“There’s a brat as big as my fist who tells lies as big as the house,” exclaimed the peddler. “I tell you that he has not been watered, you little jade! He has a way of blowing when he has had no water, which I know well.”

Cosette persisted, and added in a voice rendered hoarse with anguish, and which was hardly audible:⁠—

“And he drank heartily.”

“Come,” said the peddler, in a rage, “this won’t do at all, let my horse be watered, and let that be the end of it!”

Cosette crept under the table again.

“In truth, that is fair!” said Madame Thénardier, “if the beast has not been watered, it must be.”

Then glancing about her:⁠—

“Well, now! Where’s that other beast?”