Le Mirliflore du Sepulchre

 Victor Hugo

    « Un être lugubre, c’était Montparnasse. Montparnasse était un enfant ; moins de vingt angs, un joli visage, des lèvres qui ressemblaient à des cerises, de charmants cheveux noirs, la clarté du printemps dans les yeux ; il avait tous les vices et aspirait à tous les crimes. La digestion du mal le mettait en appétit du pire. C’était le gamin tourné voyou, et le voyou devenu escarpe. Il était géntil, efféminé, gracieux, robuste, mou, féroce. Il avait le bord du chapeau relevé à gauche pour faire place à la touffe de cheveux, selon le style de 1829. Il vivait violemment. Sa redingote était de la meilleure coupe, mais râpée. Montparnasse c’était une gravure de modes ayant de la misère et commettant des meurtres. La cause de tous les attentats de cet adolescent était l’envie d’être bien mis. La première grisette qui lui avait dit : Tu es beau, lui avait jeté la tache de ténèbres dans le cœur, et avait fait un Caïn de cet Abel. Se trouvait joli, il avait voulu être élégant ; or la première élégance, c’est l’oisiveté ; l’oisiveté d’un pauvre, c’est le crime. Peu de rôdeurs étaient aussi redoutes que Montparnasse. À dix-huit ans, il avait déjà plusiers cadavres derrière lui. Plus qu’un passant les bras étendus gisait dans l’ombre de ce misérable, la face dans une mare de sang. Frisé, pommadé, pincé à la taille, des hanches de femme, un buste d’officier prussien, le murmure d’admiration des filles du boulevard autour de lui, la cravate savamment nouée, un casse-tête dans sa poche, une fleur à sa boutonnière ; tel était ce mirliflore du sépulcre. »

Norman Denny                                              

    "Finally, Montparnasse, a sorry creature. He was scarcely more than a child, a youth of under twenty with a pretty face, cherry-lips, glossy dark hair and the brightness of Springtime in his eyes. He had all the vices and aspired to all the crimes, feeding on evil an appetite that hungered always for worse. He was an urchin turned vagabond, a vagabond turned desparado, smooth, effeminate, graceful, strongly-built, pliant and ferocious. He wore his hat with the left-hand brim turned up to display a lock of hair, in the fashion of 1829. He lived by robbery with violence. His tail-coat was of excellent cut but frayed. Montparnasse was a fashion-plate living in squalor and committing murder, and the root cause of all his crimes was his desire to be well-dressed. The firt wench who had praised his looks had instilled blackness in his heart, transforming Abel into Cain. Finding that he was handsome, he wanted to be elegant: but the highest elegance is idleness, and idleness in the poor is another name for crime. Few night-prowlers were as much feared as he. At the age of eighteen he had several murders to his credit; more than one dead body lay behind him, face down with arms outstretched in a pool of blood. Hair waved and pomaded, a slender waist, a woman's hips and the chest and shoulders of a Prussian officer, cravat meticulously tied, a flower in his button-hole, a murmur of women's admiration accompanying him and a blackjack in his pocket - such was this flower of the underworld."

Lee Fahenstock

    "A mournful sight, that was Montparnasse. Montparnasse was a child; less than twenty, with a pretty face, lips like cherries, charming black hair, the glow of spring in his eyes; he had all the vices and aspired to all the crimes. The digestion of what was bad gave him an appetite for what was worse. He was gamin turned hooligan, hooligan turned assassin. He was gentle, effeminate, graceful, robust, weak, and ferocious. He wore his hat turned up on the left side, to better show offa lock of hair, according to the fashion of 1829. He lived by violent robbery. His coat was of the most fashionable cut, but threadbare. Montparnasse was a fashionplate living in distress and committing murders. The cause of all this young man's crimes was his desire to be well dressed. The first grisette who said to him, "You are handsome," had spattered a stain of darkness into his heart and made a cain of this Abel. Thinking he was handsome, he wanted to be elegant; now, the first of elegances is idleness; idleness for a poor man is crime. Few prowlers were so much feared as Montparnasse. At eighteen he already had left several corpeses in his wake. More than one traveler lay in this wretch's shadow with outstretched arms and with his face in a pool of blood. Frizzled, pomaded, pinched in at the waist, hips like a woman, the bust of a Prussian officer, a buzz of admiration about him from the girls of the boulevard, and elaborately knotted tie, a billystick in his pocket, a flower in his buttonhole; such was this charmer of the shadows."