This remark was probably the spark which the other mother had been waiting for. She seized the Thénardier’s hand, looked at her fixedly, and said:—
“Will you keep my child for me?”
The Thénardier made one of those movements of surprise which signify neither assent nor refusal.
Cosette’s mother continued:—
“You see, I cannot take my daughter to the country. My work will not permit it. With a child one can find no situation. People are ridiculous in the country. It was the good God who caused me to pass your inn. When I caught sight of your little ones, so pretty, so clean, and so happy, it overwhelmed me. I said: ‘Here is a good mother. That is just the thing; that will make three sisters.’ And then, it will not be long before I return. Will you keep my child for me?”
“I must see about it,” replied the Thénardier.
“I will give you six francs a month.”
Here a man’s voice called from the depths of the cook-shop:—
“Not for less than seven francs. And six months paid in advance.”
“Six times seven makes forty-two,” said the Thénardier.
“I will give it,” said the mother.
“And fifteen francs in addition for preliminary expenses,” added the man’s voice.
“Total, fifty-seven francs,” said Madame Thénardier. And she hummed vaguely, with these figures:—