688 Les Miserables
Cosette had dropped her knitting, but had not left her
seat. Cosette always moved as little as possible. She picked
up some old rags and her little lead sword from a box be-
hind her.
Eponine and Azelma paid no attention to what was go-
ing on. They had just executed a very important operation;
they had just got hold of the cat. They had thrown their doll
on the ground, and Eponine, who was the elder, was swath-
ing the little cat, in spite of its mewing and its contortions,
in a quantity of clothes and red and blue scraps. While per-
forming this serious and difficult work she was saying to
her sister in that sweet and adorable language of children,
whose grace, like the splendor of the butterfly’s wing, van-
ishes when one essays to fix it fast.
‘You see, sister, this doll is more amusing than the other.
She twists, she cries, she is warm. See, sister, let us play with
her. She shall be my little girl. I will be a lady. I will come to
see you, and you shall look at her. Gradually, you will per-
ceive her whiskers, and that will surprise you. And then you
will see her ears, and then you will see her tail and it will
amaze you. And you will say to me, ‘Ah! Mon Dieu!’ and I
will say to you: ‘Yes, Madame, it is my little girl. Little girls
are made like that just at present.’’
Azelma listened admiringly to Eponine.
In the meantime, the drinkers had begun to sing an
obscene song, and to laugh at it until the ceiling shook. Th-
enardier accompanied and encouraged them.
As birds make nests out of everything, so children make
a doll out of anything which comes to hand. While Eponine