She followed Courfeyrac, made sure of the post where they were building the barricade; and very sure, since Marius had received no notice, and she had intercepted the letter, that he would at nightfall be at his usual evening rendezvous, she went to the Rue Plumet, waited there for Marius, and sent him, in the name of his friends, that appeal which must, she thought, lead him to the barricade. She counted upon Marius’ despair when he should not find Cosette; she was not mistaken. She returned herself to the Rue de la Chanvrerie. We have seen what she did there. She died with that tragic joy of jealous hearts which drag the being they love into death with them, saying: nobody shall have him!
Marius covered Cosette’s letter with kisses. She loved him then? He had for a moment the idea that now he need not die. Then he said to himself: “She is going away. Her father takes her to England and my grandfather refuses to consent to the marriage. Nothing is changed in our fate.” Dreamers, like Marius, have these supreme depressions, and paths hence are chosen in despair. The fatigue of life is unbearable; death is sooner over. Then he thought that there were two duties remaining for him to fulfil: to inform Cosette of his death and to send her a last farewell, and to save from the imminent catastrophe which was approaching, this poor child, Eponine’s brother and Thénardier’s son.
He had a pocket-book with him; the same that had contained the pages upon which he had written so many thoughts of love for Cosette. He tore out a leaf and wrote with a pencil these few lines:
“Our marriage was impossible. I have asked my grandfather, he has refused; I am without fortune, and you also. I ran to your house, I did not find you, you know the promise that I gave you? I keep it, I die, I love you. When you read this, my soul will be near you, and will smile upon you.”
Having nothing to seal this letter with, he merely folded the paper, and wrote upon it this address:
“To Mademoiselle Cosette Fauchelevent, at M. Fauchelevent‘s, Rue de l’Homme Armé, No. 7. ”
The letter folded, he remained a moment in thought, took his pocket-book again, opened it, and wrote these four lines on the first page with the same pencil:
“My name is Marius Pontmercy. Carry my corpse to my grandfather‘s, M. Gillenormand, Rue des Filles du Calvaire, No. 6, in the Marais.”
He put the book into his coat-pocket, then he called Gavroche. The gamin, at the sound of Marius’ voice, ran up with his joyous and devoted face:
“Will you do something for me?”
“Anything,” said Gavroche. “God of the good God! without you I should have been cooked, sure.”
“You see this letter?”
“Yes.”
“Take it. Go out of the barricade immediately (Gavroche, disturbed, began to scratch his ear), and to-morrow morning you will carry it to its address, to Mademoiselle Cosette, at M. Fauchelevent‘s, Rue de l’Homme Armé,No.7.”
The heroic boy answered:
“Ah, well, but in that time they’ll take the barricade, and I shan’t be here.”
“The barricade will not be attacked again before daybreak, according to all appearance, and will not be taken before to-morrow noon.”
The new respite which the assailants allowed the barricade was, in fact, prolonged. It was one of those intermissions, frequent in night combats, which are always followed by a redoubled fury.
“Well,” said Gavroche, “suppose I go and carry your letter in the morning?”
“It will be too late. The barricade will probably be blockaded; all the streets will be guarded, and you could not get out. Go, right away!”
Gavroche had nothing more to say; he stood there, undecided, and sadly scratching his ear. Suddenly, with one of his birdlike motions, he took the letter:
“All right,” said he.
And he started off on a run by the little Rue Mondétour.
Gavroche had an idea which decided him, but which he did not tell, for fear Marius would make some objection to it.
That idea was this:
“It is hardly midnight, the Rue de l‘Homme Armé is not far, I will carry the letter right away, and I shall get back in time.”