ion of his physiognomy, Marius raised his eyes, and perceived at the other end of the room a person whom he had not seen before. A man had just entered, so softly that the door had not been heard to turn on its hinges.
This man wore a violet knitted vest, which was old, worn, spotted, cut and gaping at every fold, wide trousers of cotton velvet, wooden shoes on his feet, no shirt, had his neck bare, his bare arms tattooed, and his face smeared with black.
He had seated himself in silence on the nearest bed, and, as he was behind Jondrette, he could only be indistinctly seen.
That sort of magnetic instinct which turns aside the gaze, caused M. Leblanc to turn round almost at the same moment as Marius. He could not refrain from a gesture of surprise which did not escape Jondrette.
"Ah!
I see!" exclaimed Jondrette, buttoning up his coat with an air of complaisance, "you are looking at your overcoat?
It fits me! My faith, but it fits me!"
"Who is that man?" said M. Leblanc.
"Him?" ejaculated Jondrette, "he''s a neighbor of mine.
Don''t pay any attention to him."
The neighbor was a singular-looking individual.
However, manufactories of chemical products abound in the Faubourg Saint-Marceau. Many of the workmen might have black faces.
Besides this, M. Leblanc''s whole person was expressive of candid and intrepid confidence.