710 Les Miserables
enough for her and for myself. In truth, I think a great deal
of that child. You understand, one conceives an affection for
a person; I am a good sort of a beast, I am; I do not reason; I
love that little girl; my wife is quick-tempered, but she loves
her also. You see, she is just the same as our own child. I
want to keep her to babble about the house.’
The stranger kept his eye intently fixed on Thenardier.
The latter continued:—
‘Excuse me, sir, but one does not give away one’s child
to a passer-by, like that. I am right, am I not? Still, I don’t
say— you are rich; you have the air of a very good man,—if
it were for her happiness. But one must find out that. You
understand: suppose that I were to let her go and to sac-
rifice myself, I should like to know what becomes of her; I
should not wish to lose sight of her; I should like to know
with whom she is living, so that I could go to see her from
time to time; so that she may know that her good foster-
father is alive, that he is watching over her. In short, there
are things which are not possible. I do not even know your
name. If you were to take her away, I should say: ‘Well, and
the Lark, what has become of her?’ One must, at least, see
some petty scrap of paper, some trifle in the way of a pass-
port, you know!’
The stranger, still surveying him with that gaze which
penetrates, as the saying goes, to the very depths of the
conscience, replied in a grave, firm voice:—
‘Monsieur Thenardier, one does not require a passport to
travel five leagues from Paris. If I take Cosette away, I shall
take her away, and that is the end of the matter. You will not