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‘Since you have taken off your nose-screen, accompany
the mistress. You will get up behind the fiacre. You know
where you left the team?’
‘Yes,’ said the man.
And depositing his axe in a corner, he followed Madame
Thenardier.
As they set off, Thenardier thrust his head through the
half-open door, and shouted into the corridor:—
‘Above all things, don’t lose the letter! remember that
you carry two hundred thousand francs with you!’
The Thenardier’s hoarse voice replied:—
‘Be easy. I have it in my bosom.’
A minute had not elapsed, when the sound of the crack-
ing of a whip was heard, which rapidly retreated and died
away.
‘Good!’ growled Thenardier. ‘They’re going at a fine pace.
At such a gallop, the bourgeoise will be back inside three-
quarters of an hour.’
He drew a chair close to the fireplace, folding his arms,
and presenting his muddy boots to the brazier.
‘My feet are cold!’ said he.
Only five ruffians now remained in the den with Thenar-
dier and the prisoner.
These men, through the black masks or paste which
covered their faces, and made of them, at fear’s pleasure,
charcoal-burners, negroes, or demons, had a stupid and
gloomy air, and it could be felt that they perpetrated a crime
like a bit of work, tranquilly, without either wrath or mer-
cy, with a sort of ennui. They were crowded together in one