"A real hind wheel! and not counterfeit!"
Thenardier approached and silently put the coin in his pocket.
The Thenardier had no reply to make.
She bit her lips, and her face assumed an expression of hatred.
In the meantime, Cosette was trembling.
She ventured to ask:--
"Is it true, Madame?
May I play?"
"Play!" said the Thenardier, in a terrible voice.
"Thanks, Madame," said Cosette.
And while her mouth thanked the Thenardier, her whole little soul thanked the traveller.
Thenardier had resumed his drinking; his wife whispered in his ear:--
"Who can this yellow man be?"
"I have seen millionaires with coats like that," replied Thenardier, in a sovereign manner.
Cosette had dropped her knitting, but had not left her seat. Cosette always moved as little as possible.
She picked up some old rags and her little lead sword from a box behind her.
Eponine and Azelma paid no attention to what was going on. They had just executed a very important operation; they had just got hold of the cat.
They had thrown their doll on the ground, and Eponine, who was the elder, was swathing the little cat, in spite of its mewing and its contortions, in a quantity of clothes and red and blue scraps.
While performing this serious and difficult work she was saying to her sister in that sweet and adorable language of children, whose grace, like the splendor of the butterfly's wing, vanishes when one essays to fix it fast.
"You see, sister, this doll is more amusing than the other. She twists, she cries, she is warm.