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The drunken men were still singing their song, and the
child under the table was singing hers.
All at once, Cosette paused; she had just turned round
and caught sight of the little Thenardiers’ doll, which they
had abandoned for the cat and had left on the floor a few
paces from the kitchen table.
Then she dropped the swaddled sword, which only half
met her needs, and cast her eyes slowly round the room.
Madame Thenardier was whispering to her husband and
counting over some money; Ponine and Zelma were playing
with the cat; the travellers were eating or drinking or sing-
ing; not a glance was fixed on her. She had not a moment to
lose; she crept out from under the table on her hands and
knees, made sure once more that no one was watching her;
then she slipped quickly up to the doll and seized it. An in-
stant later she was in her place again, seated motionless, and
only turned so as to cast a shadow on the doll which she
held in her arms. The happiness of playing with a doll was
so rare for her that it contained all the violence of volup-
tuousness.
No one had seen her, except the traveller, who was slowly
devouring his meagre supper.
This joy lasted about a quarter of an hour.
But with all the precautions that Cosette had taken she
did not perceive that one of the doll’s legs stuck out and that
the fire on the hearth lighted it up very vividly. That pink
and shining foot, projecting from the shadow, suddenly
struck the eye of Azelma, who said to Eponine, ‘Look! sis-
ter.’