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carrying Catherine in her arms.
From time to time the Thenardier went to the other end
of the room where her husband was, to relieve her soul, as
she said. She exchanged with her husband words which
were all the more furious because she dared not utter them
aloud.
‘Old beast! What has he got in his belly, to come and up-
set us in this manner! To want that little monster to play!
to give away forty-franc dolls to a jade that I would sell for
forty sous, so I would! A little more and he will be saying
Your Majesty to her, as though to the Duchess de Berry! Is
there any sense in it? Is he mad, then, that mysterious old
fellow?’
‘Why! it is perfectly simple,’ replied Thenardier, ‘if that
amuses him! It amuses you to have the little one work; it
amuses him to have her play. He’s all right. A traveller can
do what he pleases when he pays for it. If the old fellow is a
philanthropist, what is that to you? If he is an imbecile, it
does not concern you. What are you worrying for, so long
as he has money?’
The language of a master, and the reasoning of an inn-
keeper, neither of which admitted of any reply.
The man had placed his elbows on the table, and re-
sumed his thoughtful attitude. All the other travellers, both
pedlers and carters, had withdrawn a little, and had ceased
singing. They were staring at him from a distance, with a
sort of respectful awe. This poorly dressed man, who drew
‘hind-wheels’ from his pocket with so much ease, and who
lavished gigantic dolls on dirty little brats in wooden shoes,