This laugh was the supreme signification of certainty and authority; what was said in this way must be. The wife made no objection, but began arranging the tables, while her husband walked up and down the room; a moment after he added,-- "Why, I owe fifteen hundred francs." He sat down in the ingle-nook, meditating with his feet in the warm ashes. "By the bye," the wife continued, "you don't forget that I mean to bundle out Cosette to-day? The monster! she eats my heart with her doll; I would sooner marry Louis XVIII. than keep her a day longer in the house." Thénardier lit his pipe, and said between two puffs,--"You will hand the man the bill." Then he went out, and had scarce left the room ere the traveller entered; Thénardier at once appeared behind and stood in the half-open door, only visible to his wife. The yellow man carried his stick and bundle in his hand. "Up so soon?" the landlady said. "Are you going to leave us already, sir?" While speaking this, she turned the bill in her hands with an embarrassed air and made folds in it with her nails; her harsh face had an unusual look of timidity and scruple. It seemed to her difficult to present such a bill to a man who looked so thoroughly poor. The traveller seemed absent and preoccupied, as he replied,-- "Yes, Madame, I am going." "Then you had no business to transact at Montfermeil, sir?" she continued. "No; I am merely passing through, that is all. What do I owe you, Madame?" The landlady, without replying, handed him the folded paper; he opened and looked at it, but his attention was visibly elsewhere. "Do you do a good business here?" he asked. "Tolerably well, sir," the landlady answered, stupefied at not seeing any other explosion; then she went on with an elegiac and lamentable accent,-- "Oh, sir, times are very bad! And then there are So few respectable people in these parts. It is lucky we have now and then generous and rich travellers like yourself, sir, for the expenses are so high. Why, that little girl costs us our eyes out of our head." "What little girl?" "Why, you know, Cosette, the Lark, as they call her hereabout." "Oh!" said the man. She continued,-- "What asses these peasants are with these nick-names! She looks more like a bat than a lark. You see, sir, we don't ask for charity, but we can't give it; our earnings are small and our expenses great,--the license, the door and window tax, and so on! You know, sir, that the Government claims a terrible deal of money. And then I have my own daughters, and do not care to support another person's child." The man replied, in a voice which he strove to render careless, and in which there was a tremor,-- "And suppose you were freed of her?" "Of whom,--of Cosette?" The landlady's red and violent face was illumined by a hideous grin. "Ah, sir, my good sir; take her, keep her, carry her off, sugar her, stuff her with truffles, eat her, drink her, and may all the Saints in Paradise bless you!"