“How stupid these peasants are with their nicknames! She has more the air of a bat than of a lark. You see, sir, we do not ask charity, and we cannot bestow it. We earn nothing and we have to pay out a great deal. The license, the imposts, the door and window tax, the hundredths! Monsieur is aware that the government demands a terrible deal of money. And then, I have my daughters. I have no need to bring up other people’s children.”
The man resumed, in that voice which he strove to render indifferent, and in which there lingered a tremor:—
“What if one were to rid you of her?”
“Who? Cosette?”
“Yes.”
The landlady’s red and violent face brightened up hideously.
“Ah! sir, my dear sir, take her, keep her, lead her off, carry her away, sugar her, stuff her with truffles, drink her, eat her, and the blessings of the good holy Virgin and of all the saints of paradise be upon you!”
“Agreed.”
“Really! You will take her away?”
“I will take her away.”
“Immediately?”
“Immediately. Call the child.”
“Cosette!” screamed the Thénardier.
“In the meantime,” pursued the man, “I will pay you what I owe you. How much is it?”