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done with the talent of a juggler.
The little girl gave vent to loud shrieks.
The adorable young girl, whom Marius, in his heart,
called ‘his Ursule,’ approached her hastily.
‘Poor, dear child!’ said she.
‘You see, my beautiful young lady,’ pursued Jondrette ‘her
bleeding wrist! It came through an accident while working
at a machine to earn six sous a day. It may be necessary to
cut off her arm.’
‘Really?’ said the old gentleman, in alarm.
The little girl, taking this seriously, fell to sobbing more
violently than ever.
‘Alas! yes, my benefactor!’ replied the father.
For several minutes, Jondrette had been scrutinizing ‘the
benefactor’ in a singular fashion. As he spoke, he seemed
to be examining the other attentively, as though seeking to
summon up his recollections. All at once, profiting by a mo-
ment when the new-comers were questioning the child with
interest as to her injured hand, he passed near his wife, who
lay in her bed with a stupid and dejected air, and said to her
in a rapid but very low tone:—
‘Take a look at that man!’
Then, turning to M. Leblanc, and continuing his
lamentations:—
‘You see, sir! All the clothing that I have is my wife’s che-
mise! And all torn at that! In the depths of winter! I can’t
go out for lack of a coat. If I had a coat of any sort, I would
go and see Mademoiselle Mars, who knows me and is very
fond of me. Does she not still reside in the Rue de la Tour-