1096 Les Miserables
Marius reddened slightly and replied:—
‘It means that I am the son of my father.’
M. Gillenormand ceased to laugh, and said harshly:—
‘I am your father.’
‘My father,’ retorted Marius, with downcast eyes and
a severe air, ‘was a humble and heroic man, who served
the Republic and France gloriously, who was great in the
greatest history that men have ever made, who lived in the
bivouac for a quarter of a century, beneath grape-shot and
bullets, in snow and mud by day, beneath rain at night, who
captured two flags, who received twenty wounds, who died
forgotten and abandoned, and who never committed but
one mistake, which was to love too fondly two ingrates, his
country and myself.’
This was more than M. Gillenormand could bear to hear.
At the word republic, he rose, or, to speak more correctly, he
sprang to his feet. Every word that Marius had just uttered
produced on the visage of the old Royalist the effect of the
puffs of air from a forge upon a blazing brand. From a dull
hue he had turned red, from red, purple, and from purple,
flame-colored.
‘Marius!’ he cried. ‘Abominable child! I do not know
what your father was! I do not wish to know! I know nothing
about that, and I do not know him! But what I do know is,
that there never was anything but scoundrels among those
men! They were all rascals, assassins, red-caps, thieves! I say
all! I say all! I know not one! I say all! Do you hear me, Mar-
ius! See here, you are no more a baron than my slipper is!
They were all bandits in the service of Robespierre! All who