الفصل الفصل 336 · THE TORN COAT-TAIL

In the midst of this prostration, a hand was laid on his shoulder, and

a low voice said to him:

“Half shares.”

Some person in that gloom? Nothing so closely resembles a dream as

despair. Jean Valjean thought that he was dreaming. He had heard no

footsteps. Was it possible? He raised his eyes.

A man stood before him.

This man was clad in a blouse; his feet were bare; he held his shoes in

his left hand; he had evidently removed them in order to reach Jean

Valjean, without allowing his steps to be heard.

Jean Valjean did not hesitate for an instant. Unexpected as was this

encounter, this man was known to him. The man was Thénardier.

Although awakened, so to speak, with a start, Jean Valjean, accustomed

to alarms, and steeled to unforeseen shocks that must be promptly

parried, instantly regained possession of his presence of mind.

Moreover, the situation could not be made worse, a certain degree of

distress is no longer capable of a crescendo, and Thénardier himself

could add nothing to this blackness of this night.

A momentary pause ensued.

Thénardier, raising his right hand to a level with his forehead, formed

with it a shade, then he brought his eyelashes together, by screwing up

his eyes, a motion which, in connection with a slight contraction of

the mouth, characterizes the sagacious attention of a man who is

endeavoring to recognize another man. He did not succeed. Jean Valjean,

as we have just stated, had his back turned to the light, and he was,

moreover, so disfigured, so bemired, so bleeding that he would have

been unrecognizable in full noonday. On the contrary, illuminated by

the light from the grating, a cellar light, it is true, livid, yet

precise in its lividness, Thénardier, as the energetic popular metaphor

expresses it, immediately “leaped into” Jean Valjean’s eyes. This

inequality of conditions sufficed to assure some advantage to Jean

Valjean in that mysterious duel which was on the point of beginning

between the two situations and the two men. The encounter took place

between Jean Valjean veiled and Thénardier unmasked.

Jean Valjean immediately perceived that Thénardier did not recognize

him.

They surveyed each other for a moment in that half-gloom, as though

taking each other’s measure. Thénardier was the first to break the

silence.

“How are you going to manage to get out?”

Jean Valjean made no reply. Thénardier continued:

“It’s impossible to pick the lock of that gate. But still you must get

out of this.”

“That is true,” said Jean Valjean.

“Well, half shares then.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You have killed that man; that’s all right. I have the key.”

Thénardier pointed to Marius. He went on:

“I don’t know you, but I want to help you. You must be a friend.”

Jean Valjean began to comprehend. Thénardier took him for an assassin.

Thénardier resumed:

“Listen, comrade. You didn’t kill that man without looking to see what

he had in his pockets. Give me my half. I’ll open the door for you.”

And half drawing from beneath his tattered blouse a huge key, he added:

“Do you want to see how a key to liberty is made? Look here.”

Jean Valjean “remained stupid”—the expression belongs to the elder

Corneille—to such a degree that he doubted whether what he beheld was

real. It was Providence appearing in horrible guise, and his good angel

springing from the earth in the form of Thénardier.

Thénardier thrust his fist into a large pocket concealed under his

blouse, drew out a rope and offered it to Jean Valjean.

“Hold on,” said he, “I’ll give you the rope to boot.”

“What is the rope for?”

“You will need a stone also, but you can find one outside. There’s a

heap of rubbish.”

“What am I to do with a stone?”

“Idiot, you’ll want to sling that stiff into the river, you’ll need a

stone and a rope, otherwise it would float on the water.”

Jean Valjean took the rope. There is no one who does not occasionally

accept in this mechanical way.

Thénardier snapped his fingers as though an idea had suddenly occurred

to him.

“Ah, see here, comrade, how did you contrive to get out of that slough

yonder? I haven’t dared to risk myself in it. Phew! you don’t smell

good.”

After a pause he added:

“I’m asking you questions, but you’re perfectly right not to answer.

It’s an apprenticeship against that cursed quarter of an hour before

the examining magistrate. And then, when you don’t talk at all, you run

no risk of talking too loud. That’s no matter, as I can’t see your face

and as I don’t know your name, you are wrong in supposing that I don’t

know who you are and what you want. I twig. You’ve broken up that

gentleman a bit; now you want to tuck him away somewhere. The river,

that great hider of folly, is what you want. I’ll get you out of your

scrape. Helping a good fellow in a pinch is what suits me to a hair.”

While expressing his approval of Jean Valjean’s silence, he endeavored

to force him to talk. He jostled his shoulder in an attempt to catch a

sight of his profile, and he exclaimed, without, however, raising his

tone:

“Apropos of that quagmire, you’re a hearty animal. Why didn’t you toss

the man in there?”

Jean Valjean preserved silence.

Thénardier resumed, pushing the rag which served him as a cravat to the

level of his Adam’s apple, a gesture which completes the capable air of

a serious man:

“After all, you acted wisely. The workmen, when they come to-morrow to

stop up that hole, would certainly have found the stiff abandoned

there, and it might have been possible, thread by thread, straw by

straw, to pick up the scent and reach you. Some one has passed through

the sewer. Who? Where did he get out? Was he seen to come out? The

police are full of cleverness. The sewer is treacherous and tells tales

of you. Such a find is a rarity, it attracts attention, very few people

make use of the sewers for their affairs, while the river belongs to

everybody. The river is the true grave. At the end of a month they fish

up your man in the nets at Saint-Cloud. Well, what does one care for

that? It’s carrion! Who killed that man? Paris. And justice makes no

inquiries. You have done well.”

The more loquacious Thénardier became, the more mute was Jean Valjean.

Again Thénardier shook him by the shoulder.

“Now let’s settle this business. Let’s go shares. You have seen my key,

show me your money.”

Thénardier was haggard, fierce, suspicious, rather menacing, yet

amicable.

There was one singular circumstance; Thénardier’s manners were not

simple; he had not the air of being wholly at his ease; while affecting

an air of mystery, he spoke low; from time to time he laid his finger

on his mouth, and muttered, “hush!” It was difficult to divine why.

There was no one there except themselves. Jean Valjean thought that

other ruffians might possibly be concealed in some nook, not very far

off, and that Thénardier did not care to share with them.

Thénardier resumed:

“Let’s settle up. How much did the stiff have in his bags?”

Jean Valjean searched his pockets.

It was his habit, as the reader will remember, to always have some

money about him. The mournful life of expedients to which he had been

condemned imposed this as a law upon him. On this occasion, however, he

had been caught unprepared. When donning his uniform of a National

Guardsman on the preceding evening, he had forgotten, dolefully

absorbed as he was, to take his pocket-book. He had only some small

change in his fob. He turned out his pocket, all soaked with ooze, and

spread out on the banquette of the vault one louis d’or, two five-franc

pieces, and five or six large sous.

Thénardier thrust out his lower lip with a significant twist of the

neck.

“You knocked him over cheap,” said he.

He set to feeling the pockets of Jean Valjean and Marius, with the

greatest familiarity. Jean Valjean, who was chiefly concerned in

keeping his back to the light, let him have his way.

While handling Marius’ coat, Thénardier, with the skill of a

pickpocket, and without being noticed by Jean Valjean, tore off a strip

which he concealed under his blouse, probably thinking that this morsel

of stuff might serve, later on, to identify the assassinated man and

the assassin. However, he found no more than the thirty francs.

“That’s true,” said he, “both of you together have no more than that.”

And, forgetting his motto: “half shares,” he took all.

He hesitated a little over the large sous. After due reflection, he

took them also, muttering:

“Never mind! You cut folks’ throats too cheap altogether.”

That done, he once more drew the big key from under his blouse.

“Now, my friend, you must leave. It’s like the fair here, you pay when

you go out. You have paid, now clear out.”

And he began to laugh.

Had he, in lending to this stranger the aid of his key, and in making

some other man than himself emerge from that portal, the pure and

disinterested intention of rescuing an assassin? We may be permitted to

doubt this.

Thénardier helped Jean Valjean to replace Marius on his shoulders, then

he betook himself to the grating on tiptoe, and barefooted, making Jean

Valjean a sign to follow him, looked out, laid his finger on his mouth,

and remained for several seconds, as though in suspense; his inspection

finished, he placed the key in the lock. The bolt slipped back and the

gate swung open. It neither grated nor squeaked. It moved very softly.

It was obvious that this gate and those hinges, carefully oiled, were

in the habit of opening more frequently than was supposed. This

softness was suspicious; it hinted at furtive goings and comings,

silent entrances and exits of nocturnal men, and the wolf-like tread of

crime.

The sewer was evidently an accomplice of some mysterious band. This

taciturn grating was a receiver of stolen goods.

Thénardier opened the gate a little way, allowing just sufficient space

for Jean Valjean to pass out, closed the grating again, gave the key a

double turn in the lock and plunged back into the darkness, without

making any more noise than a breath. He seemed to walk with the velvet

paws of a tiger.

A moment later, that hideous providence had retreated into the

invisibility.

Jean Valjean found himself in the open air.