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the matter?’
He replied in so low a tone that Cosette hardly heard
him:—
‘I did not understand what you said.’
She began again:—
‘This morning my father told me to settle all my little af-
fairs and to hold myself in readiness, that he would give me
his linen to put in a trunk, that he was obliged to go on a
journey, that we were to go away, that it is necessary to have
a large trunk for me and a small one for him, and that all
is to be ready in a week from now, and that we might go to
Eng la nd.’
‘But this is outrageous!’ exclaimed Marius.
It is certain, that, at that moment, no abuse of power, no
violence, not one of the abominations of the worst tyrants,
no action of Busiris, of Tiberius, or of Henry VIII., could
have equalled this in atrocity, in the opinion of Marius; M.
Fauchelevent taking his daughter off to England because he
had business there.
He demanded in a weak voice:—
‘And when do you start?’
‘He did not say when.’
‘And when shall you return?’
‘He did not say when.’
Marius rose and said coldly:—
‘Cosette, shall you go?’
Cosette turned toward him her beautiful eyes, all filled
with anguish, and replied in a sort of bewilderment:—
‘Where?’