A few moments later， about three o'clock， Courfeyrac chanced to be passing along the Rue Mouffetard in company with Bossuet. The snow had redoubled in violence， and filled the air. Bossuet was just saying to Courfeyrac:--
"One would say， to see all these snow-flakes fall， that there was a plague of white butterflies in heaven." All at once，Bossuet caught sight of Marius coming up the street towards the barrier with a peculiar air.
"Hold!" said Bossuet. "There's Marius."
"I saw him，" said Courfeyrac. "Don't let's speak to him."
"Why?"
"He is busy."
"With what?"
"Don't you see his air?"
"What air?"
"He has the air of a man who is following some one."
"That's true，" said Bossuet.
"Just see the eyes he is making!" said Courfeyrac.
"But who the deuce is he following?"
"Some fine， flowery bonneted wench! He's in love."
"But，" observed Bossuet， "I don't see any wench nor any flowery bonnet in the street. There's not a woman round."
Courfeyrac took a survey， and exclaimed:--
"He's following a man!"
A man， in fact， wearing a gray cap， and whose gray beard could be distinguished， although they only saw his back， was walking along about twenty paces in advance of Marius.
This man was dressed in a great-coat which was perfectly new and too large for him， and in a frightful pair of trousers all hanging in rags and black with mud.
Bossuet burst out laughing.
"Who is that man?"
"He?" retorted Courfeyrac， "he's a poet. Poets are very fond of wearing the trousers of dealers in rabbit skins and the overcoats of peers of France."
"Let's see where Marius will go，" said Bossuet; "let's see where the man is going， let's follow them， hey?"
"Bossuet!" exclaimed Courfeyrac， "eagle of Meaux! You are a prodigious brute. Follow a man who is following another man， indeed!"
They retraced their steps.
Marius had， in fact， seen Jondrette passing along the Rue Mouffetard， and was spying on his proceedings.
Jondrette walked straight ahead， without a suspicion that he was already held by a glance.
He quitted the Rue Mouffetard， and Marius saw him enter one of the most terrible hovels in the Rue Gracieuse; he remained there about a quarter of an hour， then returned to the Rue Mouffetard. He halted at an ironmonger's shop， which then stood at the corner of the Rue Pierre-Lombard， and a few minutes later Marius saw him emerge from the shop， holding in his hand a huge cold chisel with a white wood handle， which he concealed beneath his great-coat. Atthe top of the Rue Petit-Gentilly he turned to the left and proceeded rapidly to the Rue du Petit-Banquier. The day was declining; the snow， which had ceased for a moment， had just begun again. Marius posted himself on the watch at the very corner of the Rue du Petit-Banquier， which was deserted， as usual， and did not follow Jondrette into it. It was lucky that he did so， for， on arriving in the vicinity of the wall where Marius had heard the long-haired man and the bearded man conversing， Jondrette turned round， made sure that no one was following him， did not see him， then sprang across the wall and disappeared.
The waste land bordered by this wall communicated with the back yard of an ex-livery stable-keeper of bad repute， who had failed and who still kept a few old single-seated berlins under his sheds.
Marius thought that it would be wise to profit by Jondrette's absence to return home; moreover， it was growing late; every evening， Ma'am Bougon when she set out for her dish-washing in town，had a habit of locking the door， which was always closed at dusk. Marius had given his key to the inspector of police; it was important，therefore， that he should make haste.
Evening had arrived， night had almost closed in; on the horizon and in the immensity of space， there remained but one spot illuminated by the sun， and that was the moon.
It was rising in a ruddy glow behind the low dome of Salpetriere.
Marius returned to No. 50-52 with great strides. The door was still open when he arrived. He mounted the stairs on tip-toe and glided along the wall of the corridor to his chamber. This corridor， as the reader will remember， was bordered on both sides by attics，all of which were， for the moment， empty and to let. Ma'am Bougon was in the habit of leaving all the doors open. As he passed one of these attics， Marius thought he perceived in the uninhabited cell the motionless heads of four men， vaguely lighted up by a remnant of daylight， falling through a dormer window，Marius made no attempt to see， not wishing to be seen himself. He succeeded in reaching his chamber without being seen and without making any noise. It was high time. A moment later he heard Ma'am Bougon take her departure， locking the door of the house behind her.
过了一会儿，将近三点钟，古费拉克在博须埃陪同下，偶然经过穆夫达街。雪下得更大了，充满了空间。博须埃正在向古费拉克说：
“见了这种成团的雪落下来，就会说天上有成千上万的白蝴蝶。”忽然，博须埃瞧见马吕斯在街心朝着便门向上走去，神气有些古怪。
“嘿！”博须埃大声说，“马吕斯！”
“我早看见了，”古费拉克说，“不用招呼他。”
“为什么？”
“他正忙着。”
“忙什么？”
“你就没看见他那副神气？”
“什么神气？”
“看来他是在跟一个什么人。”
“的确是。”博须埃说。
“你看他那双眼睛。”古费拉克接着说。
“可是他在跟什么鬼呢？”
“一定是个什么美美妹妹花花帽子！他正发情呢。”“可是，”博须埃指出，“这街上我没看见有什么美美，也没有妹妹，也没有花花帽子。一个女人也没有。”
古费拉克仔细望去，喊道：
“他跟一个男人！”
确是一个男人，戴鸭舌帽的，走在马吕斯前面，相隔二十来步，虽然只望见他的背，却能看出他的灰白胡须。
那人穿一件过于宽大的全新大衣和一条破烂不堪、满是黑污泥的长裤。
博须埃放声大笑。
“这是个什么人？”
“这？”古费拉克回答，“是个诗人。诗人们常常爱穿收买兔子皮的小贩的裤子和法兰西世卿的骑马服。”
“我倒要看看马吕斯去什么地方，”博须埃说，“看看那人去什么地方，我们去跟他们，好吗？”
“博须埃！”古费拉克兴奋地说，“莫城的鹰！您真是个空前的捣蛋鬼。去跟一个跟人的人！”
他们返回往前走。
马吕斯确是看见了容德雷特在穆夫达街上走过，便跟在后面侦察他。
容德雷特在前面走，没想到已有只眼睛盯住他了。
他离开了穆夫达街，马吕斯看见他走进格拉西尔斯街上一栋最破烂的房子里，待了一刻钟左右又回到穆夫达街。他走进当年开设在皮埃尔－伦巴第街转角处的一家铁器店，几分钟过后，马吕斯看见他从那铺子里出来，手里拿着一把白木柄的钝口凿，往大衣下面藏。到了珀蒂－让蒂伊街口，他向左拐弯，急匆匆走到小银行家街。天色渐渐黑下来了，停过一会儿的雪又开始下起来。马吕斯隐藏在素来荒凉的小银行家街拐角的地方，没有再跟容德雷特走。他幸亏没有跟，因为容德雷特走近那道矮墙棗刚才马吕斯听见长头发和大胡子说话的地方，忽然回转头来，看看有没有人跟踪，肯定没有人，他才跨过墙头，不见了。
墙背后的那片荒地通向一个最初以出租马车为业的人的后院，那人名声素来很坏，已经破产，不过在他那停车篷里还有几辆破车。
马吕斯想起，趁容德雷特不在家，赶快回去，比较稳妥。况且时间已经不早，每天下午，毕尔贡妈妈照例总在去城里洗碗以前，在将近黄昏时把大门锁上，马吕斯已把他的钥匙给了那侦察员，因此他必须赶快。
夜幕四合，天色几乎完全黑了，在寥廓的天边，只有一点是被太阳照着的，那便是月亮。
月亮的红光从妇女救济院的矮圆顶后面升起来。
马吕斯迈开大步赶回了五○一五二号。他到家时，大门还开着。他踮起脚尖上了楼，再沿着过道的墙溜到自己的房门口。那过道两旁，我们记得，是些破房间，当时全空着待人来租。毕尔贡妈妈经常是让那些房门敞开着的。在走过那些空屋子门口时，马吕斯仿佛看见在其中的一间里有四个人头待着不动，被残余的日光透过天窗照着，隐隐约约有点发白。马吕斯怕引起注意，不便细看。他终于悄悄地回到了自己的屋子里，没有让别人看见。这也正是时候，不大一会儿，他便听见毕尔贡妈妈走了，大门也关上了。
