#lm 1.3.6

[nortism]

Silly Les Misérables doodles

[scuttleton]

LM 1.3.1

Guys what year are we talking about

Oh boy we're in footnote city again

Napoleon was on St Helena, and as England refused to provide him with green cloth he was having his old coats turned.

There is something here about Marius and his green coat, I'm sure of it

Fifty footnotes later...

1.3.2

The names of these particular Oscars were Félix Tholomyès

Hey it's the guy everyone seems to hate that Courfeyrac gets compared to

Or at least the last name is the same

Tholomyès had Fantine

HEY IT'S THE LADY THE VOLUME IS NAMED AFTER

Oh wow Favourite's mother sucks B/

She loved Tholomyès. A conquest for him, for her the love of her life.

I can already see where this is going and I already hate this guy for it. Now I better understand where Courfeyrac diverges and I haven't even reached what this scoundrel does.

One day Tholomyès took the other three aside, made sure he had their full attention and said, ‘Fantine, Dahlia, Zéphine and Favourite have been asking us for nearly a year to give them a surprise. We’ve made a solemn promise to do so. . . . At the same time our parents keep writing to us. Attacked on both sides. I think the time has come. Let’s talk.’ At this point Tholomyès lowered his voice and mysteriously described something so amusing that a huge enthusiastic guffaw emerged simultaneously from the mouths of all four of them and Blachevelle cried, ‘That’s a great idea!’

I don't know what the plan is but I already don't like it. Just based on the description given to Tholomyès, I don't trust his plans. (On that note, I didn't expect him to be depicted as so ugly HAHA)

1.3.3

Oh, no matter who you may be, don’t you remember? Have you walked through the bushes, holding aside the branches for the pretty face following behind you?

Oh get out of here with this "No matter who you may be" type nonsense again 🙄

Blondeau mention 🫵 may he rest in peace

1.3.4

Okay, I am becoming increasingly baffled by the fact that Tholomyès is even with Fantine. He seems Like the sort that would prefer to have a lady who is fine with him doing whatever the heck he wants with her, but Fantine won't even get on the swing or accept kisses throughout the day like the other girls.

Maybe it comes back around to the conquest thing. She's pretty and if he can say that he was the one who..... (face of disgust) conquered her... It's like some kind of bragging right. "Yeah I managed to get with the chaste Fantine, that's how suave and impressive I am" kind of mentality. He wants the challenge? Ugh.

"on Sundays tiredness has the day off" oh if only

1.3.5

Horse mention 😔

1.3.6

This prompted Blachevelle to ask, ‘What would you do, Favourite, if I stopped loving you?’ ‘What would I do!’ cried Favourite. ‘Oh, don’t say that even as a joke! If you stopped loving me, I’d come after you, I’d scratch and claw you, I’d throw water over you, I’d have you arrested.’ Blachevelle smiled with the voluptuous self-conceit of a man whose vanity is flattered. . . . As she ate, Dahlia said quietly to Favourite amid the uproar, ‘So you really worship your Blachevelle, do you?’ ‘I detest him,’ replied Favourite in a similar undertone, picking up her fork again. ‘He’s stingy. It’s the lad who lives opposite me I love.

HAHA DANG

All the same, I tell Blachevelle I adore him. What a liar I am! Eh? What a liar!’ Favourite paused, then went on, ‘You see, Dahlia, I feel miserable. It’s done nothing but rain all summer, the wind’s always blowing, it gets on my nerves, Blachevelle’s very tight-fisted, there are hardly any peas in the market, you don’t know what to eat. I’m down in the dumps, as the English say, butter’s so expensive, and look, here we are eating in a room with a bed in it. It’s disgusting! It makes me fed up with life.’

... Dang.

You say you love actors, but girl you could be one.

[les-mis-daily-doodles]

numbers were cut off but that’s fine :)

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

I.iii.6 Chapitre Ou L'on S'adore

Which is the best translation of this chapter title?

A Chapter of Self-Admiration

In Which People Adore Each Other

A Chapter In Which They Adore Each Other

A Chapter in Which People Adore Each Other

I Adore You

A Chapter In Which Everyone Adores One Another

Chapter in which Lovers Adore

Voting ended onOct 29, 2024

I Adore You is definitely a goofy translation-- not extremely Translations of Shameful, but enough to qualify. Right to our future Goofiness Bracket with it!

A Chapter of Self-Admiration: Wilbour, FMA

In Which People Adore Each Other: Wraxall

A Chapter In Which They Adore Each Other: Hapgood

A Chapter in Which People Adore Each Other: Walton

I Adore You: Denny

A Chapter In Which Everyone Adores One Another: Rose

Chapter in which Lovers Adore: Donougher

[secretmellowblog]

There are four kings featured in Les Mis:

Louis XVIII

Charles X

Louis-Philippe I

The artist who flirts with Favourite by saying that if she made her gloves into fritters he would eat them

[lesmisletters-daily]

A Chapter In Which They Adore Each Other

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.3.6

Chat at table, the chat of love; it is as impossible to reproduce one as the other; the chat of love is a cloud; the chat at table is smoke.

Fameuil and Dahlia were humming. Tholomyès was drinking. Zéphine was laughing, Fantine smiling, Listolier blowing a wooden trumpet which he had purchased at Saint-Cloud.

Favourite gazed tenderly at Blachevelle and said:—

“Blachevelle, I adore you.”

This called forth a question from Blachevelle:—

“What would you do, Favourite, if I were to cease to love you?”

“I!” cried Favourite. “Ah! Do not say that even in jest! If you were to cease to love me, I would spring after you, I would scratch you, I should rend you, I would throw you into the water, I would have you arrested.”

Blachevelle smiled with the voluptuous self-conceit of a man who is tickled in his self-love. Favourite resumed:—

“Yes, I would scream to the police! Ah! I should not restrain myself, not at all! Rabble!”

Blachevelle threw himself back in his chair, in an ecstasy, and closed both eyes proudly.

Dahlia, as she ate, said in a low voice to Favourite, amid the uproar:—

“So you really idolize him deeply, that Blachevelle of yours?”

“I? I detest him,” replied Favourite in the same tone, seizing her fork again. “He is avaricious. I love the little fellow opposite me in my house. He is very nice, that young man; do you know him? One can see that he is an actor by profession. I love actors. As soon as he comes in, his mother says to him: ‘Ah! mon Dieu! my peace of mind is gone. There he goes with his shouting. But, my dear, you are splitting my head!’ So he goes up to rat-ridden garrets, to black holes, as high as he can mount, and there he sets to singing, declaiming, how do I know what? so that he can be heard downstairs! He earns twenty sous a day at an attorney’s by penning quibbles. He is the son of a former precentor of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas. Ah! he is very nice. He idolizes me so, that one day when he saw me making batter for some pancakes, he said to me: <i>‘Mamselle, make your gloves into fritters, and I will eat them.’</i> It is only artists who can say such things as that. Ah! he is very nice. I am in a fair way to go out of my head over that little fellow. Never mind; I tell Blachevelle that I adore him—how I lie! Hey! How I do lie!”

Favourite paused, and then went on:—

“I am sad, you see, Dahlia. It has done nothing but rain all summer; the wind irritates me; the wind does not abate. Blachevelle is very stingy; there are hardly any green peas in the market; one does not know what to eat. I have the spleen, as the English say, butter is so dear! and then you see it is horrible, here we are dining in a room with a bed in it, and that disgusts me with life.”

[cliozaur]

Favourite is an amazing actress! In the previous chapters, she successfully pretended that she was enjoying the company of her man, and in this one, she skilfully strokes Blachevelle's ego. Probably, she did enjoy the entertainments, but otherwise, she despised Blachevelle: “I tell Blachevelle that I adore him—how I lie! Hey! How I do lie!”

It's hard not to feel a pang of sympathy for Favourite. Trapped in a transactional relationship, she endures Blachevelle's company in the hope of advancement, all while yearning for a less financially secure but genuine connection with the poor actor from across the street.

Her laments about the weather, sadness, and rising prices might seem like frivolous complaints at first glance. However, they offer a glimpse into the broader frustrations faced by women in her social position. These challenges are not limited to Favourite; they foreshadow the discontent voiced by the elderly portresses later in the novel.

I wish Favourite were nicer to Fantine and could have explained the rules of student-grisette relationships to her. But it seems that she dislikes Fantine; probably, she is jealous or envious of her, and she won’t help her out.

Ultimately, Favourite's character serves as a reminder of the complex choices women make in navigating a society with limited options.

[pureanonofficial]

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - A Chapter In Which They Adore Each Other , LM 1.3.6 ( I miserabili 1964)

Dahlia, as she ate, said in a low voice to Favourite, amid the uproar:—

“So you really idolize him deeply, that Blachevelle of yours?”

“I? I detest him,” replied Favourite in the same tone, seizing her fork again. “He is avaricious. I love the little fellow opposite me in my house. He is very nice, that young man; do you know him? One can see that he is an actor by profession. I love actors. As soon as he comes in, his mother says to him: ‘Ah! mon Dieu! my peace of mind is gone. There he goes with his shouting. But, my dear, you are splitting my head!’ So he goes up to rat-ridden garrets, to black holes, as high as he can mount, and there he sets to singing, declaiming, how do I know what? so that he can be heard downstairs! He earns twenty sous a day at an attorney’s by penning quibbles. He is the son of a former precentor of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas. Ah! he is very nice. He idolizes me so, that one day when he saw me making batter for some pancakes, he said to me: ‘Mamselle, make your gloves into fritters, and I will eat them.’ It is only artists who can say such things as that. Ah! he is very nice. I am in a fair way to go out of my head over that little fellow. Never mind; I tell Blachevelle that I adore him—how I lie! Hey! How I do lie!”