Montparnasse no longer offered more than a feeble resistance; the fact is, that these four men, with the fidelity of ruffians who never abandon each other, had prowled all night long about La Force, great as was their peril, in the hope of seeing Thenardier make his appearance on the top of some wall.
But the night, which was really growing too fine,--for the downpour was such as to render all the streets deserted,--the cold which was overpowering them, their soaked garments, their hole-ridden shoes, the alarming noise which had just burst forth in the prison, the hours which had elapsed, the patrol which they had encountered, the hope which was vanishing, all urged them to beat a retreat.
Montparnasse himself, who was, perhaps, almost Thenardier''s son-in-law, yielded.
A moment more, and they would be gone.
Thenardier was panting on his wall like the shipwrecked sufferers of the Meduse on their raft when they beheld the vessel which had appeared in sight vanish on the horizon.
He dared not call to them; a cry might be heard and ruin everything. An idea occurred to him, a last idea, a flash of inspiration; he drew from his pocket the end of Brujon''s rope, which he had detached from the chimney of the New Building, and flung it into the space enclosed by the fence.
This rope fell at their feet.