956 Les Miserables
ing was, like all such wretched habitations, an unfurnished
and encumbered garret. A packing-case—a coffin, per-
haps—took the place of a commode, a butter-pot served for
a drinking-fountain, a straw mattress served for a bed, the
floor served instead of tables and chairs. In a corner, on a
tattered fragment which had been a piece of an old carpet, a
thin woman and a number of children were piled in a heap.
The whole of this poverty-stricken interior bore traces of
having been overturned. One would have said that there
had been an earthquake ‘for one.’ The covers were displaced,
the rags scattered about, the jug broken, the mother had
been crying, the children had probably been beaten; traces
of a vigorous and ill-tempered search. It was plain that the
grave-digger had made a desperate search for his card, and
had made everybody in the garret, from the jug to his wife,
responsible for its loss. He wore an air of desperation.
But Fauchelevent was in too great a hurry to terminate
this adventure to take any notice of this sad side of his suc-
cess.
He entered and said:—
‘I have brought you back your shovel and pick.’
Gribier gazed at him in stupefaction.
‘Is it you, peasant?’
‘And to-morrow morning you will find your card with
the porter of the cemetery.’
And he laid the shovel and mattock on the floor.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ demanded Gribier.
‘The meaning of it is, that you dropped your card out of
your pocket, that I found it on the ground after you were