The answer, which related to the name of the street, and not to the
street itself, seemed to Marius more conclusive than it really was.
"Decidedly," he thought, "I must have been dreaming. I had an
hallucination. It was some one that resembled him, and M. Fauchelevent
was not there."
CHAPTER VIII.
TWO MEN IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND.
The enchantment, great though it was, did not efface other thoughts
from Marius's mind. While the marriage arrangements were being made,
and the fixed period was waited for, he made some troublesome and
scrupulous retrospective researches. He owed gratitude in several
quarters; he owed it for his father, and he owed it for himself. There
was Thénardier, and there was the stranger who had brought him back to
M. Gillenormand's. Marius was anxious to find these two men again, as
he did not wish to marry, be happy, and forget them, and feared lest
these unpaid debts of honor might cast a shadow over his life, which
would henceforth be so luminous. It was impossible for him to leave
all these arrears suffering behind him, and he wished, ere he entered
joyously into the future, to obtain a receipt from the past. That
Thénardier was a villain took nothing from the fact that he had saved
Colonel Pontmercy. Thénardier was a bandit for all the world excepting
for Marius. And Marius, ignorant of the real scene on the battle-field
of Waterloo, did not know this peculiarity, that his father stood to
Thénardier in the strange situation of owing him life without owing
him gratitude. Not one of the agents whom Marius employed could find
Thénardier's trail, and the disappearance seemed complete on that side.
Mother Thénardier had died in prison before trial, and Thénardier and
his daughter Azelma, the only two left of this lamentable group, had
plunged again into the shadow. The gulf of the social unknown had
silently closed again upon these beings. No longer could be seen on
the surface that quivering, that tremor, and those obscure concentric
circles which announce that something has fallen there, and that a
grappling-iron may be thrown in.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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