Page 941 - les-miserables

Here a remark becomes necessary. Fauchelevent, what-
ever his anguish, offered a drink, but he did not explain
himself on one point; who was to pay? Generally, Fau-
chelevent offered and Father Mestienne paid. An offer of a
drink was the evident result of the novel situation created
by the new grave-digger, and it was necessary to make this
offer, but the old gardener left the proverbial quarter of an
hour named after Rabelais in the dark, and that not unin-
tentionally. As for himself, Fauchelevent did not wish to
pay, troubled as he was.
The grave-digger went on with a superior smile:—
‘One must eat. I have accepted Father Mestienne’s re-
version. One gets to be a philosopher when one has nearly
completed his classes. To the labor of the hand I join the la-
bor of the arm. I have my scrivener’s stall in the market of
the Rue de Sevres. You know? the Umbrella Market. All the
cooks of the Red Cross apply to me. I scribble their declara-
tions of love to the raw soldiers. In the morning I write love
letters; in the evening I dig graves. Such is life, rustic.’
The hearse was still advancing. Fauchelevent, uneasy to
the last degree, was gazing about him on all sides. Great
drops of perspiration trickled down from his brow.
‘But,’ continued the grave-digger, ‘a man cannot serve
two mistresses. I must choose between the pen and the mat-
tock. The mattock is ruining my hand.’
The hearse halted.
The choir boy alighted from the mourning-coach, then
the priest.
One of the small front wheels of the hearse had run up

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