Eponine was following the ruffians to the boulevard.
While Marius had been dreaming with his head pressed to the tree, an idea had crossed his mind; an idea, alas! that he himself judged to be senseless and impossible.
He had come to a desperate decision.
BOOK EIGHTH.--ENCHANTMENTS AND DESOLATIONS
CHAPTER VII
THE OLD HEART AND THE YOUNG HEART IN THE PRESENCE OF EACH OTHER
At that epoch, Father Gillenormand was well past his ninety-first birthday.
He still lived with Mademoiselle Gillenormand in the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 6, in the old house which he owned. He was, as the reader will remember, one of those antique old men who await death perfectly erect, whom age bears down without bending, and whom even sorrow cannot curve.
Still, his daughter had been saying for some time:
"My father is sinking."
He no longer boxed the maids'' ears; he no longer thumped the landing-place so vigorously with his cane when Basque was slow in opening the door.
The Revolution of July had exasperated him for the space of barely six months.
He had viewed, almost tranquilly, that coupling of words, in the Moniteur:
M. Humblot-Conte, peer of France.
The fact is, that the old man was deeply dejected. He did not bend, he did not yield; this was no more a characteristic of his physical than of his moral nature, but he felt himself giving way internally.