Presently she was again in that dreadful tavern of the Thénardiers. "I will swear it upon the cross!" "His name, then?" demanded the knight. "Too late!" shrieked the lady, falling heavily backwards,—"too late!—oh!" Heedless of her cries, Jonathan passed a handkerchief tightly over her son's mouth, and forced him out of the room. "I fear we're too late," he whispered to Thames. " "Palliate them as you may," replied the widow, gravely, "they were faults; and as such, cannot be repaired by a greater wrong. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods.
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