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‘Yes,’ said the mother.
‘Are you sure that there is no one in our neighbor’s
room?’
‘He has not been in all day, and you know very well that
this is his dinner hour.’
‘You are sure?’
‘Sure.’
‘All the same,’ said Jondrette, ‘there’s no harm in going to
see whether he is there. Here, my girl, take the candle and
go there.’
Marius fell on his hands and knees and crawled silently
under his bed.
Hardly had he concealed himself, when he perceived a
light through the crack of his door.
‘P’pa,’ cried a voice, ‘he is not in here.’
He recognized the voice of the eldest daughter.
‘Did you go in?’ demanded her father.
‘No,’ replied the girl, ‘but as his key is in the door, he
must be out.’
The father exclaimed:—
‘Go in, nevertheless.’
The door opened, and Marius saw the tall Jondrette come
in with a candle in her hand. She was as she had been in the
morning, only still more repulsive in this light.
She walked straight up to the bed. Marius endured an in-
describable moment of anxiety; but near the bed there was
a mirror nailed to the wall, and it was thither that she was
directing her steps. She raised herself on tiptoe and looked
at herself in it. In the neighboring room, the sound of iron