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_ On the following day, Ma'am Bougon, as Courfeyrac styled the old
portress-principal-tenant, housekeeper of the Gorbeau hovel,
Ma'am Bougon, whose name was, in reality, Madame Burgon, as we have
found out, but this iconoclast, Courfeyrac, respected nothing,--
Ma'am Bougon observed, with stupefaction, that M. Marius was going
out again in his new coat.
He went to the Luxembourg again, but he did not proceed further
than his bench midway of the alley. He seated himself there, as on
the preceding day, surveying from a distance, and clearly making out,
the white bonnet, the black dress, and above all, that blue light.
He did not stir from it, and only went home when the gates of the
Luxembourg closed. He did not see M. Leblanc and his daughter retire.
He concluded that they had quitted the garden by the gate on the Rue
de l'Ouest. Later on, several weeks afterwards, when he came to think
it over, he could never recall where he had dined that evening.
On the following day, which was the third, Ma'am Bougon
was thunderstruck. Marius went out in his new coat.
"Three days in succession!" she exclaimed.
She tried to follow him, but Marius walked briskly, and with immense
strides; it was a hippopotamus undertaking the pursuit of a chamois.
She lost sight of him in two minutes, and returned breathless,
three-quarters choked with asthma, and furious. "If there is
any sense," she growled, "in putting on one's best clothes every day,
and making people run like this!"
Marius betook himself to the Luxembourg.
The young girl was there with M. Leblanc. Marius approached
as near as he could, pretending to be busy reading a book, but he
halted afar off, then returned and seated himself on his bench,
where he spent four hours in watching the house-sparrows who were
skipping about the walk, and who produced on him the impression
that they were making sport of him.
A fortnight passed thus. Marius went to the Luxembourg no longer
for the sake of strolling there, but to seat himself always in the
same spot, and that without knowing why. Once arrived there, he did
not stir. He put on his new coat every morning, for the purpose
of not showing himself, and he began all over again on the morrow.
She was decidedly a marvellous beauty. The only remark approaching
a criticism, that could be made, was, that the contradiction between
her gaze, which was melancholy, and her smile, which was merry,
gave a rather wild effect to her face, which sometimes caused this
sweet countenance to become strange without ceasing to be charming. _
Read next: VOLUME III: BOOK SIXTH - THE CONJUNCTION OF TWO STARS: CHAPTER VI. Taken Prisoner
Read previous: VOLUME III: BOOK SIXTH - THE CONJUNCTION OF TWO STARS: CHAPTER IV. Beginning of a Great Malady
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