She advanced a pace nearer the ruffians, she was terrible, she burst out laughing:—
“Pardine! I’m not afraid. I shall be hungry this summer, and I shall be cold this winter. Aren’t they ridiculous, these ninnies of men, to think they can scare a girl! What! Scare? Oh, yes, much! Because you have finical poppets of mistresses who hide under the bed when you put on a big voice, forsooth! I ain’t afraid of anything, that I ain’t!”
She fastened her intent gaze upon Thénardier and said:—
“Not even of you, father!”
Then she continued, as she cast her bloodshot, spectre-like eyes upon the ruffians in turn:—
“What do I care if I’m picked up tomorrow morning on the pavement of the Rue Plumet, killed by the blows of my father’s club, or