The Restoration had placed him on half-pay，then had sent him into residence，that is to say，under surveillance，at Vernon.King Louis XVIII.，regarding all that which had taken place during the Hundred Days as not having occurred at all，did not recognize his quality as an officer of the Legion of Honor，nor his grade of colonel，nor his title of baron.
He，on his side，neglected no occasion of signing himself'Colonel Baron Pontmercy.'He had only an old blue coat，and he never went out without fastening to it his rosette as an officer of the Legion of Honor.The Attorney for the Crown had him warned that the authorities would prosecute him for'illegal'wearing of this decoration.When this notice was conveyed to him through an officious intermediary，Pontmercy retorted with a bitter smile：
'I do not know whether I no longer understand French，or whether you no longer speak it；but the fact is that I do not understand.'
Then he went out for eight successive days with his rosette.
They dared not interfere with him.Two or three times the Minister of War and the general in command of the department wrote to him with the following address：A Monsieur le Commandant Pontmercy.'
He sent back the letters with the seals unbroken.
At the same moment，Napoleon at Saint Helena was treating in the same fashion the missives of Sir Hudson Lowe addressed to General Bonaparte.
Pontmercy had ended，may we be pardoned the expression，by having in his mouth the same saliva as his Emperor.
In the same way，there were at Rome Carthaginian prisoners who refused to salute Flaminius，and who had a little of Hannibal's spirit.
One day he encountered the district-attorney in one of the streets of Vernon，stepped up to him，and said：
'Mr.Crown Attorney，am I permitted to wear my scar？'
He had nothing save his meagre half-pay as chief of squadron.He had hired the smallest house which he could find at Vernon.He lived there alone，we have just seen how.
Under the Empire，between two wars，he had found time to marry Mademoiselle Gillenormand.The old bourgeois，thoroughly indignant at bottom，had given his consent with a sigh，saying：
'The greatest families are forced into it.'In 1815，Madame Pontmercy，an admirable woman in every sense，by the way，lofty in sentiment and rare，and worthy of her husband，died，leaving a child.
This child had been the colonel's joy in his solitude；but the grandfather had imperatively claimed his grandson，declaring that if the child were not given to him he would disinherit him.
The father had yielded in the little one's interest，and had transferred his love to flowers.
Moreover，he had renounced everything，and neither stirred up mischief nor conspired.
He shared his thoughts between the innocent things which he was then doing and the great things which he had done.He passed his time in expecting a pink or in recalling Austerlitz.
M.Gillenormand kept up no relations with his son-in-law.The colonel was'a bandit'to him.
M.Gillenormand never mentioned the colonel，except when he occasionally made mocking allusions to'his Baronship.'
It had been expressly agreed that Pontmercy should never attempt to see his son nor to speak to him，under penalty of having the latter handed over to him disowned and disinherited.For the Gillenormands，Pontmercy was a man afflicted with the plague.They intended to bring up the child in their own way.
Perhaps the colonel was wrong to accept these conditions，but he submitted to them，thinking that he was doing right and sacrificing no one but himself.
The inheritance of Father Gillenormand did not amount to much；but the inheritance of Mademoiselle Gillenormand the elder was considerable.This aunt，who had remained unmarried，was very rich on the maternal side，and her sister's son was her natural heir.
The boy，whose name was Marius，knew that he had a father，but nothing more.No one opened his mouth to him about it.
Nevertheless，in the society into which his grandfather took him，whispers，innuendoes，and winks，had eventually enlightened the little boy's mind；he had finally understood something of the case，and as he naturally took in the ideas and opinions which were，so to speak，the air he breathed，by a sort of infiltration and slow penetration，he gradually came to think of his father only with shame and with a pain at his heart.
While he was growing up in this fashion，the colonel slipped away every two or three months，came to Paris on the sly，like a criminal breaking his ban，and went and posted himself at Saint-Sulpice，at the hour when Aunt Gillenormand led Marius to the mass.There，trembling lest the aunt should turn round，concealed behind a pillar，motionless，not daring to breathe，he gazed at his child.The scarred veteran was afraid of that old spinster.
From this had arisen his connection with the cure of Vernon，M.l'Abbe Mabeuf.
That worthy priest was the brother of a warden of Saint-Sulpice，who had often observed this man gazing at his child，and the scar on his cheek，and the large tears in his eyes.
That man，who had so manly an air，yet who was weeping like a woman，had struck the warden.That face had clung to his mind.
One day，having gone to Vernon to see his brother，he had encountered Colonel Pontmercy on the bridge，and had recognized the man of Saint-Sulpice.The warden had mentioned the circumstance to the cure，and both had paid the colonel a visit，on some pretext or other.
This visit led to others.
The colonel，who had been extremely reserved at first，ended by opening his heart，and the cure and the warden finally came to know the whole history，and how Pontmercy was sacrificing his happiness to his child's future.This caused the cure to regard him with veneration and tenderness，and the colonel，on his side，became fond of the cure.
And moreover，when both are sincere and good，no men so penetrate each other，and so amalgamate with each other，as an old priest and an old soldier.At bottom，the man is the same.
