‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. Beauty has bloomed and faded. They were all stout ill-favoured men, attired in the regular jail-livery of scratch wig and snuff-coloured suit; and had all a strong family likeness to each other. ’ The woman shrugged helpless shoulders, looking to her husband. Then with an indescribable relief her feet were on the pavement, and she was being urged along by two policemen, who were gripping her wrists in an irresistible expert manner. She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by. “Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. “I am going to ignore it. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers.
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