1358 Les Miserables
lence, in that shameless nudity of a repulsive soul, in that
conflagration of all sufferings combined with all hatreds,
something which was as hideous as evil, and as heart-rend-
ing as the truth.
The picture of the master, the painting by David which
he had proposed that M. Leblanc should purchase, was
nothing else, as the reader has divined, than the sign of his
tavern painted, as it will be remembered, by himself, the
only relic which he had preserved from his shipwreck at
Montfermeil.
As he had ceased to intercept Marius’ visual ray, Marius
could examine this thing, and in the daub, he actually did
recognize a battle, a background of smoke, and a man carry-
ing another man. It was the group composed of Pontmercy
and Thenardier; the sergeant the rescuer, the colonel res-
cued. Marius was like a drunken man; this picture restored
his father to life in some sort; it was no longer the signboard
of the wine-shop at Montfermeil, it was a resurrection; a
tomb had yawned, a phantom had risen there. Marius heard
his heart beating in his temples, he had the cannon of Wa-
terloo in his ears, his bleeding father, vaguely depicted on
that sinister panel terrified him, and it seemed to him that
the misshapen spectre was gazing intently at him.
When Thenardier had recovered his breath, he turned
his bloodshot eyes on M. Leblanc, and said to him in a low,
curt voice:—
‘What have you to say before we put the handcuffs on
you?’
M. Leblanc held his peace.