1254 Les Miserables
childhood she must even have been pretty. The grace of her
age was still struggling against the hideous, premature de-
crepitude of debauchery and poverty. The remains of beauty
were dying away in that face of sixteen, like the pale sun-
light which is extinguished under hideous clouds at dawn
on a winter’s day.
That face was not wholly unknown to Marius. He thought
he remembered having seen it somewhere.
‘What do you wish, Mademoiselle?’ he asked.
The young girl replied in her voice of a drunken
convict:—
‘Here is a letter for you, Monsieur Marius.’
She called Marius by his name; he could not doubt that
he was the person whom she wanted; but who was this girl?
How did she know his name?
Without waiting for him to tell her to advance, she
entered. She entered resolutely, staring, with a sort of assur-
ance that made the heart bleed, at the whole room and the
unmade bed. Her feet were bare. Large holes in her petticoat
permitted glimpses of her long legs and her thin knees. She
was shivering.
She held a letter in her hand, which she presented to
Marius.
Marius, as he opened the letter, noticed that the enor-
mous wafer which sealed it was still moist. The message
could not have come from a distance. He read:—
My amiable neighbor, young man: I have learned of your
goodness to me, that you paid my rent six months ago. I
bless you, young man. My eldest daughter will tell you that