One day, M.
Gillenormand, while his daughter was putting in order the phials and cups on the marble of the commode, bent over Marius and said to him in his tenderest accents: 'Look here, my little Marius, if I were in your place, I would eat meat now in preference to fish.
A fried sole is excellent to begin a convalescence with, but a good cutlet is needed to put a sick man on his feet.
' Marius, who had almost entirely recovered his strength, collected the whole of it, drew himself up into a sitting posture, laid his two clenched fists on the sheets of his bed, looked his grandfather in the face, assumed a terrible air, and said: 'This leads me to say something to you.
' 'What is it? ' 'That I wish to marry. ' 'Agreed,' said his grandfather. —And he burst out laughing. 'How agreed? ' 'Yes, agreed. You shall have your little girl. ' Marius, stunned and overwhelmed with the dazzling shock, trembled in every limb. M.
Gillenormand went on: 'Yes, you shall have her, that pretty little girl of yours. She comes every day in the shape of an old gentleman to inquire after you. Ever since you were wounded, she has passed her time in weeping and making lint. I have made inquiries.
She lives in the Rue de l’Homme Armé, No. 7. Ah! There we have it! Ah! so you want her! Well, you shall have her. You’re caught.
You had arranged your little plot, you had said to yourself:—‘I’m going to signify this squarely to my grandfather, to that mummy of the Regency and of the Directory, to that ancient beau, to that Dorante turned Géronte; he has indulged in his frivolities also, that he has, and he has had his love affairs, and his grisettes and