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every sort of mire, while waiting for some wheel to crush
them. Nevertheless, while Marius bent a pained and aston-
ished gaze on her, the young girl was wandering back and
forth in the garret with the audacity of a spectre. She kicked
about, without troubling herself as to her nakedness. Occa-
sionally her chemise, which was untied and torn, fell almost
to her waist. She moved the chairs about, she disarranged
the toilet articles which stood on the commode, she han-
dled Marius’ clothes, she rummaged about to see what there
was in the corners.
‘Hullo!’ said she, ‘you have a mirror!’
And she hummed scraps of vaudevilles, as though she
had been alone, frolicsome refrains which her hoarse and
guttural voice rendered lugubrious.
An indescribable constraint, weariness, and humilia-
tion were perceptible beneath this hardihood. Effrontery is
a disgrace.
Nothing could be more melancholy than to see her sport
about the room, and, so to speak, flit with the movements
of a bird which is frightened by the daylight, or which has
broken its wing. One felt that under other conditions of edu-
cation and destiny, the gay and over-free mien of this young
girl might have turned out sweet and charming. Never, even
among animals, does the creature born to be a dove change
into an osprey. That is only to be seen among men.
Marius reflected, and allowed her to have her way.
She approached the table.
‘Ah!’ said she, ‘books!’
A flash pierced her glassy eye. She resumed, and her ac-