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Like him； she had a mustache。
Her glory consisted in her caps； which were always white。
She passed her time； on Sundays； after mass； in counting over the linen in her chest； and in spreading out on her bed the dresses in the piece which she bought and never had made up。
She knew how to read。
M。 Mabeuf had nicknamed her Mother Plutarque。
M。 Mabeuf had taken a fancy to Marius； because Marius； being young and gentle； warmed his age without startling his timidity。 Youth bined with gentleness produces on old people the effect of the sun without wind。
When Marius was saturated with military glory； with gunpowder； with marches and countermarches； and with all those prodigious battles in which his father had given and received such tremendous blows of the sword； he went to see M。 Mabeuf； and M。 Mabeuf talked to him of his hero from the point of view of flowers。
His brother the cure died about 1830； and almost immediately； as when the night is drawing on； the whole horizon grew dark for M。 Mabeuf。 A notary's failure deprived him of the sum of ten thousand francs； which was all that he possessed in his brother's right and his own。 The Revolution of July brought a crisis to publishing。
In a period of embarrassment； the first thing which does not sell is a Flora。 The Flora of the Environs of Cauteretz stopped short。
Weeks passed by without a single purchaser。
Sometimes M。 Mabeuf started at the sound of the bell。
〃Monsieur；〃 said Mother Plutarque sadly； 〃it is the water…carrier。〃 In short； one day； M。 Mabeuf quitted the Rue Mesieres； abdicated the functions of warden； gave up Saint…Sulpice； sold not a part of his books； but of his prints； that to which he was the least attached；and installed himself in a little house on the Rue Montparnasse； where； however； he remained but one quarter for two reasons：
in the first place； the ground floor and the garden cost three hundred francs； and he dared not spend more than two hundred francs on his rent； in the second； being near Faton's shooting…gallery； he could hear the pistol…shots； which was intolerable to him。
He carried off his Flora； his copper…plates； his herbariums； his portfolios； and his books； and established himself near the Salpetriere； in a sort of thatched cottage of the village of Austerlitz； where； for fifty crowns a year； he got three rooms and a garden enclosed by a hedge； and containing a well。
He took advantage of this removal to sell off nearly all his furniture。 On the day of his entrance into his new quarters； he was very gay； and drove the nails on which his engravings and herbariums were to hang； with his own hands； dug in his garden the rest of the day； and at night； perceiving that Mother Plutarque had a melancholy air； and was very thoughtful； he tapped her on the shoulder and said to her with a smile：
〃We have the indigo！〃
Only two visitors； the bookseller of the Porte…Saint…Jacques and Marius； were admitted to view the thatched cottage at Austerlitz； a brawling name which was； to tell the truth； extremely disagreeable to him。
However； as we have just pointed out； brains which are absorbed in some bit of wisdom； or folly； or； as it often happens； in both at once； are but slowly accessible to the things of actual life。 Their own destiny is a far…off thing to them。
There results from such concentration a passivity； which； if it were the oute of reasoning； would resemble philosophy。
One declines； descends； trickles away； even crumbles away； and yet is hardly conscious of it one's self。 It always ends； it is true； in an awakening； but the awakening is tardy。 In the meantime； it seems as though we held ourselves neutral in the game which is going on between our happiness and our unhappiness。 We are the stake； and we look on at the game with indifference。
It is thus that； athwart the cloud which formed about him； when all his hopes were extinguished one after the other； M。 Mabeuf remained rather puerilely； but profoundly serene。
His habits of mind had the regular swing of a pendulum。
Once mounted on an illusion； he went for a very long time； even after the illusion had disappeared。 A clock does not stop short at the precise moment when the key is lost。
M。 Mabeuf had his innocent pleasures。
These pleasures were inexpensive and unexpected； the merest chance furnished them。
One day； Mother Plutarque was reading a romance in one corner of the room。 She was reading aloud； finding that she understood better thus。 To read aloud is to assure one's self of what one is reading。 There are people who read very loud； and who have the appearance of giving themselves their word of honor as to what they are perusing。
It was with this sort of energy that Mother Plutarque was reading the romance which she had in hand。
M。 Mabeuf heard her without listening to her。
In the course of her reading； Mother Plutarque came to this phrase。 It was a question of an officer of dragoons and a beauty：
〃The beauty pouted； and the dragoon〃
Here she interrupted herself to wipe her glasses。
〃Bouddha and the Dragon；〃 struck in M。 Mabeuf in a low voice。 〃Yes； it is true that there was a dragon； which； from the depths of its cave； spouted flame through his maw and set the heavens on fire。 Many stars had already been consumed by this monster； which； besides； had the claws of a tiger。
Bouddha went into its den and succeeded in converting the dragon。
That is a good book that you are reading； Mother Plutarque。
There is no more beautiful legend in existence。〃
And M。 Mabeuf fell into a delicious revery。
BOOK FIFTH。THE EXCELLENCE OF MISFORTUNE
CHAPTER V
POVERTY A GOOD NEIGHBOR FOR MISERY
Marius liked this candid old man who saw himself gradually falling into the clutches of indigence； and who came to feel astonishment； little by little； without； however； being made melancholy by it。 Marius met Courfeyrac and sought out M。 Mabeuf。
Very rarely； however； twice a month at most。
Marius' pleasure consisted in taking long walks alone on the outer boulevards； or in the Champs…de…Mars； or in the least frequented alleys of the Luxembourg。
He often spent half a day in gazing at a market garden； the beds of lettuce； the chickens on the dung…heap； the horse turning the water…wheel。 The passers…by stared at him in surprise； and some of them thought his attire suspicious and his mien sinister。 He was only a poor young man dreaming in an objectless way。
It was during one of his strolls that he had hit upon the Gorbeau house； and； tempted by its isolation and its cheapness； had taken up his abode there。
He was known there only under the name of M。 Marius。
Some of his father's old generals or old rades had invited him to go and see them； when they learned about him。
Marius had not refused their invitations。
They afforded opportunities of talking about his father。
Thus he went from time to time； to te Pajol； to General Bellavesne； to General Fririon； to the Invalides。 There was music and dancing there。
On such evenings； Marius put on his new coat。
But he never went to these evening parties or ball