"Listen carefully. The Crœsus is trapped, or as good as trapped. It is done, arranged, and I have seen the people. He will come at six this evening to bring the sixty francs, the vagabond! Did you notice how I blabbed to him about my sixty francs, my landlord, my February 4th? Why, it is not a quarter-day, the ass. Well, he will come at six o'clock, and at that hour the neighbor has gone to dinner, and Mother Bourgon is washing up dishes in town, so there will be no one in the house. The neighbor never comes in before eleven o'clock. The little ones will be on the watch, you will help us, and he will make a sacrifice." "And suppose he does not?" the wife asked. Jondrette made a sinister gesture, and said, "We will do it for him." And he burst into a laugh: it was the first time that Marius saw him laugh, and this laugh was cold and gentle, and produced a shudder. Jondrette opened a cupboard near the fire-place, and took out an old cap, which he put on his head, after brushing it with his cuff. "Now," he said, "I am going out, for I have some more people to see, good men. I shall be away as short a time as possible, for it is a famous affair; and do you keep house." And he stood thoughtfully with his hands in his trousers' pockets and suddenly exclaimed,-- "Do you know that it is very lucky he did not recognize me, for if he had done so he would not have returned, and would have slipped from us. It was my beard that saved us,--my romantic beard, my pretty little beard." And he laughed again. He went to the window; the snow was still falling, and striping the gray sky. "What filthy weather!" he said. Then he buttoned up his great-coat. "The skin is too big, but no matter," he added. "It was devilish lucky that the old villain left it for me, for had he not I could not have gone out, and the whole affair would have been spoiled. On what slight accidents things depend!" And pulling his cap over his eyes, he went out, but had only gone a short distance when the door opened again, and his sharp, intelligent face reappeared in the aperture. "I forgot," he said; "you will get a chafing-dish of charcoal ready." And he threw into his wife's apron the five-franc piece which the "philanthropist" left him. "How many bushels of charcoal?" the wife asked. "Two, at least." "That will cost thirty sous, and with the rest I will buy some grub." "Hang it, no!" "Why?" "Don't spend the five _balls."_ "Why not?" "Because I have something to buy too." "What?" "Something." "How much do you want?" "Where is the nearest ironmonger's?" "In the Rue Mouffetard." "Ah, yes, at the corner of a street. I remember the shop." "But tell me how much you want for what you have to buy." "From fifty sous to three francs." "There won't be much left for dinner." "Don't bother about eating to-day; there is something better to do." "That's enough, my jewel."