Chapter 188 Five Poverty is Bitter Good Neighbors

Marius liked this honest old man, who had seen himself slowly beset by poverty, and who was becoming alarmed, but not yet distressed.Marius often saw Courfeyrac, and often visited M. Mabeuf, but very rarely, not more than once or twice a month. Marius's hobby was to take long walks alone on the high roads in the countryside, or on the unfrequented paths in the Mars Place or the Luxembourg Gardens.He sometimes spends half a day looking at the vegetable field, the lettuce bed, the chickens in the manure pile, and the horses pulling the water wheel.Passers-by looked at him with amazement, and some thought his clothes were suspicious and his appearance was hideous.This is just a poor boy standing and dreaming without any intention.

It was during such wanderings that he discovered the old Gorbo house. It was a remote place with low rent, and he liked it, so he settled down there.He was known only as Monsieur Marius. Several retired generals or old colleagues of his father knew him and invited him to visit them.Marius did not refuse.These are opportunities to talk about his father.So he went from time to time to the Count Bajol's, to General Pela Vesner's, to General Frillion's, and to the Invalids.Those people have music and dance.Marius put on his new clothes on such evenings.But he didn't go to these parties or dances until the weather was stone-cracking, because he couldn't afford a car and he wanted his boots to shine like a mirror when he walked in people's doors.

He sometimes said (without complaining): "A man is such a thing that in a living room you can get dirty all over your body but not your shoes. In those places, in order to receive you well, the only thing you need is to be Blameless, conscience? No, boots." Any enthusiasm, unless it comes from the heart, will disappear in fantasy.Marius's political fanaticism was a thing of the past, and the revolution of 1830 helped him as much as it satisfied and comforted him.He was the same as before, except for the rage, and he had the same view of things, but softened.Strictly speaking, he has no opinions, only sympathy.What is his preference?Favor humans.Of men he chose France; of nations he chose the people; of people he chose women.This is where his compassion poured out.Now he valued ideals over facts, poets over heroes, books like Job over the deeds of Marengo.And, when he returned along the road in the evening, after a day spent in reverie, he saw through the branches the infinite expanse of sky, nameless twilights, depths of space, darkness, mystery; How small it feels.

He felt that he had seen, perhaps really saw, the true meaning of life and the philosophy of life, until later he paid little attention to everything except the sky, which was the only thing that truth could see from the bottom of its well. That doesn't stop him from multiplying plans, approaches, castles in the air, and long-term plans.In such a dream, if anyone looked into Marius's heart, his eyes would be dazzled by the purity of this person's heart.Indeed, if our eyes could see the hearts of others, we would be able to judge a man more reliably by his dreams than by his thoughts.Thoughts have wills, dreams do not.Dreams are completely spontaneous, they reflect and maintain the original face of our spirit, even in the face of grand and ideal imagination, only our unthoughtful and unrealistic yearning for the glory of destiny comes from us. The most direct and sincere thoughts from the depths of the soul.It is in these aspirations, not in synthesized, analysed, organized thoughts, that we find the true character of each individual.Our fantasies are the most realistic reflections of who we are.Everyone dreams of the unknown and the impossible, with his own personality.

During the summer and fall of 1831, the old lady who served Marius told him that his neighbor, a poor family named Jondrette, was about to be driven out.Marius was out almost all the time, and did not quite know that he had neighbors. "Why drive them out?" he said. "Because they're not paying their rent. They're two quarters' rent arrears." "How much is that?" "Twenty francs," said the old woman. Marius had thirty francs of motor money in a drawer. "Here," he said to the old woman, "here is twenty-five francs. Just pay the rent for these poor people, and give them the other five francs, and don't say I gave it."