CHAPTER IX. JONDRETTE ALMOST CRIES. The garret was so dark that persons who came into it felt much as if they were going into a cellar. The two new-comers, therefore, advanced with some degree of hesitation, scarce distinguishing the vague forms around them, while they were perfectly seen and examined by the eyes of the denizens in the attic, who were accustomed to this gloom. M. Leblanc walked up to Father Jondrette, with his sad and gentle smile, and said,-- "You will find in this parcel, sir, new apparel, woollen stockings, and blankets." "Our angelic benefactor overwhelms us," Jondrette said, bowing to the ground; then, bending down to the ear of his elder daughter, he added in a hurried whisper, while the two visitors were examining this lamentable interior,-- "Did I not say so,--clothes, but no money? They are all alike. By the way, how was the letter to the old ass signed?" "Fabantou." "The actor,--all right." It was lucky that Jondrette asked this, for at the same moment M. Leblanc turned to him, and said with the air of a person who is trying to remember the name,-- "I see that you are much to be pitied, Monsieur--" "Fabantou," Jondrette quickly added. "Monsieur Fabantou; yes, that is it, I remember." "An actor, sir, who has been successful in his time." Here Jondrette evidently believed the moment arrived to trap his philanthropist, and he shouted in a voice which had some of the bombast of the country showman, and the humility of the professional beggar, --"A pupil of Talma, sir! I am a pupil of Talma! Fortune smiled upon me formerly, but now, alas! the turn of misfortune has arrived. You see, my benefactor, we have no bread, no fire. My poor children have no fire. My sole chair without a seat! a pane of glass broken, in such weather as this! my wife in bed, ill!" "Poor woman!" said M. Leblanc. "My child hurt," Jondrette added. The child, distracted by the arrival of the strangers, was staring at the "young lady," and ceased sobbing. "Cry, I tell you; roar!" Jondrette whispered to her. At the same time he squeezed her bad hand. All this was done with the talent of a conjurer. The little one uttered piercing cries, and the adorable girl whom Marius called in his heart "his Ursule," eagerly went up to her. "Poor dear child!" she said. "You see, respected young lady," Jondrette continued, "her hand is bleeding. It is the result of an accident which happened to her while working at a factory to earn six sous a day. It is possible that her arm will have to be cut off." "Really?" the old gentleman said in alarm. The little girl, taking this remark seriously, began sobbing again her loudest. "Alas, yes, my benefactor!" the father answered.