This remark was probably the spark which the other mother had been waiting for. She seized the Thénardier’s hand, looked at her fixedly, and said:— “Will you keep my child for me?” The Thénardier made one of those movements of surprise which signify neither assent nor refusal. Cosette’s mother continued:— “You see, I cannot take my daughter to the country. My work will not permit it. With a child one can find no situation. People are ridiculous in the country. It was the good God who caused me to pass your inn. When I caught sight of your little ones, so pretty, so clean, and so happy, it overwhelmed me. I said: ‘Here is a good mother. That is just the thing; that will make three sisters.’ And then, it will not be long before I return. Will you keep my child for me?” “I must see about it,” replied the Thénardier. “I will give you six francs a month.” Here a man’s voice called from the depths of the cook-shop:— “Not for less than seven francs. And six months paid in advance.” “Six times seven makes forty-two,” said the Thénardier. “I will give it,” said the mother. “And fifteen francs in addition for preliminary expenses,” added the man’s voice. “Total, fifty-seven francs,” said Madame Thénardier. And she hummed vaguely, with these figures:— “It must be, said a warrior.” “I will pay it,” said the mother. “I have eighty francs. I shall have enough left to reach the country, by travelling on foot. I shall earn money there, and as soon as I have a little I will return for my darling.” The man’s voice resumed:— “The little one has an outfit?” “That is my husband,” said the Thénardier. “Of course she has an outfit, the poor treasure.—I understood perfectly that it was your husband.—And a beautiful outfit, too! a senseless outfit, everything by the dozen, and silk gowns like a lady. It is here, in my carpet-bag.” “You must hand it over,” struck in the man’s voice again. “Of course I shall give it to you,” said the mother. “It would be very queer if I were to leave my daughter quite naked!” The master’s face appeared. “That’s good,” said he. The bargain was concluded. The mother passed the night at the inn, gave up her money and left her child, fastened her carpet-bag once more, now reduced in volume by the removal of the outfit, and light henceforth and set out on the following morning, intending to return soon. People arrange such departures tranquilly; but they are despairs! A neighbor of the Thénardiers met this mother as she was setting out, and came back with the remark:— “I have just seen a woman crying in the street so that it was enough to rend your heart.” When Cosette’s mother had taken her departure, the man said to the woman:— “That will serve to pay my note for one hundred and ten francs which falls due to-morrow; I lacked fifty francs. Do you know that I should have had a bailiff and a protest after me? You played the mouse-trap nicely with your young ones.”