Sometime later, as springtime was in the air, the area where Marius walked seemed unusually bright, and the sky was such a pure blue it seemed as though the angels had washed it that very morning. As the young man listened to the chirping of the birds in the chestnut trees and was totally absorbed in the beauty of nature, he walked past the bench at the end of the alleyway next to Luxembourg Park once again.
The young girl seated with the white-haired old man raised her eyes toward Marius as he approached. Suddenly their eyes met, but today there was something different about her fleeting glance. What is different about her today? Marius wondered. There was nothing and yet there was everything. To the young man, something had flashed across the lovely young woman’s eyes. Then as quickly as their eyes had met, she looked down and he walked away.
What Marius had just seen was no longer the naive innocence of a child. It appeared that a mysterious gulf had suddenly opened halfway but then had abruptly slammed shut just as quickly. It has been said that there comes a day when a young girl has the eyes of a woman, and woe to the man who happens to catch her glance on that day! For Marius—everything had changed!
When he returned to his room that evening, Marius looked at his clothing with fresh eyes and was horrified to see how absurdly he had dressed. For the first time, he realized his old clothes made him look so disheveled and unkempt he could barely believe his eyes. How could he have gone for a walk each day in his everyday clothes; that is, wearing his battered hat, scuffed boots, black trousers worn out at the knees, and his black coat with its faded elbows?
So the following day, Marius dressed himself in his finest suit, hat, boots, and even fancy gloves, and then left to take his walk. On his way, he happened upon Courfeyrac but pretended not to see him. Yet when Courfeyrac saw their friends, he told them, “I just ran into Marius who was wearing a completely new outfit. No doubt he was headed to an interview or something, but he looked utterly stupid!”
Before walking down the alleyway, Marius stopped at the fountain in Luxembourg Park. He stood there for some time, seemingly deep in thought, staring at the swans. Then he walked toward the alley and, immediately upon reaching it, saw “Monsieur Leblanc and Mademoiselle Lanoire” seated at the far end. Before continuing, Marius buttoned his coat to the very top, tugged on it to eliminate any wrinkles, and examined the lustrous material of his trousers. Finally, he marched directly toward the bench, but as he drew closer, his pace seemed to slow.
Suddenly he stopped, still some distance from the bench and the end of the alleyway. He could not even explain to himself why he had stopped so abruptly or why he found himself now retracing his steps. Marius had stayed so far away from the young woman it would have been difficult for her even to recognize him or to notice his fancy clothes. Nevertheless, he stood very erect just in case she was watching him from behind as he walked away.
Upon reaching the opposite end of the alley, Marius turned and headed back toward the bench, this time coming a little closer. Yet once again he felt it impossible to continue, and hesitated. Then, thinking he saw the young woman turn her face in his direction, he overcame his hesitancy with sheer determination and walked straight ahead. He passed by their bench, standing straight and tall, but he had turned so red that even his ears were crimson. He stuck his hand into his coat as though he were a statesman and did not dare to look to the right or to the left. His heart was beating wildly, and as he walked by her, he could hear her voice, which sounded extremely pleasant and peaceful to him. She was quite lovely that day, and he had a feeling that must be true, although he made no attempt to look at her. Coming to the end of the alleyway again, he turned and walked past her once more—this time looking very pale. As he walked away from her, he hoped she was watching him, but the very thought caused him to stumble.
Then he did something he had never done before. He sat down on a nearby bench. After sitting there for about a quarter of an hour, he finally stood and nervously began tracing figures in the sand with a cane he had carried with him that day. And for the first time, he was beginning to feel guilty for the way he and his friends had flippantly referred to this man and young woman with the somewhat irreverent nicknames Monsieur Leblanc and Mademoiselle Lanoire—yet the names had stuck. Then he abruptly turned in the opposite direction of their bench and walked home.
Dressing the way he did, Marius began to raise the curiosity of his old housekeeper. Seeing him dressed in his best clothes three days in a row, she decided to follow him. Yet Marius walked so briskly and with such long strides she lost sight of him within two minutes. Returning to her room, completely breathless because of her asthma, she was furious with him. She growled to herself, “How dare someone put on his best clothes every day and then make people run like this!”
Two weeks passed with Marius heading for Luxembourg Park and that certain alleyway each day. He no longer went for the sake of taking a walk but to stake out the bench that afforded him the best possible view of the man and his daughter. And once seated he did not stir.
Toward the end of that second week, Marius was seated on his bench as usual, holding an open book in his hands. Of course, he had not turned even one page in the book for the last two hours. To his surprise, Leblanc and his daughter stood and walked in his direction. She held her father’s arm as they slowly walked toward him. Now Marius forced himself to read and wished to appear handsome, but he could only imagine Monsieur Leblanc shooting darts at him with his eyes. He kept his eyes down, and just as they passed by him, he glanced up to catch the young woman looking with a steady gaze at him. There was a certain sweetness in her eyes that thrilled Marius from head to toe, and reading between the lines, he imagined she was saying, “If you will not walk as far as my bench, then I will come to you.”
Marius was desperately in love.
A full month passed with Marius visiting the park every day. At the appropriate hour, nothing could have held him back. Courfeyrac would jokingly say of Marius, “He is on duty.” Marius was living in a state of pure delight, for he was certain the young woman was noticing him as well. Growing bolder all the time but attempting to be prudent, he tried not to draw too much attention to himself from the girl’s father. He would stand behind trees or by statues in the park where she could see him but where her father could not.
Yet Monsieur Leblanc apparently had noticed something, for quite often, just as Marius would arrive, he would stand and walk around. The old gentleman also had chosen another bench at the far end of the alley, as though he were attempting to see whether Marius would follow them there. Doing that very thing, Marius believed he had made a grave error, for suddenly the old man and his daughter no longer came to the park every day, and occasionally the man would come alone. On those days, Marius would not stay, which was another apparent blunder.
Marius, however, was oblivious to these mistakes, for he had moved right past the stage of timidity to that of blindness. His secret love for the young woman continued to grow, and he dreamed of her every night. Then one day something happened that was equal to throwing oil on the fire of his love, and which served to only thicken the scales covering his eyes. At dusk one evening, just as Monsieur Leblanc and his daughter left their bench, he noticed a handkerchief left on the seat. It was quite simple, without any embroidery on its edges, but it seemed to him to have an exquisite smell of perfume. He grabbed it with a sense of rapture in his heart, and upon doing so, noticed the letters U.F. sewn into it.
Marius knew nothing about this beautiful young woman—not her family name, her first name, nor her address. These two letters were the first items of hers he possessed, and he immediately began to surmise what names the letters must stand for. U must stand for Ursula, he thought. And what a beautiful name it is! This little handkerchief became almost an obsession for him. He kissed it, kept it between his shirt and his heart during the day, and laid it beneath his lips at night so he could fall asleep on it.
Marius exclaimed to himself, “I feel like her entire soul lies within it!” Yet little did he know, for the handkerchief belonged to the old gentleman, and it simply had fallen from his pocket.
Marius, having fallen in love, now saw his appetite for love only deepen. Knowing the young woman’s name, which he assumed to be Ursula, meant everything to him. Yet very soon it was not nearly enough. Within three to four weeks, he had totally consumed this blessing and wanted more. He wanted to know where she lived. So from that point on, he began following the old gentleman and his daughter from the park to their home. He discovered they lived in a relatively isolated area of Paris in a new, three-story house of modest appearance.
His hunger to know more continued to increase. He thought he knew her first name, and now he knew where she lived, but he wanted to know who she really was. Then one evening after following them home, he saw them enter through the carriage gate. Feeling quite bold, Marius approached the porter tending the gate and asked, “Is the gentleman who just came in the one who lives on the first floor?”
“No,” replied the porter, “he is the gentleman on the third floor.”
With the success of learning something new, Marius forged ahead and asked, “And what profession is the gentleman engaged in, sir?”
“Oh, he’s a gentleman of property. He’s a very kind man who helps the poor, although he’s not really rich himself.”
“What is his name?” Marius continued.
At this, the porter raised his eyebrows and said, “Are you a spy for the police, sir?”
Not quite sure how to respond, and feeling somewhat embarrassed and confused, Marius simply turned and walked away. Nevertheless, he was delighted with the fact he had learned a little more. He thought, At least I now know her name is Ursula, that she is the daughter of a gentleman who has an income from his property, and that she lives on the third floor of that house.
The following day, Monsieur Leblanc and his daughter made only a very brief appearance at the park, leaving long before dusk. As was his habit, Marius again followed them home, but when they got to the gate, only the young woman went inside. The old gentleman paused for a moment then turned and stared intently at Marius. Finally, he entered the house as well.
The next day they did not go to the park at all, yet Marius waited all day for them. Finally realizing his wait was in vain, at nightfall he left and went to their house, only to see light shining through the windows of the third floor. He walked around the house beneath those windows until the light was extinguished.
Every day for a week, that same scenario took place. The father and daughter did not reappear at their alley next to the park, and Marius would stay outside their windows until at least ten o’clock in the evening. Then, on the eighth day, there was no light shining through the windows. He paced back and forth and waited. Ten o’clock came and went, then midnight, then one in the morning. Yet no light ever shone through the windows, and no one entered the house. Finally, he left, albeit in a very depressed state of mind.
The next day, the scene was repeated, with the third floor remaining totally dark. Unsure what to do next, Marius decided to knock on the door of the porter’s station near the carriage gate. When the porter opened the door, Marius asked, “The gentleman on the third floor …?”
“Has moved away,” the porter interrupted.
Marius’s mind reeled at the news, but he managed to say feebly, “How long ago?”
“Yesterday,” was the answer.
“But where is he living now?” Marius demanded.
“I don’t know anything else,” the porter retorted impatiently.
“So the gentleman did not leave a forwarding address?”
“No,” the porter replied. Then suddenly recognizing Marius from their earlier meeting some weeks ago, he said, “So! It’s you! You are a spy!”