2408 Les Miserables
scending the stairs once more, the knave was a somebody.
On the following day, the clothes were faithfully returned,
and the Changer, who trusted the thieves with everything,
was never robbed. There was one inconvenience about these
clothes, they ‘did not fit”; not having been made for those
who wore them, they were too tight for one, too loose for
another and did not adjust themselves to any one. Every
pickpocket who exceeded or fell short of the human average
was ill at his ease in the Changer’s costumes. It was neces-
sary that one should not be either too fat or too lean. The
changer had foreseen only ordinary men. He had taken the
measure of the species from the first rascal who came to
hand, who is neither stout nor thin, neither tall nor short.
Hence adaptations which were sometimes difficult and from
which the Changer’s clients extricated themselves as best
they might. So much the worse for the exceptions! The suit
of the statesman, for instance, black from head to foot, and
consequently proper, would have been too large for Pitt and
too small for Castelcicala. The costume of a statesman was
designated as follows in the Changer’s catalogue; we copy:
‘A coat of black cloth, trowsers of black wool, a silk
waistcoat, boots and linen.’ On the margin there stood: ex-
ambassador, and a note which we also copy: ‘In a separate
box, a neatly frizzed peruke, green glasses, seals, and two
small quills an inch long, wrapped in cotton.’ All this be-
longed to the statesman, the ex-ambassador. This whole
costume was, if we may so express ourselves, debilitated; the
seams were white, a vague button-hole yawned at one of the
elbows; moreover, one of the coat buttons was missing on