Summer passed, then the autumn; winter came. Neither M. Leblanc nor the young girl had again set foot in the Luxembourg garden. Thenceforth, Marius had but one thought,--to gaze once more on that sweet and adorable face. He sought constantly, he sought everywhere; he found nothing. He was no longer Marius, the enthusiastic dreamer, the firm, resolute, ardent man, the bold defier of fate, the brain which erected future on future, the young spirit encumbered with plans, with projects, with pride, with ideas and wishes; he was a lost dog. He fell into a black melancholy. All was over. Work disgusted him, walking tired him. Vast nature, formerly so filled with forms, lights, voices, counsels, perspectives, horizons, teachings, now lay empty before him. It seemed to him that everything had disappeared.
He thought incessantly, for he could not do otherwise; but he no longer took pleasure in his thoughts. To everything that they proposed to him in a whisper, he replied in his darkness: "What is the use?"
He heaped a hundred reproaches on himself. "Why did I follow her? I was so happy at the mere sight of her! She looked at me; was not that immense? She had the air of loving me. Was not that everything? I wished to have, what? There was nothing after that. I have been absurd. It is my own fault," etc., etc. Courfeyrac, to whom he confided nothing,--it was his nature,-- but who made some little guess at everything,--that was his nature,-- had begun by congratulating him on being in love, though he was amazed at it; then, seeing Marius fall into this melancholy state, he ended by saying to him: "I see that you have been simply an animal. Here, come to the Chaumiere."
Once, having confidence in a fine September sun, Marius had allowed himself to be taken to the ball at Sceaux by Courfeyrac, Bossuet, and Grantaire, hoping, what a dream! that he might, perhaps, find her there. Of course he did not see the one he sought.--"But this is the place, all the same, where all lost women are found," grumbled Grantaire in an aside. Marius left his friends at the ball and returned home on foot, alone, through the night, weary, feverish, with sad and troubled eyes, stunned by the noise and dust of the merry wagons filled with singing creatures on their way home from the feast, which passed close to him, as he, in his discouragement, breathed in the acrid scent of the walnut-trees, along the road, in order to refresh his head.
He took to living more and more alone, utterly overwhelmed, wholly given up to his inward anguish, going and coming in his pain like the wolf in the trap, seeking the absent one everywhere, stupefied by love.
On another occasion, he had an encounter which produced on him a singular effect. He met, in the narrow streets in the vicinity of the Boulevard des Invalides, a man dressed like a workingman and wearing a cap with a long visor, which allowed a glimpse of locks of very white hair. Marius was struck with the beauty of this white hair, and scrutinized the man, who was walking slowly and as though absorbed in painful meditation. Strange to say, he thought that he recognized M. Leblanc. The hair was the same, also the profile, so far as the cap permitted a view of it, the mien identical, only more depressed. But why these workingman's clothes? What was the meaning of this? What signified that disguise? Marius was greatly astonished. When he recovered himself, his first impulse was to follow the man; who knows whether he did not hold at last the clue which he was seeking? In any case, he must see the man near at hand, and clear up the mystery. But the idea occurred to him too late, the man was no longer there. He had turned into some little side street, and Marius could not find him. This encounter occupied his mind for three days and then was effaced. "After all," he said to himself, "it was probably only a resemblance."
夏季过去了，秋季也过了，冬季到了。白先生和那姑娘都没有去过卢森堡公园。马吕斯只有一个念头，再见到那张温柔和令人拜倒的脸儿。他无时不找，无处不找，可是什么也没有找着。他已不是那个以一腔热忱梦想着未来的马吕斯，那个顽强、热烈、坚定的汉子，对命运的大胆挑战者，有着建造空中重楼叠阁的头脑，一个计划、远谋、豪情、思想、壮志满怀的青年，而是一条丧家之犬。他已陷在一筹莫展的苦境里。完了。工作使他反感，散步使他疲倦，孤独使他烦恼；广大的天地从前是如此充满形相、光彩、声音、启导、远景、见识和教育的，现在在他眼里竟成了一片空虚。他仿佛觉得一切全消失了。
他老在想，因为他不能不想，但是他已不能再感到想的乐趣。对他的思想向他不断低声建议的一切，他都黯然回答说：
“有什么意义？”
他不停地埋怨自己。当初我为什么要去跟她？那时我能看见她，便已那么快乐了。她望着我，难道这不是已很了不起吗？看神气，她在爱我。难道这还不美满吗？我还有什么可希求的呢？这以后已不会再有什么。我太傻了，是我错了。等等。他从不把他的心事泄露给古费拉克，这是他的性格，但是古费拉克多少猜到了一点，这也是他的性格，古费拉克开始祝贺他有了意中人，同时也感到这事来得突兀，随后，看见马吕斯那么苦闷，他终于对他说：“我看你这人太简单，只有兽性。来，到茅庐去走走！”
一次，马吕斯见到九月天美丽的阳光，满怀信心，跟着古费拉克、博须埃和格朗泰尔去参加索城的舞会，希望棗多美的梦！棗能有机会在那里遇见她。当然，他没有见到他寻找的人儿。“可是丢了的女人总能在这里找到的嘛。”格朗泰尔独自嘟囔着。马吕斯把他的朋友甩在舞会里，孤孤单单地走回家去了，摸着黑路，浑身疲倦，脑子发烧，眼睛矇眬忧郁，一辆一辆从舞会回来的车辆满载着尽情歌唱的人从他身边经过，他听到那种欢乐的声音，嗅到车轮卷起的尘土，感到非常烦乱，心灰意懒地呼吸着路旁核桃树的涩味来清醒自己的头脑。
他开始过着越来越狐独的生活，徬徨，沮丧，完全陷在内心的苦痛里，好象笼中狼那样，在他的悲戚中走去走来，四处张望那不在眼前的意中人，被爱情搞得晕头转向。
另一次，他遇见一个人，给了他一种异样的感受。他在残废军人院路附近的那些小街上，劈面遇见一个衣着象工人模样的男子，戴一顶长檐鸭舌帽，露出几绺雪白的头发。马吕斯瞥见那些白发，感到美得出奇，只见那人一步一步慢慢走着，好象心事重重，沉浸在忧伤的遐想里。说也奇怪，他仿佛认出了那人便是白先生。同样的头发，同样的侧面轮廓，至少露出在帽檐下的那部分是同样的，同样的走路姿态，只是比较忧郁些。但是为什么穿这身工人服呢？这怎么解释？为什么要乔装？马吕斯见了心里非常惊讶。当他的心情安定下来后，他的第一个动作便是去追那人，谁知他这次不会抓住他所寻找的线索呢？总之，应当跑到他近处去看个清楚，打破这闷葫芦。可是他的念头转得太迟，那人已不在那里了。他走进了一条横巷，马吕斯没有能再看见他。这次邂逅使他回想了好几天，印象才淡薄下去。他心里想道：“不用大惊小怪，这也许只是个相貌相象的人罢了。”
