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hours before him.
There was but one thing to be done.
He put on his decent coat, knotted a silk handkerchief
round his neck, took his hat, and went out, without making
any more noise than if he had been treading on moss with
bare feet.
Moreover, the Jondrette woman continued to rummage
among her old iron.
Once outside of the house, he made for the Rue du Petit-
Banquier.
He had almost reached the middle of this street, near a
very low wall which a man can easily step over at certain
points, and which abuts on a waste space, and was walk-
ing slowly, in consequence of his preoccupied condition,
and the snow deadened the sound of his steps; all at once he
heard voices talking very close by. He turned his head, the
street was deserted, there was not a soul in it, it was broad
daylight, and yet he distinctly heard voices.
It occurred to him to glance over the wall which he was
skirting.
There, in fact, sat two men, flat on the snow, with their
backs against the wall, talking together in subdued tones.
These two persons were strangers to him; one was a
bearded man in a blouse, and the other a long-haired in-
dividual in rags. The bearded man had on a fez, the other’s
head was bare, and the snow had lodged in his hair.
By thrusting his head over the wall, Marius could hear
their remarks.
The hairy one jogged the other man’s elbow and said:—