“A traveller had already come to engage a seat in the imperial. I saw his name on the card.”

“What name?”

“Marius Pontmercy.”

“The wicked fellow!” exclaimed his aunt. “Ah! your cousin is not a steady lad like yourself. To think that he is to pass the night in a diligence!”

“Just as I am going to do.”

“But you⁠—it is your duty; in his case, it is wildness.”

“Bosh!” said Théodule.

Here an event occurred to Mademoiselle Gillenormand the elder⁠—an idea struck her. If she had been a man, she would have slapped her brow. She apostrophized Théodule:⁠—

“Are you aware whether your cousin knows you?”