Part 213 (1/2)
”Fauchewhat?”
”Fauchelevent.”
”Pttt!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the old gentleman.
”Sir!” exclaimed Marius.
M. Gillenormand interrupted him with the tone of a man who is speaking to himself:--
”That's right, one and twenty years of age, no profession, twelve hundred livres a year, Madame la Baronne de Pontmercy will go and purchase a couple of sous' worth of parsley from the fruiterer.”
”Sir,” repeated Marius, in the despair at the last hope, which was vanis.h.i.+ng, ”I entreat you! I conjure you in the name of Heaven, with clasped hands, sir, I throw myself at your feet, permit me to marry her!”
The old man burst into a shout of strident and mournful laughter, coughing and laughing at the same time.
”Ah! ah! ah! You said to yourself: 'Pardine! I'll go hunt up that old blockhead, that absurd numskull! What a shame that I'm not twenty-five!
How I'd treat him to a nice respectful summons! How nicely I'd get along without him! It's nothing to me, I'd say to him: ”You're only too happy to see me, you old idiot, I want to marry, I desire to wed Mamselle No-matter-whom, daughter of Monsieur No-matter-what, I have no shoes, she has no chemise, that just suits; I want to throw my career, my future, my youth, my life to the dogs; I wish to take a plunge into wretchedness with a woman around my neck, that's an idea, and you must consent to it!” and the old fossil will consent.' Go, my lad, do as you like, attach your paving-stone, marry your Pousselevent, your Coupelevent--Never, sir, never!”
”Father--”
”Never!”
At the tone in which that ”never” was uttered, Marius lost all hope. He traversed the chamber with slow steps, with bowed head, tottering and more like a dying man than like one merely taking his departure. M.
Gillenormand followed him with his eyes, and at the moment when the door opened, and Marius was on the point of going out, he advanced four paces, with the senile vivacity of impetuous and spoiled old gentlemen, seized Marius by the collar, brought him back energetically into the room, flung him into an armchair and said to him:--
”Tell me all about it!”
”It was that single word ”father” which had effected this revolution.
Marius stared at him in bewilderment. M. Gillenormand's mobile face was no longer expressive of anything but rough and ineffable good-nature.
The grandsire had given way before the grandfather.
”Come, see here, speak, tell me about your love affairs, jabber, tell me everything! Sapristi! how stupid young folks are!”
”Father--” repeated Marius.
The old man's entire countenance lighted up with indescribable radiance.
”Yes, that's right, call me father, and you'll see!”
There was now something so kind, so gentle, so openhearted, and so paternal in this brusqueness, that Marius, in the sudden transition from discouragement to hope, was stunned and intoxicated by it, as it were.
He was seated near the table, the light from the candles brought out the dilapidation of his costume, which Father Gillenormand regarded with amazement.
”Well, father--” said Marius.
”Ah, by the way,” interrupted M. Gillenormand, ”you really have not a penny then? You are dressed like a pickpocket.”