"There's only one way out of the muddle, that I can see. Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. He motioned the young man to the rear chair, because at that hour the youth appeared to be a quantity close to zero. They thought that she was her own mother. He was in misery; he was paying for last night's debauch. It was also cold, and dark, for there had been no time to light the lantern. He buys his own clothes, chooses his own company, makes his own way of living. From the window he saw The Tigress faring toward Copeley's! Then somebody was coming? Some political high muckamuck, probably.
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