“Well, I’d like to know what sort of a beggar’s brat this is?”

“That sort of animal is never easy unless he’s overturning the authorities.”

Gavroche disdainfully contented himself, by way of reprisal, with elevating the tip of his nose with his thumb and opening his hand wide.

The ragpicker cried:⁠—

“You malicious, bare-pawed little wretch!”

The one who answered to the name of Patagon clapped her hands together in horror.