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This them which had turned into her had something in-
describably significant and bitter about it.
‘Well, can you do it?’ said Marius.
‘You shall have the beautiful lady’s address.’
There was still a shade in the words ‘the beautiful lady’
which troubled Marius. He resumed:—
‘Never mind, after all, the address of the father and
daughter. Their address, indeed!’
She gazed fixedly at him.
‘What will you give me?’
‘Anything you like.’
‘Anything I like?’
‘ Ye s .’
‘You shall have the address.’
She dropped her head; then, with a brusque movement,
she pulled to the door, which closed behind her.
Marius found himself alone.
He dropped into a chair, with his head and both elbows
on his bed, absorbed in thoughts which he could not grasp,
and as though a prey to vertigo. All that had taken place
since the morning, the appearance of the angel, her disap-
pearance, what that creature had just said to him, a gleam of
hope floating in an immense despair,— this was what filled
his brain confusedly.
All at once he was violently aroused from his revery.
He heard the shrill, hard voice of Jondrette utter these
words, which were fraught with a strange interest for
him:—
‘I tell you that I am sure of it, and that I recognized