"What is this?" she exclaimed.
"The monarch which our neighbor gave us this morning," responded Jondrette with dignity, and added, "we shall want two chairs, though."
"What for?"
"Why, to sit down!"
Marius shuddered on hearing the woman make the quiet answer,—
"Well, I will go and fetch our neighbor's."
And with a rapid movement she opened the door and stepped into the passage. Marius had not really the time to get off the drawers and hide under his bed.
"Take the candle!" Jondrette shouted.
"No," she said, "it would bother me, for I have two chairs to carry. Besides, the moon is shining."
Marius heard the heavy hand of Mother Jondrette fumbling for his key in the darkness. The door opened, and he remained nailed to his post by alarm and stupor. The woman came in; the sky-light sent a moonbeam between two large patches of shade, and one of these patches entirely covered the wall against which Marius was standing, so that he disappeared. Mother Jondrette did not see Marius, took the two chairs,—the only two that Marius possessed,—and went off, noisily slamming the door after her. She re-entered the den.