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The Jondrette woman had seated herself beside him。
Marius decided that in a few seconds more the moment for intervention would arrive； and he raised his right hand towards the ceiling； in the direction of the corridor； in readiness to discharge his pistol。
Jondrette having terminated his colloquy with the man with the cudgel； turned once more to M。 Leblanc； and repeated his question； acpanying it with that low； repressed； and terrible laugh which was peculiar to him：
〃So you do not recognize me？〃
M。 Leblanc looked him full in the face； and replied：
〃No。〃
Then Jondrette advanced to the table。
He leaned across the candle； crossing his arms； putting his angular and ferocious jaw close to M。 Leblanc's calm face； and advancing as far as possible without forcing M。 Leblanc to retreat； and； in this posture of a wild beast who is about to bite； he exclaimed：
〃My name is not Fabantou； my name is not Jondrette； my name is Thenardier。
I am the inn…keeper of Montfermeil！ Do you understand？
Thenardier！
Now do you know me？〃
An almost imperceptible flush crossed M。 Leblanc's brow； and he replied with a voice which neither trembled nor rose above its ordinary level； with his accustomed placidity：
〃No more than before。〃
Marius did not hear this reply。
Any one who had seen him at that moment through the darkness would have perceived that he was haggard； stupid； thunder…struck。 At the moment when Jondrette said： 〃My name is Thenardier；〃 Marius had trembled in every limb； and had leaned against the wall； as though he felt the cold of a steel blade through his heart。
Then his right arm； all ready to discharge the signal shot； dropped slowly； and at the moment when Jondrette repeated； 〃Thenardier； do you understand？〃 Marius's faltering fingers had e near letting the pistol fall。 Jondrette； by revealing his identity； had not moved M。 Leblanc； but he had quite upset Marius。
That name of Thenardier； with which M。 Leblanc did not seem to be acquainted； Marius knew well。 Let the reader recall what that name meant to him！
That name he had worn on his heart； inscribed in his father's testament！ He bore it at the bottom of his mind； in the depths of his memory； in that sacred injunction：
〃A certain Thenardier saved my life。 If my son encounters him； he will do him all the good that lies in his power。〃
That name； it will be remembered； was one of the pieties of his soul； he mingled it with the name of his father in his worship。
What！
This man was that Thenardier； that inn…keeper of Montfermeil whom he had so long and so vainly sought！
He had found him at last； and how？
His father's saviour was a ruffian！ That man； to whose service Marius was burning to devote himself； was a monster！
That liberator of Colonel Pontmercy was on the point of mitting a crime whose scope Marius did not； as yet； clearly prehend； but which resembled an assassination！ And against whom； great God！ what a fatality！
What a bitter mockery of fate！
His father had manded him from the depths of his coffin to do all the good in his power to this Thenardier； and for four years Marius had cherished no other thought than to acquit this debt of his father's； and at the moment when he was on the eve of having a brigand seized in the very act of crime by justice； destiny cried to him：
〃This is Thenardier！〃
He could at last repay this man for his father's life； saved amid a hail…storm of grape…shot on the heroic field of Waterloo； and repay it with the scaffold！ He had sworn to himself that if ever he found that Thenardier； he would address him only by throwing himself at his feet； and now he actually had found him； but it was only to deliver him over to the executioner！
His father said to him：
〃Succor Thenardier！〃 And he replied to that adored and sainted voice by crushing Thenardier！ He was about to offer to his father in his grave the spectacle of that man who had torn him from death at the peril of his own life； executed on the Place Saint…Jacques through the means of his son； of that Marius to whom he had entrusted that man by his will！ And what a mockery to have so long worn on his breast his father's last mands； written in his own hand； only to act in so horribly contrary a sense！
But； on the other hand； now look on that trap and not prevent it！
Condemn the victim and to spare the assassin！ Could one be held to any gratitude towards so miserable a wretch？ All the ideas which Marius had cherished for the last four years were pierced through and through； as it were； by this unforeseen blow。
He shuddered。
Everything depended on him。
Unknown to themselves； he held in his hand all those beings who were moving about there before his eyes。
If he fired his pistol； M。 Leblanc was saved； and Thenardier lost； if he did not fire； M。 Leblanc would be sacrificed； and； who knows？
Thenardier would escape。
Should he dash down the one or allow the other to fall？
Remorse awaited him in either case。
What was he to do？
What should he choose？
Be false to the most imperious souvenirs； to all those solemn vows to himself； to the most sacred duty； to the most venerated text！
Should he ignore his father's testament； or allow the perpetration of a crime！ On the one hand； it seemed to him that he heard 〃his Ursule〃 supplicating for her father and on the other； the colonel mending Thenardier to his care。
He felt that he was going mad。
His knees gave way beneath him。
And he had not even the time for deliberation； so great was the fury with which the scene before his eyes was hastening to its catastrophe。
It was like a whirlwind of which he had thought himself the master； and which was now sweeping him away。 He was on the verge of swooning。
In the meantime； Thenardier； whom we shall henceforth call by no other name； was pacing up and down in front of the table in a sort of frenzy and wild triumph。
He seized the candle in his fist； and set it on the chimney…piece with so violent a bang that the wick came near being extinguished； and the tallow bespattered the wall。
Then he turned to M。 Leblanc with a horrible look； and spit out these words：
〃Done for！
Smoked brown！
Cooked！
Spitchcocked！〃
And again he began to march back and forth； in full eruption。
〃Ah！〃 he cried； 〃so I've found you again at last； Mister philanthropist！ Mister threadbare millionnaire！
Mister giver of dolls！ you old ninny！ Ah！ so you don't recognize me！
No； it wasn't you who came to Montfermeil； to my inn； eight years ago； on Christmas eve； 1823！ It wasn't you who carried off that Fantine's child from me！ The Lark！
It wasn't you who had a yellow great…coat！ No！ Nor a package of duds in your hand； as you had this morning here！ Say； wife； it seems to be his mania to carry packets of woollen stockings into houses！
Old charity monger； get out with you！ Are you a hosier； Mister millionnaire？
You give away your stock in trade to the poor； holy man！
What bosh！ merry Andrew！ Ah！ and you don't recognize me？
Well； I recognize you； that I do！ I recogniz