wants to step into the street do？
He goes down stairs； you will tear up your sheets； little by little you will make of them a rope； then you will climb out of your window； and you will suspend yourself by that thread over an abyss； and it will be night； amid storm； rain； and the hurricane； and if the rope is too short； but one way of descending will remain to you； to fall。
To drop hap…hazard into the gulf； from an unknown height； on what？
On what is beneath； on the unknown。
Or you will crawl up a chimney…flue； at the risk of burning； or you will creep through a sewer…pipe； at the risk of drowning； I do not speak of the holes that you will be obliged to mask； of the stones which you will have to take up and replace twenty times a day； of the plaster that you will have to hide in your straw pallet。
A lock presents itself； the bourgeois has in his pocket a key made by a locksmith。
If you wish to pass out； you will be condemned to execute a terrible work of art； you will take a large sou； you will cut it in two plates； with what tools？
You will have to invent them。
That is your business。 Then you will hollow out the interior of these plates； taking great care of the outside； and you will make on the edges a thread； so that they can be adjusted one upon the other like a box and its cover。 The top and bottom thus screwed together； nothing will be suspected。 To the overseers it will be only a sou； to you it will be a box。 What will you put in this box？
A small bit of steel。
A watch…spring； in which you will have cut teeth； and which will form a saw。 With this saw； as long as a pin； and concealed in a sou； you will cut the bolt of the lock； you will sever bolts； the padlock of your chain； and the bar at your window； and the fetter on your leg。 This masterpiece finished； this prodigy acplished； all these miracles of art； address； skill； and patience executed； what will be your repense if it bees known that you are the author？
The dungeon。 There is your future。
What precipices are idleness and pleasure！ Do you know that to do nothing is a melancholy resolution？ To live in idleness on the property of society！ to be useless； that is to say； pernicious！
This leads straight to the depth of wretchedness。
Woe to the man who desires to be a parasite！ He will bee vermin！
Ah！
So it does not please you to work？ Ah！
You have but one thought； to drink well； to eat well； to sleep well。
You will drink water； you will eat black bread； you will sleep on a plank with a fetter whose cold touch you will feel on your flesh all night long； riveted to your limbs。 You will break those fetters； you will flee。
That is well。 You will crawl on your belly through the brushwood； and you will eat grass like the beasts of the forest。
And you will be recaptured。 And then you will pass years in a dungeon； riveted to a wall； groping for your jug that you may drink； gnawing at a horrible loaf of darkness which dogs would not touch； eating beans that the worms have eaten before you。
You will be a wood…louse in a cellar。
Ah！
Have pity on yourself； you miserable young child； who were sucking at nurse less than twenty years ago； and who have； no doubt； a mother still alive！
I conjure you； listen to me； I entreat you。
You desire fine black cloth； varnished shoes； to have your hair curled and sweet…smelling oils on your locks； to please low women； to be handsome。
You will be shaven clean； and you will wear a red blouse and wooden shoes。
You want rings on your fingers； you will have an iron necklet on your neck。 If you glance at a woman； you will receive a blow。
And you will enter there at the age of twenty。
And you will e out at fifty！ You will enter young； rosy； fresh； with brilliant eyes； and all your white teeth； and your handsome； youthful hair； you will e out broken； bent； wrinkled； toothless； horrible； with white locks！ Ah！ my poor child； you are on the wrong road； idleness is counselling you badly； the hardest of all work is thieving。 Believe me； do not undertake that painful profession of an idle man。 It is not fortable to bee a rascal。
It is less disagreeable to be an honest man。
Now go； and ponder on what I have said to you。
By the way； what did you want of me？
My purse？
Here it is。〃
And the old man； releasing Montparnasse； put his purse in the latter's hand； Montparnasse weighed it for a moment； after which he allowed it to slide gently into the back pocket of his coat； with the same mechanical precaution as though he had stolen it。
All this having been said and done； the goodman turned his back and tranquilly resumed his stroll。
〃The blockhead！〃 muttered Montparnasse。
Who was this goodman？
The reader has； no doubt； already divined。
Montparnasse watched him with amazement； as he disappeared in the dusk。 This contemplation was fatal to him。
While the old man was walking away； Gavroche drew near。
Gavroche had assured himself； with a sidelong glance； that Father Mabeuf was still sitting on his bench； probably sound asleep。 Then the gamin emerged from his thicket； and began to crawl after Montparnasse in the dark； as the latter stood there motionless。 In this manner he came up to Montparnasse without being seen or heard； gently insinuated his hand into the back pocket of that frock…coat of fine black cloth； seized the purse； withdrew his hand； and having recourse once more to his crawling； he slipped away like an adder through the shadows。
Montparnasse； who had no reason to be on his guard； and who was engaged in thought for the first time in his life； perceived nothing。
When Gavroche had once more attained the point where Father Mabeuf was； he flung the purse over the hedge； and fled as fast as his legs would carry him。
The purse fell on Father Mabeuf's foot。
This motion roused him。
He bent over and picked up the purse。
He did not understand in the least； and opened it。
The purse had two partments； in one of them there was some small change； in the other lay six napoleons。
M。 Mabeuf； in great alarm； referred the matter to his housekeeper。
〃That has fallen from heaven；〃 said Mother Plutarque。