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speaking to himself:—
‘It is the slasher’s handwriting.’
The aunt examined the paper, turned it about in all di-
rections, then put it back in its case.
At the same moment a little oblong packet, enveloped
in blue paper, fell from one of the pockets of the great-coat.
Mademoiselle Gillenormand picked it up and unfolded the
blue paper.
It contained Marius’ hundred cards. She handed one
of them to M. Gillenormand, who read: Le Baron Marius
Pont merc y.
The old man rang the bell. Nicolette came. M. Gillenor-
mand took the ribbon, the case, and the coat, flung them all
on the floor in the middle of the room, and said:—
‘Carry those duds away.’
A full hour passed in the most profound silence. The old
man and the old spinster had seated themselves with their
backs to each other, and were thinking, each on his own ac-
count, the same things, in all probability.
At the expiration of this hour, Aunt Gillenormand
said:—‘A pretty state of things!’
A few moments later, Marius made his appearance. He
entered. Even before he had crossed the threshold, he saw
his grandfather holding one of his own cards in his hand,
and on catching sight of him, the latter exclaimed with
his air of bourgeois and grinning superiority which was
something crushing:—
‘Well! well! well! well! well! so you are a baron now. I pres-
ent you my compliments. What is the meaning of this?’