Besides political conversations which had for their principal subjects the Spanish war and M.le Duc d'Angouleme，strictly local parentheses，like the following，were audible amid the uproar：——
'About Nanterre and Suresnes the vines have flourished greatly.When ten pieces were reckoned on there have been twelve.They have yielded a great deal of juice under the press.''But the grapes cannot be ripe？'
'In those parts the grapes should not be ripe；the wine turns oily as soon as spring comes.''Then it is very thin wine？'
'There are wines poorer even than these.The grapes must be gathered while green.'
Etc.
Or a miller would call out：——
'Are we responsible for what is in the sacks？
We find in them a quantity of small seed which we cannot sift out，and which we are obliged to send through the mill-stones；there are tares，fennel，vetches，hempseed，fox-tail，and a host of other weeds，not to mention pebbles，which abound in certain wheat，especially in Breton wheat.
I am not fond of grinding Breton wheat，any more than long-sawyers like to saw beams with nails in them.
You can judge of the bad dust that makes in grinding.
And then people complain of the flour.
They are in the wrong.
The flour is no fault of ours.'
In a space between two windows a mower，who was seated at table with a landed proprietor who was fixing on a price for some meadow work to be performed in the spring，was saying：——
'It does no harm to have the grass wet.
It cuts better.Dew is a good thing，sir.
It makes no difference with that grass.Your grass is young and very hard to cut still.
It's terribly tender.It yields before the iron.'
Etc.
Cosette was in her usual place，seated on the cross-bar of the kitchen table near the chimney.
She was in rags；her bare feet were thrust into wooden shoes，and by the firelight she was engaged in knitting woollen stockings destined for the young Thenardiers.
A very young kitten was playing about among the chairs.
Laughter and chatter were audible in the adjoining room，from two fresh children's voices：it was Eponine and Azelma.
In the chimney-corner a cat-o'-nine-tails was hanging on a nail.
At intervals the cry of a very young child，which was somewhere in the house，rang through the noise of the dram-shop.It was a little boy who had been born to the Thenardiers during one of the preceding winters，——'she did not know why，'she said，'the result of the cold，'——and who was a little more than three years old.
The mother had nursed him，but she did not love him.When the persistent clamor of the brat became too annoying，'Your son is squalling，'Thenardier would say；'do go and see what he wants.'
'Bah！'the mother would reply，'he bothers me.'And the neglected child continued to shriek in the dark.
BOOK THIRD.——ACCOMPLISHMENT OF THE PROMISE MADE TO THE DEAD WOMAN
Ⅱ TWO COMPLETE PORTRAITS
So far in this book the Thenardiers have been viewed only in profile；the moment has arrived for making the circuit of this couple，and considering it under all its aspects.
Thenardier had just passed his fiftieth birthday；Madame Thenardier was approaching her forties，which is equivalent to fifty in a woman；so that there existed a balance of age between husband and wife.
Our readers have possibly preserved some recollection of this Thenardier woman，ever since her first appearance，——tall，blond，red，fat，angular，square，enormous，and agile；she belonged，as we have said，to the race of those colossal wild women，who contort themselves at fairs with paving-stones hanging from their hair.She did everything about the house，——made the beds，did the washing，the cooking，and everything else.
Cosette was her only servant；a mouse in the service of an elephant.
Everything trembled at the sound of her voice，——window panes，furniture，and people.Her big face，dotted with red blotches，presented the appearance of a skimmer.
She had a beard.
She was an ideal market-porter dressed in woman's clothes.
She swore splendidly；she boasted of being able to crack a nut with one blow of her fist.
Except for the romances which she had read，and which made the affected lady peep through the ogress at times，in a very queer way，the idea would never have occurred to any one to say of her，'That is a woman.'This Thenardier female was like the product of a wench engrafted on a fishwife.
When one heard her speak，one said，'That is a gendarme'；when one saw her drink，one said，'That is a carter'；when one saw her handle Cosette，one said，'That is the hangman.'One of her teeth projected when her face was in repose.
Thenardier was a small，thin，pale，angular，bony，feeble man，who had a sickly air and who was wonderfully healthy.
His cunning began here；he smiled habitually，by way of precaution，and was almost polite to everybody，even to the beggar to whom he refused half a farthing.He had the glance of a pole-cat and the bearing of a man of letters.He greatly resembled the portraits of the Abbe Delille.His coquetry consisted in drinking with the carters.
No one had ever succeeded in rendering him drunk.
He smoked a big pipe.He wore a blouse，and under his blouse an old black coat.
He made pretensions to literature and to materialism.
There were certain names which he often pronounced to support whatever things he might be saying，——Voltaire，Raynal，Parny，and，singularly enough，Saint Augustine.
He declared that he had'a system.'
In addition，he was a great swindler.
A filousophe[philosophe]，a scientific thief.The species does exist.
It will be remembered that he pretended to have served in the army；he was in the habit of relating with exuberance，how，being a sergeant in the 6th or the 9th light something or other，at Waterloo，he had alone，and in the presence of a squadron of death-dealing hussars，covered with his body and saved from death，in the midst of the grape-shot，'a general，who had been dangerously wounded.'
