Bahorel listens, but shakes his head at the end. "I was engaged with my life in Paris, Monsieur-- no man more so. And still I was my father's son." He laughs a little, soundless, at a thought. "And still I am my father's son, whatever sort of life I may have now-- always that. The farmer's child, the smuggler's son."
He looks at Valjean, smiling, almost calm. "There, now you know something about me, too. I'm not ashamed of it, Monsieur; I don't speak of it here because to those who don't know, it would mostly mean nothing. What does anyone here care about the king's salt-taxes or the tariffs?-- but, there. You see." He shrugs. "At least you might see that I cannot understand why you think this must be a thing that comes between family. -- No, I don't understand at all! You're right if you think so! --Your reasons may seem sound to you, but they seem rotten to me, Monsieur, and I wonder you don't see the light coming through them. Look! You can't think your daughter has a harder heart than a scoundrel like me. If I can tell you, as I can, that I'd be happier to have my parents, with any title and curse on them, than the good graces of society--how can you think she'd care less?"
He sighs; Valjean is so determined, and for what? "I don't understand your reasons. I cannot force you to understand mine. But from only what my friends have said--only that! -- I already know your company is worth more than the high opinions of all the best Society in Paris. Nothing you've said has changed my mind; it's made me more certain. I would argue with you for your own happiness if I thought it meant anything; you've made it clear enough that's not your concern. So I tell you again, your daughter will need you, in the time ahead, in a way she has not before; If you knew what it is , to enter the lists in Society--and alone, without a family!" What does the old man think proper Society is, to people without family trees with roots stretching back past the Revolution into lords and nobles and finery? Does he have any idea?
...No, he probably doesn't , and wouldn't likely believe Bahorel for the telling. Bahorel bows, properly; he could carry on the argument, but Valjean seems well beyond listening. Still-- "She does need you. I hope you know it before too long, for her sake--and for your own, though I know that means nothing to you. Little as you may believe me, I wish you all happiness, Monsieur."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2015-12-05 05:25 pm (UTC)From:He looks at Valjean, smiling, almost calm. "There, now you know something about me, too. I'm not ashamed of it, Monsieur; I don't speak of it here because to those who don't know, it would mostly mean nothing. What does anyone here care about the king's salt-taxes or the tariffs?-- but, there. You see." He shrugs. "At least you might see that I cannot understand why you think this must be a thing that comes between family. -- No, I don't understand at all! You're right if you think so! --Your reasons may seem sound to you, but they seem rotten to me, Monsieur, and I wonder you don't see the light coming through them. Look! You can't think your daughter has a harder heart than a scoundrel like me. If I can tell you, as I can, that I'd be happier to have my parents, with any title and curse on them, than the good graces of society--how can you think she'd care less?"
He sighs; Valjean is so determined, and for what? "I don't understand your reasons. I cannot force you to understand mine. But from only what my friends have said--only that! -- I already know your company is worth more than the high opinions of all the best Society in Paris. Nothing you've said has changed my mind; it's made me more certain. I would argue with you for your own happiness if I thought it meant anything; you've made it clear enough that's not your concern. So I tell you again, your daughter will need you, in the time ahead, in a way she has not before; If you knew what it is , to enter the lists in Society--and alone, without a family!" What does the old man think proper Society is, to people without family trees with roots stretching back past the Revolution into lords and nobles and finery? Does he have any idea?
...No, he probably doesn't , and wouldn't likely believe Bahorel for the telling. Bahorel bows, properly; he could carry on the argument, but Valjean seems well beyond listening. Still-- "She does need you. I hope you know it before too long, for her sake--and for your own, though I know that means nothing to you. Little as you may believe me, I wish you all happiness, Monsieur."