He heard the shrill, hard voice of Jondrette utter these words, which were fraught with a strange interest for him:⁠—

“I tell you that I am sure of it, and that I recognized him.”

Of whom was Jondrette speaking? Whom had he recognized? M. Leblanc? The father of “his Ursule”? What! Did Jondrette know him? Was Marius about to obtain in this abrupt and unexpected fashion all the information without which his life was so dark to him? Was he about to learn at last who it was that he loved, who that young girl was? Who her father was? Was the dense shadow which enwrapped them on the point of being dispelled? Was the veil about to be rent? Ah! Heavens!

He bounded rather than climbed upon his commode, and resumed his post near the little peephole in the partition wall.

Again he beheld the interior of Jondrette’s hovel.