“The candles haven’t, anyway!” ejaculated Babet.
And he pointed out to Éponine, across the tops of the trees, a light which was wandering about in the mansard roof of the pavilion. It was Toussaint, who had stayed up to spread out some linen to dry.
Éponine made a final effort.
“Well,” said she, “they’re very poor folks, and it’s a hovel where there isn’t a sou.”
“Go to the devil!” cried Thénardier. “When we’ve turned the house upside down and put the cellar at the top and the attic below, we’ll tell you what there is inside, and whether it’s francs or sous or half-farthings.”
And he pushed her aside with the intention of entering.
“My good friend, Mr. Montparnasse,” said Éponine, “I entreat you, you are a good fellow, don’t enter.”
“Take care, you’ll cut yourself,” replied Montparnasse.
Thénardier resumed in his decided tone:—
“Decamp, my girl, and leave men to their own affairs!”