I think we can all agree that modern-day Tholomyes would be one of those MRA/brony type bloggers who takes selfies with handwritten signs saying things like ‘listen up ladies’ and complains about feminism and ends every sentence with ;) regardless of whether it was funny or not
tholomyes
If someone ever decides to add a song featuring Tholomyès to Les Mis it should be to the tune of the Thenardiers’ “Waltz of Treachery” … that’s the part where they sing, “what to do? What to say? Shall you carry our treasure away? …”
[THOLOMYES and his friends BLACHEVILLE, LISTOLIER and FAMEUIL discuss what to do with the mistresses they plan to abandon, while FANTINE waits in the cafe oblivious.]
THOLOMYES
What to do? What to say?
There simply isn’t, another way-
Barely had – a taste of life-
Thinks she’d make me a suitable wife!
No, not me
Have no doubt
Once they’ve got their claws in there’s no getting out!
It’s for the best, don’t we know,
Those lovely ladies- they come and they go!
LISTOLIER
Poor Fantine, so naive-
THOLOMYES
Come, she hasn’t the spirit to grieve!
Come on boys, let’s go home,
They’ll be glad there to see us alone
[takes a letter from his pocket]
We’ve had it now, our boyhood fun
We’ll leave and there’s been no harm done!
[He gives a letter to a waiter who gives it to Fantine. She reads it with her expression growing more and more distraught as the men leave, continuing the song.]
BLACHEVELLE
Ah, my friend, one thing more-
I-I just want to see if you’re sure–
That baby girl you rocked to sleep-
[spoken] Should you not pay for her upkeep?
[THOLOMYES pauses for one long, silent moment, then laughs. When he sings again, it’s to the tune of ‘Lovely Ladies’, fast and angry-]
THOLOMYES
Oh my, Blacheville, taken for a fool-
You’ve seen the child, you must know, she isn’t mine at all
Little brat, some little rat, taken from some house
You must know all women know the way to trap a spouse!
Come on, let’s go, I can’t take any more-
She always seemed so innocent…but I’ll bet that she’s a whore!
[The men hurry away. Fantine cries in the cafe.]
Being on a total ‘minor ladies of Les Mis’ kick right now, I found myself reading the Favourite parts again, and I noticed this little detail (bolding mine, obviously):
Favourite having been in England, was admired by Dahlia and Zephine. She had had an establishment of her own very early in life. Her father was an old unmarried professor of mathematics, a brutal man and a braggart, who went out to give lessons in spite of his age. This professor, when he was a young man, had one day seen a chambermaid’s gown catch on a fender; he had fallen in love in consequence of this accident. The result had been Favourite.
And onto our beloved (ha) Felix Tholomyes, caught mid-ramble:
The property of love is to err. A love affair is not made to crouch down and brutalize itself like an English serving-maid who has callouses on her knees from scrubbing.
Tholomyes, you just insulted Favourite’s mother in front of her, didn’t you? You dick.