The hovel was so dark, that people coming from without felt on entering it the effect produced on entering a cellar.
The two newcomers advanced, therefore, with a certain hesitation, being hardly able to distinguish the vague forms surrounding them, while they could be clearly seen and scrutinized by the eyes of the inhabitants of the garret, who were accustomed to this twilight. M.
Leblanc approached, with his sad but kindly look, and said to Jondrette the father:— 'Monsieur, in this package you will find some new clothes and some woollen stockings and blankets. ' 'Our angelic benefactor overwhelms us,' said Jondrette, bowing to the very earth.
Then, bending down to the ear of his eldest daughter, while the two visitors were engaged in examining this lamentable interior, he added in a low and rapid voice:— 'Hey? What did I say? Duds! No money! They are all alike!
By the way, how was the letter to that old blockhead signed? ' 'Fabantou,' replied the girl. 'The dramatic artist, good! ' It was lucky for Jondrette, that this had occurred to him, for at the very moment, M.
Leblanc turned to him, and said to him with the air of a person who is seeking to recall a name:— 'I see that you are greatly to be pitied, Monsieur—' 'Fabantou,' replied Jondrette quickly. 'Monsieur Fabantou, yes, that is it. I remember.
' 'Dramatic artist, sir, and one who has had some success. ' Here Jondrette evidently judged the moment propitious for capturing the 'philanthropist.
' He exclaimed with an accent which smacked at the same time of the vainglory of the mountebank at fairs, and the humility of the mendicant on the highway:— 'A pupil of Talma! Sir! I am a pupil of Talma! Fortune formerly smiled on me—Alas!
Now it is misfortune’s turn. You see, my