Some days after this visit of a "spirit" to Farmer Mabeuf, one morning,-- it was on a Monday, the day when Marius borrowed the hundred-sou piece from Courfeyrac for Thenardier--Marius had put this coin in his pocket, and before carrying it to the clerk's office, he had gone "to take a little stroll," in the hope that this would make him work on his return. It was always thus, however. As soon as he rose, he seated himself before a book and a sheet of paper in order to scribble some translation; his task at that epoch consisted in turning into French a celebrated quarrel between Germans, the Gans and Savigny controversy; he took Savigny, he took Gans, read four lines, tried to write one, could not, saw a star between him and his paper, and rose from his chair, saying: "I shall go out. That will put me in spirits."
And off he went to the Lark's meadow.
There he beheld more than ever the star, and less than ever Savigny and Gans.
He returned home, tried to take up his work again, and did not succeed; there was no means of re-knotting a single one of the threads which were broken in his brain; then he said to himself: "I will not go out to-morrow. It prevents my working." And he went out every day.
He lived in the Lark's meadow more than in Courfeyrac's lodgings. That was his real address: Boulevard de la Sante, at the seventh tree from the Rue Croulebarbe.
That morning he had quitted the seventh tree and had seated himself on the parapet of the River des Gobelins. A cheerful sunlight penetrated the freshly unfolded and luminous leaves.
He was dreaming of "Her." And his meditation turning to a reproach,fell back upon himself; he reflected dolefully on his idleness, his paralysis of soul, which was gaining on him, and of that night which was growing more dense every moment before him, to such a point that he no longer even saw the sun.
Nevertheless, athwart this painful extrication of indistinct ideas which was not even a monologue, so feeble had action become in him, and he had no longer the force to care to despair, athwart this melancholy absorption, sensations from without did reach him. He heard behind him, beneath him, on both banks of the river, the laundresses of the Gobelins beating their linen, and above his head, the birds chattering and singing in the elm-trees. On the one hand, the sound of liberty, the careless happiness of the leisure which has wings; on the other, the sound of toil. What caused him to meditate deeply, and almost reflect, were two cheerful sounds.
All at once, in the midst of his dejected ecstasy, he heard a familiar voice saying:--
"Come! Here he is!"
He raised his eyes, and recognized that wretched child who had come to him one morning, the elder of the Thenardier daughters, Eponine; he knew her name now. Strange to say, she had grown poorer and prettier, two steps which it had not seemed within her power to take. She had accomplished a double progress, towards the light and towards distress. She was barefooted and in rags, as on the day when she had so resolutely entered his chamber, only her rags were two months older now, the holes were larger, the tatters more sordid. It was the same harsh voice, the same brow dimmed and wrinkled with tan, the same free, wild, and vacillating glance.She had besides, more than formerly, in her face that indescribably terrified and lamentable something which sojourn in a prison adds to wretchedness.
She had bits of straw and hay in her hair, not like Ophelia through having gone mad from the contagion of Hamlet's madness, but because she had slept in the loft of some stable.
And in spite of it all, she was beautiful. What a star art thou, O youth!
In the meantime, she had halted in front of Marius with a trace of joy in her livid countenance, and something which resembled a smile.
She stood for several moments as though incapable of speech.
"So I have met you at last!" she said at length. "Father Mabeuf was right, it was on this boulevard! How I have hunted for you! If you only knew! Do you know? I have been in the jug. A fortnight! They let me out! seeing that there was nothing against me, and that, moreover, I had not reached years of discretion. I lack two months of it. Oh! how I have hunted for you! These six weeks! So you don't live down there any more?"
"No," said Marius.
"Ah! I understand. Because of that affair. Those take-downs are disagreeable. You cleared out. Come now! Why do you wear old hats like this! A young man like you ought to have fine clothes. Do you know, Monsieur Marius, Father Mabeuf calls you Baron Marius, I don't know what.It isn't true that you are a baron? Barons are old fellows, they go to the Luxembourg, in front of the chateau,where there is the most sun, and they read the Quotidienne for a sou. I once carried a letter to a baron of that sort. He was over a hundred years old. Say, where do you live now?"
Marius made no reply.
"Ah!" she went on, "you have a hole in your shirt. I must sew it up for you."
She resumed with an expression which gradually clouded over:--
"You don't seem glad to see me."
Marius held his peace; she remained silent for a moment, then exclaimed:--
"But if I choose, nevertheless, I could force you to look glad!"
"What?" demanded Marius. "What do you mean?"
"Ah! you used to call me thou," she retorted.
"Well, then, what dost thou mean?"
She bit her lips; she seemed to hesitate, as though a prey to some sort of inward conflict. At last she appeared to come to a decision.
"So much the worse, I don't care. You have a melancholy air, I want you to be pleased. Only promise me that you will smile. I want to see you smile and hear you say:`Ah, well, that's good.' Poor Mr. Marius! you know? You promised me that you would give me anything I like--"
"Yes! Only speak!"
She looked Marius full in the eye, and said:--
"I have the address."
Marius turned pale. All the blood flowed back to his heart.
"What address?"
"The address that you asked me to get!"
She added, as though with an effort:--
"The address--you know very well!"
"Yes!" stammered Marius.
"Of that young lady."
This word uttered, she sighed deeply.
Marius sprang from the parapet on which he had been sitting and seized her hand distractedly.
"Oh! Well! lead me thither! Tell me! Ask of me anything you wish! Where is it?"
"Come with me," she responded. "I don't know the street or number very well; it is in quite the other direction from here, but I know the house well, I will take you to it."
She withdrew her hand and went on, in a tone which could have rent the heart of an observer, but which did not even graze Marius in his intoxicated and ecstatic state:--
"Oh! how glad you are!"
A cloud swept across Marius' brow. He seized Eponine by the arm:--
"Swear one thing to me!"
"Swear!" said she, "what does that mean? Come! You want me to swear?"
And she laughed.
"Your father! promise me, Eponine! Swear to me that you will not give this address to your father!"
She turned to him with a stupefied air.
"Eponine! How do you know that my name is Eponine?"
"Promise what I tell you!"
But she did not seem to hear him.
"That's nice! You have called me Eponine!"
Marius grasped both her arms at once.
"But answer me, in the name of Heaven! pay attention to what I am saying to you, swear to me that you will not tell your father this address that you know!"
"My father!" said she. "Ah yes, my father! Be at ease. He's in close confinement. Besides, what do I care for my father!"
"But you do not promise me!" exclaimed Marius.
"Let go of me!" she said, bursting into a laugh, "how you do shake me! Yes! Yes! I promise that! I swear that to you! What is that to me? I will not tell my father the address. There! Is that right? Is that it?"
"Nor to any one?" said Marius.
"Nor to any one."
"Now," resumed Marius, "take me there."
"Immediately?"
"Immediately."
"Come along. Ah! how pleased he is!" said she.
After a few steps she halted.
"You are following me too closely, Monsieur Marius. Let me go on ahead, and follow me so, without seeming to do it. A nice young man like you must not be seen with a woman like me."
No tongue can express all that lay in that word, woman, thus pronounced by that child.
She proceeded a dozen paces and then halted once more; Marius joined her. She addressed him sideways, and without turning towards him:--
"By the way, you know that you promised me something?"
Marius fumbled in his pocket. All that he owned in the world was the five francs intended for Thenardier the father. He took them and laid them in Eponine's hand.
She opened her fingers and let the coin fall to the ground, and gazed at him with a gloomy air.
"I don't want your money," said she.
在“鬼”访问马白夫公公的几天以后，一个早晨棗是个星期一，马吕斯为德纳第向古费拉克借五个法郎的那天棗，马吕斯把那值五法郎的钱放进衣袋，决定在送交管理处以前，先去“蹓跶一会儿”，希望能在回家后好好工作。他经常是这样的。一起床，便坐在一本书和一张纸跟前，胡乱涂上几句译文。他这时的工作是把两个德国人的一场著名争吵，甘斯和萨维尼的不同论点译成法文，他看看萨维尼，他看看甘斯，读上四行，试着写一行，不成，他老看见在那张纸和他自己之间有颗星，于是他离座站起来说道：“我出去走走。回头能就顺利工作了。”
他去了百灵场。
到了那里，他比任何时候都更加只见那颗星，也比任何时候都更加见不到萨维尼和甘斯了。
他回到家里，想再把工作捡起来，但是一点也办不到，即使是断在他脑子里线索里的一根，也没法连起来，于是他说：“我明天再也不出去了。那会妨碍我工作。”可是他没有一天不出门。
他的住处，与其说是古费拉克的家，倒不如说是百灵场。他的真正的住址是这样的：健康街，落须街口过去第七棵树。
那天早晨，他离开了第七棵树，走去坐在哥白兰河边的石栏上。一道欢快的阳光正穿过那些通明透亮的新发的树叶。他在想念“她”。他的想念继又转为对自己的责备，他痛苦地想到自己已被懒惰棗灵魂麻痹症所控制，想到自己的前途越来越黑暗，甚至连太阳也看不见了。
这时他心里有着这种连自言自语也算不上的模糊想法，由于他的内心活动已极微弱，便连自怨自艾的力量也失去了，在这种百感交集的迷惘中，他感受了外界的种种活动，他听到在他后面，他的下面，哥白兰河两岸传来了洗衣妇的捣衣声，他又听到鸟雀在他上面的榆树枝头嘤鸣啼唱。一方面是自由、自得其乐和长了翅膀的悠闲的声音，另一方面是劳动的声音。这一切引起了他的无穷感慨，几乎使他陷入深思，这是两种快乐的声音。
他正这样一筹莫展在出神时，突然听到一个人的声音在说：“嘿！他在这儿。”
他抬起眼睛，认出了那人便是有天早上来到他屋里的那个穷娃子，德纳第的大姑娘，爱潘妮，他现在已知道她的名字了。说也奇怪，她显得更穷，却也漂亮些了，这好象是她绝对不能同时迈出的两步。但她确已朝着光明和苦难两个方面完成了这一双重的进步。她赤着一双脚，穿一身破烂衣服，仍是那天那么坚定地走进他屋子时的那模样，不过她的破衣又多拖了两个月，洞更大了，烂布片也更脏了。仍是那种嘶哑的嗓子，仍是那个因风吹日晒而发黑起皱的额头，仍是那种放肆、散乱、浮动的目光。而她新近经历过的牢狱生活，又在她那蒙垢受苦的面貌上添上一种说不上的叫人见了心惊胆寒的东西。
她头发里有些麦秆皮和草屑，但不象那个受了哈姆莱特疯病感染而癫狂的奥菲利娅，而是因为她曾在某个马厩的草堆上睡过觉。
尽管这样，她仍是美丽的。呵！青春，你真是颗灿烂的明星。
这时，她走到马吕斯跟前停下来，枯黄的脸上略带一点喜色，并稍露一点笑容。
她好一阵子说不出话来。
“我到底把您找着了！”她终于这样说，“马白夫公公说对了，是在这条大路上！我把您好找哟！要是您知道就好了！您知道了吧？我在黑屋子里关了十五天！他们又把我放了！看见我身上啥也找不出来，况且我还不到受管制的年龄！还差两个月。呵！我把您好找哟！已经找了六个星期。您已不住在那边了吗？”
“不住那边了。”马吕斯说。
“是呀，我懂。就为了那件事。是叫人难受，那种抢人的事。您就搬走了。怎么了！您为什么要戴一顶这么旧的帽子？象您这样一个青年，应当穿上漂亮衣服才对。您知道吗，马吕斯先生？马白夫公公管您叫男爵马吕斯还有什么的。您不会是什么男爵吧。男爵，那都是些老家伙，他们逛卢森堡公园，全待在大楼前面，太阳最好的地方，还看一个苏一张的《每日新闻》。有一次，我送一封信给一个男爵，他便是这样的。他已一百多岁了。您说，您现在住在什么地方？”
马吕斯不回答。
“啊！”她接着说，“您的衬衣上有个洞。我得来替您补好。”
她又带着渐渐沉郁下来的神情往下说：
“您的样子好象见了我不高兴似的。”
马吕斯不出声，她也静了一会儿，继又大声喊道：
“可是只要我愿意，我就一定能使您高兴！”
“什么？”马吕斯问，“您这话什么意思？”
“啊！您对我一向是说‘你’的！”她接着说。
“好吧，你这话什么意思？”
她咬着自己的嘴唇，似乎拿不定主意，内心在作斗争。最后，她好象下定了决心。
“没有关系，怎么都可以。您老是这样愁眉苦脸，我要您高兴。不过您得答应我，您一定要笑。我要看见您笑，并且听您说：‘好呀！好极了。’可怜的马吕斯先生！您知道！您从前许过我，无论我要什么，您都情愿给我……”
“对，你说吧！”
她瞪眼望着马吕斯，向他说：
“我已找到那个住址。”
马吕斯面无人色。他的全部血液都回到了心里。
“什么住址？”
“您要我找的那个住址！”
她又好象费尽无穷气力似的加上一句：
“就是那个……住址。您明白吗？”
“我明白！”马吕斯结结巴巴地说。
“那个小姐的！”
说完这几个字，她深深叹了一口气。
马吕斯从他坐着的石栏上跳了下来，狠狠捏住她的手：
“呵！太好了！快领我去！告诉我！随你向我要什么！在什么地方？”
“您跟我来，”她回答，“是什么街，几号，我都不清楚，那完全是另一个地方，不靠这边，但是我认得那栋房子，我领您去。”
她抽回了她的手，以一种能使旁观者听了感到苦恼，却又绝没有影响到如醉如痴的马吕斯的语气接着说：
“呵！瞧您有多么高兴！”
一阵阴影浮过马吕斯的额头。他抓住爱潘妮的手臂。
“你得向我发个誓！”
“发誓？”她说，“那是什么意思？奇怪！您要我发誓？”
她笑了出来。
“你的父亲！答应我，爱潘妮！我要你发誓你不把那住址告诉你父亲！”
她转过去对着他，带着惊讶的神气说：
“爱潘妮！您怎么会知道我叫爱潘妮？”
“答应我对你提出的要求！”
她好象没有听见他说话似的：
“这多有意思！您叫了我一声爱潘妮！”
马吕斯同时抓住她的两条胳膊：
“你回我的话呀，看老天面上！注意听我向你说的话，发誓你不把你知道的那个住址告诉你父亲！”
“我的父亲吗？”她说。“啊，不错，我的父亲！您放心吧。他在牢里。并且，我父亲关我什么事！”
“但是你没有回答我的话！”马吕斯大声说。
“不要这样抓住我！”她一面狂笑一面说，“您这样推我干什么！好吧！好吧！我答应你！我发誓！这有什么关系？我不把那住址告诉我父亲。就这样！这样行吗？这样成吗？”
“也不告诉旁人？”马吕斯说。
“也不告诉旁人。”
“现在，”马吕斯又说，“你领我去。”
“马上就去？”
“马上就去。”
“来吧。呵！他多么高兴呵！”她说。
走上几步，她又停下来：
“您跟得我太近了，马吕斯先生。让我走在前面，您就这样跟着我走，不要让别人看出来。别人不应当看见象您这样一个体面的年轻人跟着我这样一个女人。”
任何语言都无法表达从这孩子嘴里说出的“女人”这两个字的含义。
她走上十来步，又停下来，马吕斯跟上去。她偏过头去和他谈话，脸并不转向他：
“我说，您知道您从前曾许过我什么吗？”
马吕斯掏着自己身上的口袋。他在这世上仅有的财富便是那准备给德纳第的五法郎。他掏了出来，放在爱潘妮手里。
她张开手指，让钱落在地上，愁眉不展地望着他：
“我不要您的钱。”她说。