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	<title>Volume 3/Book 8/Chapter 2 - Revision history</title>
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		<id>http://chanvrerie.net/annotations/index.php?title=Volume_3/Book_8/Chapter_2&amp;diff=335&amp;oldid=prev</id>
		<title>Historymaker: Created page with &quot;Les Mis&amp;eacute;rables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Eighth: The Wicked Poor Man, Chapter 2: Treasure Trove&lt;br /&gt; (Tome 3: Marius, Livre huiti&amp;egrave;me: Le mauvais pauvre, Chapitre ...&quot;</title>
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		<updated>2014-03-03T23:54:37Z</updated>

		<summary type="html">&lt;p&gt;Created page with &amp;quot;Les Misérables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Eighth: The Wicked Poor Man, Chapter 2: Treasure Trove&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt; (Tome 3: Marius, Livre huitième: Le mauvais pauvre, Chapitre ...&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;b&gt;New page&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div&gt;Les Mis&amp;amp;eacute;rables, Volume 3: Marius, Book Eighth: The Wicked Poor Man, Chapter 2: Treasure Trove&amp;lt;br /&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
(Tome 3: Marius, Livre huiti&amp;amp;egrave;me: Le mauvais pauvre, Chapitre 2: Trouvaille)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==General notes on this chapter==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==French text==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius n'avait pas cess&amp;amp;eacute; d'habiter la masure Gorbeau. Il n'y faisait&lt;br /&gt;
attention &amp;amp;agrave; personne.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;amp;Agrave; cette &amp;amp;eacute;poque, &amp;amp;agrave; la v&amp;amp;eacute;rit&amp;amp;eacute;, il n'y avait plus dans cette masure&lt;br /&gt;
d'autres habitants que lui et ces Jondrette dont il avait une fois&lt;br /&gt;
acquitt&amp;amp;eacute; le loyer, sans avoir du reste jamais parl&amp;amp;eacute; ni au p&amp;amp;egrave;re, ni aux&lt;br /&gt;
filles. Les autres locataires &amp;amp;eacute;taient d&amp;amp;eacute;m&amp;amp;eacute;nag&amp;amp;eacute;s ou morts, ou avaient &amp;amp;eacute;t&amp;amp;eacute;&lt;br /&gt;
expuls&amp;amp;eacute;s faute de payement.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Un jour de cet hiver-l&amp;amp;agrave;, le soleil s'&amp;amp;eacute;tait un peu montr&amp;amp;eacute; dans&lt;br /&gt;
l'apr&amp;amp;egrave;s-midi, mais c'&amp;amp;eacute;tait le 2 f&amp;amp;eacute;vrier, cet antique jour de la&lt;br /&gt;
Chandeleur dont le Soleil tra&amp;amp;icirc;tre, pr&amp;amp;eacute;curseur d'un froid de six&lt;br /&gt;
semaines, a inspir&amp;amp;eacute; &amp;amp;agrave; Mathieu Laensberg ces deux vers rest&amp;amp;eacute;s justement&lt;br /&gt;
classiques:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
''Qu'il luise ou qu'il luiserne,''&amp;lt;br&amp;gt; ''L'ours rentre en sa caverne.''&amp;lt;br&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius venait de sortir de la sienne. La nuit tombait. C'&amp;amp;eacute;tait l'heure&lt;br /&gt;
d'aller d&amp;amp;icirc;ner; car il avait bien fallu se remettre &amp;amp;agrave; d&amp;amp;icirc;ner, h&amp;amp;eacute;las! &amp;amp;ocirc;&lt;br /&gt;
infirmit&amp;amp;eacute;s des passions id&amp;amp;eacute;ales!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Il venait de franchir le seuil de sa porte que mame Bougon balayait en&lt;br /&gt;
ce moment-l&amp;amp;agrave; m&amp;amp;ecirc;me tout en pronon&amp;amp;ccedil;ant ce m&amp;amp;eacute;morable monologue:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;amp;mdash;Qu'est-ce qui est bon march&amp;amp;eacute; &amp;amp;agrave; pr&amp;amp;eacute;sent? tout est cher. Il n'y a que la&lt;br /&gt;
peine du monde qui est bon march&amp;amp;eacute;; elle est pour rien, la peine du&lt;br /&gt;
monde!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius montait &amp;amp;agrave; pas lents le boulevard vers la barri&amp;amp;egrave;re afin de gagner&lt;br /&gt;
la rue Saint-Jacques. Il marchait pensif, la t&amp;amp;ecirc;te baiss&amp;amp;eacute;e.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Tout &amp;amp;agrave; coup il se sentit coudoy&amp;amp;eacute; dans la brume; il se retourna, et vit&lt;br /&gt;
deux jeunes filles en haillons, l'une longue et mince, l'autre un peu&lt;br /&gt;
moins grande, qui passaient rapidement, essouffl&amp;amp;eacute;es, effarouch&amp;amp;eacute;es, et&lt;br /&gt;
comme ayant l'air de s'enfuir; elles venaient &amp;amp;agrave; sa rencontre, ne&lt;br /&gt;
l'avaient pas vu, et l'avaient heurt&amp;amp;eacute; en passant. Marius distinguait&lt;br /&gt;
dans le cr&amp;amp;eacute;puscule leurs figures livides, leurs t&amp;amp;ecirc;tes d&amp;amp;eacute;coiff&amp;amp;eacute;es, leurs&lt;br /&gt;
cheveux &amp;amp;eacute;pars, leurs affreux bonnets, leurs jupes en guenilles et leurs&lt;br /&gt;
pieds nus. Tout en courant, elles se parlaient. La plus grande disait&lt;br /&gt;
d'une voix tr&amp;amp;egrave;s basse:&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;amp;mdash;Les cognes sont venus. Ils ont manqu&amp;amp;eacute; me pincer au demi-cercle.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
L'autre r&amp;amp;eacute;pondait:&amp;amp;mdash;Je les ai vus. J'ai caval&amp;amp;eacute;, caval&amp;amp;eacute;, caval&amp;amp;eacute;!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius comprit, &amp;amp;agrave; travers cet argot sinistre, que les gendarmes ou les&lt;br /&gt;
sergents de ville avaient failli saisir ces deux enfants, et que ces&lt;br /&gt;
enfants s'&amp;amp;eacute;taient &amp;amp;eacute;chapp&amp;amp;eacute;es.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Elles s'enfonc&amp;amp;egrave;rent sous les arbres du boulevard derri&amp;amp;egrave;re lui, et y&lt;br /&gt;
firent pendant quelques instants dans l'obscurit&amp;amp;eacute; une esp&amp;amp;egrave;ce de&lt;br /&gt;
blancheur vague qui s'effa&amp;amp;ccedil;a.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius s'&amp;amp;eacute;tait arr&amp;amp;ecirc;t&amp;amp;eacute; un moment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Il allait continuer son chemin, lorsqu'il aper&amp;amp;ccedil;ut un petit paquet&lt;br /&gt;
gris&amp;amp;acirc;tre &amp;amp;agrave; terre &amp;amp;agrave; ses pieds. Il se baissa et le ramassa. C'&amp;amp;eacute;tait une&lt;br /&gt;
fa&amp;amp;ccedil;on d'enveloppe qui paraissait contenir des papiers.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;amp;mdash;Bon, dit-il, ces malheureuses auront laiss&amp;amp;eacute; tomber cela!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Il revint sur ses pas, il appela, il ne les retrouva plus; il pensa&lt;br /&gt;
qu'elles &amp;amp;eacute;taient d&amp;amp;eacute;j&amp;amp;agrave; loin, mit le paquet dans sa poche, et s'en alla&lt;br /&gt;
d&amp;amp;icirc;ner.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Chemin faisant, il vit dans une all&amp;amp;eacute;e de la rue Mouffetard une bi&amp;amp;egrave;re&lt;br /&gt;
d'enfant couverte d'un drap noir, pos&amp;amp;eacute;e sur trois chaises et &amp;amp;eacute;clair&amp;amp;eacute;e&lt;br /&gt;
par une chandelle. Les deux filles du cr&amp;amp;eacute;puscule lui revinrent &amp;amp;agrave;&lt;br /&gt;
l'esprit.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;amp;mdash;Pauvres m&amp;amp;egrave;res! pensa-t-il. Il y a une chose plus triste que de voir&lt;br /&gt;
ses enfants mourir; c'est de les voir mal vivre.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Puis ces ombres qui variaient sa tristesse lui sortirent de la pens&amp;amp;eacute;e,&lt;br /&gt;
et il retomba dans ses pr&amp;amp;eacute;occupations habituelles. Il se remit &amp;amp;agrave; songer&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;amp;agrave; ses six mois d'amour et de bonheur en plein air et en pleine lumi&amp;amp;egrave;re&lt;br /&gt;
sous les beaux arbres du Luxembourg.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;amp;mdash;Comme ma vie est devenue sombre! se disait-il. Les jeunes filles&lt;br /&gt;
m'apparaissent toujours. Seulement autrefois c'&amp;amp;eacute;taient les anges;&lt;br /&gt;
maintenant ce sont les goules.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
==English text==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius had not left the Gorbeau house. He paid no attention to any one&lt;br /&gt;
there.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
At that epoch, to tell the truth, there were no other inhabitants in the&lt;br /&gt;
house, except himself and those Jondrettes whose rent he had once paid,&lt;br /&gt;
without, moreover, ever having spoken to either father, mother, or&lt;br /&gt;
daughters. The other lodgers had moved away or had died, or had been&lt;br /&gt;
turned out in default of payment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
One day during that winter, the sun had shown itself a little in the&lt;br /&gt;
afternoon, but it was the 2d of February, that ancient Candlemas day whose&lt;br /&gt;
treacherous sun, the precursor of a six weeks' cold spell, inspired&lt;br /&gt;
Mathieu Laensberg with these two lines, which have with justice remained&lt;br /&gt;
classic:&amp;amp;mdash;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;pre&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
           Qu'il luise ou qu'il luiserne,&lt;br /&gt;
           L'ours rentre dans en sa caverne.[[26]] &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;/pre&amp;gt;&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius had just emerged from his: night was falling. It was the hour for&lt;br /&gt;
his dinner; for he had been obliged to take to dining again, alas! oh,&lt;br /&gt;
infirmities of ideal passions!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
He had just crossed his threshold, where Ma'am Bougon was sweeping at the&lt;br /&gt;
moment, as she uttered this memorable monologue:&amp;amp;mdash;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;What is there that is cheap now? Everything is dear. There is nothing in&lt;br /&gt;
the world that is cheap except trouble; you can get that for nothing, the&lt;br /&gt;
trouble of the world!&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius slowly ascended the boulevard towards the barrier, in order to&lt;br /&gt;
reach the Rue Saint-Jacques. He was walking along with drooping head.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
All at once, he felt some one elbow him in the dusk; he wheeled round, and&lt;br /&gt;
saw two young girls clad in rags, the one tall and slim, the other a&lt;br /&gt;
little shorter, who were passing rapidly, all out of breath, in terror,&lt;br /&gt;
and with the appearance of fleeing; they had been coming to meet him, had&lt;br /&gt;
not seen him, and had jostled him as they passed. Through the twilight,&lt;br /&gt;
Marius could distinguish their livid faces, their wild heads, their&lt;br /&gt;
dishevelled hair, their hideous bonnets, their ragged petticoats, and&lt;br /&gt;
their bare feet. They were talking as they ran. The taller said in a very&lt;br /&gt;
low voice:&amp;amp;mdash;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;The bobbies have come. They came near nabbing me at the half-circle.&amp;quot; The&lt;br /&gt;
other answered: &amp;quot;I saw them. I bolted, bolted, bolted!&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Through this repulsive slang, Marius understood that gendarmes or the&lt;br /&gt;
police had come near apprehending these two children, and that the latter&lt;br /&gt;
had escaped.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
They plunged among the trees of the boulevard behind him, and there&lt;br /&gt;
created, for a few minutes, in the gloom, a sort of vague white spot, then&lt;br /&gt;
disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Marius had halted for a moment.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
He was about to pursue his way, when his eye lighted on a little grayish&lt;br /&gt;
package lying on the ground at his feet. He stooped and picked it up. It&lt;br /&gt;
was a sort of envelope which appeared to contain papers.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Good,&amp;quot; he said to himself, &amp;quot;those unhappy girls dropped it.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
He retraced his steps, he called, he did not find them; he reflected that&lt;br /&gt;
they must already be far away, put the package in his pocket, and went off&lt;br /&gt;
to dine.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
On the way, he saw in an alley of the Rue Mouffetard, a child's coffin,&lt;br /&gt;
covered with a black cloth resting on three chairs, and illuminated by a&lt;br /&gt;
candle. The two girls of the twilight recurred to his mind.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;Poor mothers!&amp;quot; he thought. &amp;quot;There is one thing sadder than to see one's&lt;br /&gt;
children die; it is to see them leading an evil life.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
Then those shadows which had varied his melancholy vanished from his&lt;br /&gt;
thoughts, and he fell back once more into his habitual preoccupations. He&lt;br /&gt;
fell to thinking once more of his six months of love and happiness in the&lt;br /&gt;
open air and the broad daylight, beneath the beautiful trees of&lt;br /&gt;
Luxembourg.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
 &lt;br /&gt;
&amp;quot;How gloomy my life has become!&amp;quot; he said to himself. &amp;quot;Young girls are&lt;br /&gt;
always appearing to me, only formerly they were angels and now they are&lt;br /&gt;
ghouls.&amp;quot;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Translation notes==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Textual notes==&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
==Citations==&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;lt;references /&amp;gt;&lt;/div&gt;</summary>
		<author><name>Historymaker</name></author>
		
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