第十八章 马吕斯的两张椅子对面摆着
这时，远处传来一阵悠缓的钟声，震得玻璃窗都抖动起来。圣美达教堂正敲六点。
戎德雷特每敲一下便点一次头。等到第六下敲过，他用手指掐灭了烛芯。
接着他在屋子里踱来踱去，听听过道，又来回走动，随后再去听。
“只要他来就好！”他咕哝着，又回到椅子上坐下。
他刚坐下，门就开了。
戎德雷特大妈开了门，现在她待在过道里，做了个可怕的、讨人喜欢的鬼脸，暗灯的一个窟眼从下面照着她的脸。
“请进，先生。”她说。
“请进，我的恩人。”戎德雷特急忙站起来，跟着说了一遍。
白先生出现了。
他有一种安详的神情，这使他显得格外令人起敬。
他把四个路易放在桌上。
“法邦杜先生，”他说，“这是给您付房租和应付最急需之用的钱。以后的事，我们以后再说。”
“愿上帝报答您，慷慨的恩人！”戎德雷特说。
接着，他赶紧凑到妻子耳边说：
“去把马车打发走！”
她溜了出去，她的丈夫正在忙着行礼致敬，给白先生端椅子。过了一会儿，她又回来，在他耳边说：
“办妥了。”
从早上起就没有停过的雪积得很厚，所以既没有听到马车进来，也没有听到马车离开。
这时，白先生已经坐下。
戎德雷特占有了白先生对面的另一张椅子。
现在，为了对下面的场面有个概念，请读者设想一下：一个寒冷的夜晚，萨尔贝特利埃广场荒凉无人，遍地积雪，在月光下白得像裹尸布，路灯的红光稀稀疏疏地点缀着那些悲惨的林荫大道，四周一古里内可能没有行人，戈尔博老屋寂静无声，阴森恐怖，漆黑一团；在这座房子里，在这片荒凉的地方，在这片黑暗之中，戎德雷特的宽敞的阁楼只点着一支蜡烛，两个人坐在这张桌子旁边：白先生神态安详，戎德雷特面带笑容，阴险可怕，还有戎德雷特大妈那个母狼蹲在一个角落里；而在隔墙后面，马吕斯隐藏着，站着一动不动，不放过一句话，不漏掉一个动作，眼睛瞪得大大的，手握着枪。
然而，马吕斯只有厌恶的感觉，并没有恐惧。他紧紧握住枪托，心里觉得踏实。“这个坏蛋，”他想，“我随时都可以制服他。”
他觉得警方已经埋伏在什么地方，等着一约的暗号，随时准备伸出手来。
此外，他还希望，戎德雷特和白先生之间的这场激烈冲突，會把他急于弄清的一切问题弄明白。
Suddenly, the distant and melancholy vibration of a clock shook the
panes. Six o’clock was striking from Saint-Médard.
Jondrette marked off each stroke with a toss of his head. When the
sixth had struck, he snuffed the candle with his fingers.
Then he began to pace up and down the room, listened at the corridor,
walked on again, then listened once more.
“Provided only that he comes!” he muttered, then he returned to his
chair.
He had hardly reseated himself when the door opened.
Mother Jondrette had opened it, and now remained in the corridor making
a horrible, amiable grimace, which one of the holes of the dark-lantern
illuminated from below.
“Enter, sir,” she said.
“Enter, my benefactor,” repeated Jondrette, rising hastily.
M. Leblanc made his appearance.
He wore an air of serenity which rendered him singularly venerable.
He laid four louis on the table.
“Monsieur Fabantou,” said he, “this is for your rent and your most
pressing necessities. We will attend to the rest hereafter.”
“May God requite it to you, my generous benefactor!” said Jondrette.
And rapidly approaching his wife:—
“Dismiss the carriage!”
She slipped out while her husband was lavishing salutes and offering M.
Leblanc a chair. An instant later she returned and whispered in his
ear:—
“’Tis done.”
The snow, which had not ceased falling since the morning, was so deep
that the arrival of the fiacre had not been audible, and they did not
now hear its departure.
Meanwhile, M. Leblanc had seated himself.
Jondrette had taken possession of the other chair, facing M. Leblanc.
Now, in order to form an idea of the scene which is to follow, let the
reader picture to himself in his own mind, a cold night, the solitudes
of the Salpêtrière covered with snow and white as winding-sheets in the
moonlight, the taper-like lights of the street lanterns which shone
redly here and there along those tragic boulevards, and the long rows
of black elms, not a passer-by for perhaps a quarter of a league
around, the Gorbeau hovel, at its highest pitch of silence, of horror,
and of darkness; in that building, in the midst of those solitudes, in
the midst of that darkness, the vast Jondrette garret lighted by a
single candle, and in that den two men seated at a table, M. Leblanc
tranquil, Jondrette smiling and alarming, the Jondrette woman, the
female wolf, in one corner, and, behind the partition, Marius,
invisible, erect, not losing a word, not missing a single movement, his
eye on the watch, and pistol in hand.
However, Marius experienced only an emotion of horror, but no fear. He
clasped the stock of the pistol firmly and felt reassured. “I shall be
able to stop that wretch whenever I please,” he thought.
He felt that the police were there somewhere in ambuscade, waiting for
the signal agreed upon and ready to stretch out their arm.
Moreover, he was in hopes, that this violent encounter between
Jondrette and M. Leblanc would cast some light on all the things which
he was interested in learning.
