Chapter 173 The End of the Four Bandits

Marius finished his classical studies just at the time when Gillenormand withdrew from society.The old man said goodbye to the suburbs of Saint-Germain and Madame T.'s drawing room, moved to the Marais, and settled in his own house on the rue de la Passionate.His servants, in addition to the porter, are the maid who replaced Manon named Nicolette and the short-breathing Basque we talked about earlier. In 1827, Marius had just turned seventeen.One evening, when he came home, he saw a letter in his grandfather's hand. "Marius," said M. Gillenormand, "you must go to Vernon to-morrow."

"To do what?" said Marius. "To see your father." Marius trembled.He thought of everything, but he didn't expect that he would go to see his father one day.Nothing seemed so out of the ordinary to him, and, it should be said, made him uncomfortable.Those who have always been used to being distant, now suddenly have to get close.It wasn't an annoyance, no, it was a chore. Marius, who had motives other than political antipathy, had always believed that his father, the axeman--as M. Gillenormand called him in his calmer days--never loved He, that was obvious, otherwise he wouldn't have left him alone and handed it over to others.Since he feels that no one loves him, he has no love for people.It couldn't be easier, he thought.

He was so frightened that he could think of nothing to ask M. Gillenormand.His grandfather went on to say: "He is said to be ill. He wants you to see him." After a pause, he said again: "You leave tomorrow morning. I remember that there seems to be a car in the fountain yard. It leaves at six in the morning and arrives in the evening. You can just take that car. He said you have to hurry up if you want to go." Then he crumpled up the letter and stuffed it into his pocket.Marius could have started that night and been at his father's side early next morning.At that time, a night-time stagecoach for Rouen from the Rue de Blois passed Vernon.But neither M. Gillenormand nor Marius thought of inquiring.

The next day, in the darkness of night, Marius arrived at Vernon.The candles of each house are being lit one by one.He asked any passer-by where M. Pontmercy lived.Because in his mind he was of the same opinion as the royal party, and he did not admit that his father was a baron or colonel. The man showed him a house.He rang the bell, and a woman with a small oil lamp came and opened the door. "Monsieur Pontmercy lives here?" said Marius. The woman stood still. "Is this here?" asked Marius. The woman nodded. "Can I talk to him?" The woman shook her head.

"I am his son," continued Marius; "he is waiting for me." "He won't wait for you," said the woman. He saw now that she was weeping. She pointed to the door of a low hall.He went in. A suet candle was burning on the fireplace in that hall, and three men were lit, one standing, one kneeling, and one lying on the ground, wearing a shirt, lying straight on the square brick floor.The one lying on the ground is the Colonel. The other two were a doctor and a priest, and the priest was praying. The colonel suffered from encephalitis for three days.When he first fell ill, he felt that the good and the bad were bad, so he wrote a letter to M. Gillenormand to fetch his son.The disease is getting worse every day.On the evening when Marius arrived at Vernon, the colonel, whose mind had begun to faint, pushed his maid aside, got up from the bed, and shouted: "My son is not coming! I will go to him!" and then He walked out of his bedroom and collapsed on the tile floor in the front room.He just died.

Someone had already gone to the doctor and the priest.The doctor was too late, the priest too late, and his son too, too late. In the dim candlelight one could see a large teardrop streaming from a dead eye on the pale, motionless face of the Colonel.The eyes have lost their luster, but the tears have not yet dried.It was the tears of crying for the delay of his son's arrival. Marius looked at the man with whom he met for the first and last time, at that manly and admirable face, those eyes wide open and unseeing, the white hair, the strong limbs, the limbs. It was full of dark brown streaks, which were knife wounds, and full of red stars, which were bullet holes.He watched the long and broad knife mark add a heroic look to the naturally kind face.It occurred to him that this man was his father, and that this man was dead.He stood motionless, indifferent.

He felt the only desolation he could have felt when he saw any other dead man lying before him. Everyone in the room was sad, too sad to be able to help themselves.The servants were weeping in the corner, the priest was weeping his prayers, the doctor was wiping his tears, and the dead were weeping too. The doctor, the priest, and the woman looked at Marius in grief, and none of them said a word, except he, who was the stranger.Marius, unmoved, only felt a little embarrassed by his own appearance, and did not know what to do. His hat, which he had held in his hand, let it fall to the floor, in order to show that he was too sad to hold it. .

At the same time, he felt a little regretful, and felt that his behavior was shameful.However, can this be said to be his fault?He doesn't love his father, what else can he say! Nothing remained of the Colonel.The money from the sale of the furniture was barely enough to pay for the funeral.The servant found a torn piece of paper and gave it to Marius.There were these words in the colonel's own handwriting. After that the colonel added these words: Marius took the paper, and clutched it tightly in his hand, not out of filial piety to his father, but out of that general respect for the dead in general, which is always so dear to everyone's heart. power.

Nothing remains of the colonel.M. Gillenormand had one of his swords and one of his uniforms sold to dealers.Neighbors left and right stole the garden and plundered those rare flowers and trees.All the other plants turned into thickets of thorns, or died. Marius remained in Vernon only forty-eight hours.After the burial, he returned to Paris, continued his law studies, and never thought of his father, as if there had never been such a person in the world.The colonel was buried in two days and forgotten in three. Marius had wrapped a black veil around his hat, that was all.