132 Les Miserables
the imprint of stupefaction, of doubt, of joy, and became
extraordinary. He began stammering like a crazy man:—
‘Really? What! You will keep me? You do not drive me
forth? A convict! You call me sir! You do not address me as
thou? ‘Get out of here, you dog!’ is what people always say to
me. I felt sure that you would expel me, so I told you at once
who I am. Oh, what a good woman that was who directed
me hither! I am going to sup! A bed with a mattress and
sheets, like the rest of the world! a bed! It is nineteen years
since I have slept in a bed! You actually do not want me to
go! You are good people. Besides, I have money. I will pay
well. Pardon me, monsieur the inn-keeper, but what is your
name? I will pay anything you ask. You are a fine man. You
are an inn-keeper, are you not?’
‘I am,’ replied the Bishop, ‘a priest who lives here.’
‘A priest!’ said the man. ‘Oh, what a fine priest! Then
you are not going to demand any money of me? You are the
cure, are you not? the cure of this big church? Well! I am a
fool, truly! I had not perceived your skull-cap.’
As he spoke, he deposited his knapsack and his cudgel
in a corner, replaced his passport in his pocket, and seated
himself. Mademoiselle Baptistine gazed mildly at him. He
continued:
‘You are humane, Monsieur le Cure; you have not scorned
me. A good priest is a very good thing. Then you do not re-
quire me to pay?’
‘No,’ said the Bishop; ‘keep your money. How much have
you? Did you not tell me one hundred and nine francs?’
‘And fifteen sous,’ added the man.