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felt himself restrained.
This frightful situation, which had already lasted above
half an hour, was changing its aspect every moment.
Marius had sufficient strength of mind to review in suc-
cession all the most heart-breaking conjectures, seeking
hope and finding none.
The tumult of his thoughts contrasted with the funereal
silence of the den.
In the midst of this silence, the door at the bottom of the
staircase was heard to open and shut again.
The prisoner made a movement in his bonds.
‘Here’s the bourgeoise,’ said Thenardier.
He had hardly uttered the words, when the Thenardier
woman did in fact rush hastily into the room, red, panting,
breathless, with flaming eyes, and cried, as she smote her
huge hands on her thighs simultaneously:—
‘False address!’
The ruffian who had gone with her made his appearance
behind her and picked up his axe again.
She resumed:—
‘Nobody there! Rue Saint-Dominique, No. 17, no Mon-
sieur Urbain Fabre! They know not what it means!’
She paused, choking, then went on:—
‘Monsieur Thenardier! That old fellow has duped you! You
are too good, you see! If it had been me, I’d have chopped
the beast in four quarters to begin with! And if he had acted
ugly, I’d have boiled him alive! He would have been obliged
to speak, and say where the girl is, and where he keeps his
shiners! That’s the way I should have managed matters! Peo-