Part 264 (2/2)

”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 Thenardier.

Thenardier 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.

Thenardier 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 apprentices.h.i.+p 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 sc.r.a.pe.

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.

Thenardier resumed, pus.h.i.+ng 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 pa.s.sed 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 Thenardier became, the more mute was Jean Valjean.

Again Thenardier shook him by the shoulder.

<script>