“What?”

“Something happened t’other day. Fancy. I meet a bourgeois. He makes me a present of a sermon and his purse. I put it in my pocket. A minute later, I feel in my pocket. There’s nothing there.”

“Except the sermon,” said Gavroche.

“But you,” went on Montparnasse, “where are you bound for now?”

Gavroche pointed to his two protégés, and said:⁠—

“I’m going to put these infants to bed.”

“Whereabouts is the bed?”

“At my house.”

“Where’s your house?”

“At my house.”