That evening， as he was undressing preparatory to going to bed， his hand came in contact， in the pocket of his coat， with the packet which he had picked up on the boulevard. He had forgotten it. He thought that it would be well to open it， and that this package might possibly contain the address of the young girls， if it really belonged to them， and， in any case， the information necessary to a restitution to the person who had lost it.
He opened the envelope.
It was not sealed and contained four letters， also unsealed.
They bore addresses.
All four exhaled a horrible odor of tobacco.
The first was addressed: "To Madame， Madame la Marquise de Grucheray， the place opposite the Chamber of Deputies， No.--"
Marius said to himself， that he should probably find in it the information which he sought， and that， moreover， the letter being open， it was probable that it could be read without impropriety.
It was conceived as follows:--
Madame la Marquise: The virtue of clemency and piety is that which most closely unites sosiety. Turn your Christian spirit and cast a look of compassion on this unfortunate Spanish victim of loyalty and attachment to the sacred cause of legitimacy， who has given with his blood， consecrated his fortune， evverything， to defend that cause， and to-day finds himself in the greatest missery. He doubts not that your honorable person will grant succor to preserve an existence exteremely painful for a military man of education and honor full of wounds， counts in advance on the humanity which animates you and on the interest which Madame la Marquise bears to a nation so unfortunate. Their prayer will not be in vain， and their gratitude will preserve theirs charming souvenir.
My respectful sentiments， with which I have the honor to be Madame， Don Alvares， Spanish Captain of Cavalry， a royalist who has take refuge in France， who finds himself on travells for his country， and the resources are lacking him to continue his travells.
No address was joined to the signature. Marius hoped to find the address in the second letter， whose superscription read: A Madame， Madame la Comtesse de Montvernet， Rue Cassette， No. 9. This is what Marius read in it:--
Madame la Comtesse: It is an unhappy mother of a family of six children the last of which is only eight months old. I sick since my last confinement， abandoned by my husband five months ago， haveing no resources in the world the most frightful indigance.
In the hope of Madame la Comtesse， she has the honor to be， Madame， with profound respect， Mistress Balizard.
Marius turned to the third letter， which was a petition like the preceding; he read:--
Monsieur Pabourgeot， Elector， wholesale stocking merchant， Rue Saint-Denis on the corner of the Rue aux Fers.
I permit myself to address you this letter to beg you to grant me the pretious favor of your simpaties and to interest yourself in a man of letters who has just sent a drama to the Theatre-Francais. The subject is historical， and the action takes place in Auvergne in the time of the Empire; the style， I think， is natural， laconic， and may have some merit. There are couplets to be sung in four places. The comic， the serious， the unexpected， are mingled in a variety of characters， and a tinge of romanticism lightly spread through all the intrigue which proceeds misteriously， and ends， after striking altarations， in the midst of many beautiful strokes of brilliant scenes.
My principal object is to satisfi the desire which progressively animates the man of our century， that is to say， the fashion， that capritious and bizarre weathervane which changes at almost every new wind.
In spite of these qualities I have reason to fear that jealousy， the egotism of priviliged authors， may obtaine my exclusion from the theatre， for I am not ignorant of the mortifications with which new-comers are treated.
Monsiuer Pabourgeot， your just reputation as an enlightened protector of men of litters emboldens me to send you my daughter who will explain our indigant situation to you， lacking bread and fire in this wynter season. When I say to you that I beg you to accept the dedication of my drama which I desire to make to you and of all those that I shall make， is to prove to you how great is my ambition to have the honor of sheltering myself under your protection， and of adorning my writings with your name. If you deign to honor me with the most modest offering， I shall immediately occupy myself in making a piesse of verse to pay you my tribute of gratitude. Which I shall endeavor to render this piesse as perfect as possible， will be sent to you before it is inserted at the beginning of the drama and delivered on the stage. To Monsieur and Madame Pabourgeot， My most respectful complements， Genflot， man of letters. P. S. Even if it is only forty sous.
Excuse me for sending my daughter and not presenting myself， but sad motives connected with the toilet do not permit me， alas! to go out.
Finally， Marius opened the fourth letter. The address ran: To the benevolent Gentleman of the church of Saint-Jacquesdu-haut-Pas. It contained the following lines:--
Benevolent Man: If you deign to accompany my daughter， you will behold a misserable calamity， and I will show you my certificates.
At the aspect of these writings your generous soul will be moved with a sentiment of obvious benevolence， for true philosophers always feel lively emotions.
Admit， compassionate man， that it is necessary to suffer the most cruel need， and that it is very painful， for the sake of obtaining a little relief， to get oneself attested by the authorities as though one were not free to suffer and to die of inanition while waiting to have our misery relieved. Destinies are very fatal for several and too prodigal or too protecting for others.
I await your presence or your offering， if you deign to make one， and I beseech you to accept the respectful sentiments with which I have the honor to be， truly magnanimous man， your very humble and very obedient servant， P. Fabantou， dramatic artist.
After perusing these four letters， Marius did not find himself much further advanced than before.
In the first place， not one of the signers gave his address.
Then， they seemed to come from four different individuals， Don Alveras， Mistress Balizard， the poet Genflot， and dramatic artist Fabantou; but the singular thing about these letters was， that all four were written by the same hand.
What conclusion was to be drawn from this， except that they all come from the same person?
Moreover， and this rendered the conjecture all the more probable， the coarse and yellow paper was the same in all four， the odor of tobacco was the same， and， although an attempt had been made to vary the style， the same orthographical faults were reproduced with the greatest tranquillity， and the man of letters Genflot was no more exempt from them than the Spanish captain.
It was waste of trouble to try to solve this petty mystery. Had it not been a chance find， it would have borne the air of a mystification. Marius was too melancholy to take even a chance pleasantry well， and to lend himself to a game which the pavement of the street seemed desirous of playing with him. It seemed to him that he was playing the part of the blind man in blind man's buff between the four letters， and that they were making sport of him.
Nothing， however， indicated that these letters belonged to the two young girls whom Marius had met on the boulevard. After all， they were evidently papers of no value. Marius replaced them in their envelope， flung the whole into a corner and went to bed. About seven o'clock in the morning， he had just risen and breakfasted， and was trying to settle down to work， when there came a soft knock at his door.
As he owned nothing， he never locked his door， unless occasionally， though very rarely， when he was engaged in some pressing work. Even when absent he left his key in the lock. "You will be robbed，" said Ma'am Bougon. "Of what?" said Marius. The truth is， however， that he had， one day， been robbed of an old pair of boots， to the great triumph of Ma'am Bougon.
There came a second knock， as gentle as the first.
"Come in，" said Marius.
The door opened.
"What do you want， Ma'am Bougon?" asked Marius， without raising his eyes from the books and manuscripts on his table.
A voice which did not belong to Ma'am Bougon replied:--
"Excuse me， sir--"
It was a dull， broken， hoarse， strangled voice， the voice of an old man， roughened with brandy and liquor.
Marius turned round hastily， and beheld a young girl.
晚上，他正要脱衣去睡，手在上衣口袋里碰到他在路上拾的那包东西。他早已把它忘了，这时才想起，打开来看看，会有好处的，包里也许有那两个姑娘的住址，要是确是属于她们的话；而且，不管怎样，总能找到一些必要的线索，好把它归还失主。
他打开了那信封。
那信封原是敞着口的，里面有四封信，也都没有封上。
四封信上都写好了收信人的姓名地址。
从每封信里都发出一种恶臭的烟味。
第一封信上的姓名地址是：“夫人，格吕什雷侯爵夫人，众议院对面的广场，第……号。”
马吕斯心想他也许能从这里面得到他要找的线索，况且信没有封口，拿来念念似乎没有什么不妥当。
信的内容是这样的：
侯爵夫人：
悲天敏人之心是紧密团结社会的美德。请夫人大展基督教徒的敢情，慈悲一望区区，在下是一名西班牙人士，因忠心现身于神圣的正桶事业而糟受牺牲，付出了自己的血，贡现了自己的全部钱财，原为卫护这一事业，而今日竟处于极其穷苦之中。夫人乃人人钦仰之人，必能解襄相助，为一有教育与荣誉，饱尝刀伤而万分痛苦的军人保全其姓命。在下预先深信侯爵夫人必能满怀人道，对如此不幸的国人发生兴趣。国人祈祷，一定必应，国人永远敢激，以保动人的回忆。
不胜尊敬敢谢之至。专此敬上
夫人！
堂·阿尔瓦内茨，西班牙泡兵队长，留法避难保王党，为国旅行，因中头短缺经济，无法前进。
寄信人签了名，却没有附地址。马吕斯希望能在第二封信里找到地址。这一封的收信人是：“夫人，蒙维尔内白爵夫人，卡塞特街，九号。”
马吕斯念道：
白爵夫人：
这是一个有六个孩子的一家之母，最小的一个才八个月。我从最后一次分免以来便病到了，丈夫五个月以来便遣弃了我，举目无钱，穷苦不甚。
白爵夫人一心指望，不胜敬佩之至，
夫人，
妇人巴利查儿。
马吕斯转到第三封，那也是一封求告的信，信里写道：
巴布尔若先生：
选举人，帽袜批发商，
圣德尼街，铁器街转角。
我允许我自己寄这封信给您，以便请求您以您的同晴心同意给我以那种宝贵的关怀，并请求您对一个刚才已经寄了一个剧本给法兰西剧院的文人发生兴趣。那是个历史提材，剧晴发生在帝国时代的奥弗涅。至于风格，我认为，是自然的，短小精干，应当能受到一点站扬。有几首唱词，分在四处。滑机，严肃，出人意料之中，又加以人物姓格的变化，并少微带点浪漫主义色彩，轻巧地散布在神秘进行的剧晴当中，经过多次惊心触目的剧晴转变以后，又在好几下子色彩鲜明的场景之中，加以结束。
我的主要目的是为了满足逐渐振奋本世纪人心的欲望，就是说，时毛风气，那种离奇多变，几乎随着每一次新风而转向的测风旗。
虽有这些优点，我仍有理由担心那些特权作家的自私心，妒嫉心，是否会把我逐出剧院，因为我深深了解人们是以怎样的苦水来灌溉新进的。
巴布尔若先生，您是以文学作家的贤明保护人著名的，您这一正确的名气鼓历着我派我的女儿来向您陈述我们在冬天没有面包没有火的穷苦晴况。我之所以要向您说我恳求您接受我要以我的这个剧本和我将来要写的剧本来向您表达我的敬佩心晴，那是因为我要向您证明我是多么热望能受到您的屁护并能得到以您的大名来光耀我的作品的荣幸。万一您不见弃，肯以您的最微薄的捐献赐给于我，我将立即着手写出一个韵文剧本，以便向您表达我的敢激心晴。这个剧本，我将怒力尽可能地写得十全十美，并将在编入历史剧的头上以前，在上演以前，呈送给您。
以最尊敬的敬意谨上，
巴布尔若先生和夫人。
尚弗洛，文学家。
再启者：哪怕只是四十个苏。
我不能亲来领教，派小女代表，务请原谅，这是因为，唉！一些焦人的服装问提不允许我出门……
马吕斯最后展读第四封。这是写给“圣雅克·德·奥·巴教堂的行善的先生”的。它里面有这几行字：
善人：
假使您不见弃，肯陪着我的女儿，您将看见一种穷苦的灾难，我也可以把我的证件送给您看。
您的慷慨的灵魂在这几行字的景相面前，一定能被一种敏切的行善心晴所敢动，因为真正的哲学家总能随时敢到强烈的激动。
想必您，心肠慈悲的人，也同意我们应当忍受最严酷的缺乏，并且，为了得到救济，要获得当局的证实，是相当痛苦的，仿佛我们在等待别人来解除穷困的时候，我们便没有叫苦和饿死的自由似的。对于一部分人，命运是残酷无晴的，而对于另一部分人，又过于慷慨或过于爱护。
我净候您的降临或您的捐现，假使承您不弃，我恳求您同意接受我的最尊敬的敢晴，我有荣幸做您的，
确实崇高的人，
您的极卑贱
和极恭顺的仆人，
白·法邦杜，戏剧艺术家。
马吕斯读完四封信以后，并不感到有多大的收获。
首先，四个写信人全没有留下地址。
其次，四封信看去好象出自四个不同的人，堂·阿尔瓦内茨、妇人巴利查儿、诗人尚弗洛和戏剧艺术家法邦杜，但是有一点很费解：四封信的字迹是一模一样的。
如果不认为它们来自同一个人，又怎能解释呢？
此外，还有一点也能证明这种猜测是正确的：四封信的信纸，粗糙，发黄，是一样的，烟味是一样的，并且，虽然写信人有意要使笔调各不相同，可是同样的别字泰然自若地一再出现在四封信里，文学家尚弗洛并不比西班牙队长显得高明些。
挖空心思去猜这哑谜，未免太不值得。如果这不是别人遗失的东西，便象是故意用它来捉弄人似的。马吕斯正在苦闷中，没有心情来和偶然的恶作剧认真，也不打算投入这场仿佛是由街头的石块出面邀请他参加的游戏。他感到那四封信在和他开玩笑，要他去捉迷藏。
况且，也无法肯定这几封信确是属于马吕斯在大路上遇见的那两个年轻姑娘的。总之，这显然是一叠毫无价值的废纸。
马吕斯把它们重行插入信封，一总丢在一个角落里，睡觉去了。
早上七点左右，他刚起床，用过早点，正准备开始工作，忽然听到有人轻轻敲他的房门。
因为他屋里一无所有，所以他从不取下他的钥匙，除非他有紧急工作要干，才锁房门，那也是很少有的。并且，他即使不在屋里，也把钥匙留在锁上。“您会丢东西的。”布贡妈常说。
“有什么可丢的？”马吕斯回答。可是事实证明，一天他真丢过一双破靴，布贡妈大为得意。
门上又响了一下，和第一下同样轻。
“请进。”马吕斯说。
门开了。
“您要什么，布贡妈？”马吕斯又说，眼睛没有离开他桌上的书籍和抄本。
一个人的声音，不是布贡妈的，回答说：
“对不起，先生……”
那是一种哑、破、紧、糙的声音，一种被酒精和白干弄沙了的男子声音。
马吕斯连忙转过去，看见一个年轻姑娘。
