Hardly was M. Leblanc seated, when he turned his eyes towards the pallets, which were empty.
"How is the poor little wounded girl?" he inquired.
"Bad," replied Jondrette with a heart-broken and grateful smile, "very bad, my worthy sir. Her elder sister has taken her to the Bourbe to have her hurt dressed. You will see them presently;they will be back immediately."
"Madame Fabantou seems to me to be better," went on M. Leblanc, casting his eyes on the eccentric costume of the Jondrette woman, as she stood between him and the door, as though already guarding the exit, and gazed at him in an attitude of menace and almost of combat.
"She is dying," said Jondrette. "But what do you expect, sir! She has so much courage, that woman has! She's not a woman,she's an ox."
The Jondrette, touched by his compliment, deprecated it with the affected airs of a flattered monster.
"You are always too good to me, Monsieur Jondrette!"
"Jondrette!" said M. Leblanc, "I thought your name was Fabantou?"
"Fabantou, alias Jondrette!" replied the husband hurriedly.
"An artistic sobriquet!"
And launching at his wife a shrug of the shoulders which M. Leblanc did not catch, he continued with an emphatic and caressing inflection of voice:--
"Ah! we have had a happy life together, this poor darling and I! What would there be left for us if we had not that? We are so wretched, my respectable sir! We have arms, but there is no work! We have the will, no work! I don't know how the government arranges that, but, on my word of honor, sir, I am not Jacobin, sir, I am not a bousingot.[30] I don't wish them any evil, but if I were the ministers, on my most sacred word, things would be different. Here, for instance, I wanted to have my girls taught the trade of paper-box makers. You will say to me: `What! a trade?' Yes! A trade! A simple trade! A bread-winner! What a fall, my benefactor! What a degradation, when one has been what we have been! Alas! There is nothing left to us of our days of prosperity! One thing only, a picture, of which I think a GREat deal, but which I am willing to part with, for I must live! Item, one must live!"
[30] A democrat.
While Jondrette thus talked, with an apparent incoherence which detracted nothing from the thoughtful and sagacious expression of his physiognomy, Marius raised his eyes, and perceived at the other end of the room a person whom he had not seen before. A man had just entered, so softly that the door had not been heard to turn on its hinges. This man wore a violet knitted vest, which was old, worn, spotted, cut and gaping at every fold, wide trousers of cotton velvet, wooden shoes on his feet, no shirt, had his neck bare, his bare arms tattooed, and his face smeared with black. He had seated himself in silence on the nearest bed,and, as he was behind Jondrette, he could only be indistinctly seen.
That sort of magnetic instinct which turns aside the gaze, caused M. Leblanc to turn round almost at the same moment as Marius. He could not refrain from a gesture of surprise which did not escape Jondrette.
"Ah! I see!" exclaimed Jondrette, buttoning up his coat with an air of complaisance, "you are looking at your overcoat? It fits me!
My faith, but it fits me!"
"Who is that man?" said M. Leblanc.
"Him?" ejaculated Jondrette, "he's a neighbor of mine. Don't pay any attention to him."
The neighbor was a singular-looking individual. However, manufactories of chemical products abound in the Faubourg Saint-Marceau. Many of the workmen might have black faces. Besides this, M. Leblanc's whole person was expressive of candid and intrepid confidence. He went on:--
"Excuse me; what were you saying, M. Fabantou?"
"I was telling you, sir, and dear protector," replied Jondrette placing his elbows on the table and contemplating M. Leblanc with steady and tender eyes, not unlike the eyes of the boa-constrictor, "I was telling you, that I have a picture to sell."
A slight sound came from the door. A second man had just entered and seated himself on the bed, behind Jondrette.
Like the first, his arms were bare, and he had a mask of ink or lampblack.
Although this man had, literally, glided into the room, he had not been able to prevent M. Leblanc catching sight of him.
"Don't mind them," said Jondrette, "they are people who belong in the house. So I was saying, that there remains in my possession a valuable picture. But stop, sir, take a look at it."
He rose, went to the wall at the foot of which stood the panel which we have already mentioned, and turned it round, still leaving it supported against the wall. It really was something which resembled a picture, and which the candle illuminated, somewhat. Marius could make nothing out of it, as Jondrette stood between the picture and him; he only saw a coarse daub, and a sort of principal personage colored with the harsh crudity of foreign canvasses and screen paintings.
"What is that?" asked M. Leblanc.
Jondrette exclaimed:--
"A painting by a master, a picture of great value, my benefactor! I am as much attached to it as I am to my two daughters; it recalls souvenirs to me! But I have told you, and I will not take it back, that I am so wretched that I will part with it."
Either by chance, or because he had begun to feel a dawning uneasiness,M. Leblanc's glance returned to the bottom of the room as he examined the picture.
There were now four men, three seated on the bed, one standing near the door-post, all four with bare arms and motionless, with faces smeared with black. One of those on the bed was leaning against the wall, with closed eyes, and it might have been supposed that he was asleep. He was old; his white hair contrasting with his blackened face produced a horrible effect. The other two seemed to be young; one wore a beard, the other wore his hair long. None of them had on shoes; those who did not wear socks were barefooted.
Jondrette noticed that M. Leblanc's eye was fixed on these men.
"They are friends. They are neighbors," said he. "Their faces are black because they work in charcoal. They are chimney-builders.Don't trouble yourself about them, my benefactor, but buy my picture.Have pity on my misery. I will not ask you much for it. How much do you think it is worth?"
"Well," said M. Leblanc, looking Jondrette full in the eye, and with the manner of a man who is on his guard, "it is some signboard for a tavern, and is worth about three francs."
Jondrette replied sweetly:--
"Have you your pocket-book with you? I should be satisfied with a thousand crowns."
M. Leblanc sprang up, placed his back against the wall, and cast a rapid glance around the room. He had Jondrette on his left,on the side next the window, and the Jondrette woman and the four men on his right, on the side next the door. The four men did not stir,and did not even seem to be looking on.
Jondrette had again begun to speak in a plaintive tone, with so vague an eye, and so lamentable an intonation, that M. Leblanc might have supposed that what he had before him was a man who had simply gone mad with misery.
"If you do not buy my picture, my dear benefactor," said Jondrette,"I shall be left without resources; there will be nothing left for me but to throw myself into the river. When I think that I wanted to have my two girls taught the middle-class paper-box trade,the making of boxes for New Year's gifts! Well! A table with a board at the end to keep the glasses from falling off is required,then a special stove is needed, a pot with three compartments for the different degrees of strength of the paste, according as it is to be used for wood, paper, or stuff, a paring-knife to cut the cardboard, a mould to adjust it, a hammer to nail the steels,pincers, how the devil do I know what all? And all that in order to earn four sous a day! And you have to work fourteen hours a day!And each box passes through the workwoman's hands thirteen times! And you can't wet the paper! And you mustn't spot anything! And you must keep the paste hot. The devil, I tell you! Four sous a day!
How do you suppose a man is to live?"
As he spoke, Jondrette did not look at M. Leblanc, who was observing him. M. Leblanc's eye was fixed on Jondrette, and Jondrette's eye was fixed on the door. Marius' eager attention was transferred from one to the other.M. Leblanc seemed to be asking himself: "Is this man an idiot?"Jondrette repeated two or three distinct times, with all manner of varying inflections of the whining and supplicating order: "There is nothing left for me but to throw myself into the river!I went down three steps at the side of the bridge of Austerlitz the other day for that purpose."
All at once his dull eyes lighted up with a hideous FLASH;the little man drew himself up and became terrible, took a step toward M. Leblanc and cried in a voice of thunder: "That has nothing to do with the question! Do you know me?"
十九 提防暗处
白先生刚坐下，便转眼去望那两张空着的破床。
“那可怜的小姑娘，受了伤，现在怎样了？”他问。
“不好，”容德雷特带着苦恼和感激的笑容回答，“很不好，我的高贵的先生。她姐领她到布尔白包扎去了。您回头就能看见她们，她们马上便要回来的。”
“法邦杜夫人好象已经好些了？”白先生又问，眼睛望着容德雷特大娘那身奇装异服，这时她正站在他和房门之间，仿佛她已开始在把住出口，摆出一副威胁的、几乎是战斗的架势注视着他。
“她快咽气了，”容德雷特说，“但是有什么办法呢，先生？这女人，她素来是那么顽强的！这不是个女人，是一头公牛。”
容德雷特大娘，深受这一赞扬的感动，象一条受到拂弄的怪兽，装腔作势地大声嚷道：
“你对我老爱过分夸奖，容德雷特先生！”
“容德雷特，”白先生说，“我还以为您的大名是法邦杜呢。”
“法邦杜，又叫容德雷特！”她丈夫赶紧声明，“艺术家的艺名！”
同时，对他女人耸了一下肩头，白先生却没有看见，接着他又改用紧张激动而委婉动听的语调往下说：
“啊！可不是么，我和我这可怜的好人儿之间是一向处得很欢的！要是连这一点情分也没有，我们还能有什么呢！我们的日子过得太苦了，我的可敬的先生！我有胳膊，却没有工作！我有心，却没有活计！我不知道政府是怎样安排这些事的，但是，我以我的人格担保，先生，我不是雅各宾派，先生，我不是布桑戈派，我不埋怨政府，但是如果我当了大臣，说句最神圣的话，情况就会不一样。比方说，我原想让我的两个女儿去学糊纸盒子的手艺。您也许要对我说：‘怎么！学一种手艺？’是呀！一种手艺！一种简单的手艺！一种吃饭本领！多么丢人，我的恩人！回想起我们从前的情况，这是何等的堕落！唉！我们当年兴盛时期的陈迹一点也没能留下来。只剩下一件东西，一幅油画，是我最舍不得的，却也可以忍痛出让，因为，我们得活下去，无论如何，我们总得活下去呀！”
容德雷特显然是在胡诌，虽然语无伦次，从他的面部表情看，却仍然是心里有底和机灵的，这时，马吕斯抬起眼睛，忽然发现屋子的底里多了一个人，是他先头不曾见过的。这人刚进来不久，他动作那么轻，因而没人听见门枢转动的声音。他穿一件针织的紫色线背心，已经破旧，满是污迹，皱褶处都裂着口，下面是一条宽大的棉线长裤，脚上套一双垫木鞋用的布衬鞋，没有衬衫，露着颈脖，光着两条刺了花纹的胳膊，脸上抹了黑。他一声不响地叉着手臂坐在最近的那张床上，由于他坐在容德雷特大娘后面，别人便不大能看见他。
白先生在那种触动视觉的磁性直觉的影响下，几乎和马吕斯同时转过头去。他不期而然地作了一个惊讶的动作，容德雷特立即看出来了。他以殷勤讨好的姿态扣着身上的衣扣，大声说道：
“啊！我知道！您在看您这件大衣吧？我穿得很合身！的确，我穿得很合身！”
“这是个什么人？”白先生说。
“这？”容德雷特说，“是个邻居。您不用管他。”
那邻居的模样却有些特殊。当时在圣马尔索郊区有不少化工厂，许多工人的脸确是熏黑了的。白先生对人也处处表现出一种憨直无畏的信心。他接着说：
“对不起，法邦杜先生，您刚才在和我谈什么呀？”
“我刚才在和您谈着，先生，亲爱的保护人，”容德雷特说下去，同时把两肘支在桌上，用固定而温柔的眼睛，象一条大蟒似的注视着白先生，“我刚才在和您谈到一幅想出卖的油画。”
房门轻微响了一下。又进来一个人，走去坐在床上，容德雷特大娘的后面。这第二个人，和第一个一样，也光着胳膊，还戴着一个涂了墨汁或松烟的面具。
这人尽管是溜进来的，却没办法不让白先生发觉。
“您不用理会，”容德雷特说，“都是些同屋住的人。我刚才说，我还有一幅油画，一幅珍贵的油画……先生，您来瞧瞧吧。”
他站起来，走到墙边，把我们先头提到过的那画幅，从墙根前提起翻过来，仍旧把它靠在墙上。那确是一种象油画似的东西，烛光多少也照着它。马吕斯一点也瞧不清楚，因为容德雷特正站在画和他之间，他只隐约望见一种用拙劣手法涂抹出来的东西，上面有一个主要的人物形象，色彩生硬刺目，类似那种在市集上叫卖的图片或屏风上的绘画。
“这是什么东西？”白先生问。
容德雷特赞不绝口：
“这是一幅名家的手笔，一幅价值连城的作品，我的恩人！对我来说，它是和我的两个闺女一样宝贵的，它使我回忆起不少往事！但是，我已经向您说过，现在仍这么说，我的境遇太困苦了，因而我想把它卖掉……”
也许是出于偶然，也许是由于开始有了戒心，白先生的眼睛尽管看着那油画，却也在注意那屋子的底里。这时，已经来了四个人，三个坐在床上，一个站在门框边，四个全光着胳膊，呆着不动，脸上抹了黑。在床上的那三个人中，有一个靠在墙上，闭着眼睛，好象睡着了。这是个老人，黑脸白头发，形状骇人。其他两个还年轻，一个有胡须，一个披着长发。没有一个人穿皮鞋，不是穿着布衬鞋，便光着脚底板。
容德雷特注意到白先生的眼睛老望着这些人。
“这是些朋友，挨着住的人。”他说，“他们脸上乌黑，是因为他们整天在煤堆里干活。他们是通烟囱的。您不用管他们，我的恩人，还是买我的这张油画吧。您发发慈悲，搭救我这穷汉。我不会向您讨高价的。您看它能值多少呢？”
“可是，”白先生，象个开始戒备的人那样，瞪着眼，正面望着容德雷特说，“这是一种酒铺子的招牌，值三个法郎。”
容德雷特和颜悦色地回答：
“您的钱包带来了吧？我只要一千埃居就够了。”
白先生直立起来，靠墙站着，眼睛很快地向屋子四面扫了一遍。他有容德雷特在他左边，靠窗的一面，容德雷特大娘和那四个男人在他右边，靠门的一面。那四个男人没有动，甚至好象没有看见他似的，容德雷特又开始带着可怜巴巴的声音唠叨起来，他的眼睛是那样迷迷瞪瞪，语调是那么凄惨，几乎使白先生认为在他眼前的只不过是一个穷到发疯的人。
“亲爱的恩人，假使您不买我这幅油画，”容德雷特说，“我没有路走，便只好去跳河了。当我想到我只一心指望我的两个女儿能学会糊那种半精致的纸盒，送新年礼物的那种纸盒。可是！总得先有一张那种靠里有块挡板的桌子，免得玻璃掉到地上，也非得有一个专用的炉子，一个那种隔成三格的钵子，用来盛各种密度不同的浆糊，有的是糊木皮的，有的是糊纸或糊布料的，也还得有一把切硬纸板的刀，一个校正纸板角度的模子，一个钉铁件的锤子，还有排笔，和其他的鬼玩意儿，我哪能知道那么多呢，我？而这一大摊子只是为了每天挣四个苏！还得工作十四小时！每个盒子在一个工人的手里得经过十三道工序！又得把纸弄潮！又不许弄上迹印！又不能让浆糊冷掉！说不完的鬼名堂，我告诉您！每天四个苏！您要我们怎么活下去？”
容德雷特只顾往下说，白先生注意地望着他，他却不望白先生。白先生的眼睛盯在容德雷特身上，容德雷特的眼睛老瞟着房门。马吕斯心跳气急，来回注视着他俩。白先生似乎在想：这难道是个痴子不成？容德雷特用种种有气无力、哀求诉苦的声调，接二连三地说着：“我只有去跳河，没有其他办法了！前些日子，在奥斯特里茨桥附近的河岸上，我已经朝水里走下去过三步！”
忽然，他那双阴沉沉的眼睛一下子突然亮了，冒着凶狠的光焰，这小子竖起来了，气势咄咄逼人，向着白先生走上一步，象炸雷似的对他吼道：
“这全是废话！你可认得我？”
