Chapter 53 Boredom of Mr. Twelve Bar Madabo

In all the little towns, but especially in Montreuil-sur-Mer, there is a certain kind of youth who devours fifteen hundred livres a year in the provinces, just as their kind devours two hundred thousand francs a year in Paris.They are all part of that mass of useless people; they don't produce, cannibalize people, have no talent, have a little land, a little stupidity, a little cleverness, they are country fools in the living room, and they are foolish in tea houses and taverns. Aristocrats call themselves "my meadow, my grove, my tenant"; they boo the actresses in the theater to prove that they are cultivated; they argue with the officers in the barracks. , showing by pictures that he knows strategy, hunting, smoking, yawning, drinking heavily, sniffing snuff, playing billiards, watching passengers get off stagecoachs, sitting in cafes, going to restaurants, there is a dog chewing bones under the table and a Mistresses spread out on the table, stripped, dressed in strange clothes, gloating, scorning women, making their old boots more worn out, imitating London fashions in Paris, and Paris fashions in the Pine Bridge, obstinate, idle, useless , but no big deal.

M. Félix Daulommier, if he had been living in the provinces and had never seen Paris, would be such a man. If they were richer, people would say "these are good sons"; if they were poorer, people would say "these are bums".Such people are simply homeless.Among these vagrants, there are those who are irritating and those who are annoyed, some who are delirious, and some who are full of ugly appearances. In those days, the components of a good boy were a high collar, a large cravat, a beaded watch, a stack of three blue and red vests of different colors, a short olive-colored tuxedo, two Rows of silver buttons close together up to the shoulders, a pair of light olive trousers, with more or less fringe trimmings on the side seams, varying in number but always an odd number, from one to Eleven, eleven is the limit that has never been exceeded.In addition, there were a pair of short shoes with a small iron plate on the heel, a tall narrow-brimmed hat, fluffy hair, a thick walking stick, and the conversation was mixed with Boquierian lingo.The most outstanding are the spurs on the heels and the mustache on the mouth.At that time, mustaches represented the propertied class, and horse spurs represented the car-free class.

Mr. Jia from other provinces has a longer spur and a rougher mustache. It was the period when some republics in South America were fighting against the king of Spain, that is, the period when Bolivar was fighting against Morilo. The narrow-brimmed hat was the symbol of the royalist party. The wide-brimmed hat that people wear is called a bolivar. Eight or ten months after the events of the preceding pages, in the first half of January, 1823, on a snowy evening, a fine gentleman of that sort, a bum of that sort, A "very thoughtful man," for he wore a morillo, warmly added with a cloak which was then used to complement fashionable clothes, was flirting with a dance-dressed, open-chested, headed People wearing flowers on their clothes, wandering to and fro in front of the glass windows of the officers' café.That young man is still smoking, because that must be the fashion.

Every time the woman passed by him, he would take a puff of his cigar, spray her with smoke, and say strange things to her that he thought were witty, such as "How ugly you are!" "You're not hiding!" You have no teeth!" and that sort of thing.The gentleman's name is Mr. Bamadapo.The frowning woman dressed like a goblin didn't reply or even look at him. She kept silent as before, walking up and down the snow with that regular, heavy pace. Every minute he is insulted, as a soldier who is punished comes regularly to be whipped.Her reaction must have irritated this idler. When she turned her back, he tiptoed and followed her, suppressing a smile, bent down, squeezed a handful of snow on the ground, and stuffed her His back, between his bare shoulders.The prostitute screamed wildly, turned around, jumped up like a leopard, grabbed the man, dug her nails into his face, and cursed some ugly words.That kind of swearing came out of a hoarse voice that had been poisoned by alcohol, and it was indeed ugly, and the mouth was indeed missing two front teeth.She is Fantine.

When the officers heard the sound, they all rushed out of the cafe, and the passers-by gathered together, forming a big circle, some laughing, shouting, applauding, and the two wrestled around in the circle. , others could hardly see that it was a man and a woman; the man tried his best to resist, the hat fell to the ground, the woman kicked and kicked, and lost the hat, shouting, she had neither teeth nor hair, her face was blue with anger , so scary. Suddenly, a burly man rushed out from the crowd, grabbed the woman's muddy satin gown, and said to her, "Follow me." The woman looked up, and her roaring voice suddenly fell silent.Her eyes were gloomy, her complexion turned from blue to ashen, and she was trembling with fright.She recognized the man as Javert.

Mr. Jia took the opportunity to slip away.