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And he remained in the same attitude, with shaking
head, and his eyes fixed on the door. It opened once more. A
young man entered. It was Marius.
Marius halted at the door, as though waiting to be bid-
den to enter.
His almost squalid attire was not perceptible in the ob-
scurity caused by the shade. Nothing could be seen but his
calm, grave, but strangely sad face.
It was several minutes before Father Gillenormand,
dulled with amazement and joy, could see anything except
a brightness as when one is in the presence of an apparition.
He was on the point of swooning; he saw Marius through a
dazzling light. It certainly was he, it certainly was Marius.
At last! After the lapse of four years! He grasped him en-
tire, so to speak, in a single glance. He found him noble,
handsome, distinguished, well-grown, a complete man,
with a suitable mien and a charming air. He felt a desire
to open his arms, to call him, to fling himself forward; his
heart melted with rapture, affectionate words swelled and
overflowed his breast; at length all his tenderness came to
the light and reached his lips, and, by a contrast which con-
stituted the very foundation of his nature, what came forth
was harshness. He said abruptly:—
‘What have you come here for?’
Marius replied with embarrassment:—
‘Monsieur—‘
M. Gillenormand would have liked to have Marius throw
himself into his arms. He was displeased with Marius and
with himself. He was conscious that he was brusque, and