because he was at Waterloo; a father is not separated from his child for such a reason as that. He was one of Bonaparte’s colonels. He is dead, I believe. He lived at Vernon, where I have a brother who is a curé, and his name was something like Pontmarie or Montpercy. He had a fine sword-cut, on my honor.”
“Pontmercy,” suggested Marius, turning pale.
“Precisely, Pontmercy. Did you know him?”
“Sir,” said Marius, “he was my father.”
The old warden clasped his hands and exclaimed:—
“Ah! you are the child! Yes, that’s true, he must be a man by this time. Well! poor child, you may say that you had a father who loved you dearly!”
Marius offered his arm to the old man and conducted him to his lodgings.
On the following day, he said to M. Gillenormand:—
“I have arranged a hunting-party with some friends. Will you permit me to be absent for three days?”
“Four!” replied his grandfather. “Go and amuse yourself.”
And he said to his daughter in a low tone, and with a wink, “Some love affair!”
VI
The Consequences of Having Met a Warden
Where it was that Marius went will be disclosed a little further on.