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rated from his child for such a reason as that. He was one
of Bonaparte’s colonels. He is dead, I believe. He lived at
Vernon, where I have a brother who is a cure, and his name
was something like Pontmarie or Montpercy. He had a fine
sword-cut, on my honor.’
‘Pontmercy,’ suggested Marius, turning pale.
‘Precisely, Pontmercy. Did you know him?’
‘Sir,’ said Marius, ‘he was my father.’
The old warden clasped his hands and exclaimed:—
‘Ah! you are the child! Yes, that’s true, he must be a man
by this time. Well! poor child, you may say that you had a
father who loved you dearly!’
Marius offered his arm to the old man and conducted
him to his lodgings.
On the following day, he said to M. Gillenormand:—
‘I have arranged a hunting-party with some friends. Will
you permit me to be absent for three days?’
‘Four!’ replied his grandfather. ‘Go and amuse yourself.’
And he said to his daughter in a low tone, and with a
wink, ‘Some love affair!’