After he exhausts his last resources, Marius finds life cruel. He suffers in body and soul. He has no bread and no fire, and his clothes are shabby. He bears the insolence of shopkeepers, the laughter of working girls, taunts, humiliation. At one point, his coat wears out and he has to accept castoffs from his friends. But poverty is a crucible that destroys the weak and tempers the soul of the strong. Marius proves himself firm in the face of adversity and slowly manages to create a bearable existence. He earns a modest living as a literary factotum, writing prospectuses, annotating editions, translating newspapers, and compiling biographies. He lives in a monkish room in the Gorbeau House — the same building once occupied by Cosette and Jean Valjean. He eats frugally and never drinks wine.
Marius is at peace with the world, for his austere way of life is in keeping with his ascetic temperament. He lives like a hermit, avoiding even his own family. Unaware that his grandfather secretly regrets his behavior, Marius never goes to see him. He has given up his circle of student friends, cultivating only Courfeyrac and the old churchwarden, M. Mabeuf, who knew his father. Solitude suits him. It allows him to abandon himself to a life of contemplation that provides him with moments of veritable ecstasy. Marius is in the process of becoming a visionary.
Consequently, he is completely indifferent to any woman whom chance puts in his path. For a year now on his regular walks in the Luxembourg Gardens, he has frequently encountered an old man with a pleasant countenance and the modest air of a Quaker, accompanied by a little girl thirteen or fourteen years old. Marius is favorably impressed by the "father" but finds the "daughter" of no interest.
