Of whom was Jondrette talking, and whom had he recognized? M. Leblanc, the father of "his Ursule." What! did Jondrette know him? Was Marius going to obtain, in this sudden and unexpected fashion, all the information without which his life was obscure for himself? Was he at last going to know who she was whom he loved, and who her father was? Was the thick cloud that covered them on the point of clearing off? Would the veil be rent asunder? Oh, heavens! He bounded rather than ascended upon the chest of drawers and resumed his place at the aperture in the partition: once more he saw the interior of Jondrette's den. CHAPTER XII. THE USE OF M. LEBLANC'S FIVE-FRANC PIECE. There was no change in the appearance of the family, save that mother and daughters had put on stockings and flannel waistcoats taken out of the parcel, and two new blankets were thrown on the beds. The man had evidently just returned, for he was out of breath; his daughters were seated near the chimney-piece on the ground, the elder tying up the younger's hand. The mother was crouching on the bed near the fire-place, with an astonished face, while Jondrette was walking up and down the room with long strides and extraordinary eyes. The woman, who seemed frightened and struck with stupor before him, ventured to say,-- "What, really, are you sure?" "Sure! it is eight years ago, but I can recognize him! I recognized him at once. What I did it not strike you?" "No." "And yet I said to you, 'Pay attention!' Why, it is his figure, his face, very little older,--for there are some people who never age, though I do not know how they manage it,--and the sound of his voice. He is better dressed, that's all! Ah! you mysterious old villain, I hold you!" He stopped and said to his daughters,-- "Be off, you two!--It is funny that it did not strike you." They rose to obey, and the mother stammered,-- "With her bad hand?" "The air will do it good," said Jondrette. "Off with you!" It was evident that this man was one of those who are not answered. The girls went out, but just as they passed the door the father clutched the elder by the arm, and said, with a peculiar accent,-- "You will be here at five o'clock precisely, both of you, for I shall want you." Marius redoubled his attention. When left alone with his wife, Jondrette began walking up and down room again, and took two or three turns in silence. Then he spent several minutes thrusting the tail of the chemise which he wore into his trousers. All at once he turned to his wife, folded his arms, and exclaimed,-- "And shall I tell you something? The young lady--" "Well, what?" the wife retorted. Marius could not doubt, they were really talking about her. He listened with ardent anxiety, and all his life was in his ears. But Jondrette had stooped down, and was whispering to his wife. Then he rose, and ended aloud,-- "It is she." "That one?" the wife asked. "That one!" said the husband.