"Eh! our little Cosette!
Are you not intending to take her away from us?
Well, I speak frankly; as true as you are an honest man, I will not consent to it.
I shall miss that child.
I saw her first when she was a tiny thing.
It is true that she costs us money; it is true that she has her faults; it is true that we are not rich; it is true that I have paid out over four hundred francs for drugs for just one of her illnesses!
But one must do something for the good God's sake.
She has neither father nor mother. I have brought her up.
I have bread enough for her and for myself. In truth, I think a great deal of that child.
You understand, one conceives an affection for a person; I am a good sort of a beast, I am; I do not reason; I love that little girl; my wife is quick-tempered, but she loves her also.
You see, she is just the same as our own child.
I want to keep her to babble about the house."
The stranger kept his eye intently fixed on Thenardier. The latter continued:--
"Excuse me, sir, but one does not give away one's child to a passer-by, like that.
I am right, am I not?
Still, I don't say-- you are rich; you have the air of a very good man,--if it were for her happiness.
But one must find out that.
You understand: suppose that I were to let her go and to sacrifice myself, I should like to know what becomes of her; I should not wish to lose sight of her; I should like to know with whom she is living, so that I could go to see her from time to time; so that she may know that her good foster-father is alive, that he is watching over her. In short, there are things which are not possible.
I do not even know your name.
If you were to take her away, I should say: `Well, and the Lark, what has become of her?'