diff --git a/CMakeLists.txt b/CMakeLists.txt
index ba5cdd1..7f23dc8 100644
--- a/CMakeLists.txt
+++ b/CMakeLists.txt
@@ -62,3 +62,5 @@ add_subdirectory(montecarlo)
 add_subdirectory(wordcloud)
 add_subdirectory(technical_analysis)
 add_subdirectory(bigmatrix)
+add_subdirectory(cipher)
+add_subdirectory(transitive_closure)
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/CMakeLists.txt b/cipher/CMakeLists.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4e8f7d2
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/CMakeLists.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,13 @@
+
+# UnoAPI:CMakeLists-targetlibraries:begin
+
+add_executable(cipher main.cpp scramble.cpp file_ops.cpp timestamps.cpp)
+target_link_libraries(cipher spdlog::spdlog CLI11::CLI11)
+
+enable_testing()
+add_executable(cipher_tests test.cpp scramble.cpp file_ops.cpp)
+target_link_libraries(cipher_tests gtest_main fmt::fmt spdlog::spdlog CLI11::CLI11)
+include(GoogleTest)
+gtest_discover_tests(cipher_tests)
+
+# UnoAPI: CMakeLists-targetlibraries:end
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/file_ops.cpp b/cipher/file_ops.cpp
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..7491a4b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/file_ops.cpp
@@ -0,0 +1,18 @@
+#include "file_ops.h"
+
+// If the file cannot be opened, then the function will notify the caller
+// by returning 1.
+int read_from_binary(std::vector<std::byte> & buffer, std::string path_to_file)
+{
+    std::ifstream input(path_to_file, std::ios::binary);
+    if (!input.is_open()) {
+        spdlog::error("Error opening file to read from: {}", path_to_file);
+        return 1;
+    }
+    std::uintmax_t size = std::filesystem::file_size(path_to_file);
+    buffer.resize(size);
+    // TODO: See if it is possible to read binary data from file without casting.
+    input.read(reinterpret_cast<char*>(buffer.data()), size);
+    input.close();
+    return 0;
+}
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/file_ops.h b/cipher/file_ops.h
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..403d719
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/file_ops.h
@@ -0,0 +1,31 @@
+#ifndef FILEOPS_H
+#define FILEOPS_H
+
+#include <spdlog/spdlog.h>
+#include <spdlog/sinks/stdout_color_sinks.h>
+
+#include <fstream>
+#include <filesystem>
+
+int read_from_binary(
+    std::vector<std::byte> & buffer,
+    std::string path_to_file
+);
+
+// If the file cannot be opened, then the function will notify the caller
+// by returning 1.
+template <class Writable>
+int write_to_binary(Writable & buffer, std::string path_to_file)
+{
+    std::ofstream output(path_to_file, std::ios::binary);
+    if (!output.is_open()) {
+        spdlog::error("Error opening file to read from: {}", path_to_file);
+        return 1;
+    }
+    // TODO: See if it is possible to write binary data to file without casting.
+    output.write(reinterpret_cast<char*>(&buffer[0]), buffer.size());
+    output.close();
+    return 0;
+}
+
+#endif
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/live-data/ciphertext.txt b/cipher/live-data/ciphertext.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e69de29
diff --git a/cipher/live-data/decrypted.txt b/cipher/live-data/decrypted.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e69de29
diff --git a/cipher/live-data/lesmis1.txt b/cipher/live-data/lesmis1.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..f32d525
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/live-data/lesmis1.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,83943 @@
+This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 
+to make the world's books discoverable online. 
+
+It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 
+to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 
+are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 
+
+Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 
+publisher to a library and finally to you. 
+
+Usage guidelines 
+
+Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
+public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to 
+prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 
+
+We also ask that you: 
+
++ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
+personal, non-commercial purposes. 
+
++ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
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+additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 
+
++ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
+because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
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+any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
+anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe. 
+
+About Google Book Search 
+
+Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
+discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 
+
+
+
+at |http : //books . google . com/ 
+
+
+
+3 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+/;»^-\ 
+
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+
+HE FIXED HIS TRANQUIL EYE ON JAVERT, WHO WAS STILL 
+STARING AT HIM. 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+
+
+ISÉEABLÈS 
+
+
+
+BY 
+
+VICTOR HUGO 
+
+
+
+TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH 
+
+
+
+BY 
+
+
+
+ISABEL F. HAPGOOD 
+
+
+
+COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME 
+
+
+
+NEW YORK 
+
+THOMAS Y. OROWELL COMPANY 
+
+PUBLISHERS 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+Kl. 
+
+
+
+! LIB RARY 
+
+
+
+OOFYRIOHT, 1887, 
+
+Bt Thomas Y. Obowuj;. & Oo. 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+PREFACE. 
+
+
+
+So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, 
+decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creat- 
+ing hells amid the civilization of earth, and adding the 
+element of human fate to divine destiny ; so long as the three 
+great problems of the century — the degradation of man 
+through pauperism,the corruption of woman through hunger, 
+the crippling of children through lack of light — are unsolved; 
+so long as social asphyxia is possible in any part of the world; 
+— in other words, and with a still wider significance, so long 
+as ignorance and poverty exist on eai*th, books of the nature 
+of Le» Misérables cannot fail to be of use. 
+
+HAUTBVILLB HOUSE, 1862. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+CONTENTS. 
+
+
+
+Book Paob 
+
+I. A Just Man 1 
+
+II. The Fall 55 
+
+III. In the Yeae 1817 110 
+
+IV. To Confide is Sometimes to Deliver into a 
+
+Person's Power . . 138 
+
+V. The Descent 151 
+
+VI. Javert 190 
+
+VIL The Champmathieu Affair 201 
+
+VIII. A Counter-Blow 268 
+
+1. Waterloo 1 
+
+II. The Ship Orion 63 
+
+III. Accomplishment of the Promise Made to 
+
+THE Dead Woman 67 
+
+IV. The Gorbeau Hovel 119 
+
+V. For a Black Hunt, a Mute Pack .... 134 
+
+Vli Le Petit-Picpus 164 
+
+VIL Parenthesis 193 
+
+VIII. Cemeteries Take That Which is Committed 
+
+Them 205 
+
+
+
+partus. 
+
+
+
+I. Paris Studied in its Atom 1 
+
+IL The Great Bourgeois 20 
+
+III. The Grandfather and the Grandson ... 29 
+
+IV. The Friends of the ABC (^C) 
+
+V. The Excellence of Misfortune 95 
+
+VL The Conjunction of Two Stars 115 
+
+VIL Patron Minette 132 
+
+VIII. The Wicked Poor Man 141 
+
+lii 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+CONTENTS. 
+
+
+
+Jit Sctiîs* 
+
+I. A Few Pages of History 1 
+
+II. Efonine 36 
+
+111. The House in the Rue Plumet 53 
+
+IV. Succor from Pelow may Turn Out to be 
+
+Succor from on High 87 
+
+V. The End of Which Dors Not Kesemble the 
+
+Beginning 97 
+
+VI. Little Gavroche 113 
+
+VII. Slang 149 
+
+VIII. Enchantments and Desolations 171 
+
+IX. Whither Are They Going ? 205 
+
+X. The 5th of June, 1832 212 
+
+XI. The Atom Fraternizes with the Hurricane, 233 
+
+XII. Corinthe 245 
+
+XIII. Marius Enters the Shadow 277 
+
+XIV. The Grandeurs of Despair 287 
+
+XV. The Rue de l'Homme Arme 305 
+
+
+
+gcati lEïalJcatt» 
+
+
+
+T. The War Between Four Walls 1 
+
+II. The Intestine of the Leviathan .... 83 
+
+III. Mud but the Soul 102 
+
+IV. JAVERT Derailed 143 
+
+V. Grandson and Grandfather 154 
+
+VI. The Sleepless Night 185 
+
+VII. The Last Draught from the Cup .... 209 
+
+VIII. Fading Away of the Twilight 2.'13 
+
+IX. Supreme Shadow, Supreme Dawn .... 24(> 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+iTantine- 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIRST. — A JUST MAN. 
+I. — M. Mtbiel. 
+
+In 1815, M. Charles-François-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop 
+of D. He was an old man of about seventy-five years of age ; 
+he had occupied the see of D. since 1806. 
+
+Although this detail has no connection whatever with the 
+real substance of what we are about to relate, it will not be 
+superfluous, if merely for the sake of exactness in all points, 
+to mention here the various rumors and remarks which had 
+been in circulation about him from the very moment when he 
+arrived in the diocese. True or false, that which is said of men 
+often occupies as important a place in their lives, and above all, 
+in their destinies, as that which they do. M. Myriel was the son 
+of a councillor of the Parliament of Aix ; hence he belonged to the 
+nobility of the bar. It was said that his father, destining him to 
+be the heir of his own post, had married him at a very early age, 
+eighteen or twenty, in accordance with a custom which is rather 
+widely prevalent in parliamentary families. In spite of this mar- 
+riage, however, it was said that Charles Myriel created a great 
+deal of talk. He was well formed, though rather short in stature, 
+elegant^ graceful, intelligent ; the whole of tlie first portion of 
+his life had been devoted to the world and to gallantry. 
+
+The Revolution came ; events succeeded each otlier with pre- 
+cipitation; the parliamentary families, decimated, pursued, 
+hunted down, were dispersed. M. Charles Myriel emigrated 
+to Italy at the very beginning of the Revolution. There his 
+wife died of a malady of the chest, from which she had long 
+suffered. He had no children. What took place next in the 
+fate of M. Myriel? The ruin of the French society of the 
+olden days, the fall of his own family, the tragic spectacles of 
+'93, which were, perhaps, even more alarming to the emigrants 
+
+
+
+ioogle 
+
+
+
+2 Lies MISÉRABLES. 
+
+who viewed them from a distance, with the magnifying powen 
+of tenor, — did these cause the ideas of renunciation and soli- 
+tude to germinate in him? Was he, in the midst of these dis- 
+tractions, these affections which absorbed his life, suddenly 
+smitten with one of those mysterious ftiid terrible blows which 
+sometimes overwhelm, by striking to his heart, a man whoa 
+public catastrophes would not shake, by striking at his exist 
+ence and his fortune ? No one could have told : all that was 
+known was, that when he returned from Italy he was a priest. 
+
+In 1804, M. Myriel was the Curé of B. [Brignolles]. He 
+was already advanced in years, and lived in a very retired 
+manner. 
+
+About the epoch of the coronation, some petty affair con- 
+nected with his curacy — just what, is not precisely known — took 
+him to Paris. Among other powerful persons to whom he 
+went to solicit aid for liis parishioners was M. le Cardinal Fesch. 
+One day, when tlie Pimperor had come to visit his uncle, the 
+worthy Curé, who was waiting in the anteroom, found himself 
+present when His Majesty passed. Napoleou, on finding him- 
+self observed with a certain curiosity by this old man, turned 
+round and said abruptly : — 
+
+" Who is this good man who is staring at me?" 
+
+** Sire," said M. Myriel, " you are looking at a good man, 
+and I at a great man. Each of us can profit by it." 
+
+That very evening, the P2mpcror asked the Cardinal the name 
+of the Curé, and some time afterwards M, Myriel was utterly 
+astonished to learn that he had been appointed Bishop of D. 
+
+What truth was there, after all, in the stories which were 
+Invented as to the early portion of M. Myriel's life? No one 
+knew. Very few families had been acquainted with the Myriel 
+family before the Revolution. 
+
+M. Myriel had to undergo the fate of every newcomer in a 
+little town, where there are many mouths which talk, and very 
+few heads which think. He was obliged to undergo it although 
+he was a bishop, and because he was a bishop. But after all, 
+the rumors with which his name was connected were nimors 
+only, — noise, sayings, words; loss than words — palabres^ as 
+the energetic language of the Soutli expresses it. 
+
+However that may be, after nine years of episcopal power 
+and of residence in D., all the stories and subjects of con- 
+versation which engross petty towns and petty people at the 
+outset had fallen into profound oblivion. No one would have 
+dared to mention them; no one would have dared to recaP 
+them. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+F4NTINE. 3 
+
+M. Myriel bad anrired at D. accompanied by an elderly spin • 
+»ter, Mademoiselle Baptistine, who was his sister, and ten 
+years his junior. 
+
+Their only domestic waâ a female servant of the same age 
+as Mademoiselle Bap tis tine, and named Madame Magloire, 
+who, after having been the servant of M. le Curé, now assumed 
+the double title of maid to Mademoiselle and housekeeper to 
+Blonseignenr. 
+
+Mademoiselle Baptistine was a long, pale, thin, gentle creature ; 
+Bhe realized the ideal expressed by the word ^' respectable" ; for 
+it seems that a woman must needs be a mother in order to be 
+venerable. She had never been pretty ; lier whole life, wiiirh 
+had been nothing but a succession of holy deeds, had finally 
+conferred upon her a sort of pallor and transparency ; and as 
+she advanced in years she had acquired what may be called the 
+t>eauty of goodness. What had been leanness in her youth 
+had become transparency in her maturity ; and this diaphaneity 
+allowed the angel to be seen. She was a soul rather than a 
+virgin. Her person seemed made of a shadow ; there was hardl}' 
+sufficient body to provide for sex ; a little matter enclosing a 
+light ; large eyes forcver drooping ; — a mere pretext for a 
+soul's remaining on the earth. 
+
+Madame Magloire was a little, fat, white old woman, corpu- 
+lent and bustling ; always out of breath, — in the first place, 
+because of her activity, and in the next, because of her asthma. 
+
+On his arrival, M. Myriel was installed in the episcopal 
+palace with the honors required by the Imperial decrees, which 
+class a bishop immediately after a major-general. The mayor 
+and the president paid the first call on him, and he, in turn, 
+paid the first call on the general and the prefect. 
+
+The installation over, the town waited to see its bishop at 
+work. 
+
+!!• — M. Mtkiel becomes M. Welcome. 
+
+The episcopal palace of D. adjoins the hospital. 
+
+The episcopal palace was a huge and beautiful house, built 
+of stone at the beginning of the last century by M. Henri 
+Paget, Doctor of Theology of the Faculty of Paris, Abbé of 
+Simore, who had been Bishop of D. in 1712. This palace was 
+a genuine seignorial residence. EveiTthing about it had a grand 
+air, — the apartments of the Bishop, the drawing-rooms, the 
+chambers, the principal courtyard, which was very large, with 
+walks encircling it under arcades it the old Florentine fashion, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+4 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+• 
+
+aad gardens planted with magnificent trees. In the dining 
+ioom, a long and superb gallery which was situated on th^ 
+ground-floor and opened on the gardens, M. Henri Puget had 
+entertained in state, on July 29, 1714, My Lords Charles Brû^ 
+lart de Genlis, archbishop ; Prince d'Embrun ; Antoine de 
+Mesgriguy, the capuchin, Bishop of Grasse ; Philippe de Ven- 
+dôme, Grand Prior of France, Abbé of Saint Honoré de Lérins ; 
+François de Berton de Grillon, bishop, Baron de Vence ; César 
+de Sabrau de Forcalquier, bishop, Seignor of Glandève; and 
+Jean Soanen, Priest of the Oratory, preacher in ordinary to the 
+king, bishop, Seignor of Scnez. The portraits of these seyev 
+reverend personages decorated this apartment ; and this memo- 
+rable date, the 29th of July, 1714, was there engraved in letterf 
+of gold on a table of white marble. 
+
+The hospital was a low and narrow building of a single storyt 
+with a small garden. 
+
+Three days after his arrival, the Bishop visited the hospital* 
+The visit ended, he had the director requested to be so good a# 
+to come to his house. 
+
+^^ Monsieur the director of the hospital," said he to him^ 
+*' how many sick people have you at the present moment?" 
+
+" Twenty-six, Monseigneur." 
+
+'' That was the number which I counted,'' said the Bishop. 
+
+" The beds," pursued the director, " are very much crowded 
+against each other." 
+
+'' That is what I observed/* 
+
+^^ The halls are nothing but rooms, and it is with difficulty 
+that the air can be changed in them." 
+
+" So it seems to me." 
+
+" And then, when there is a ray of sun, the garden is verj 
+small for the convalescents." 
+
+" That was what I said to myself." 
+
+'* In case of epidemics, — we have had the typhus fever this 
+year ; we had the sweating sickness two years ago, and a hun- 
+dred patients at times, — we know not what to do." 
+
+*' That is the thought which occurred to me." 
+
+** What would you have. Monseigneur?" said the director. 
+*' One must resign one's self." 
+
+This conversation took place in the gallery dining-room on 
+the ground-floor. 
+
+The Bishop remained silent for a moment; then he turned 
+abruptly to the director of the hospital. 
+
+"Monsieur," said he, "how man}' beds do you think this 
+ball alone would hold ? " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 5 
+
+*' Monseignecir's dining-room?" exclaimed the stapefied d>- 
+?ector. 
+
+The Bishop cast a glance round the apartment, and seemed to 
+be taking measures and calculations with his eyes. 
+
+^^ It would hold full twenty beds/' said he, as though speak- 
+ing to himself. Then, raising his voice : — 
+
+^^ Hold, Monsieur the director of the hospital, I will tell you 
+something. There is evidently a mistake here. There are 
+thirty-six of you, in five or six small rooms. There are three 
+of us here, and we have room for sixty. There is some mis- 
+take, I tell you ; you have my house, and I have yours. Give 
+me back my house ; you are at home here." 
+
+On the following day the thirty-six patients were installed in 
+the Bishop's palace, and the Bishop was settled in the hospital. 
+
+M. Myriel had no property, his family having been ruined by 
+the Revolution. His sister was in receipt of a yearly income of 
+five hundred francs, which sufficed for her personal wants at the 
+vicarage. M. Myriel received from the State, in his quality of 
+bishop, a salary of fifteen thousand francs. On the very day 
+when he took up his abode in the hospital, M. Myriel settled on 
+the disposition of this sum once for all, in the following man- 
+ner. We transcribe here a note made by his^own hand : — 
+
+MOTE ON THE REGULATION OF MT HOUSEHOLD EXPENSES. 
+
+For the âttle seminary 1,500 livret 
+
+Society of the mission 100 " 
+
+For the Lazarists of Montdidier 100 '« 
+
+Seminary for foreign missions in Paris 200 " 
+
+Congregation of the Holy Spirit 160 *' 
+
+Religious establishments of the Holy Land 100 ** 
+
+Charitable maternity societies 300 *' 
+
+Extra, for that of Aries 60 " 
+
+Work for the amelioration of prisons 400 ** 
+
+Work for the relief and delivery of prisoners 500 ** 
+
+To liberate fathers of families incarcerated for debt . . . 1,000 " 
+
+Addition to the salary of the poor teachers of the diocese . 2,000 *' 
+
+Public granary of the Hautes- Alpes 100 ** 
+
+Congregation of the ladies of D., of Manosque, and of 
+
+Sisteron, for the gratuitous instruction of poor girls . . 1,500 " 
+
+For the poor 6,000 '* 
+
+My personal expenses 1,000 -' 
+
+Total 15,000 « 
+
+M. Myriel made no change in this arrangement during the 
+entire period that he occupied the see of D. As has been seen, 
+Be called it regukUing his household expenses. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+LES MISERABLES. 
+
+This arrangement was accepted with absolute submission b} 
+Mademoiselle Baptistine. This holy woman regarded Mon- 
+seigneur of D. as at one and the same time her brother and her 
+bishop, her friend according to the flesh and her superior 
+according to the Church. She simply loved and venerated him. 
+When he spoke, she bowed; when he acted, she yielded het 
+adherence. Their only servant, Madame Magloire, grumbled 
+a little. It wili be observed that Monsieur the Bishop had re- 
+served for himself only one thousand livres, which, added to the 
+pension of Mademoiselle Baptistine, made fifteen hundred francs 
+a year. On these fifteen hundred francs these two old women 
+and the old man subsisted. 
+
+And when a village curate came to D., the Bishop still found 
+means to entertain him, thanks to the severe economy of Madame 
+Magloire, and to the intelligent administration of Mademoiselle 
+Baptistine. 
+
+One day, after he had been in D. about three months, ttie 
+Bishop said : — 
+
+^^ And still I am quite cramped with it all I " 
+
+'' I should think so ! " exclaimed Madame Magloire. " Mon- 
+seigneur has not even claimed the allowance which the depart- 
+ment owes him for the expense of his carriage in town, and for 
+his journeys about the diocese. It was customary for bishops 
+in former da3*s.'* 
+
+"Hold!" cried the Bishop^ "you are quite right, Madame 
+Magloire." 
+
+And he made his demand. 
+
+Some time afterwards the General Council took this demand 
+under consideration, and voted him an annual sum of three 
+thousand francs, under this heading: Allowance to M. the 
+Bishop for expenses of carriage^ ea^yenses of 2^osting^ and eos- 
+penses of pastoral visits. 
+
+This provoked a great outcry among the local burgesses ; and 
+a senator of the .Empire, a former member of the Council of 
+the Five Hundred which favored the 18 Brumaire, and who was 
+provided with a magnificent senatorial office in the vicinity of the 
+town of D., wrote to M. Bigot de Préameneu, the minister of 
+public worship, a very angry and confidential note on the sub- 
+ject, from which we extract these authentic lines : — 
+
+"Expenses of carriage? What can be done with it in a 
+town of less than four thousand inhabitants? Expenses of 
+journeys? What is the use of these trips, m the first place? 
+Next, how can the posting be accomplished in these mountain- 
+ous parts ? There are no roads. No one travels otherwise than 
+
+
+
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+FANTINS. T 
+
+on horseback. Even the bridge between Durance and Chàtean* 
+Amoux can barely support ox-teams. These priests are all 
+thus, greedy and avaricious. This man played the good priest 
+when he. first came. Now he does like the rest; he must have 
+a carriage and a posting-chaise, he must have luxuries, like the 
+bishops of the olden days. Oh, all this priesthood I Things 
+will not go well, M. le Comte, until the £inperor has freed us 
+from tiiese black-capped rascals. Down with the Pope I [Mat- 
+ters were getting embroiled with Rome.] For my part, I am 
+for Caesar alone." Etc., etc. 
+
+On the other hand, this affair afforded great delight to Madame 
+Magloire. ^^ Good," said she to Mademoiselle Baptistlne ; 
+'^ Monseigneur began with other people, but he has had to wind 
+up with himself, after all. He has regulated all his charities. 
+Now here are three thousand francs for us ! At last ! " 
+
+That same evening the Bishop wrote out and handed to his 
+sister a memorandum conceived in the following terms : — 
+
+EXPENSES OF CARRIAGE AND CIRCUIT. 
+
+For fomishiDg meat Boup to the patients in the hospital . « 1,600 livres» 
+
+For the maternity charitable society of Aix 260 " 
+
+For the maternity charitable society of Draguig^an . . . 250 ** 
+
+For foundlings 600 •« 
+
+For orphans 600 « 
+
+Total 3,000 « 
+
+Such was M. MyrieFs budget. 
+
+As for the chance episcopal perquisites, the fees for mairiage 
+bans, dispensations, private baptisms, sermons, benedictions, 
+of churches or chapels, marriages, etc., the Bishop levied tliem 
+on the wealthy with all the more asperity, since he bestowed 
+them on the needy. 
+
+After a time, oflfering» of money flowed in. Those who had 
+an' I those who lacked knocked at M. Myriel's door, — the latter 
+in search of the alms which the former came to deposit. In 
+less than a year the Bishop had become the treasurer of all 
+benevolence and the cashier of all those in distress. Consid- 
+erable sums of money passed through his hands ; but nothing 
+could induce him to make any change whatever in his mode of 
+life, or add anything superfluous to his bare necessities. 
+
+Far from it. As there is always more wretchedness below 
+than there is brotherhood above, all was given away, so to 
+speak, before it was received. It was like water on dry soil ; 
+oo matter how much money he received, he never had any* 
+Then be stripped himself. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+8 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+The usage being that bishops shall announce their baptismal 
+names at the head of their charges and their pastoral letters, 
+the poor people of the country-side liad selected, with a sort of 
+affectionate instinct, among the names and prenomens . of their 
+bishop, that which had a meaning for them ; and they never 
+called him anything except Monseigneur Bienvenu [Welcome]. 
+We will follow their example, and will also call him tluis when 
+we have occasion to name him. Moreover, this appellation 
+pleased him. 
+
+*' I. like that name," said he. " Bienvenu makes up for the 
+Monseigneur." 
+
+We do not claim that the portrait herewith presented is prob- 
+able ; we confine ourselves to statmg that it resembles the 
+original. 
+
+III. — A Hard Bishopric for a Good Bishop. 
+
+The Bishop did not omit his pastoral visits because he had 
+converted his carriage into alms. The diocese of D. is a 
+fatiguing one. There are very few plains and a great man^ 
+mountains ; hardly any roads, as we have just seen ; thirty-two 
+curacies, forty-one vicarships, and two hundred and eighty-live 
+auxiliary chapels. To visit all these is quite a task. The 
+Bishop managed to do it. He went on foot when it waA in tlie 
+neighborhood, in a tilted spring-cart when it was on the plain, 
+and on a donkey in the mountains. The two old women accom- 
+panied him. When the trip was too hard for them, he went 
+alone. 
+
+One day he arrived at Senez, which is an ancient episcopal 
+city. He was mounted on an ass. His purse, which was very 
+dry at that moment, did not permit him any other equipage. 
+The mayor of the town came to receive him at the gate of the 
+town, and watched him dismount from his ass, with scandalized 
+eyes. Some of the citizens were laughing around him. *> Mon- 
+sieur the Mayor," said the Bishop, "and Messieurs Citizens, I 
+perceive that I shock you. You think it very arrogant in a poor 
+priest to ride an animal which was used by Jesus Christ. I 
+have done so from necessity, I assure you, and not from vanity." 
+
+In the course of these trips he was kind and indulgent, and 
+talked rather than preached. He never went far in search of 
+his arguments and his examples. He quoted to the inhabitants 
+' of one district the example of a neighboring district. In the 
+cantons where they were harsh to the poor, lie said : *' Look at 
+the people of Briançon ! They have conferred on the poor, oi 
+
+
+
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+FANTINE. 9 
+
+ifîdows and orphans, the right to have their meadows mown 
+three days in advance of every one else. They rebuild tlieir 
+houses for them gratuitously when they are ruined. Therefore 
+it Î8 a country which is blessed by God. For a whole century, 
+there has not been a single murderer among them." 
+
+In villages which were greedj' for profit and harvest, he said t 
+" Look at the people of Embrun ! If, at the harvest season, 
+the father of a family has his son away on service in the army, 
+and his daughters at service in the town, and if he is ill and 
+incapacitated, the curé recommends him to the prayers of the 
+congregation ; and on Sunday, after the mass, all the inhabi- 
+tants of the village — men, women, and children — go to tlie 
+poor man's field and do his harvesting for him, and carry his 
+straw and his grain to his granary." To families divided by 
+questions of money and inheritance he said : " Look at the 
+mountaineers of Devolny, a country so wild that the nightingale 
+is not heard there once in fifty years. Well, when the father of 
+a family dies, the boys go off to seek their fortunes, leaving the 
+property to the girls, so that they may find husbands." To the 
+cantons which had a taste for lawsuits, and where the farmers 
+ruined themselves in stamped paper, he said : " Look at those 
+jood peasants in the valley of Queyras ! There are three thou- 
+sand souls of them. Mon Dieu ! it is like a little republic, 
+z^either judge nor bailiff is known there. The mayor does every- 
+thing. He allots the imposts, taxes each person conscientiously, 
+judges quarrels for nothing, divides inheritances without cliarj^e, 
+pronounces sentences gratuitously ; and he is obeyed, because he 
+is a just man among simple men." To villages where he found 
+no schoolmaster, he quoted once more the people of Queyras : 
+"Do you know how they manage?" he said. " Since a little 
+country of a dozen or fifteen hearths cannot always support a 
+teacher, they have schoolraastei's who are paid by the whole 
+valley, who make the round of the villages, spending a week in 
+this one, ten da3'8 in that, and instruct them. These teachers 
+go to the fairs. I have seen them there. They are to be recog- 
+nized by the quill pens which they wear in the cord of their hat. 
+Those who teach reading only have one pen ; those who teach 
+reading and reckoning have two pens ; those who teach reading, 
+reckoning, and Latin have three pens. But what a disgrace to 
+be ignorant ! Do like the people of Queyras ! " 
+
+Thus he discoursed gravely and paternally ; in default of 
+examples, he invented parables, going directly to the point, with 
+few phrases and many images, which characteristic formed the 
+real eloquence of Jesus Christ. And being convinced him««'f, 
+lie was Dersnasive. 
+
+Digitized by CjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+10 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+IV. — Works corresponding to Words. 
+
+His ccKversation was gay and affable. lie put himself OQ i 
+level with the two old women who had passed their lives beside 
+him. When he laughed, it was the laugh of a schoolboy. 
+Madame Magloire liked to call him Your Grace [ Votre Gh-an- 
+deur']. One day he rose from his arm-chair, and went to his 
+library in search of a book. This book was on one of the upper 
+shelves. As the bishop was rather short of stature, he could 
+not reach it. ^^ Madame Magloire," said he, ^^ fetch me a chair. 
+My greatness [^grandeur^ does not reach as far as that shell " 
+
+One of his distant relatives, Madame la Comtesse de Lô, rarely 
+allowed an opportunity to escape of enumerating, in his pres- 
+ence, what she designated as '* the expectations" of her three 
+sons. She had numerous relatives, who were very old and 
+near to death, and of whom her sons were the natural heirs. 
+The youngest of the three was to receive from a grand-aunt a 
+good hundred thousand livres of income ; the second was the 
+heir by entail to the title of the Duke, his uncle ; tlie eldest was 
+to succeed to the peerage of his grandfather. The Bishop was 
+accustomed to listen in silence to tl)ese innocent and pardonable 
+maternal boasts. On one occasion, however, he appeared to 
+be more thoughtful than usual, while Madame de Lô was ré\&% 
+ing once again the details of all these inheritances and all these 
+" expectations.*' She interrupted lierself impatioptly : " Mon 
+Dieu, cousin I What are you thinking about?" '' I am think- 
+ing," replied the Bishop, ** of a singular remark, which is to be 
+found, I believe, in St. Augustine, — ' Place your hopes in the 
+man from whom 3'ou do not inherit.' " 
+
+At another time, on receiving a notification of the decease of 
+a gentleman of the country-side, wherein not only the dignities 
+of the dead man, but also the feudal and noble qualifications of 
+all his relatives, spread over an entire page: "What a stout 
+back Death has ! " he exclaimed. " What a strange burden of 
+titles is cheerfully imposed on him, and how much wit must men 
+have, in order thus to press the tomb into the service of vanity ! " 
+
+He was gifted, on occasion, with a gentle raillerj', which 
+almost always concealed a serious meaning. In the course of 
+one Lent, a youthful vicar came to D., and preached in the 
+cathedral. He was tolerably eloquent. The subject of his ser- 
+mon was charity. He urged the rich to give to the poor, in 
+order to avoid hell, which he depicted in the most frightful 
+manner of which he was capable, and to win paradise, which he 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+cepresented as charming and desirable. Among the audienoe 
+there was a wealthy retired merchant, who was somewhat of a 
+osurer, named M. Géborand, who had amassed two millions in 
+the manufacUure of coarse cloth, seizes, and woollen galloons. 
+Never in his whole life had M. Géborand bestowed alms on any 
+poor wretch. After the delivery of that sermon, it was observeci 
+that he gave a sou every Sunday to the poor old beggar-women 
+at the door of the cathedral. There were six of them to shaic 
+'t. One day the Bishop caught sight of him in the act of be* 
+dtowing this chanty, and said to his sister, with a smile, 
+** There is M. Géborand purchasing paradise for a sou.*' 
+
+When it was a question of charity, he was not to be rebuffed 
+even by a refusal, and on such occasions he gave utterance to 
+remarks which induced reflection. Once he was begging for 
+itie poor in a drawing-room of the town ; there was present the 
+llarquis de Champtercier, a wealthy and avaricious old man, 
+nrho contrived to be, at one and the same time, an ultra-royal- 
+bit and an ultra-Voltairian. This variety of man has actu- 
+ally existed. When the Bishop came to him, he touched his 
+«rm, " You must give me something^ M. le Marquis." The 
+llarqois turned round and answered dryly, ''^ I have poor people 
+if my oumy Monseigneur^" " Oive them to me" replied the 
+Bishop. 
+One day he preached the following sermon in the cathedral :— 
+'* My very dear brethren, my good friends, there are thirteen 
+hnndred and twenty thousand peasants' dwellings in France 
+which have but tlnree openings ; eighteen hundred and seven- 
+teen thousand hovels which have but two openings, the door 
+and one window; and three hundred and forty-six thousand 
+cabins besides which have but one opening, the door. And 
+this arises from a thing which is called the tax on doors and 
+windows. Just put poor families, old women and little chil- 
+dren, in those buildings, and behold the fevers and maladies 
+which result! Alas! God gives air to men; the law sells it 
+to them. I do not blame the law, but I bless God. In the 
+department of the Isère, in the Yar, in the two departments 
+of the Alpes, the Hautes, and the Basses, the peasants have 
+not even wheelbarrows; they transport their manure on the 
+iiacks of men ; they have no candles, and they burn resinous 
+■ticks, and bits of lope dipped in pitch. That is the state of 
+affairs throughout the whole of the hilly country of Dauphiné. 
+Fhey make bread for six months at one time ; tliey bake it with 
+Jriod cow-dung. In the winter they break this bread up with 
+in «xd and they soak, it for twenty-four hours, in cider to 
+
+
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+12 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+render it eatable. Mj brethren, have pitj 1 behold the saffer 
+iug on all sides of you I *' 
+
+Born a Froveuçai, he easily familiarized himself with the dia 
+lect of the south. He said, *'J&w bé! moussu^ ses sage?" as îq 
+lower Languedoc; ^^ Onté ayiaras passa?'* as in the Basses- 
+Alp<« ; ** Puerte un bouen moutu embe vn botœn fromage grcLse,'* 
+as in upper Dauphiné. This pleased the people extremely, and 
+contributed not a little to win him access to all spirits. He wae 
+perfectly at home in the thatched cottage and in tlie mountains, 
+fie understood how to say the grandest things in the most vul- 
+gar of idioms. As he Bix>ke all tongues, he entered into all 
+hearts. 
+
+Moreover, be was the same towards people of the world 
+and towards the lower classes. He condemned nothing in 
+haste and without taking circumstances into account. He said, 
+" Kxamine the road over which the fault has passed.*' 
+
+Being, as he described himself with a smile, an ex-sinner^ he 
+had none of the asperities of austerity, and he professed, with 
+a good deal of distinctness, and without the frown of the fei-o- 
+piously virtuous, a doctrine which may be summed up as fol- 
+lows : — 
+
+'* Man has upon him his flesh, which is at once his burden 
+ind his temptation. He drags it with him and yields to it. 
+He must watch it, check it, repress it, and obey it only at the 
+last extremity. There may be some faiilt even in this obedi- 
+ence ; but the fault thus committed is venial ; it is a fall, but % 
+fall on the knees which may U'rminate in i)rayer. 
+
+*' To be a saint is the exception ; to be an upright man is the 
+rule. Err, fall, sin if you will, but be upright. 
+
+" The least possible sin is the law of man. No sin at all is 
+the dream of the angel. All which is terrestrial is subject to 
+sin. Sin is a gravitation." 
+
+When he saw every one exclaiming very loudly, and growing 
+angry very quickly, *' Oh ! oh ! " he said, with a smile ; " to all 
+ai)pearancc, this is a great crime which all the world commits 
+These are hypocrisies which have taken fright, and are in haste 
+to make protest and to put themselves under shelter." 
+
+He was indulgent towards women and poor people, on whom 
+Che burden of human society rest. He said, *'The faults of 
+women, of children, of the feeble, the indigent, and che igno- 
+rant, are the fault of the husbands, the fathers, the masters, 
+(he strong, the rich, and the wise." 
+
+He said, moreover, *' Teach those who are ignorant as many 
+things as possible ; society is culpable, in that it does not afford 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+FANTINE 13 
+
+iftstroction gratis ; it is responsible for the night which it pro 
+daces. This soul is full of shadow ; sin is therein committed. 
+The guilty-one is not the person who has committed the sin, 
+bat the person who has created the shadow." 
+
+It will be perceived that he had a peculiar manner of his own 
+of judging things : I suspect that he obtained it from the Gospel. 
+
+One day he heard a criminal case, which was in preparation 
+and on the point of trial, discussed in a drawing-room. A 
+mretched man, being at the end of his resources, had coined 
+counterfeit money, out of love for a woman, and for the child 
+which he had had by her. Counterfeiting was still punishable 
+with death at that epoch. The woman had been arrested in the 
+act of passing the first false piece made by the man. She wafe 
+held, but there were no proofs except against her. She alone 
+could accuse her lover, and destroy him by her confession. She 
+denied ; they insisted. She persisted in her denial. Thereupon 
+an idea occurred to the attorney for the crown. He invented 
+an infidelity on the part of the lover, and succeeded, by means 
+of fragments of letters cunningly presented, in persuading the 
+unfortunate woman that she had a rival, and that the man was 
+deceiving her. Thereupon, exasperated by jealousy, she de- 
+nounced her lover, confessed all, proved all. 
+
+The man was ruined. He was shortly to be tried at Aix with 
+his accomplice. They were relating the matter, and each one 
+was expressing enthusiasm over the cleverness of the magis- 
+trate. By bringing jealousy into play, he had caused the truth 
+to burst forth in wrath, he had educed the justice of revenge. 
+The Bishop listened to all this in silence. When they had 
+finished, he inquired, — 
+
+*' Where are this man and woman to be tried?'* 
+
+** At the Court of Assizes." 
+
+He went on, '* And where will the advocate of the crown be 
+tried?" 
+
+A tragic event occurred at D. A man was condemned to 
+leath for murder. He was a wretched fellow, not exactly edu- 
+cated, not exactly ignorant, who had been a mountebank at fairs, 
+and a writer for the public. The town took a great interest in 
+the trial. On the eve of the day fixed for the execution of the 
+condemned man, the chaplain of the prison fell ill. A priest 
+was needed to attend the criminal in his last moments. The}' 
+sent for the curé. It seems that he refused to come, saymg, 
+*'That is no aflTair of mine. I have nothing to do with that un- 
+pleasant task, and with that mountebank : T, too, am ill ; and 
+besides, it is not my olace." Thifl reply was reported to the 
+
+
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+
+14 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Bishop, who said, ^^ Monsieur le Curé is right: it is not kia 
+place; it is mine." 
+
+He went instiintly to the prisoa, descended to the cell of the 
+^^ mountebank," called him by name, took him by the hand, 
+and spoke to him. He passed the entire day with him, forget- 
+ful of food and sleep, praying to God for the soul of the con- 
+demned man, and praying the condemned man for his own. 
+He told him the best truths, which are also the most simple* He 
+was father, brother, friend ; he was bishop only to bless. He 
+taught him every tiling, encouraged and consoled him. The 
+man was on the point of dying in despair. Death was an abyss 
+to him. As he stood trembling on its mournful brink, he 
+recoiled with horror. He was not sufficiently ignorant to be 
+absolu ti'ly indifferent. His condemnation, which had been a 
+profound shock, had, in a manner, broken tlirough, here and 
+there, that wall which separates us from the mystery of things^ 
+and which we call life. He gazed incessantly beyond this 
+world through these fatal breaches, and beheld only darkness. 
+The Bisbop made him see light. 
+
+On the following day, when thej' came to fetch the unhappy 
+wretch, the Bishop was still there. He followed him, and 
+exhibited himself to the eyes of the crowd in his purple camail 
+and with his episcopal cross u|X)n his neck, side by side with 
+the criminal bound with cords. 
+
+He mounted the tumbril with him, he mounted the scaffolcj 
+with him. The sufferer, who had been so gloomy and cast 
+down on the preceding day, was radiant. He felt that his soul 
+was reconciled, and he hoped in God. The Bishop embraced 
+him, and at the moment when the knife was about to fall, he 
+said to him : ** God raises from the dead him whom man slays ; 
+he whom his brothers have rejected finds his Father once more. 
+Pray, believe, enter into life : the Father is there." When he 
+descended from the scaffold, there was something in his look, 
+which made the people draw aside to let liim pass. They did 
+not know which was most wortliy of admiration, his pallor or 
+his serenity. On his return to the humble dwelling, which he 
+designated, with a smile, as his palace^ he said to his sister, 
+*' I have just officiated pontifically " 
+
+Since the most sublime things are often those which are the 
+least understood, there were people in the town who said, when 
+commenting on this conduct of the Bishop, ''^ It is affecta^ 
+tfoiu" 
+
+This, however, was a remark which was confined to the 
+« rawing-rooms. The populace, wliich perceives '^o jest in holy 
+deeds, was touched, and admired him. 
+
+
+
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+FANTINE. lÔ 
+
+As for the Bishop, it was a shock to him to have beheld the 
+guillotine, and it was a long time before he recovered from it. 
+
+In fact, when the scaffold is there, all erected and prepared, 
+it has something about it which produces hallucination. One 
+may feel a certain indifference to the death penalty, one may 
+refrain from pronouncing upon it, from saying yes or no, so 
+long as one has not seen a guillotine with one's own eyes : but 
+if one encounters one of them, the shock is violent; one is 
+forced to decide, and to take part for or against. Some admire 
+it, like de Maistre ; others execrate^ it, like Beccaria. The 
+guillotine is the concretion of the law; it is called vindicte; 
+it is not neutral, and it does not permit you to remain neutral. 
+He who sees it shivers with the most mysterious of shivers. 
+All social problems erect their interrogation point around this 
+chopping-knife. The scaffold is a vision. The scaffold is not 
+a piece of carpentry ; the scaffold is not a machine ; the scaf- 
+fold is not an inert bit of mechanism constructed of wood, 
+iron, and cords. 
+
+It seems as though it were a being, possessed of I know not 
+what sombre initiative ; one would say that this piece of carpen- 
+ter's work saw, that this machine heard, that this mechanism 
+understood, that this wood, this iron, and these cords were 
+possessed of will. In the frightful meditation into which its 
+presence casts the soul the scaffold appears in terrible guise, 
+and as though taking part in what is going on. The scaffold is 
+the accomplice of the executioner ; it devours, it eats flesh, it 
+drinks blood ; the scaffold is a sort of monster fabricated by 
+the judge and the carpenter, a spectre which seems to live 
+with a horrible vitalitj' composed of all the death which it has 
+inflicted. 
+
+Therefore, the impression was terrible and profound ; on the 
+day following the execution, and on many succeeding days, the 
+Bishop appeared to be crushed. The almost violent serenity of 
+the funereal moment had disappeared ; the phantom of social 
+iustice tormented him. He, who generally returned from all 
+fais deeds with a radiant satisfaction, seemed to be reproaching 
+himself. At times he talked to himself, and stammered lugu- 
+brious monolc^ues in a low voice. This is one which his sister 
+overheard one evening and preserved: "I did not think that 
+it was so monstrous. It is wrong to become absorbed in the 
+divine law to such a degree as not to perceive human law. 
+Death belongs to God alone. By what right do men touch that 
+unknown thing ? " 
+
+In course of time these impressions weakened and probably 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+^6 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+vanished. Nevertheless, it was observed that the Bbbo;. 
+tlienceforth avoided passing the place of execution. 
+
+M. Myriel could be summoned at any hour to the bedside of 
+the sick and dying. He did not ignore the fact that therein 
+lay his greatest duty and his greatest labor. Widowed and 
+orphaned families had no need to summon him ; he came of his 
+own accord. He understood how to sit down and hold his 
+peace for long hours beside the man who had lost the wife of 
+his love, of tlie mother who had lost her child. As he knew the 
+moment for silence, he kyew also the moment for speech. Oh, 
+admirable consoler ! He sought not to efface sorrow by forget- 
+fulness, but to magnify and dignify it by hope. He said : — 
+
+'' Have a care of the manner in which you turn towards the 
+dead. Think not of that which perishes. Gaze steadil}'. You 
+will perceive the living light of your well-beloved dead in the 
+depths of heaven." He knew that faith is wholesome. He 
+sought to counsel and calm the despairing man, by pointing out 
+to him the resigned man, and to transform the grief which gazes 
+upon a grave by showing him the grief which fixes its gaze 
+upon a star. 
+
+V. — Monseigneur Bienvenu made his Cassocks last too 
+
+LONG. 
+
+The private life of M. Myriel was filled with the same 
+thoughts as his public life. The voluntary poverty in which 
+the Bishop of D. lived, would have been a solemn and charm- 
+ing sight for any one who could have viewed it close at 
+hand. 
+
+Like all old men, and like the majority of thinkers, he slept 
+little. This brief slumber was profound. In the morning he 
+meditated for an hour, then he said his mass, either at the cathe- 
+dral or in his own house. His mass said, he broke his fast on 
+rye bread dii)ped in the milk of his own cows. Then he set to 
+work. 
+
+A Bishop is a very busy man : he must every day receive the 
+secretary of the bisliopric, who is generally a canon, and nearly 
+eveiT day his vicars-general. He has congregations to reprove, 
+privileges to grant, a whole ecclesiastical library to examine, 
+•—prayer-books, diocesan catechisms, books of hours, etc., — 
+charges to write, sermons to authorize, curés and mayors to 
+reconcile, a clerical correspondence, an administrative corre- 
+spondence ; on one side the State, on the other the Holy See; 
+and a thousand matters of business. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTJNE. It 
+
+What time was left to him, after these thousand details 
+cf basiness, and iiis ofBces and his breviary, he bestowed first 
+on the necessitous, the sick, and the aiflicted ; the time which 
+was left to him from the afflicted, the sick, and the necessitous, 
+he devoted to work. Sometimes he dug in his garden ; again, he 
+read or wrote. He had but one word for both these kinds of 
+toil; he called them gardening, ^'The mind is a garden," 
+said he. 
+
+Towards mid-day, when the weather was fine, he went forth 
+and took a stroll in the country or in town, often entering lowly 
+dwellings. He was seen walking alone, buried in his own 
+thoughts, his eyes cast down, supporting himself on his long 
+cane, clad in his wadded purple garment of silk, which was very 
+warm, wearing purple stockings inside his coarse shoes, and 
+surmounted by a flat hat which allowed three golden tassels of 
+lai^e bullion to droop from its three points. 
+
+It was a perfect festival wherever he appeared. One would 
+have said that his presence had something warming and lumi- 
+nous about it. The children and the old people came out to 
+the doorsteps for the Bishop as for the sun. He bestowed his 
+blessing, and they blessed him. They pointed out his house 
+to any one who was in need of anything. 
+
+Here and there he halted, accosted the little boys and girls, 
+and smiled upon the mothers. He visited the poor so long as 
+he had any money ; when he no longer had any, he visited the 
+rich. 
+
+As he made his cassocks last a long while, and did not wish 
+to have it noticed, he never went out in the town without his 
+wadded purple cloak. This inconvenienced him somewhat in 
+summer. 
+
+On his return, he dined. The dinner resembled his break- 
+fast. 
+
+At half-past eight in the evening he supped with his sister, 
+Madamti Magloire standing behind them and serving them at 
+table. Nothing could be more frugal than this repast. If, 
+however, the Bishop had one of his cures to supper, Madame 
+Magloire took advantage of the opportunity to serve Monseig- 
+neur with some excellent fish from the lake, or with some fine 
+game from the mountains. Every curé furnished the pretext 
+for a good meal : the Bishop did not interfere. With that ex- 
+ception, his ordinary diet consisted only of vegetables boiled in 
+water, and oil soup. Thus it was said in the town, When the 
+BUhop does not indulge in the cheer of a curé, he indulges in the 
+iheer of a trappist. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+18 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+After supper he conversed for half an hour with Mademounllê 
+Baptistine and Madame Magloire ; then he retired to his own 
+room and set to writing, sometimes on loose sheets, and again 
+on the margin of some folio. He was a man of lettere and rather 
+learned. He left behind him five or six very curious manU'^ 
+scripts ; among otht^rs, a dissertation on this verse in Genesis, 
+In the beginning^ the spirit of God floated upon the waters. With 
+this verse he compares three texts : the Arabic verse which 
+sa3's, Hie winds of God blew; Flavius Josephus, who says, 
+A wind from above teas precipitated upo7i the earth; and finally, 
+the Chaldaic paraphrase of Onkelos, which renders it, A wind 
+corning from God blew iqyon the face of the waters. In another 
+dissertation, he examines the theohogical works of Hugo, Bishop 
+of Ptolcmaïs, great-grand-uncle to the writer of this book, and 
+he establishes the fact, that to this bishop must be attributed 
+tiie divers little works published during the last century, under 
+the pseudonym of Barleycourt. 
+
+Sometimes, iu the midst of his reading, no matter what the 
+book might be which he had in his hand, he would suddenly 
+fall into a profound meditation, whence he only emerged to 
+write a few lines on the pages of the volume itself. These lines 
+have often no connection whatever with the book which con- 
+tains them. We now have under our eyes a note written by him 
+on the margin of a quarto entitled. Correspondence of Lord 
+Germain with Generals Clinton^ ComwaUis^ and the Admirais 
+on the American station. Versailles^ Poinçot^ bookseller; and 
+Paris, Pissot^ bookseller, Quai des Augustins, 
+
+Here is the note : — 
+
+" Oh, 30U who are ! 
+
+" Ecclesiastes calls you the All-powerful ; the Maccabees call 
+you the Creator ; the Epistle to the Ei)he8ians calls you Liberty ; 
+Baruch calls you Immensity ; the Psalms call you Wisdom and 
+Truth ; John calls you Light ; the Books of Kings call you Lord ; 
+EYodus calls you Providence ; Leviticus, Sanctitj* ; Ksdras, Jus- 
+tice ; the creation calls you God ; tjan calls you Father ; but 
+Solomon calls you Compassion, and that is the mo«t beautiful 
+of all your names." 
+
+Toward nine o'clock in the evening the two women retired 
+and betook themselves to their chambers on the first floor, leav- 
+ing him alone until morning on the ground floor. 
+
+It is necessary that we should, in this place, give an exact 
+Idea of the dwelling: of the Bishop of D. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 19 
+
+
+
+VI. — Who guarded his Rouse for his. 
+
+Tbe house in which he lived consisted, as we have said, of 
+a ground floor, and one story above; three rooms on the 
+ground floor, three chambers oq the first, and an attic above. 
+Behind the house was a garden, a quarter* of an acre in ex- 
+tent. The two women occupied the first floor ; the Bishop was 
+lodged below. The first room, opening on the street, served 
+him as dining-room, the second was his bedroom, and ih% third 
+his oratory. There was no exit possible from this oratory, ex- 
+cept by passing through the bedroom, nor from the bedroom, 
+without passing through the dining-room. At the end of the 
+suite, in the oratory, there was a detached alcove with a bed, 
+for use in cases of hospitality. The Bishop offered this bed to 
+country curates whom business or the requirements of their 
+parishes brought to D. 
+
+The pharmacy of the hospital, a small building which had 
+been added to the house, and abutted on the garden, had been 
+transformed into a kitchen and cellar. In addition to this, 
+there was in the gai'den a stable, which had formerk been the 
+kitchen of the hospital, and in which the Bishop kept two cows. 
+No matter what the quantity of milk they gave, he invariably 
+sent half of it every morning to the sick people in the hospital. 
+^^ I am paying my tithes^" he said. 
+
+His bedroom was tolerably lai^e, and rather difiScult to warm 
+in bad weather. As wood is extremely dear at D., he hit upon 
+tbe idea of having a compartment of boards constructed in the 
+oow-shed. Here he passed his evenings during seasons of severe 
+cold : he called it his winter salon. 
+
+In this winter salon, as in the dining-room, there was no 
+other furniture than a square table in white wood, and four 
+straw-seated chairs. In addition to this the dining-room was 
+ornamented with an antique sideboard painted pink, in water- 
+3olors. Out of a similar sideboard, properly draped with white 
+napery and imitation lace, the Bishop had constructed the altar 
+which decorated his oratory. 
+
+His wealthy penitents and the sainted women of D. had more 
+than once assessed themselves to raise the money for a new 
+altar for Monseigncur's oratory ; on each occasion lie had taken 
+the money and had given it to the poor. '' The most beautiful 
+of altars," he said, ^^ is the soul of an unhappy creature cou< 
+soled and thanking God." 
+
+In his oratory there were two straw prie-Dieu, and there was 
+an arm-chair, also in straw, in his bedroom» When, by chance, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+20 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+he received seven or eight persons at one time, the prefect, ot 
+ihe general, or the staflf of the regiment in garrison, or several 
+pupils from the little seminary, the cliairs had to be fetched 
+from the winter salon in the stable, the prie-Dieii from the ora- 
+tory, and the arm-chair from the bedroom : in this way as many 
+as eleven chairs could be collected for the visitors. A room 
+was dismantled for each new guest. 
+
+It sometimes happened that there were twelve in the party ; 
+the Bishop then relieved the embarrassment of the situation b\* 
+standing in front of the chimney if it was winter, or by strolling 
+in the garden if it was summer. 
+
+There was still another chair in the detached alcove, but the 
+straw was half gone from it, and it had but three legs, so that 
+it was of service only when propped against the wall. Madem- 
+oiselle Baptistine had also in her own room a very large easy- 
+chair of wood, which had formerl}' been gilded, and which was 
+covered with flowered pekin ; but thej^ had been obliged to 
+hoist this bergère up to the first story through the window, as 
+the staircase was too narrow ; it could not, tlierefore, be reck- 
+oned among the possibilities in the way of furniture. 
+
+Mademoiselle Baptistine's ambition had been to be able to 
+purchase a set of drawing-room furniture in yellow Utrecht vel- 
+vet, stamped with a rose pattern, and with mahogany in swan's- 
+neck style, with a sofa. But this would have cost five hundred 
+francs at least, and in view of the fact that she had only been 
+able to lay by forty-two francs and ten sous for this purpose 
+in the course of five years, she had ended by renouncing the 
+idea. However, who is there who has attained his ideal? 
+
+Nothing is more easy to present to the imagination than the 
+Bishop's bedchamber. A glazed door opened on the garden ; 
+opposite this was the bed, — a hospital bed of iron, witli a can- 
+opy of gi-een serge ; in the shadow of the bed, behind a curtain, 
+were the utensils of the toilet, which still betrayed the elegant 
+habits of the man of the world : there were two doors, one 
+near the chimney, opening into the oratory ; the other near the 
+bookcase, opening into the dining-room. The bookcase was a 
+large cupboard with glass doors filled with books ; the chimnc}- 
+was of wood painted to represent marble, and habitually with- 
+out fire. In the chimney stood a pair of firedogs of iron, orna- 
+mented above with two garlanded vases, and fiutings which had 
+formerly been silvered with silver leaf, whicli was a sort of 
+episcopal luxury ; above the chimney-piece hung a crucifix of 
+copper, with the silver worn off, fixed on a background of thread- 
+bare black velvet in a wooden frame from which the gilding ha^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FAN TINE. 81 
+
+fallen ^ near the glass door a large table with an inkstand, loaded 
+with a confusion of papers and witli huge volumes ; before the 
+table an arm-chair of straw ; in front of the bed a prie-Dieu, 
+borrowed from the oratory. 
+
+Two }x>rtrait8 in oval frames were fastened to the wall on 
+each side of the bed. Small gilt inscriptions on the plain sur- 
+face of the cloth at the side of these figures indicated that 
+the portraits represented, one the Abbé of Chaliot, bisiiop 
+of Saint-Claude ; the other, the Abbé Tourteau, vicar-general 
+of Agde, abbé of Grand-Champ, order of Cîteaux, diocese of 
+Chartres. When the Bishop succeeded to this apartment, after 
+the hospital patients, he had found these portraits there, and 
+had left them. They were priests, and probabl}' donors — two 
+reasons for respecting them. All that he knew about these two 
+persons was, that they had been appointed by the king, the one 
+to his bishopric, the other to his benefice, on the same daj-, the 
+27th of April, 1785. Madame Magloire having taken the pic- 
+tures down to dust, the Bishop had discovered these particulars 
+written in whitish ink on a little square of paper, yellowed by 
+time, and attached to the back of the portrait of the Abbé of 
+Grand-Champ with four wafers. 
+
+At his window he had an antique curtain of a coarse woollen 
+stuff, which finally became so old, that, in order to avoid the 
+expense of a new one, Madame Magloire was forced to take a 
+lai^e seam in the very middle of it. This seam took the form 
+of a cross. The Bishop often called attention to it: " How 
+delightful that is ! '' he said. 
+
+All the rooms in the house, without exception, those on the 
+ground floor as well as those on the first floor, were white- 
+washed, which is a fashion in barracks and hospitals. 
+
+However, in their latter years, Madame Magloire discovered 
+beneath the paper which had been washed over, paintings orna- 
+menting the apartment of Mademoiselle Baptistine, as we shall 
+Bee further on. Before becoming a hospital, this house had 
+been the ancient parliament house of the Bourgeois. Hence 
+this decoration. The chambers were paved in red bricks, which 
+were washed every week, with straw mats in front of all the 
+beds. Altogether, this dwelling, which was attended to by the 
+two women, was exquisitely clean from top to bottom. Thi» 
+was the sole luxury which the Bishop permitted. He said, 
+" That takes notMvg from the poor.'' 
+
+Ft must be confessed, however, that he still retained fVorn his 
+former possessions six silver knives and forks and a soup- 
+ladle, which Madame Magloire contemplated every day with 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+22 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+delight, as they glistened splendidly upon the coarse linei^ cloth* 
+And since we are now painting the Bishop of D. as he was in 
+reality, we must add that he had said more than once, ^^ I find 
+it difficult to renounce eating from silver dishes.*' 
+
+To this silverware must be added two large candlesticks of 
+massive silver, which he had inherited from a great-aunt- 
+These candlesticks held two wax candles, and usually figured 
+on the Bishop's chimney-piece. When he had any one to din- 
+ner, Madame Magloire lighted the two candles and set the 
+candlesticks on the table. 
+
+In the Bishop's own chamber, at the head of his bed, there, 
+was a small cupboard, in which Madame Magloire locked up 
+the six silver knives and forks, and the big s[K)on every night. 
+But it is necessary to add, tliat the key was never removed. 
+
+The garden, which had been rather spoiled by the ugly build- 
+mgs which we have mentioned, was composed of four alleys in 
+cross-form, radiating from a tank. Another walk made the 
+circuit of the garden, and skirted the white wall which enclosed 
+it. These alleys left behind them four square plots rimmed 
+with box. In three of these Madame Magloire cultivated 
+vegetables ; in the fourth, the Bishop had planted some flowers ; 
+here and there stood a few fruit-trees. Madame Magloire had 
+once remarked, with a sort of gentle malice : " Monseigneur, 
+you who turn everything to account have, nevertheless, one use- 
+less plot. It would be better to grow salads there than bou- 
+quets." ''Madame Magloire," retorted the Bishop, "you ai*6 
+mistaken. The beautiful is as useful as the useful." He 
+added after a pause, *' More so, perhaps." 
+
+This plot, consisting of three or four beds, occupied the 
+Bishop almost as much as did his books. He liked to pass an 
+hour or two there, trimming, hoeing, and making holes here 
+and there in the earth, into which he dropped seeds. He waa 
+not as hostile to insects as a gardener could have wished to 
+see him. Moreover, he made no pretensions to botany ; he 
+ignored groups and consistency ; he made not the slightest 
+effort to decide between Tournefort and the natural method ; he 
+took part neither with the buds against the cotyledons, nor with 
+Jussieu agamst Linnaeus. He did not study plants ; he loved 
+flowers. . He respected learned men greatly ; he respected the 
+ignorant still more; and, without ever failing in these two 
+respects, he watered his flower-beds every summer evening with 
+a tin watering-pot painted green. 
+
+The house bad not a single door which could be locked. The 
+door of the dining-room, which, as we have said, opened directly 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 21 
+
+on the cathedral square, had formerly been ornamented with 
+locks and bolts like the door of a prison. The Bisliop had had all 
+this ironwork removed, and this door was never fastened, either 
+by night or by day, with anything except the latch. All that the 
+first passer-by had to do at any hour, was to give it a push. 
+At first, the two women had been very much tried by this door 
+which was never fastened, but Monsieur de D. had said to 
+them, "Have bolts put on your rooms, if that will please you." 
+They had ended by sharing his confidence, or by at least acting 
+as though they shared it. Madame Magloire aloue had frights 
+from time to time. As for the Bishop, his thought can be found 
+explained, or at least indicated, in the three lines which he wrote 
+on the margin of a Bible, " This is the shade of difference : the 
+door of the physician should never be shut, the door of the 
+priest should always be open." 
+
+On another book, entitled Philosophy of the Medical Science^ 
+he had written this other note : " Am not I a physician like 
+them? I also have my patients, and then, too, I have some 
+whom I call my unfortunates." 
+
+Again he wrote : " Do not inquire the name of him who asks 
+a shelter of you. The very man who is embarrassed by his 
+name is the one who needs shelter." 
+
+It chanced that a worthy curé, I know not whether it was the 
+core of Coiiloubroux or the curé of Pompierry, took it into his 
+head to ask him one 'day, probably at the instigation of Madame 
+Magloire, whether Monsieur was sure that he was not commit- 
+ting an indiscretion, to a certain extent, in leaving his door 
+unfastened day and night, at the mercy of any one who should 
+choose to enter, and whether, in short, he did not fear lest some 
+misfortune might occur in a house so little guarded. The 
+Bishop touched his shoulder, with gentle gravity, and said to him, 
+" Nisi Dominxis custodierit domum^ in vanum vigilant qui ctis- 
+todiuni eam^'* Unless the Lord guard the house ^ in vain do they 
+watch who guard it. 
+
+Then he spoke of something else. 
+
+He was fond of saying, ^' There is a bravery of the priest as 
+well as the bravery of a colonel of dragoons, — only," he added, 
+^^ OUTS must be tranquil." 
+
+VII. — Cravattb. 
+
+It is here that a fact falls naturally into place, which we 
+mast not omit, because it is one of the sort which show us best 
+what sort of a man the Bishop of D. was. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+84 I^ES MISERABLES. 
+
+After the destruction of the band of Gaspard Bè8, who baû 
+infested the gorges of OUioules, one of his lieutenants, Cra- 
+vatte, took refuge iu the mou u tains. He concealed himself for 
+some time with his bandits, the remnant of Gaspard Bès'a 
+troop, in the county of Nice ; then he made his way to Pied- 
+mont, and suddenly reappeared in France, in the vicinity of 
+Barcelonette. He wa8L first seen at Jauziers, then at Tuiles. 
+He hid himself in the caverus of tlie Joug-de-l' Aigle, and 
+thence he descended towards the hamlets and villages through 
+the ravines of Ubaye and Ubayette. 
+
+He even pushed as far as Embrun, entered the cathedral one 
+night, and despoiled the sacristy. His highway robberies laid 
+waste the country-side. The gendarmes were set on his track, 
+but in vain. He always escaped; sometimes he resisted bj 
+main force. He was a bold wretch. In the midst of all this 
+terror the Bishop arrived. He was making his circuit to 
+Chastelar. The mayor came to meet him, aud urged him to 
+retrace his steps. Cravatte was iu |>ossessiou of the mountains 
+as far as Arche, and beyond ; there was danger even with an 
+escort ; it merely exposed three or four unfortunate gendarmes 
+to no purpose. 
+
+'* Therefore," said the Bishop, " 1 intend to go without 
+escort." 
+
+''You do not really mean that. Monseigneur!" exclaimed 
+the ma3'or. 
+
+" I do mean it so thoroughly that I absolutely refuse any 
+gendarmes, and shall set out in an hour." 
+
+"Set out?" 
+
+''Set out." 
+
+"Alone?" 
+
+"Alone." 
+
+" Monseigneur, you will not do that ! " 
+
+'^ There exists, yonder in the mountains," said the Bishop 
+^' a tiny community no bigger than that, which I have not seen 
+for three years. They are my good fri*>,nd8, those gentle and 
+honest shepherds. They own one goat out of every thirty that 
+they tend. They make very pretty woollen cords of various 
+colors, and they play the mountain airs on little flutes with six 
+holes. They need to be told of the good God now and then. 
+What would they say to a bishop who was afraid ? What would 
+they say if I did not go?" 
+
+" But tlie brigands, Monsiegneur?" 
+
+" Hold," said the Bishop, " I must think of that. You are 
+right. I raav meet them. Thev. ton,, need to be told of the 
+firoodGod." " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 2à 
+
+<^ But, Monseigneur, there is a baud of them ! A flock of 
+irolves ! " 
+
+^^Mousieur le maire, it may be that it is of this very flock of 
+ffolves that Jesus has coustituted me the shepherd. Whu 
+knows the ways of Provideuce ? " 
+
+*'They will rob 3'ou, Monseigneur." 
+
+" I have nothing." 
+
+"They wiU kill you." 
+
+"An old goodman of a priest, who passes along mumbling 
+his prayera ? Bah ! To what puriKJse ? ' * 
+
+'*0h, mon Dieu ! what if you should meet them ! " 
+
+"I should beg alms of them for my poor." 
+
+" Do not go. Monseigneur. In the name of Heaven I You 
+are risking your life ! " 
+
+"Monsieur le maire," said the Bishop, "is that really all? 
+I am not in the world to guard my own life, but to guard 
+souls." 
+
+They had to allow him to do as he pleased. He set out, 
+accompanied only by a child who offered to serve as a guide. 
+His obstinacy was bruited about the country-side, and caused 
+great consternation. 
+
+He would take neither his sister nor Madame Magloire. He 
+traversed the mountain on mule-back, encountered no one, and 
+arrived safe and sound at the residence of his '*- good friends," 
+the shepherds. He remained there for a fortnight,. preaching, 
+administering the sacrament, teaching, exhorting. When the 
+time of his departure approached, he resolved to chant a Te 
+Deum pontifically. He mentioned it to the curé. But what 
+was to be done? There were no episcopal ornaments. They 
+could only place at his disposal a wretched village sacristy, with 
+a few ancient chasubles of threadbare damask adorned with 
+imitation lace. 
+
+" Bah ! " said the Bishop. " Let us announce our Te Deum 
+from the pulpit, nevertheless. Monsieur le Curé. Things will 
+arrange themselves." 
+
+They instituted a search in the churches of the neighborhood. 
+AU the magnificence of these humble parishes combined would 
+uot have sufficed to clothe the chorister of a cathedral properly. 
+
+AVhile they were thus embarrassed, a large chest was brought 
+and deposited in the presbytery for the Bishop, by two unknown 
+borseracn, who departed on the instant. The chest was opened ; 
+it contained a cope of cloth of gold, a mitre ornamented with 
+diamonds, an archbishop's cross, a magnificent croëier, — all 
+Uie pontifical vestments which had been stolen a month pre 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+£6 ^ES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+viously from the treasury of Notre Dame d'Ëmbran. In the 
+chest was a paper, on which these words were written, ^''From 
+Cravatte to Monseigneur Bienvenu,^' 
+
+^' Did not I say that things would come right of themselves?" 
+said the Bishop. Then he added, with a smile, *' To him who 
+contents himself with the surplice of a curate, God sends the 
+cope of an archbishop." 
+
+" Monseigneur," murmured the curé, throwing back his head 
+with a smile. " God — or the Devil." 
+
+The Bishop looked steadilv at the curé, and repeated with 
+authority, "God!" 
+
+When he returned to Chastelar, the people came out to stare 
+at him as at a curiosity, all along the road. At the priest's 
+house in Chastelar he rejoined Mademoiselle Baptistine and 
+Miulamc Magloire, who were waiting for him, and he said to his 
+sister; "Well! was I in the right? The poor priest went to 
+his poor mountaineers with empty hands, and he returns from 
+them with his hands full. I set out bearing only my faith in 
+God ; I have brought back the treasure of a cathedral." 
+
+That evening, before he went to bed, he said again : " Let us 
+never fear robbers nor murderers. Those are dangers from with- 
+out, petty dangers. Let us fear ourselves. Prejudices are the 
+real robbers ; vices are the real murderers. The great dangers 
+lie within ourselves. What matters it what threatens our head or 
+our puree ! Let us think only of that which threatens our soul." 
+
+Then, turning to his sister: "Sister, never a precaution on 
+the part of the priest, against his fellow-man. That which his 
+fellow does, God permits. Let us confine ourselves to prayer, 
+when we think that a danger is approaching us. Let us pray, 
+not for ourselves, but that our brother may not fall into sin on 
+our account." 
+
+However, such incidents were rare in his life. We relate those 
+of which we know ; but generally he passed his life in doing the 
+same things at the same moment. One month of his year 
+resembled one hour of his day. 
+
+As to what became of " the treasure " of the cathedral of Em- 
+brun, we should be embarrassed by any inquiry in that direction. 
+It consisted of very handsome things, very tempting things, and 
+things which were very well adapted to be stolen for the benefit 
+of the unfortunate. Stolen they had already been elsewhere. 
+Half of the adventure was completed ; it onl}' remained to impart 
+a new direction to the theft, and to cause it to take a short trip 
+in the direction of the poor. However, we make no assertions 
+on this point. Only, a rather obscure note was found among 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FA NT I NE. 27 
+
+••he Bishop's papers, which may bear some relation to this mat- 
+ter, and which is couched in these terms, '''Jlie question is, la 
+decide whether this should be turned over to the cathedral on 
+to the hospitcU." 
+
+VIII. — Philosophy after Drinking. 
+
+The senator above mentioned was a clever man, who had 
+made his own way, heedless of tiiose things which present obsta- 
+cles, and which are called conscience, sworn faith, justice, duly : 
+he had marched straight to bis goal, without once flinching in the 
+Une of his advancement and his intere3t. He was an old attor- 
+ney, softened by success ; not a bad man by any means, who ren- 
+dered all the small services in his ix)wer to his sons, his sons-in- 
+law, his relations, and even to his friends, having wi^^ely seized 
+upon, in life, good sides, good opportunities, good windfalls. 
+Everything else seemed to him very stupid. Ho was intelligent, 
+and just sntlicieutly educated to think himself a disciple of 
+Epicurus ; while he was, in reality, only a .product of Pigault- 
+Lebrun. He laughed willingly and pleasantly over infinite and 
+eternal things, and at the '' crotchets of tliat good old fellow the 
+Bishop." He even sometimes laughed at him with an amiable 
+authority in the presence of M. Myriel himself, who listened to 
+him. 
+
+On some semi-official occasion or other, I do not recollect 
+what. Count ***, [this senator], and M. Myriel were to dine with 
+the prefect. At dessert, the senator, who was slightly exhila- 
+rated, though still perfectly dignified, exclaimed : — 
+
+" Egad, Bishop, let's have a discussion. It is hard for a 
+senator and a bishop to look at each other without winking. 
+We are two augurs. I am going to make a confession to you. 
+I have a philosophy of my own." 
+
+'' And you are right," replied the Bishop. " As one makes 
+one's philosophy, so one lies on it. You are on the bed of pur 
+pie, Senator." 
+
+The senator was encouraged, and went on : — 
+
+'' Let us be good fellows." 
+
+" Good devils even," said the Bishop. 
+
+" I declare to you," continued the senator, " that the Mar(}ui& 
+d'Argens, Pyrrhon, Hobbes, and M. Naigeon are no rascals. I 
+have all the philosophers in my library gilded on the edges." 
+
+'' Like yourself. Count," interposed the Bishop. 
+
+The senator resumed : — 
+
+" I hate Diderot ; he is an ideologist, a declaimer, atia a revo- 
+tntiovUt- a bviiever In God at bottom, and more bigoted than 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+88 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Voltaire. Voltaire made sport of Needham, and he was wrong 
+for Needham's eels prove that God is useless. A drop of vine 
+gar in a spoonful of flour paste supplies the fiat lux. Suppose 
+the drop to be larger and the spoonful bigger ; you have the 
+world. Man is the eel. Then what is the good of the Eternal 
+Father ? The Jehovah hypothesis tires me, Bishop. It is good 
+for nothing but to produce shallow people, whose reasoning 
+is hollow. Down with that great All, which torments me! 
+Hurrah for Zero which leaves me in peace! Between you 
+and me, and in order to empty my sack, and make confes- 
+sion to my pastor, as it behooves me to do, I will admit to 
+you that I have good sense. I am not enthusiastic over your 
+Jesus, who preaches renunciation and sacrifice to the last ex- 
+tremity. 'Tis the counsel of an avaricious man to beggars. 
+Renunciation; why? Sacrifice; to what end? I do not sec 
+one wolf immolating himself for the happiness of another wolf. 
+Let us stick to nature, then. We are at thq top ; let us have « 
+superior philosophy. What is the advantage of being at the 
+top, if one sees no further than the end of other people's noses? 
+Let us live merrily. Life is all. That man has another future 
+elsewhere, on high, below, anywhere, I don't believe ; not one 
+single word of it. Ah ! sacrifice and renunciation are recom- 
+mended to me ; I must take heed to everything I do ; I must 
+cudgel my brains over good and evil, over the just and the un- 
+just, over the fus and the nefas. Why ? Because I shall have 
+to render an account of my actions. When? After death. 
+What a fine dream ! After my death it will be a vei^ clever 
+person who cad catch me. Have a handful of dust seized hy a 
+shadow-hand, if you can. Let us tell the truth, we who are 
+initiated, and who have raised the veil of Isis : there is no such 
+thing as either good or evil ; there is vegetation. Let us seek 
+the real. Let us get to the bottom of It. Let us go into it 
+thoroughly. What the deuce ! let us go to the bottom of It ! 
+We must scent out the truth ; dig in the earth for it, and s ize 
+it. Then it gives you exquisite joys. Thon you grow strong, 
+and you laugh. I am square on the bottom, I am. Immortality, 
+Bishop, is a chance, a waiting for dead men's shoes. Ah ! what 
+a charming promise ! trust to it, if you like ! Wliat a fine lot 
+Adam has ! We are souls, and we shall be angels, with blue wings 
+on our shoulder-blades. Do come to my assistance : is it not 
+Tertullian who says that the blessed shall travel from star to 
+star? Very well. We shall be the grasshoppers of the stars. 
+And then, besides, we shall see God. Ta, ta, ta ! What twad- 
+dle all tliese paradises are ! God is a nonsensical monster. ) 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+FA NT I NE. 29 
+
+would not say that in the Moniteur^ egad I bat I may whisper vt 
+among friends. liUer pocula. To sacrifice the world to para- 
+dise is to let slip the prey for the shadow. Be the dupe of the 
+infinite ! I'm not such a fool. I am a nought. I call myself 
+Monsieur le Comte Nouglit, senator. Did I exist before my 
+birth? No. Shall I exist after my death? No. What am 
+I? A little dust collected in an oi^anisra. What am I to 
+do on this earth ? The choice rests with me : suffer or 
+enjoy. Whither will suffering lead me? To nothingness; 
+but I shall hare suffered. Whither will enjoyment lead me? 
+To nothingness ; but I shall have enjoyed myself. M5* choice 
+is made. One must eat or be eaten. I shall eat. It is better 
+to be the tooth than the grass. Such is my wisdom. After 
+which, go whither I push thee, the grave-digger is there ; the 
+Pantheon for some of us : all falls into the great hole. End. 
+Finis, Total liquidation. This is the vanishing-point. Death 
+is death, believe me. I laugh at the idea of there being any one 
+who has anything to tell me on that subject. Fables of nurses ; 
+bagaboo for children ; Jehovah for men. No ; our to-morrow 
+is the night. Beyond the tomb there is nothing but equal noth- 
+ingness. You have been Sardanapalus, you have been Vincent 
+de Paul — it makes no difference. That is the truth. Then live 
+your life, above all things. Make use of your / while you 
+have it. In truth, Bishop, I tell you that I have a philosophy 
+of my own, and I have my philosophers. I don't let myself be 
+taken in with that nonsense. Of course, there must be some- 
+thing for those who are down, — for the baref(X)ted beggars, 
+knife-grinders, and miserable wretches. Legends, chimeras, tlie 
+soul, immortality, paradise, the stars, ar* provided for them to 
+swallow. They gobble it down. They spread it on their dry bread. 
+He who has nothing else has the good God. That is the least he 
+can have. I oppose no objection to that ; but I reserve Monsieur 
+Naigeon for myself. The good God is good for the populace." 
+
+The Bishop clapped his hands. 
+
+" That's talking ! " he exclaimed. '* What an excellent and 
+really marvellous thing is this materialism ! Not every one 
+who wants it can have it. Ah ! when one does have it, one is 
+no longer a dupe, one does not stupidly allow one's self to be 
+exiled like Cato, nor stoned like Stephen, nor burned alive like 
+Jeanne d'Arc. Those who have succeeded in procuring this 
+admirable materialism have the joy of feeling themselves irre- 
+sponsible, and of thinking that they can devour everything 
+without uneasiness, — places, sinecures, dignities, power, whether 
+well or ill acquired^ lucrative recantations, useful treacheries, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+30 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+savory capitulations of conscience, — and that they shall enter 
+the tomb with their digestion accomplished. Ilow agreeable 
+that is ! I do not say that with reference to you, Senator. 
+Nevertheless, it is impossible for me to refrain from congratu- 
+lating you. You great lords have, so you say, a philosophy of 
+your own, and for yourselves, which is exquisite, refined, acces- 
+sible to the rich alone, good for all sauces, and which seasons 
+the voluptuousness of life admirably. This philosophy has 
+been extracted from the depths, and unearthed by special 
+seekers. But you are good-natured princes, and you do not 
+think it a bad thing that belief in the good God should consti- 
+tute the philosophy of the people, very much as the goose 
+stuffed with chestnuts is the truffled turkey of the poor." 
+
+IX. — The Brother as depicted by the Sister. 
+
+In order to furnish an idea of the private establishment of 
+the Bishop of D., and of tlie manner in which those two sainted 
+women subordinated their actions, their thoughts, their feminine 
+instincts even, which are easily alarmed, to the habits and pur- 
+poses of the Bishop, without his even taking the trouble of 
+speaking in order to explain «them, we cannot do better than 
+transcribe in this place a letter from Mademoiselle Bai)tistine to 
+Madame the Vicomtesse de Boischevron, the friend of her 
+childhood. This letter is in our possession. 
+
+D., Dec. 16, 18—, 
+My Good Madam : Not a day passes without our speaking of you. It 
+is our established custom; but there is another reason besides. Just im- 
+agine, wliile washing and dusting the ceilings and walls. Madam Magloire 
+has made some discoveries; now our two cliambers hung w^ith antique 
+paper whitewaslied over, would not discredit a chateau in the 'style oi 
+yours. Madam Magloire has pulled off ail the paper. There were thingc 
+beneath. My drawing-room, which contains no furniture, and which \\v 
+use for spreading out the linen after washing, is fifteen feet in height, 
+eighteen square, with a ceiling which was formerly painted and gilded, 
+and with beams, as in yours. This was covered with a cloth while this was 
+the hospital. And the woodwork was of the era of our grandmothers. 
+But my room is the one you ought to see. Madam Magloire has discov- 
+ered, under at least ten thicknesses of paper pasted on top, some paintings 
+which without being good are very tolerable. The subject is Telemachus 
+being knighted by Minerva in some gardens, the name of which escapes 
+me. In short, where the lioman ladies repaired on one single night. What 
+shall I say to you? I have Romans, and Roman ladies [here occurs an 
+illegible word], and the whole train. Madam Magloire has cleaned it all 
+off; this summer she is going to have some small injuries repaired, and 
+the whole revamished, and my chamber will be a regular museum. She 
+has also found in a corner of the attic two wooden pier-tables of ancient 
+tashion. They asked us two crowns of six francs each to regiid them, but 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
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+
+
+FANTINE, 31 
+
+it is mnch better to give the money to the poor ; and they are very ngly 
+besides, and I should much prefer a round table of mahogany. 
+
+I am always very happy. My brother is so good. He gives all he has 
+to the poor and sick. We are very much cramped. The country is trying 
+in the winter, and we really must do something for those who are in need. 
+We are almost comfortably lighted and warmed. You see that these are 
+great treats. 
+
+My brother has ways of his own. When he talks, he says that a biahop 
+ought to be so. Just imagine! the door of our house is never fastened. 
+Whoever chooses to enter finds himself at once in my brother's room. lie 
+fears nothing, even at night. That is his sort of bravery, he says. 
+
+He does not wish me or Madame Magloire feel any fear for him. He 
+exposes himself to all sorta of dangers, and he does not like to have us 
+even seem to notice it. One must know how to understand him. 
+
+He goes out in the rain, he walks in the water, he travels in winter. He 
+fears neither suspicious roads nor dangerous encounters, nor night. 
+
+Last year he went quite alone into a country of robbers. He would not 
+take us. He was absent for a fortnight. On his return nothing had 
+happened to him ; he was thought to be dead, but was perfectly well, and 
+said, " This is the way 1 have been robbed ! " And then he opened a trunk 
+full of jewels, all the jewels of the cathedral of Embrun, wliich the thieves 
+had given him. 
+
+When he returned on that occasion, I could not refrain from scolding 
+him a little, taking care, however, not t^ speak except when the carriage 
+was making a noise, so that no one might hear me. 
+
+At first I used to say to myself, "There are no dangers which will stop 
+him; he is terrible." Now I have ended by getting used to it. I make a 
+sign to Madam Magloire that she is not to oppose him. He risks himself 
+as he sees fit. I carry off Madam Magloire, I enter my chamber, I pray for 
+him and fall asleep. I am at ease, because I know that if anything were 
+to happen to him, it would be the end of me. I should go to the good God 
+with my brother and my bishop. It has cost Madam Magloire more 
+trouble than it did me to accustom herself to what she terms his impru- 
+dences. But now the habit has been acquired. We pray together, we 
+tremble together, and we fall asleep. If the devil were to enter this 
+house, he would be allowed to do so. After all, what is there for us to 
+fear in this house ? There is always some one with us who is stronger 
+than we. The devil may pass through it, but the good God dwells here. 
+
+This sufiftces me. My brother has no longer any need of saying a 
+word to me. I understand him without his speaking, and we abandon 
+ourselves to the care of Providence. That is the way one has to do with 
+a man who possesses grandeur of soul. 
+
+I have interrogated my brother with regard to the information which 
+you desire on the subject of the Faux family. You are aware that he 
+knows everything, and that he has memories, because he is still a very 
+good royalist. They rt»ally are a very ancient Norman family of the 
+generalship of Caen. Five hundred years ago there was a Raoul de Faux, 
+a Jean de Faux, and a Thomas de Faux, wlio w^ere gentlemen, and one of 
+whom was a seigneur de Rochefort, The last was Guy-Etienne- Alexandre, 
+and was commander of a regiment, and something in the light horse of 
+Bretagne. His daughter, Marie-Louise, married Adrien-Charles de Gra- 
+niont, son of the Duke Louis de Gramont, peer of France, colonel of tht 
+French guards, and lieutenant-general of the army. It is written Faux. 
+Pauq, and Faoucq. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+82 LES MISÉRABLES 
+
+Good Madame, recommend us to the prayers of jour sainted relatire^ 
+Monsieur the Cardinal. As for your dear Sylvanie, she has done well in 
+not wasting the few moments which she passes with you in writing to me. 
+She is well, works as you would wish, and loves me. That is all that I 
+desire. The souvenir whicli she sent through you reached me safely, 
+and it makes me very happy. My health is not so very bad, and yet I 
+grow thinner every day. Farewell ; my paper is at an end, and this forces 
+me to leave you. A thousand good wishes. 
+
+Baptistins. 
+
+P.S. Your grandnephew is charming. Do you know that he will soon 
+be five years old 1 Yesterday he saw some one riding by on horseback 
+who had on knee-caps, and he said, " What has he got on his knees 1 ** 
+He is a cliarming child ! His little brother is dragging an old broom about 
+the room, like a carriage, and saying, " Uu ! " 
+
+A» will be perceived from this letter, these two women under- 
+stood how to mould themselves to the Bishop's ways with that 
+special feminine genius which comprehends the man better than 
+he comprehends himself. The Bishop of D., in spite of the 
+gentle and candid air which never deserted him, sometimes did 
+things that were grand, bold, and magnificent, without seeming 
+to have even a suspicion of the fact. They trembled, but they 
+let him alone. Sometimes Madame Magloire essayed a remon- 
+strance in advance, but never at the time, nor afterwards. 
+They never interfered with him by so much as a word or a sign, 
+in any action once entered upon. At certain moments, without 
+his hiving occasion to mention it, when he was not even con- 
+scious of it himself in all probability, so perfect was his sim- 
+plicity, they vaguely felt that he was acting as a bishop ; then 
+they were nothing more than two shadows in the house. They 
+served him passively ; and if obedience consisted in disapj^ear- 
+ing, they disappeared. They understood, with an admirable 
+delicacy of instinct, that certain cares may be put under con- 
+straint. Thus, even when believing him to be in peril, they 
+understood, I will not say his thought, but his nature, to such a 
+degree that they no longer watched over him. They confided 
+him to God. 
+
+Moreover, Baptistine said, as we have just read, that hei 
+brother's end would prove her own. Madame Magloire did no| 
+eay this, but she knew it. 
+
+X. — The Bishop in the Presence op an Unknown 
+Light. 
+
+At an eix>ch a little later than the date of the letter cited ii 
+^,he preceding pages, he did a thing which, if the whole town 
+was to be believed, was even more hazardous than his trip 
+across the mountains infested with bauditA. 
+
+
+
+uigiiized 
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+by Google 
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+FANTINE. as 
+
+In the oonntry near D. a man lived qaite alone. This man^ 
+«e will state at once, was a former member of the Convention. 
+Uis name was G. 
+
+Member of the Convention, G. was mentioned with a sort of 
+horror in the little world of D. A member of the Convention — 
+can you ims^ne such a thing? That existed from the time 
+when people called each other thou^ and when they said ^^ citi- 
+zen." This man was almost a monster. He had not voted for 
+the death of the king, but almost. He was a quasi-regicide. 
+Ho bad been a terrible man. How did it happen that such a 
+man had not been bix>ught before a provost's court, on the 
+return of the legitimate princes? They need not have cut off 
+bis head, if you please ; clemency must be exercised, agieed ; 
+but a good banishment for life. An example, in short, etc. 
+Besides, he was an atheist, like all the rest of those people. 
+Gossip of the geese about the vulture. 
+
+Was G. a vulture after all ? Yes ; if he were to be judged 
+by the element of ferocity in this solitude of his. As he had 
+not voted for the death of the king, he had not been included 
+in the decrees of exile, and had been able to remain in France. 
+
+He dwelt at a distance of three-quarters of an hour from the 
+city, far from any hamlet, far from any road, in some hidden 
+turn of a very wild valley, no one knew exactly where. He had 
+there, it was said, a sort of field, a hole, a lair. There were 
+no neighbors, not even passers-by. Since he had dwelt in that 
+valley, the path whicli led thither had disappeared under a 
+growth of grass. The localitj* was spoken of as though it had 
+been the dwelling of a hangman. 
+
+Nevertheless, the Bishop meditated on the subject, and from 
+time to time he gazed at the horizon at a point where a clump 
+of trees marked the valley of the former member of the Conven- 
+tion, and he said, " There is a soul yonder which is lonely." 
+
+And he added, deep in his own mind, " I owe him a visit." 
+
+But, let us avow it, this idea, which seemed natural at the 
+first blush, appeared to him after a moment's reflection, as 
+strange, impossible, and almost repulsive. For, at bottom, he 
+shared the general impression, and the old member of the Con- 
+vention inspired him, without his being clearly conscious of the 
+fact himself, with that sentiment which borders on hate, and 
+which is so well expressed by the word estrangement. 
+
+Still, should tlie scab of the sheep cause the shepherd to recoil' 
+No. But what a sheep ! 
+
+The good Bishop was |)erplexed. Sometimes he set out in 
+that direction ; then he returned. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+84 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Finally, the rumor one day spread through the town that a 
+sort of young sliepherd, who served the member of the Convea 
+tion in his iiovel, had come in quest of a doctor ; that the old 
+wretch was dying, tiiat paralysis was gaining on him, and that 
+he wonld not live over the night. — *' Thank (îod 1" some added. 
+
+The Bishop took his staff, put on his cloak, on account of his 
+too tlireadbare cassock, as we have mentioned, and because 
+of the evening breeze which was sure to rise soon, and set 
+out. 
+
+The sun was setting, and had almost touched the horizon 
+when the Bishop arrived at the excommunicated spot. With a 
+certain beating of the heart, he recognized the fact that he was 
+near the lair. He strode over a ditch, leai)ed a hedge, made 
+his way through a fence of dead boughs, entered a neglected 
+paddock, took a few steps with a good deal of boldness, and 
+suddenly, at the extremity of the waste land, and behind loflj' 
+brambles, he caught sight of the cavern. 
+
+It was a very low hut, poor, small, and clean, with a vine 
+nailed against the outside. 
+
+Near the door, in an old wheel-chair, the arm-chair of the 
+peasants, there was a white-haired man, smiling at the sun. 
+
+Near the seated man stood a young boy, the shepherd lad. 
+He was offering the old man a jar of milk. 
+
+Wiiile the Bishop was watching him, the old man spoke : 
+** Thank you," he said, '' I need notliing." And his smile qnit- 
+ted the sun to rest upon the child. 
+
+The Bishop stepped forward. At tlie sound which he made 
+in walking, the old man turned his head, and his face expressed 
+the sum total of the suq)rise which a man can still feel after a 
+long life. 
+
+" This is the first time since I have been here," said he, 
+• that any one has entered here. Who are you, sir? " 
+
+The Bishop answered : — 
+
+*' My name is Bienvenu Myriel.'* 
+
+''Bienvenu Myriel? I have heard that name. Are you the 
+man whom the people call Monseigneur Welcome?** 
+
+'' I am." 
+
+The old man resumed with a half -smile : — 
+
+*' In that case, you are my bishop?" 
+
+*' Something of that sort." 
+
+" Enter, sir." 
+
+The member of the Convention extended his hand to the 
+Bishop, but the Bisliop did not take it. The Bishop confined 
+himself to the remark : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+FANTn\E. as 
+
+''lam pleased to see that I have been misinfonned. You 
+oertaialy do not seem to me to be ill." 
+
+" Monsieur," replied the old man, '' I am going to recover.'* 
+
+He paused, and then said : — 
+
+'' I shall die three hours hence." 
+
+Then he continued : — 
+
+'' I am something of a doctor ; I know in what fashion the 
+last hour di-aws on. Yesterday, only my feet were cold ; to- 
+day, the chill has ascended to my knees ; now I feel it mount- 
+iug to my waist ; when it reaches the heart, I shall stop. The 
+son is beautiful, is it not? I had myself wheeled out here to 
+take a last look at things. You can talk to me ; it does not 
+fatigue me. You have done well to come and look at a man 
+who is on the point of death. It is well that there should be 
+witnesses at that moment. One has one's caprices ; I should have 
+liked to lost until the dawn, but I know that I shall hardly live 
+three hours. It will be night then. What does it matter, after 
+aU? Dying is a simple affair. One has no need of the light 
+for that. So be it. I shall die by starlight." 
+
+The old man turned to the shepherd lad : — 
+
+''Go to thy bed; thou wert awake all last night; thou art 
+tired." 
+
+The child entered the hut. 
+
+The old man followed him with his eyes, and added, as though 
+speaking to himself: — 
+
+"I shall die while he sleeps. The two slumbers may be 
+good neighbors." 
+
+The Bishop was not touched as it seems that he should have 
+been. He did not think he discerned God in this manner 
+of dying ; let us say the whole, for these petty contradictions 
+of great hearts must be indicated like the rest : he, who on oc- 
+casion, was so fond of laughing at " His Grace," was rather 
+shocked at not being addressed as Monseigneur, and he was 
+almost tempted to retort "citizen." He was assailed by a 
+fancy for peevish familiarity, common enough to doctors and 
+priests, but which was not habitual with liim. This man, 
+after sdl, this member of the Convention, this representative 
+of the people, had been one of the powerful ones of the earth ; 
+for the first time in his life, probably, tlie Bishop felt in a mood 
+to be severe. 
+
+Meanwhile, the member of the Convention had been survey- 
+ing him with a modest cordiality, in which one could have dis- 
+tinguished, possibly, tliat humility which is so fitting when ono 
+is on the verge of returning to dust. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
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+
+36 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+» 
+
+The Bishop, on his side, although he generally restrained lii« 
+curiosity, which, in his opinion, bordered on a fault, could not 
+refrain from examining the member of the Convention with an 
+attention which, as it did not have its source in sympathy, 
+would have served his conscience as a matter of reproach, in 
+connection with any other man. A member of the Convention 
+produced on him somewhat the effect of being outside the pale 
+of the law, even , of the law of charity. G., calm, his body 
+almost upright, his voice vibrating, was one of those octogena-' 
+rians who form the subject of astonishment to the physiologist. 
+The Revolution had many of these men, proportioned to the 
+epoch. In this old man one was conscious of a man put to the 
+proof. Though so near to his end, he preserved all the gestures 
+of health. In his clear glance, in his firm tone, in the robust 
+movement of his shoulders, there was something calculated to 
+disconcert death. Azrael, the Mohammedan angel of the sepul- 
+chre, would have turned back, and thought that he had mistaken 
+the door. G. seemed to be dying because he willed it so. 
+There was freedom in his agony. His legs alone were* motion- 
+less. It was there that the shadows held him fast. His feet 
+were cold and dead, but his head survived with all the power of 
+life, and seemed full of light. G., at this solemn moment, re- 
+sembled the king in that tale of the Orient who was flesh above 
+and marble below. 
+
+There was a stone there. The Bishop sat down. The exor- 
+dium was abrupt. 
+
+" I congratulate you," said he, in the tone which one uses for 
+a reprimand. "You did not vote for the death of the king, 
+after all." 
+
+The old member of the Convention did not appear to notice 
+the bitter meaning underlying the words ''after all." He replied. 
+The smile had quite disappeared from his face. 
+
+'* Do not congratulate me too much, sir. I did vote for the 
+death of the tyrant.*' 
+
+It was the tone of austerity answering the tone of severity. 
+
+*' What do you mean to say?" resumed the Bishop. 
+
+*' I mean tj) say that man has a tyrant, — ignorance. I voted 
+for the death of that tyrant. That tyrant engendered royalty, 
+which is authority falsely understood, while science is author- 
+ity rightly understood. Man should be governed only by 
+science." 
+
+*' And conscience," added the Bishop. 
+
+"It is the same thing. Conscience is the quantity of innate 
+science which we have within us." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+FA NT J NE, Sr 
+
+Monseigneur Bienvena lîâtened in some astouishment to thia 
+fftDguage, which was very new to him. 
+
+The member of the Convention resumed : — 
+
+" So far aB Louis XVI. was concerned, I said * no/ I did 
+Dot think that I had the right to kill a man ; but I felt it my 
+daty to exterminate evil. I voted the end of the tyrant, that is 
+to say, the end of prostitution for woman, the end of shivery 
+for man, the end of night for tlie child. In voting for the Re- 
+public, I voted for that. I voted for fraternity, concord, the 
+Jawn. I have aided in the overthrow of prejudices and errors» 
+The crumbling awa}' of prejudices and eri-ors causes lij;lit, 
+We have caused the fall of the old world, and the old world, 
+that vase of miseries, has become, through its upsetting upon 
+the human race, an urn of joy." 
+
+*' Mixed joy," said the Bishop. 
+
+^^ You may say troubled joy, and to-day, after that fatal re* 
+turn of the past, which is called 1814, joy which has disappeared 1 
+Alas ! The work was incomplete, I admit : we demolished the 
+ancient regime in deeds ; we were not able to suppress it entirely 
+in ideas. To destroy abuses is not sufficient ; customs must be 
+modified. The miU is there no longer ; the wind is still there.** 
+
+*' You have demolished. It may be of use to demolish, but 
+I distrust a demolition complicated with wrath." 
+
+'* Right has its wrath, Bishop ; and the wrath of right is an 
+element of progress. In any case, and in spite, of whatever 
+may be said, the French Revolution is the most important step 
+of the human race since the advent of Christ. Iucomi)lete, it 
+may be, but sublime. It set free all the unknown social quan- 
+tities; it softened spirits, it calmed, appeased, enlightened; it 
+caused the waves of civilization to flow over the earth, it was 
+a good thing. The French Revolution is the consecration of 
+humanity." 
+
+The Bishop could not refrain from murmuring : — 
+
+"Yes? '93!" 
+
+The member of the Convention straightened nimself up in his 
+>hair with an almost lugubrious solemnity, and exclaimed, so 
+far as a dying man is capable of exclamation : — 
+
+" Ah, there you go ; '93 ! I was expecting that word. A cloud 
+had been forming for the space of fifteen hundred years ; at the 
+end of fifteen hundred years it burst. You are putting the 
+thunderbolt on its trial." 
+
+The Bishop felt, without, perhaps, confessing it, that some- 
+thing witliin him had suffered extinction. Nevertheless, he put 
+a g<»d face on the matter. He replied : — 
+
+
+
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+
+38 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+** The judge speaks in the name of justice ; the priest speaks 
+in the name of pity, which is nothing but a more lofty justice. 
+A thunderbolt should commit no error." And he added, re 
+garding the member of the Convention steadily the while, 
+''Louis XVII.?" 
+
+The couventiouary stretched forth his hand and grasped the 
+Bishop's arm. 
+
+'' Louis XVII. ! let us see. For whom do you mourn? is it 
+for tiie innocent child ? very good; iu that case I mourn with 
+you. Is it for the royal child ? I demand time for reflection. 
+To me, the brother of Cartouche, an innocent child who was 
+hung up by the armpits in the Place de Grève, until death 
+ensued, for the sole crime of having been the brother of Car* 
+touche, is no less painful than the grandson of Louis XV., an 
+mnocent child, martyred in the tower of the Temple, for the sole 
+crime of having been the grandson of Louis XV." 
+
+'^ Monsieur," said the Bishop, ^'I like not this conjunctioB 
+of names." 
+
+''Cartouche? Louis XV.? To which of the two do you 
+object?" 
+
+A momentary silence ensued. The Bishop almost regretted 
+having come, and yet he felt vaguely and strangely shaken. 
+
+The couventiouary resumed : — 
+
+" Ah, Monsieur Priest, you love not the crudities of the true. 
+Christ loved them. He seized a rod and cleared out the Temple. 
+His scourge full of lightnings was a harsh speaker of truths. 
+When he cried, ^Sinite jyaroidos,* he made no distinction between 
+the little children. It would not have embarrassed him to bring 
+together the Dauphin of Barabbas and the Dauphin of Herod. 
+Innocence, Monsieur, is its own crown. Innocence has no 
+need to be a highness. It is as august in rags as in fleurs de 
+lys." 
+
+" That is true," said the Bishop in a low voice. 
+
+" I persist," continued the couventiouary G. " You have 
+mentioned Louis XVII. to me. Let us come to an undersUinil 
+ing. Shall we weep for all the innocent, all martyrs, all chil- 
+dren, the lowly as well as the exalted ? I agree to that. But 
+in that case, as I have told you, we must go back further than 
+'93, and our tears must begin before Ix>uis XVII. I will weep 
+with you ov^r the children of kings, provided that you will 
+weep with me over the children of the people.'* 
+
+" I weep foi' all," said the Bishop. 
+
+" r^qually J " oxclaimod convcntionary G, ; " and if the balance 
+must inc^lino, let it be on the side of the people. They have 
+been sufifering longer." 
+
+
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+FANTTNE\ 83 
+
+Another silence ensued. The conventîonary was the first to 
+oreak it. He raised himself on one olhow, took a bit of his 
+cheek between his thumb and his forefinger, as one does 
+mechanically when one interrogates aiUl judges, and appealed 
+to the Bishop with a gaze full of all the forces of the death 
+agony. It was almost an explosion. 
+
+*' Yes, sir, the people hare been suffering a long while. And 
+bold ! that is not all, either ; why have you just questioned me 
+and talked to me about Louis XVII. ? I know you not. Ever 
+since I have been in these parts I have dwelt in this enclosure 
+alone, never setting foot outside, and seeing no one but that 
+child who helps me. Your name has reached me in a confused 
+manner, it is true, and very badly pronounced, 1 must admit ; 
+but that signifies nothing : clever men have so many ways of 
+imix)sing on that honest goodman, the people. By the way, I 
+did not hear the sound of your carriage ; you have left it yonder, 
+behind the coppice at the fork of the roads, no doubt. I do 
+not know yon, I tell you. You have told me that you are the 
+Bishop ; but that affords me no information as to your moral 
+personality. In short, I repeat my question. Who are you? 
+You are a bishop ; that is to say, a prince of the church, one of 
+those gilded men with heraldic bearings and revenues, who have 
+vast prebends, — the bishopric of D. fifteen thousand francs 
+settled income, ten thousand in perquisites ; total, twentj'-five 
+thousand francs, — who have kitchens, who have liveries, who 
+make good cheer, who eat moor-hens on Friday, who strut 
+about, a lackey before, a lackey behind, in a gala coach, and 
+who have palaces, and who roll in their carriages in the name 
+of Jesus Christ who went barefoot ! You are a prelate, — revé- 
+cues, palace, horses, servants, good table, all the sensualities 
+of life; you have this like the rest, and like the rest, you 
+enjoy it ; it is well, but this says either too much or too little ; 
+this does not enlighten me upon the intrinsic and essential 
+value of the man who comes with the probable intention of 
+bringing wisdom to me. To whom do I speak ? Who are you ? *' 
+
+The Bishop hung his head and replied, " Vermis sum — I 
+am a worm." 
+
+"A worm of the earth in a carriage?" growled the conven- 
+tlonar}'. 
+
+It was the conventionary's turn to be arrogant, and the Bish- 
+op's to be humble. 
+
+The Bishop resumed ftiildly : — 
+
+** So be it, sir. But explain to me how my carriage, which 
+is a few paces off behind the trees yonder, how my good table 
+
+
+
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+40 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+and the raoor-hens which I eat on Friday, how my twenty 
+five thousand francs income, how my palace and my lackeys 
+prove that clemency is not a duty, and that *93 was not inex- 
+orable." 
+
+The conventionary passed his hand across his brow, as though 
+to sweep away a cloud. 
+
+" Before replying to you," he said, " I beseech you to pardon 
+me. I have just committed a wrong, sir. You are at my 
+house, you are ray guest, I owe 30U courtesy. You discuss my 
+ideas, and it becomes me to confine myself to combating your 
+arguments. Your riches and your pleasures are advantages 
+which I hold over you in the debate ; but good taste dictates 
+that I shall not make use of them. I promise you to make no 
+use of them in the future." 
+
+*' I thank you," said the Bishop. 
+
+G. resumed : — 
+
+'' Let us return to the explanation which you have asked of 
+me. Where were we? What were you saying to me.»^ That 
+'93 was inexorable ? " 
+
+** Inexorable ; yes," said the Bishop. "What think you of 
+Marat clapping his hands at the guillotine?" 
+
+'' What think you of Bossuet chanting the Te Deum over the 
+dragonnades?" 
+
+The retort was a harsh one, but it attained its mark with the 
+dire(;tness of a point of steel. The Bishop quivered under it; 
+no reply occurred to him ; but he was offended by this mode of 
+alluding to Bossuet. The best of çainds will have their fetiches, 
+and they sometimes feel vaguely wounded by the want of respect 
+of logic. 
+
+The conventionary began to pant ; the asthma of the agony 
+which is mingled with the last breaths interrupted his voice ; 
+still, there was a perfect lucidity of soul in his eyes. He went 
+on: — 
+
+' ' Let me say a few words more in this and that direction ; I 
+am willing. Apart from the Revolution, whicii, taken as a whole, 
+is an immense human affirmation, '93 is, alas ! a rejoinder. You 
+think it inexorable, sir; but what of the whole monarchy, sir? 
+Carrier is a bandit; but what name do you give to Monti*e- 
+vel ? Fouquier-Tainville is a rascal ; but what is your opinion 
+as to Lamoignon-Bâville ? Maillard is terrible; but Saulx- 
+Tavannes, if you please ? Duchône senior is ferocious ; but 
+what epithet will you allow me for the elder Letellier? Jourdan- 
+Coupe-Tete is a monster ; but not so great a one as M. the 
+Marquis de Lou vois. Sur, sir, I am sorry for Marie Antoi* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+FANTÏNE. 41 
+
+nette, archduchess aud queeo ; bat I am also sorry for that pooi 
+Hugueuc^t woman, who, in 1665, under Louis the Great, sir, 
+while with a nursing infant, was bound, naked to the wais% 
+to a stake, and the child kept at a distance ; her breast swelled 
+with milk and her heart with anguish; the little one, hungrj 
+and pale, beheld that breast and cried and agonized ; the exe- 
+3Utioner said to the woman, a mother and a nurse, ^ Abjure ! ' 
+TÎvûig her her choice between the death of her infant and the 
+death of her conscience. What say you to tliat torture of Tan- 
+talus as applied to a mother? Bear this well in mind, sir : the 
+French Revolution had its reasons for existence ; its wratli will 
+be absolved by the future ; its result is the world made better. 
+From its most terrible blows there comes forth a caress for the 
+human race. I abridge, I stop, I have too much the advantage ; 
+•noreover, I am dying." 
+
+And ceasing to gaze at the Bishop, the conventionary con- 
+t;luded his thoughts in these tranquil words : — 
+
+^^Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions. 
+W'hen they are over, this fact is recognized, — that the human 
+Ltkce has been treated harshly, but tha. it has progressed." 
+
+The conventionary doubted not that be had successively con- 
+f^uered all the inmost intrenchments of the Bishop. One re- 
+mained, however, and from this intrenchraent, the last resource 
+of Monseigneur Bienvcnu's resistance, came forth this reply, 
+wherein appear^ nearly all the harshness of tlie beginning : — 
+
+*^Pr<^e88 should believe in God. Good cannot have an 
+tmpious servitor. He who is an atheist is but a bad leader for 
+the human race." 
+
+The former representative of the people made no reply. He 
+was seized with a fit of trembling. He looked towards heaven, 
+and in his glance a tear gathered slowly. When the eyelid was 
+full, the tear trickled down his livid cheek, aud he said, almost 
+in a stammer, quite low, and to himself, while his eyes «were 
+plunged in the depths : — 
+
+*' O thou ! O ideal ! Thou alone existest ! " 
+
+The Bishop experienced an indescribable shock. 
+
+After a pause, the old man raised a finger heavenward and 
+said: — 
+
+'^ The infinite is. He is there. If the infinite had no person, 
+person would be without limit ; it would not be infinite ; in 
+other words, it would not exist. There is, then, an 7. That i 
+of the infinite is God." 
+
+The dying man had pronounced these last words in a loud 
+voice* and with the shiver of ecstasy, as though he beheld some 
+
+
+
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+42 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+one. When he had spoken, his eyes closed. The effort had 
+exhausted him. It was evident that he had just lived through 
+in a moment the few hours which had been left to him. That 
+which he had said brought hi» nearer to him who is in death. 
+The supreme moment was approaching. 
+
+The Bishop understood this ; time pressed ; it was as a priest 
+that he had come : from extreme coldness he had passed by 
+degrees to extreme emotion ; he gazed at those closed eyes, he 
+took that wrinkled, aged and ice-cold hand in his, and bent ovei 
+the dying man. 
+
+" This hour is the hour of God. Do you not think that it 
+would bo regrettable if we had met m vain ? " 
+
+The conventionary opened his eyes again. A gravity mingled 
+with gloom was imprinted on his countenance. 
+
+'* Bishop," said he, with a slowness which probably arose 
+more from his dignity of soul than from the failing of his 
+strength, " I have passed my life in meditation, study, and con- 
+templation. I was sixty years of age when my country called 
+me and commanded me to concern myself with its affairs. I 
+obeyed. Abuses existed, I combated them ; tyrannies existed, 
+I destroyed them ; rights and principles existed, I proclaimed 
+and confessed them. Our territory was invaded, I defended it ; 
+ï*rance was menaced, I offered my breast. I was not rich ; I 
+am poor. I have» been one of the masters of the state; the 
+vaults of the treasuiT were encumbered with specie to such a 
+degree that we were forced to shore up the walls, which were on 
+the point of bursting beneath the weight of gold and silver ; I 
+dined in Dead Tree Street, at twenty-two sous. I have suc- 
+cored the oppressed, I have comforted 'the suffering. I tore 
+the cloth from the altar, it is true ; but it was to bind up the 
+wounds of my country. I have always upheld the march for- 
+ward of the human race, forward towards the light, and I have 
+sometimes resisted progress without pity. I have, when the 
+occasion offered, protected my own adversaries, men of your 
+profession. And there is at Peteghem, in Flanders, at the very 
+spot where the Merovingian kings had their siimmer palace, a 
+convent of Urbanists, the Abbey of Sainte Claire en Beau- 
+lieu, which I saved in 1793. I have done my duty according to 
+mj- powers, aild all the good that I was able. After which, 
+I was hunted down, pursued, persecuted, blackened, jeered at, 
+scornedy cursed, proscribed. For many years past I with my 
+white hair have been conscious that many people think they 
+have the right to despise me ; to the poor ignorant masses I 
+•resent the visage of one damned. And I accept this isolatioi 
+
+
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+FANTfNE. 4à 
+
+of hatred, without hating any one mj'self. Now I am eighty 
+six years old ; I am on the point of death. What is it that yon 
+have come to ask of me ? " 
+
+" Your blessing^" said the Bishop. 
+
+And he knelt down. 
+
+When the Bishop raised his head again, the face of the con« 
+rentionary had become august. He had just expired. 
+
+The Bishop returned home, deeply absorbed in thoughts 
+Trhich cannot be known to us. He passed the whole night in 
+prayer. On the following morning some bold and curious 
+persons attempted to speak to him about member of the Con- 
+vention G. ; he contented himself* with pointing heavenward. 
+
+From that moment he redoubled his tenderness and brotherly 
+feeling towards all children and sufferers. 
+
+Any allusion to *' that old wretch of a G." caused him to 
+fall into a singular preoccupation. No one could say that the 
+passage of that soul before his, and the reflection of that grand 
+conscience upon his, did not count for something in his approach 
+to perfection. 
+
+This ** pastoral visit" naturally furnished an occasion for a 
+murmnr of comment in all the little local coteries. 
+
+" Was the bedside of such a dying man as that the proper 
+place for a bishop? There was evidently no conversion to be 
+expected. All those revolutionists are backsliders. Then why 
+go there? What was there to be seen there? He must have 
+been very curious indeed to see a soul carried off by the 
+devil." 
+
+One day a dowager of the impertinent variety who thinks 
+herself spiritual, addressed this sally to him, ''•Monseigneur, 
+people are inquiring when Your Greatness will receive the red 
+cap !" — *' Oh ! oh 1 that's a coarae color," replied the Bishop. 
+'* It is lucky that those who despise it in a cap revere it in a 
+hat." 
+
+XI. — A Restriction. 
+
+We should incur a great risk of deceiving ourselves, were we 
+to oanclude from this that Monseigneur Welcome was " a phil- 
+osophical bishop, " or a '* patriotic cui-é." His meeting, which 
+may almost be designated as his union, with conventionary G., 
+left behind it in his mind a sort of astonishment, which rendered 
+him still more gentle. That is all. 
+
+Although Monseigneur Bienvenu was far from being a politi- 
+cian, this is, perhaps, the place to indicate very briefly what his 
+
+
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+44 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+attitude was in the events of that epoch, suppoeing that Mon 
+seigneur Bienvenu ever dreamed of having an attitude. 
+
+Let us, then, go back a few years. 
+
+Some time after the elevation of M. Myriel to the episcopate, 
+the Emperor had made him a baron of the Empire, in company 
+with many otlier bishops. The arrest of the Pope toolc place, 
+as every one knows, on the night of the oth to the 6th of July, 
+1809 ; on this occasion, M. Myriel was summoned by Napoleon 
+CO the synod of the bishops of France and Italy convened at 
+Paris. This synod was held at Nôtre-Dame, and assembled foi 
+the first time on the 15th of June, 1811, under the presidency 
+of Cardinal Fesch. M. Myriel was one of the ninety-five bish- 
+ops who attended it. But he was present only at one 'sitting 
+and at three or four private conferences. Bishop of a mountain 
+diocese, living so very close to nature, in rusticity and deprivation, 
+it appeared that he imported among these eminent personages, 
+ideas which altered the temperature of the assembly. He very 
+soon returned to D. He was interrogated as to this speedy 
+return, and he replied : *' / embarrassed theni. Tlie outside air 
+penetrated to tliem through me. I produced on them the effect oj 
+an open door.*' 
+
+On another occasion he said, " WTiat would you have? 
+Those gentlernen are piinces. lam only a poor peasant bishop.'* 
+
+The fact is that he displeased them. Among other strange 
+things, it is said that he chanced to remark one evening, when 
+he found himself at the house of one of his most notable coU 
+leagues: "What beautiful clocks! What beautiful carpets! 
+What beautiful liveries ! They must be a great trouble. I 
+would not have all those superfluities, crying incessantly in my 
+ears : ' There are people who are hungry ! There are people 
+who are cold ! There are poor people 1 There are pdor 
+people r " 
+
+Let us remark, by the way, that the hatred of luxury is not ao 
+intelligent hatred. This hatred would involve the hatred of the 
+arts. Nevertheless, in churchmen, luxury is wrong, except in 
+connection with representations and ceremonies. It seems to 
+reveal habits which have very little that is charitable about tliem. 
+An opulent priest is a contradiction. The priest must keep close 
+to the poor. Now, can one come in contact incessantly night 
+and day with all this distress, all these misfortunes, and this 
+poverty, without having about one's own person a little of that 
+misery, like the dust of labor? Is it possible to imagine a man 
+near a brazier who is not warm ? Can one imagine a workman 
+who is working near a furnace, and who has neither a singed 
+
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+FANTINE. 46 
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+hair, nor blackened nails, nor a drop of sweat, nor a speck of 
+ashes on bis face ? The first proof of charity in the priest, in 
+the bishop especially, is poverty. 
+
+This is, no doubt, what the Bishop of D. thought. 
+
+It must not be supposed, however, that he shared what we call 
+tiie ^^ ideas of the century '* on certain delicate points. He took 
+very little part in the theological quarrels of the moment, and 
+maintained silence on questions in which Church and State wer« 
+implicated ; but if he had been strongly pressed, it seems that 
+he would have been found to be an ultramontane rather than a 
+gallican. Since we are making a portrait, and since we do not 
+wish to conceal anything, we are forced to add that he was gla- 
+cial towards Napoleon in his decline. Beginning with 1813, he 
+gave in his adherence to or applauded all hostile manifestations. 
+He refused to see him, as he passed through on his return from 
+the island of Elba, and he abstained from ordering public 
+prayers for the Emperor in his diocese during the Hundred 
+Days. 
+
+Besides his sister, Mademoiselle Baptistine, he had two 
+brothers, one a general, the other a prefect. He wrote to both 
+with tolerable frequency. He was harsh for a time towards 
+the former, because, holding a command in Provence at the 
+epoch of the disembarkation at Cannes, the general had put 
+himself at the head of twelve hundred men and had pursued 
+the Emperor as though the latter had been a person whom one 
+is desirous of allowing to escape. His corresix)ndence with the 
+other brother, the ex-prefect, a fine, worthy man who lived in 
+retirement at Paris, Rue Cassette, remained more affectionate. 
+
+Thus Monseigneur Bienvenu also had his hour of party spirit, 
+his hour of bitterness, his cloud. The shadow of the passions 
+of the moment traversed this grand and gentle spirit occupied 
+with eternal things. Certainly, such a man would have done 
+well not to entertain any political opinions. Let there be no 
+mistake as to our meaning : we are not confounding what is 
+(ailed " political opinions " with the grand aspiration for prog- 
+ress, with the sublime faith, patriotic, democratic, humane^ 
+which in our day should be the very foundation of every gen- 
+erous intellect. Without going deeply into questions which are 
+only indirectly connected with the subject of this book, we will 
+simply say this : It would have been well if Monseigneur Bien- 
+venu had not been a Royalist, and if his glance had never been, 
+for a single instant, turned away from that serene contempla- 
+tion in which is flistinctly discernible, above the fictions and 
+the hatrMJb of this world, above the stormv vicissitudes of 
+
+
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+46 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+human things, the beaming of those three pare radiances, trnth, 
+justice, and charity. 
+
+While admitting that it was not for a political office that God 
+created Monseigneur Welcome, we sliould have understood and 
+admired his protest in the name of riglit and liberty, his proud 
+opposition, his just but perilous resistance to the all-powerful 
+Napoleon. But that which pleases us in people who are rising 
+pleases us less in the case of people who are falling. We only 
+!ove the fray so long as there is danger, and in any case, the 
+combatants of the first hour have alone the right to be the ex- 
+terminators of the last. He who has not been a stubborn 
+accuser in prosperity should hold his peace in the face of rnin. 
+The denunciator of success is the only legitimate executioner 
+of the fall. As for us, when Providence intervenes and stiikes, 
+we let it work. 1812 commenced to disarm us. In 1818 the 
+cowardly breach of silence of that taciturn legislative body, 
+emboldened by catastrophe, possessed only traits which aroused 
+indignation. And it was a crime to applaud, in 1814, in the 
+presence of those marshals who betrayed ; in the presence of 
+that senate which passed from one dunghill to another, insult- 
+ing after having deified ; in the presence of that idolatry which 
+was loosing its footing and spitting on its idol, — it was a duty 
+to turn aside the head. In 1815, when the supreme disasters 
+filled the air, when France was seized with a shiver at their 
+sinister approach, when Waterloo could be dimly discerned 
+opening before Napoleon, the mournful acclamation of the army 
+and the people to the condemned of destiny had nothing laugh* 
+able in it, and, after making all allowance for the despot, a 
+heart like that of the Bishop of D. ought not perhaps to have 
+failed to recognize the august and touching features presented 
+by the embrace of a great nation and a great man on the brink 
+yt the abyss. 
+
+With this exception, he was in all things just, true, equitable, 
+intelligent, humble and dignified, beneficent, and kindly, which 
+is only another sort of benevolence. He was a priest, a sage, 
+and a man. It must be admitted, that even in the political 
+views with which we have just reproached him, and which we 
+are disposed to judge almost with severity, he was tolerant 
+and easy, more so, perhaps, than we who are speaking here. 
+The porter of the town-hall had been placed there by the Em- 
+peror. He was an old non-commissioned ofi^icer of the old 
+guard, a member of the Legion of Honor at Austerlitz, as 
+much of a Bonapartist as the eagle. This poor fellow occa- 
+sionally let slip inconsiderate remarks, which the law tbev 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 4Î 
+
+Btigmatized as sedMoua speeches. After the imperial profile 
+disappeared from the Legion of Honor, he never dressed himself 
+in his regimentals, as he said, so that he should not be obliged to 
+. wear his cross. He had himself devoutly removed the imperial 
+elfigy from the cross which Napoleon had given him ; this made 
+a hole, and he would not put anything in its place. ^' I will 
+die^" he said, "^^ rather than wear the three frogs upon my heart ! *' 
+He liked to scoff aloud at Louis XVIII. *' The gouty old créa 
+ture in English gaiters I " he said ; ^'let him take himself off tc 
+Prussia with that queue of his" He was happy to combine iu 
+the same imprecation the two things which he most detested, 
+Prussia and England. He did it so often that he lost his place. 
+There he was, turned out of the house, with his wife and chil- 
+dren, and without bread. The Bishop sent for him, reproved 
+him gently, and appointed. him beadle in the cathedral. 
+
+In the course of nine years Monseigneur Bienvenu had, by 
+dint of holy deeds and gentle manners, filled the town of D. 
+with a sort of tender and filial reverence. Even his conduct 
+towards Napoleon had been accepted and tacitly pardoned, as 
+it were, by the people, the good and weakly flock who adored 
+their emperor, but loved their bishop. 
+
+Xn. — The SoLrruDE op Monseigneur Welcome. 
+
+A BISHOP is almost always surrounded by a full squadron of 
+Uttle abbés, just as a general is by a covey of young officers. 
+This is what that charming Saint François de Sales calls some- 
+where '* les prêtres blancs-becs,*' callow priests. Every career 
+has its aspirants, who form a tmin for those who have attained 
+eminence in it. There is no power which has not its depend- 
+ents. There is no fortune which has not its court. The 
+seekers of the future eddy around the splendid present. 
+Every metropolis has its staff of officials. Every bishop 
+who possesses the least influence has about him his patrol of 
+cberubim from the seminai-y, which goes the rouud, and main* 
+tains good order in the episcopal palace, and mounts guard 
+over monseigneur's smile. To please a bishop is equivalent to 
+getting one's foot in the stirrup for a sub-diaconate. It is 
+necessary to walk one's path discreetly ; the apostleship does 
+not disdain the canonship. 
+
+Just as there are big- wigs elsewhere, there are big mitres in 
+the Church. These are the bishops who stand well at Court, 
+who are rich, well endowed, skilful, accepted by the world, who 
+know how to pray, no doubt, but who know also how to beg, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
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+
+
+48 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+who feel ittle scruple at making a whole diocese dance attend* 
+ance in iheir [)er8on, who are connecting links between the 
+sacristy and diplomacy, who are abbés rather than priests, prel« 
+ates rather than bishops. Happy those who approach them! 
+Being persons of influence, they create a shower about them, 
+jpon tlie assiduous and the favored, and upon all the young 
+men who understand the art of pleasing, of large parishes, pre- 
+bends, archidiaconates, chaplaincies, and cathedral posts, while 
+awaiting episcopal honors. As they advance themselves, they 
+cause their satellites to progress also ; it is a whole solar sys- 
+tem on the march. Their radiance casts a gleam of purple over 
+their suite. Their prosperity is crumbled up behind the scenes, 
+into nice little promotions. The larger the diocese of the patron, 
+tlie fatter the curacy for the favorite. And then, there is Rome. 
+A bishop who understands how to become an archbishop, an 
+archbishop who knows how to become a cardinal, cames you 
+with him as conclavist ; you enter a court of papal jurisdiction, 
+you receive the pallium, and behold ! you are an auditor, then 
+a papal chamberlain, then monsignor, and from a Grace to an 
+Eminence is only a step, and between the Eminence and the 
+Holiness there is but the smoke of a ballot. Every skulUcap 
+may dream of the tiara. The priest is nowadays the only man 
+who can become a king in a regular mannet ; and what a king ! 
+the supreme king. Then what a nursery of aspirations is a 
+seminary ! How many blushing choristers, how many youthful 
+abbés bear on their heads Perrette's pot of milk ! Who knows 
+how easy it is for ambition to call itself vocation ? in good faith, 
+perchance, and deceiving itself, devotee that it is. 
+
+Monseigneur Bienvenu, poor, humble, retiring, was not ac 
+counted among the big mitres. . This was plain from the com- 
+plete absence of young priests about him. We have seen thai 
+he '*did not take" in Paris. Not a single future dreamed of 
+engrafting itself on tliis solitary old man. Not a single sprout- 
+ing ambition committed tlie folly of putting forth its foliage in 
+his shadow. His canons and grand-vicars were good old men, 
+rather vulgar like himself, walled up like him in this diocese, 
+without exit to a cardinalship, and who resembled their bishop, 
+with this difference, that they were finished and he was com- 
+pleted. The impossibility of growing great under Monseigneur 
+Bienvenu was so well understood, that no sooner had the young 
+men whom he ordained left the seminary than they got them- 
+selves recommended to the archbishops of Aix or of Auch, and 
+went off in a great hurry. For, in short, we repeat it, men wish 
+U> be pushed. A sairt who dwells in n paroxysm of abnegation 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
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+
+FANTINE. 41 
+
+Ib a dangerous neighbor; he might communicate to you, b}* 
+co&ti^ion, an incurable poverty, an anchylosis of the joints, 
+which are useful in advancement, and, in short, more renuncia- 
+tion than you desire ; and tliis infectious virtue is avoided. 
+Hence the isolation of Monseigneur Bienvenu. We live in the 
+midst of a gloomy society. Success ; that is the lesson which 
+falls drop by drop from the slope of corruption. 
+
+Be it said in passing, that success Is a very hideous thing. 
+Its false resemblance to merit deceives men. For the masses ; 
+success has almost the same profile as supremacy. Success, 
+that Meusechmus of talent, has one dupe, — history. Juvenal and 
+Tacitus alone ginimble at it. In our day, a philosophy which 
+is almost official has entered into its service, wears the livery 
+of success, and performs the service of its antechamber. iSuc- 
+ceed : theory. Prosperity argues capacit}'. Win in the lottery, 
+and behold ! you are a clever man. He who triumphs is vener- 
+ated. Be born with a silver spoon in your mouth ! everything 
+lies in that. Be lucky, and you will have all the rest ; be happy, 
+and people will think you great. Outside of five or six immense 
+exceptions, which compose the splendor of a century, contem- 
+poraiy admii*ation is nothing but short-sightedness. Gilding is 
+gold. It does no harm to be the first arrival" by pure chance, 
+60 IcHig as you do arrive. The common herd is an old Nar* 
+cissus who adores himself, and who applauds the vulgar herd. 
+That enormous ability by virtue of which one is Moses, -^schy- 
+lus, Dante, Michael Angelo, or Napoleon, the multitude awards 
+on the spot, and by acclamation, to whomsoever attains his 
+object, in whatsoever it may consist. Let a notary transfigure 
+himself into a deputy ; let a false Corneille compose Tiridate; 
+let a eunuch come to possess a harem ; let a military Prud« 
+homme accidentally' win the decisive battle of an e|x>ch ; let an 
+apothecary invent cardboard shoe-soles for the army of the 
+Sanibre-and-Meuse, and constiiict for himself, out of tiiis card- 
+board, sold as leather, four hundred thousand francs of income ; 
+let a pork-packer espouse usury, and cause it to bring forth 
+seven or eight millions, of which he is the father and of which 
+it is the mother ; let a preacher become a bishop by force of 
+his nasal drawl ; let the steward of a fine family be so rich on 
+retiring from service that he is made minister of finances, — and 
+men call that Genius, just as they call the face of Mousqueton 
+Beauty^ and tlie mien of Claude Majesty. With the constella- 
+tions of space they confound the stars of the abyss which are 
+made in the soft mire of the puddle by the feet of ducks. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+BO LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+Xni. ^WhaT HE BELIEVED. 
+
+We are not obliged to sound the Bishop of D. on the soora 
+of orthodoxy. In the presence of such a soul wu feel ourselves 
+in no mood but respect. The conscience of the just man should 
+be accepted on his word. Moreover, certain natures being 
+given, we admit the possible development of all the beauties of 
+human yirtuc in a belief that differs from our own. 
+
+What did he think of this dogma, or of that mystery ? These 
+secjrets of the inner tribunal of the conscience are known only 
+to the tomb, where souls enter naked. The point on which we 
+are certain is, that the difficulties of faith never resolved them- 
+selves into hypocrisy in his case. No decay is possible to the 
+diamond. He believed to the extent of his powers. '* Credo in 
+PaJtrem^'' he often exclaimed. Moreover, he drew from good 
+works that amount of satisfaction which suffices to the con- 
+science, and which whispers to a ' man, *' Thou art with 
+God!" 
+
+The point which we consider it our duty to note is, that out- 
+side of and beyond his faith, as it were, the Bishop possessed 
+an excess of love. In was in that quarter, quia mtUtum amavit, 
+— because he loved much — that he was regarded as vulnerable 
+by " serious men," " grave persons " and ^^ reasonable people" ; 
+favorite locutions of our sad world where egotism takes its 
+word of command from pedantry. What was this excess of 
+love? It was a serene benevolence which overflowed men, 
+as we have already pointed out, and which, on occasion, 
+extended even to things. He lived without disdain. He 
+was indulgent towards God's creation. Every man, even 
+the best, has within him >a thouglitless harshness which he 
+reserves for animals. The Bishop of D. had none of that 
+harshness, which is peculiar to many priests, nevertheless. 
+Ho did not go as far as the Brahmin, but he seemed to have 
+weighed this saying of Ecclesiastes : '* Who knoweth whither 
+the soul of the animal goeth?" Hideousness of aspect, de- 
+formity of instinct, troubled him not, and did not arouse his 
+indignation. He was touched, almost softened by them. It 
+seemed as though he went thoughtfully away to seek beyond the 
+bounds of the life which is apparent, the cause, the explanation, 
+or the excuse for them. He seemed at times to be asking God 
+to commute these penalties. He examined without wrath, and 
+with the eye of a linguist who is deciphering a palimpsest, that 
+portion of chaos which still exists in nature. This revery 
+sometimes caused him to utter odd sayings. One morning be 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+
+
+FANTINE. 51 
+
+was in his garden, and thought himself alone, but his sister 
+was walking behind him, unseen by him : suddenly he paused 
+and gazed at something on the ground ; it was a large, black, 
+hairy, frightful spider. His sister heard him say : — 
+
+"Poor beast I It is not its fault ! " 
+
+Why not mention these almost divinely childish sayings of 
+kindness ? Puerile they may be ; but these sublime puerilities 
+were peculiar to Saint Francis d'Assisi and of Marcus Aure- 
+lius. One day he sprained his ankle in his effort to avoid step- 
+ping on an ant. Thus lived thjs just man. Sometimes he fell 
+asleep in his garden, and then there was nothing more venerable 
+possible. 
+
+Monseigneur Bienvenu had formerly been, if the stories anent 
+his youth, and even in regard to his manhood, were to be be- 
+lieved, a passionate, and, possibly, a violent man. His universal 
+suavity was less an instinct of nature than the result of a 
+gi-and conviction which had filtered into his heart through the 
+medinm of life, and had trickled there slowly, thought by 
+thought; for, in a character, as in a reck, there may exist 
+apertures made by drops of water. These hollows are un- 
+effaeeable; these formations are indestructible. 
+
+In 1815, as we think we have already said, he reached his 
+seventy-fifth birthday, but he did not appear to be more than 
+sixty. He was not tall ; he was rather plump ; and, in order to 
+combat this tendency, he was fond of taking long strolls on foot : 
+his step was firm, and his form was but slightly bent, a detail from 
+which we do not pretend to draw any conclusion. Gregory XVI., 
+at the age of eighty, held himself erect and smiling, which did 
+not prevent him from being a bad bishop. Monseigneur Wel- 
+come had what the people term " a fine head," but so amiable 
+was he that they forgot that it was fine. 
+
+When he conversed with that infantile gayety which was one 
+of his charms, and of which we have already spoken, people felt 
+at their ease with him, and Joy seemed to radiate from his whole 
+person. His fresh and ruddy complexion, his very white teeth, 
+all of which he had preserved, and which were displayed by his 
+smile, gave him that open and easy air which causes the remark 
+to be made of a man, *' He's a good fellow " ; and of an old man, 
+"He is a fine man." That, it will be recalled, was the effect 
+which he produced upon fîapoleon. On the first encounter, and 
+to one who saw him for the first time, he was nothing, in fact, 
+but a fine man. But if one remained near him for a few hours, 
+and beheld him in the least degree pensive, the fine man became 
+gradually transfigured,, and took on some imposing quality, I 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+62 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+know not what ; his broad and serious brow, rendered august b^ 
+bis white locks, became august also by virtue of meditation; 
+najesty radiated from his goodness, though his goodness ceased 
+*iot to be radiant ; one experienced something of the emotion 
+which one would feel on beholding a smiling angel slowly unfold 
+his wings, without ceasing to smile. Respect, an unutterable 
+respect, penetrated you by degrees and mounted to your heart, 
+and one felt that one had before him one of those strong, thor- 
+oughly tried, and indulgent souls where thought is so grand 
+that it can no longer be anything but gentle. 
+
+As we have seen, prayer, the celebration of the offices of re- 
+ligion, alms-giving, the consolation of the afflicted, the cultivation 
+of a bit of land, fraternity, frugality, hospitality, renunciation, 
+confidence, study, work, filled every day of his life. Filled is 
+exactly the word ; certainly the Bishop's day was quite full to the 
+bnm, of good words and good deeds.' Nevertheless, it was not 
+complete if cold or rainy weather prevented his passing an hour or 
+two in his garden before going to bod, and after tlie two women 
+had retired. It seemed to be a sort of rite with him, to prepare 
+himself for slumber by meditation in the presence of the grand 
+spectacles of the nocturnal heavens. Sometimes, if the two old 
+women were not asleep, they heard him pacing slowly along the 
+walks at a very advanced hour of the night. He was there 
+alone, communing with himself, peaceful, adoring, comparing 
+the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the ether, moved 
+amid the darkness by the visible splendor of the constellations 
+and the invisible splendor of God, opening his heart to the 
+thoughts which fall from the Unknown. At such moments, 
+while he offered his heart at the hour when nocturnal flowers 
+offer their perfume, illuminated like a lamp amid the starry 
+night, as he poured himself out in ecstasy in the midst of the 
+jni versai radiance of creation, he could not have told himself, 
+probably, what was passing in his spirit ; he felt something take 
+its flight from him, and something descend into him. Mysteri- 
+ous exchange of the ab3'sses of tlie soul with the abysses of the 
+universe ! 
+
+He thought of the grandeur and the presence of God ; of the 
+future eternit3', that strange mystery; of the eternity past, a 
+mystery still more strange ; of all the infinities, which pierced 
+their way into all his senses, beneath his eyes ; and, without 
+seeking to comprehend tlie incomprehensible, he gazed upon it. 
+He did not stud}' God ; he was dazzled by him. Ho considered 
+'those magnificent conjunctions of atoms, wliich communicate 
+aspects to matter, reveal forces by verifying them, create indi- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+FANTINE. 53 
+
+riduatities in unity, proportions in extent, the innumerable in 
+the infinite, and, tbrougli light, produce beauty. These cou- 
+juuctions are formed and dissolved iuoessantly ; hence life and 
+death. 
+
+He seated himself on a wooden bench, with his back agaiust 
+.1 decrepit vine ; he gazed at the str«rs, past the puny and stunted 
+silhouettes of his fruit-trees. This quarter of an acre, so poorly 
+planted, so encumbered with mean buildings and sheds, was dear 
+to him, and satisfied his wants. 
+
+What more was needed by this old man, who divided the lei 
+sare of his life, where there was so little leisure, between gar- 
+dening in the daytime and contemplation at night ? Was not 
+this narrow enclosure, with the heavens for a ceiling, sufFudeut 
+to enable him to adore God in his most divine works, in turo " 
+Does not this comprehend all, in fact? and what is there left U 
+ileâire beyond it? A little garden in which to walk, and immen- 
+sity in which to dream. At ope's feet that which can be culti- 
+vated and plucked ; over head that which one can study and medi- 
+tate upon : some flowers on earth, and all the stars in the sky, 
+
+XIV. — What he thought. 
+
+One last word. 
+
+Since this sort of details might, particularly at the present 
+moment, and to use an expression now in fashion, give to the 
+Bishop of D. a certain '^ pantheistical" physiognomy, and 
+induce the belief, either to his credit or his discredit, that he 
+entertained one of those personal philosophies wliich are pecu- 
+liar to our century, which sometimes spring up in solitary spirits, 
+and there take on a form and grow until &ey usurp the place of 
+religion, we insist upon it, that not one of those persons who 
+knew Monseigneur Welcome would have thought himself author- 
+ized to think anything of the sort. That which enlightened 
+this man was his heart. His wisdom was made of the light 
+which comes from there. 
+
+No systems ; many works. Abstruse speculations contain 
+vertigo ; no, there is nothing to indicate that he risked his mind 
+in apocalypses. The apostle may be daring, but the bishop must 
+be timid.* He would probably have felt a scruple at sounding 
+too far in advance certain problems which are, in a manner, 
+reserved for terrible great minds. There is a sacred horror be- 
+neath the porches of the enigma ; those glolmy openings stand 
+yawning there, but something tells you, you, a passer-by in 
+life, that you must not enter. Woe to him who penetrates 
+thither! 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+64 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Geniuses in the impenetrable depths of abstraction and pun» 
+spéculation, situated, so to speak, a))Ove all dogmas, propose 
+their ideas to (iod. Their prayer audaciously offers discussion. 
+Their adoration interrogates. This is direct religion, which 
+is full of anxiet}' and responsibility for him who attempts ita 
+steep cliffs. 
+
+Human meditation has no limits. At its own risk and peril 
+it analyzes and digs deep into its own bedazzlement. One might 
+almost say, that by a sort of splendid reaction, it with it daz- 
+zles nature ; the mysterious world which surrounds us render» 
+back what it has received ; it is probable that the contemplator» 
+are contemplated. However that may be, there are on earth 
+men who — are they men ? — perceive distinctly at the verge of 
+the horizons of revery the heights of the absolute, and who 
+have the terrible vision of the infinite mountain. Monseigneur 
+Welcome was not one of those men ; Monseigneur Welcome 
+was not a genius. He would. have feared those sublimities 
+whence some very great men even, like Swedenborg and Pascal, 
+have slipped into insanity. Certainly, these powerful reveries 
+have their moral utility, and by these arduous paths one ap- 
+proaches to ideal perfection. As for him, he took the path 
+which shortens, — the Gospel's. 
+
+He did not attempt to impart to his chasuble the folds of 
+Elijah's mantle ; he projected no ray of future upon the dark 
+groundswell of events ; he did not seek to condense in flame the 
+light of tilings ; he had nothing of the prophet and nothing of 
+the magician about him. This humble soul loved, and that was 
+all. 
+
+That he carried prayer to the pitch of a superhuman aspira- 
+tion is probable : but one can no more pra}- too much than one 
+can love too much ; and if it is a heresy to pray beyond the texts. 
+Saint Theresa and Saint Jerome would be heretics. 
+
+He inclined towards all that groans and all that expiates. 
+The universe appeared to him like an immense malady ; every- 
+where he felt fever, everywhere he heard the sound of suffering, 
+and, without seeking to solve the enigma, he strove to dress the 
+wound. The teiTil)ïe spectacle of created things developed ten- 
+derness in him ; he was occupied only in finding for himself, 
+and in inspiring others with the best way to compassionate 
+and relieve. That which exists was for this good and rare 
+pHest a permanentu subject of sadness which sought consola- 
+tion. V 
+
+There are men who toil at extracting gold ; he toiled at the 
+extraction of pity. Univereal misery was his mine. The 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+FANTINE. M 
+
+MfdnesB which reigned everywhere was hut an excuse foi unfailing 
+kindness. Love each other; 'he declared this to be complete, 
+desired nothing further, and that was the whole of his doctrine. 
+One day^ that man who believed himself to be a ^^ philosopher, ** 
+the senator who has already been alluded to, said to the Bishop : 
+''Just survey the spectacle of the world: all war against all; 
+the strongest has the most wit. Your love each other is non- 
+sense." — " Well" replied Monseigneur Welcome, without con- 
+testing the point, ^^if it is nonsense j the said shotUd shut itselj 
+up in it^ as the pearl in the oyster,** Thus he shut himself up, 
+he lived there, he was absolutely satisfied with it, leaving on 
+one side the prodigious questions which attract and tciTify, the 
+fathomless perspectives of abstraction, the precipices of meta- 
+physics — all those profundities which converge, for the apostle 
+in (rod, for the atheist in nothingness ; destiny, good and evil, 
+the war of being against being, the conscience of man, the 
+thoughtful somnambulism of the animal, the transformation in 
+death, the recapitulation of existences which the tomb contains, 
+the incomprehensible grafting of successive loves on the per- 
+sistent /, the essence, the substance, the Nile, and the Ens, the 
+soul, uatm*e, liberty, necessity ; perpendicular problems, sinister 
+ol)seuritie8, where lean the gigantic archangels of the human 
+mind ; formidable abysses, which Lucretius, Manou, Saint 
+Paul, Dante, contemplate with eyes flashing lightning, which 
+seems b}* its steady gaze on the infinite to cause stars to blaze 
+forth there. 
+
+Monseigneur Bienvenu was simply a man who took note of 
+the exterior of m3sterious questions without scrutinizing them, 
+and without troubling his own mind with them, and who cher- 
+ished in his own soul a grave respect for darkness. 
+
+
+
+^cfi^Soo 
+
+
+
+BOOK SECOND.— THE FALL. 
+
+I. — The Evening op a Day of Walking. 
+
+Early in the month of October, 1815, about an hour before 
+sunset, a man who was travelling on foot entered the little 
+town of D. The few inhabitants who were at their windows or 
+on their thresholds at the moment stared at this traveller with 
+& sort of uneasiness. It was difficult to encounter a wavfarei 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+5C LES MISERABLES. 
+
+of more wrctchf.'d appearance. He was a man of medium stat 
+ure, thickset aud robust, in the prime of life. He might have 
+been forty-six or forty-eight years old. A cap with a drooping 
+leather visor partly concealed his face, burned and tanned by 
+sun and wind, and dripping with perspiration. His shirt ol 
+coarse yellow linen, fastened at the neck by a small silver an- 
+chor, permitted a view of his hairy breast : he had a cravat 
+twisted into a sti'ing ; trousers of blue drilling, worn and thread- 
+bare, white on one knee and torn on the other ; an old gray, tat- 
+tered blouse, patched on one of the elbows with a bit of green 
+cloth sewed on with twine ; a tightly packed soldier's knapsack, 
+well buckled and perfectly new, on his back; an enormous, 
+knott}' stick in his hand ; iron-shod shoes on his stockingless 
+feet ; a shaved head and a long beard. 
+
+The sweat, the heat, the journey on foot, the dust, added I 
+know not what sordid quality to this dilapidated whole. His 
+hair was closely cut, yet bristling, for it had begun to grow a lit- 
+tle, and did not seem to have been cut for some time. 
+
+No one knew him. He was evidently only a chance passer- 
+by. Whence came he ? From the soath ; from the seashore, 
+perhaps, for he made his entrance into D. by the same street 
+which, seven months previously, had witnessed the passage of 
+the Emperor Napoleon on his way from Cannes to Paris. This 
+man must have been walking all day. He seemed very much 
+fatigued. Some women of the ancient market town which is 
+situated below the city had seen him pause beneath the trees of 
+the boulevard Gassendi, and drink at the fountain which stands 
+at the end of the promenade. He must have been very thirsty : 
+for the children who followed him saw him stop again for a 
+drink, two hundred paces further on, at the fountain in the 
+market-place. 
+
+On arriving at the corner of the Rue Poichevert, he turned to 
+the left, and directed his steps toward the town-hall. He 
+entered, then came out a quarter of an hour later. A gendarme 
+was seated near the door, on the stone bench which General 
+Drouot had mounted on the 4th of March to read to the fright- 
+ened throng of inhabitants of D. the proclamation of the Gulf 
+Juan. The man pulled off his cap and humbly saluted tlie 
+gendarme. 
+
+The gendarme, without replying to his salute, stared atten 
+tively at him, followed him for a while with his eyes, and then 
+entered the town-hall. 
+
+There then existed at D. a fine inn at the sign of the C^^ss 
+of Colbas. This inn had for a landlord a certain Jacquio 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 5Ï 
+
+Labarre, a man of consideration in the town on account of hia 
+relationship to another Labarre, who kept the inn of the Titrée 
+Dauphins in Grenoble, and had served in the Guides. At tlie 
+time of the Emperor's landing many rumors had circulated 
+throughout the country with regard to this inn of the Three 
+Lktuphins. It was said that General Bertrand, disguised as a 
+carter, had made frequent trips thither in the month of Januarj-, 
+and that he had distributed crosses of honor to the soldiers and 
+bandfuls of gold to the citizens. The truth is, that when the Em- 
+peror entered Grenoble he had refused to install himself at the 
+hotel of the prefecture ; he had thanked the mayor, saying, ^^lam 
+goiuQ to the house of a hxtve rnaii of my aoquaintance*' ; and he 
+had betaken himself to the Three Dauphins, This glory of the 
+Ubarre of the Three Dauphins was reflected upon the Labarre 
+of the Cross of Oolbas, at a distance of five and twenty leagues. 
+It was said of him in the town, ** Tliat is the cousin of the man 
+of Grenoble," 
+
+The man bent his steps towards this inn, which was the best in 
+the country -side. He entered the kitchen, which opened on a 
+level with the street. All the stoves were lighted ; a huge fire 
+blaaed gayly in the fireplace. The host, who was also the chief 
+cook, was going from one stew-pan to another, very busily 
+snperintending an excellent dinner designed for the wagoners, 
+whose loud talking, conversation, and laughter were audible from 
+an adjoining apartment. Any one who has travelled knows that 
+there is no one who indulges in better cheer than wagoners. A 
+fat marmot, flanked by white partridges and heather-cocks, was 
+turning on a long spit before the fire ; on the stove, two huge 
+carps from Lake Lauzet and a trout from Lake Alloz were 
+cooking. 
+
+The host, hearing the door open and seeing a newcomer enter, 
+8aid, without raising his eyes from his stoves : — 
+
+"What do you wish, sir?" 
+
+" Food and lodging," said the man. 
+
+"Nothing easier," replied the host. At that moment he 
+^rned his head, took in the traveller's appearance with a 
+single glance, and added, '* By paying for it." 
+
+The man drew a large leather purse from the pocket of his 
+blonse, and answered, " I have money." 
+
+"In that case, we are ai; your service," said the host. 
+
+The man put his purse back in his pocket, removed his knap 
+sack from his back, put it on the ground near the door, retained 
+his grtick in his hand, and seated himself on a low stool close to 
+the tire. D. is in the mountains. The evenings are cold there 
+JÏ October. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+68 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+But as the host went back and forth, be scrutinized the trav 
+eller. 
+
+" Will dinner be ready soon? " said the man. 
+
+*' Immediately," replied the landlord. 
+
+While the newcomer was warming himself before tûe fire, with 
+his back turned, the worthy host, Jaequin Labarre, drew a pencil 
+from his pocket, then tore off the corner of an old newspaper 
+which was lyiug on a small table near the window. On the white 
+margin he wrote a line or two, folded it without sealing, and 
+then intrusted this scrap of paper to a child who seemed to 
+serve him in the capacity both of scullion and lackey. The 
+landlord w^hispered a word in the scullion's ear, and the child 
+set off on a run in the direction of the town-hall. 
+
+The traveller saw nothing of all this. 
+
+Once more he inquired, '* Will dinner be ready soon?" 
+
+*' Immediately," responded the host. 
+
+The child returned. He brought back the paper. The host 
+unfolded it eagerly, like a person who is expecting a reply. 
+He seemed to read it attentively, then tossed his head, and re- 
+mained thoughtful for a moment. Then he took a step in the 
+direction of the traveller, who appeared to be immersed in 
+reflections which were not very serene. 
+
+*' I cannot receive you, sir," said he. 
+
+The man half ro.^e. 
+
+''What! Are you afraid that I will not pay you? Do yon 
+want me to pay you in advance? I have money, I tell you." 
+
+'' It is not that." 
+
+''What then?" 
+
+" You have money — " 
+
+" Yes," said the man. 
+
+" And I," said the host, " have no room." 
+
+The man resumed tranquilly, " Put me in the stable." 
+
+" I cannot." 
+
+"Why?" 
+
+*' The horses take up all the space." 
+
+" Very well ! " retorted the man ; " a comer of the loft then. 
+a truss of straw. We will see about that after dinner." 
+
+" I cannot give you any dinner." 
+
+This declaration, made in a measured but firm tone, struck 
+the stranger as grave. He rose. 
+
+'• Ah ! bah ! But I am dying of hunger. I have been walk- 
+ing since sunrise. I have travelled twelve league/»^ I pay. I 
+wish to eat."- • 
+
+" I have nothing," said the landlord. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 5^ 
+
+Tha man burst ont laughing, and turned towards the flre|)Ue6 
+iiod the stoves : ^^ Nothing I and all that?" 
+
+^* All that is engaged." 
+
+'♦By whom?** 
+
+•* By messieurs the wagoners." 
+
+•* How many are there of them?" 
+
+•♦Twelve." 
+
+*♦ There is enough food there for twenty.** 
+
+♦♦ They have engaged the whole of it and paid for It in ad- 
+nmce/' 
+
+The man seated himself again, and said, without raising his 
+foioe, *^ I am at an inn ; I am hungry, and I shall remain." 
+
+Then the host bent down to his ear, and said in a tone which 
+made him start, '' Go away ! " 
+
+At that moment the ti*ayeller was bending forward and thrust* 
+Ing some brands into the fire with the iron-shod tip of his staff ; 
+he turned quickly round, and as he opened }iis mouth to reply, 
+the host gazed steadily at him and added, still in a low voice : 
+'* Stop I there's enough of that sort of talk. Do you want me 
+to tell you your name? Your name is Jean Valjean. Now do 
+you want me to tell you who you are ? When I saw you come 
+in I suspected something ; I sent to the town-hall, and this is 
+the reply that was sent to me. Can you read ? " 
+
+So saying, he held out to the stranger, fully unfolded, th« 
+paper which had just travelled from the inn to the town-hall, 
+and from the town-hall to the inn. The man cast a glance 
+upon it. The landlord resumed after a pause. 
+
+•* I am in the habit of being polite to every one. Go away 1" 
+
+The man dropped his head, picked up the knapsack which he 
+had deposited on the gi-ound, and took his departure. 
+
+He chose the principal street. He walked straight on at a 
+renture, keeping close to the houses like a sad and humiliated 
+man. He did not turn round a single time. Had he done so, 
+he would have seen the host of the Gross of Colbas standing on 
+hi9 threshold, surrounded by all the guests of his inn, and all 
+the posaers-by in the street, talking vivaciously, and pointing 
+him out with his finger ; and, from the glances of terror and 
+distrust cast by the group, he might have divined that his 
+urival would speedily become an event for the whole town. 
+
+He saw nothing of all this. People who are crushed do not 
+look behind them. They know but too well the evil fate which 
+fbllows them. 
+
+Thus he proceeded for some time, walking on without ceasmg, 
+tmyersing at random streets of which he knew nothing, for 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+60 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+getfui of his fatigue, as is often the case when a man is sad. 
+All at once he felt the i)ang8 of hunger sharply. Night waâ 
+drawing near. He glanced about him, to see whether he could 
+not discover some shelter. 
+
+The tine hostelry was closed to him ; he was seeking some 
+very humble public house, some hovel, however lowly. 
+
+Just then a light flashed up at the end of the streets ; a piue 
+branch suspended from a cross-beam of iron was outlined 
+against the white sky of the twilight. He proceeded thither. 
+
+It proved to be, in fact, a public house. The public house 
+which is in the Rue de ChatTaut. 
+
+The waymrer halted for a moment, and peeped through the 
+window into the interior of the low-studded room of the public 
+house, illuminated by a small lamp on a table and by a lai^e 
+fire on the hearth. Some men were engaged in drinking thero 
+The landlord was warming himself. An iron pot, suspended 
+from a crane, bubbled over the flame. 
+
+The entrance to this public house, which is also a sort of an 
+Inn, is by two doors. One opens on the street, the other upon 
+a small yard filled with manure. The traveller dared not enter 
+by the street door. He slipped into the yard, halted again» theo 
+raised the latch timidly and opened the door. 
+
+^* Who goes there?" said the master. 
+
+** Some one who wants supper and bed.** 
+
+** Good. We furnish supper and bed here.** 
+
+He entered. All the men who were drinking turned round. 
+The lamp illuminated him on one side, the firelight on the o<,hcr. 
+They examined him for some time while he was taking off his 
+knapsack. 
+
+The host said to hhn, ^^ There is the fire. The supper is 
+cooking in the pot. Come aci warm yourself, comrade." 
+
+He approached and seated himself near the hearth. He 
+stretched out bis feet, which were exhausted with fatigue, 
+to the fire; a fine odor was emitted by the pot. All thai 
+sould be distinguished of his face, beneath his cap, whicli 
+was well pulled down, assumed a vague appearance of comfort 
+mingled with that other poignant aspect which habitual suffering 
+bestows. 
+
+It was, moreover, a firm, energetic, and melancholy profile 
+This physiognomy was strangely composed ; it began by seem 
+ing humble, and ended by seeming severe. The eye shone 
+beneath its lashes like a fire beneath brushwood. 
+
+One of the men seated at the table, however, was a fish 
+oaongêr who, before entering the public house of the Bue d( 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. 61 
+
+Chaffaut, had been to stable his horse at Labarre*6. It chauoed 
+that he had that very roorniug encountered tliU unprepossess- 
+ing stranger on the road between Bras d*Asse and — I have 
+forgotten the name. I think it was Ëscoublon. Now, when 
+he met him, the man, who then seemed already extremely weary^ 
+had requested him to take him on his crupper ; to which the 
+Gshmonger had made no reply except b}* redoubling his gait. 
+This fishmonger had been a member half an hour previously of 
+the group which sui rounded Jaoquin Labarre, and had himself 
+related his disagreeable eucouuter of the morning to the people 
+at the Cross of Colbas, From where he sat he nmde an imper- 
+ceptible sign to the tavern-keeper. The tavern-keeper went to 
+him. They exchanged a few words in a low tone. The man 
+had again become absorbed in his reflections. 
+
+The tavern-keeper returned to the fireplace, laid his hand 
+abruptly on the shoulder of the man, and said to him : — 
+
+" You are going to get out of liere." 
+
+The stranger turned round and replied gently, **Ahf You 
+know?—" 
+
+''Yes." 
+
+*' I was sent away from the other inn." 
+
+" And you are to be turned out of this one." 
+
+" Where would you have me go ? " 
+
+** Elsewhere." 
+
+The man took his stick and his knapsack and departed. 
+
+As he went out, some children who had followed him from 
+Uie Ciryss of Colbas^ and who seemed to be lying in wait for 
+bim, threw stoties at him. He retrac</d his step^^ in anger, and 
+threatened them with his stick : tiie children dispersed like a 
+flock of birds. 
+
+He passed before the prison. At the door hung an iron 
+chain attached to a bell. He rang. 
+
+The wicket opened. 
+
+•' Turnkey," said he, removing his cap politely, *' will you 
+ia«re the kindness to admit me, and give me a lodging for the 
+light?" 
+
+A voice rei)lied : — 
+
+" The prison is not an inn. Get yourself arrested, and you 
+irill be admitted." 
+
+The wicket closed again. 
+
+He entered a little street in which there were many gardens. 
+'V)rae of them are enclosed only by hedges, which lends a cheer* 
+^n1 aspect to the street. In the midst of these gardens and 
+hedf^es he canght sight of a small bouse of a single story, the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+61 lES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+window of which was lighted ap. He peered through tto 
+pane as he had doue at the public house. Within was a large 
+whitewashed room, with a bed draped in printed cotton stuff, 
+and a cradle in ouc corner, a few wooden chairs, and a double- 
+barrelled gun hanging on the wall. A table was spread in the 
+centre of the room, A copper lamp illuminated the tablecloth 
+of coarse white linen, the pewter jug shining like silver, and 
+filled with wine, and the brown, smoking soup-tureen. At 
+this table sat a man of about forty, with a merry and open 
+countenance, who was dandling a little child on his knees. 
+Close by a very 3'oung woman was nursing another child. The 
+father was laughing, the child was laughing, the mother was 
+smiling. 
+
+The stranger paused a moment in revery before this tender 
+and calming spectacle. What was taking place within him? 
+He alone could have told. It is probable that he thought that 
+this joyous house would be hospitable, and that, in a place 
+where he beheld so much happiness, he would find perhaps a 
+little pity. 
+
+He tapped on the pane with a very small and feeble knock. 
+
+They did not hear him. 
+
+He tapped again. 
+
+He heard the woman say, ^* It seems to me, hnsband, that 
+Bome one is knocking." 
+
+** No," replied the husband. 
+
+He tapped a third time. 
+
+The husband rose, took the lamp, and went to the door, whidi 
+he opened. 
+
+He was a man of lofty stature, half peasant, half artisan. 
+He wore a huge leathern apron, which reached to his left 
+shoulder, and which a hammer, a red handkerchief, a powder- 
+horn, and all sorts of objects which were upheld b}' the girdle 
+as in a pocket, caused to bulge out. He carried his head 
+thrown backwards ; his shirt, widely opened and turned back, 
+displayed his bull neck, white and bare. He had thick eye- 
+lashes, enormous black whiskers, prominent eyes, the lower 
+part of his face like a snout ; and besides all this, that air of 
+being on his own ground, which is indescribable. 
+
+*^ Pardon me, sir," said the wayfarer. '' Could you, in con^i 
+sideration of payment, give me a plate of soup and a corner ol 
+that shed yonder in the garden, in which to sleep? Tell me; 
+can you ? For money ? " 
+
+" Who are you?" demanded the master of the house. 
+
+The man replied : ^* I have juat come from Paj-MoissoiL ) 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 63 
+
+oave walked all day long. I have trayelled twelve leagaea. 
+
+(Van you ? — if I pay ? " 
+
+^^i wonld not refuse," said the peasant, ^^to lodge anj 
+respectable man who would pay me. But why do yoa not go 
+to the inn?" 
+
+" There is no room." 
+
+«^ Bah ! Impossible. This is neither a fahr nor a market day. 
+Have vou been to Labarre ? " 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+"Well?" 
+
+The traveller replied with embarrassment: *^ I do not know. 
+He did not receive me." 
+
+'* Have you been to What*s-his-name's, in the Rue Chaffaut?" 
+
+The stranger's embarrassment increased ; he stammered, "He 
+did not receive me either." 
+
+The peasant's countenance assumed an expression of distrust ; 
+he sun^eyed the newcomer from head to feet, and suddenly 
+exclaimed, with a sort of shudder : ^ 
+
+" Are you the man? — " 
+
+He cast a fresh glance upon the stranger, took three steps 
+backwards, placed the lamp on the table, and took his gun down 
+from the wall. 
+
+Meanwhile, at the words, Are you the man 9 the woman 
+had risen, had clasped her two children in her arms, and had 
+taken refuge precipitately behind her husband, staring in terror 
+at the stranger, with her bosom uncovered, and with frightened 
+eyes, as she murmured in a low tone, '* Tso-maraude,*' ^ 
+
+All this took place in less time than it requires to picture it 
+to one's self. After having scrutinized the man for several 
+moments, as one scrutinizes a viper, the master of the house 
+returned to the door and said :— * 
+
+" Clear out I " 
+
+^^ For pity's sake, a glass of water," said the man. 
+
+" A shot from my gun ! " said the peasant. 
+
+Then he closed the door violently, and the man heard him 
+ihoot two large bolts. A moment later, the window-shutter 
+was closed, and the sound of a bar of iron which was placed 
+against it was audible outside. 
+
+Night continued to fall. A cold wind from the Alps was 
+blowing. By the light of the expiring day the stranger per* 
+ceived, in one of the gardens which bordered the street, a sort 
+of hut, which seemed to him to be built of sods. He climbed 
+over the wooden fence resolutely, and found himself in the 
+^ PftUds of tbe French Alps : chat de maraude, rascallv marauder* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+M LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+garden. He approached the but ; its door oonsisted of a ferj 
+low and narrow aperture, and it resembled those buildings whicb 
+road-laborers construct for themselves along the roads. He 
+thought without doubt, that it was, in fact, the dwelling of a 
+road-laborer ; he was suffering from cold and hunger, but this 
+was, at least, a shelter from the cold. This sort of dwelling is 
+not usually occupied at night. He threw himself flat on his 
+face, and crawled into the hut. It was warm there, and he 
+found a tolerably good bed of straw. He lay, for a moment, 
+stretched out on this bed, without the power to make a move- 
+ment, so fatigued was he. Then, as the knapsack on his bacli 
+was in his way, and as it furnished, moreover, a pillow ready 
+to his hand, he set about unbuckling one of tlie straps. At that 
+moment, a ferocious growl became audible. He raised his eyes. 
+The head of an enoi*mous dog was outlined in the darkness al 
+the entrance of the hut. 
+
+It was a dog's kenneU 
+
+He was himself vigorous and formidable ; he armed himself 
+with his staff, made a shield of his knapsack, and made his way 
+out of the kennel in the best way he could, not without enlarg 
+ing the rents in his rags. 
+
+He left the garden in the same manner, but backwards, being 
+obliged, in ortler to keep the dog respectful, to have recourse to 
+that manœuvre with his stick, which masters in that sort oi 
+fencing designate as la rose couverte. 
+
+When he had, not without difficulty, repassed the fence, and 
+found himself once more in the street, alone, without refuge^ 
+without shelter, without a roof over his liead, chased even from 
+that bed of straw and from that miserable kennel, he dropped 
+rather than seated himself on a stone, and it appears that a 
+passer-by heard him exclaim, *' I am not even a dog ! " 
+
+He soon rose again and resumed his march. He went out oi 
+the town, hoping to find some tree or hay-stack in the fields 
+which would afford him shelter. 
+
+He walked thus for some time, with his head still drooping. 
+When he felt himself far from every human habitation, he 
+raised his eyes and gazed searciiingly about him. He was in a 
+fleld. Before him was one of those low hills covered with close- 
+cut stubble, which, after the harvest, resemble shaved heads. 
+
+The horizon was perfectly' black. This was not alone the 
+obscurity of night ; it was caused by very low-hanging clouda 
+which seemed to rest upon the hill itself, and which were mount- 
+ing and filling the whole sky. Meanwhile, as the moon was 
+about to rise, and as there was still floating in the zenith p 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 65 
+
+remnant of the brightness of twilight, these clouds formed at 
+the ftummit of the sky a soil of whitish arch, whence a gleam 
+cf light fell upon the earth. 
+
+The earth was thus better lighted than the sky, which pro- 
+daces a particularly sinister effect, and the hill, whose contour 
+was poor and mean, was outlined vague and wan against the 
+gloomy horizon. The whole effect was hideous, petty, lugubri- 
+ous, and narrow. 
+
+There was nothing in the field or on the hill except a deformed 
+tree, which writhed and shivered a few paces distant from the 
+wayfarer. 
+
+This man was evidently very far from having those delicate 
+habits of intelligence and spirit which render one sensible to the 
+tnystefious aspects of things ; nevertheless, there was something 
+in that sky, in that hill, in that plain, in that tree, which was 
+lo profoundly desolate, that after a moment of immobility and 
+I every he turned back abruptly. There are instants when 
+nature seems hostile. 
+
+He retraced his steps; the gates of D. were closed. D., 
+which had sustained sieges during the wars of religion, was 
+jitill suiTounded in 1815 by ancient walls flanked by square 
+towers which have been demolished since. He passed through a 
+breach and entered the town again. 
+
+It might have been eight o'clock in the evening. As he was 
+not acquainted with the streets, he recommenced his walk at 
+landom. 
+
+In this way he came to the prefecture, then to the seminary. 
+As he passed through the Cathedral Square, he shook his fist 
+at the church. 
+
+At the corner of this square there is a printing establishment. 
+It is there that the proclamations of the Emperor and of thft 
+Imperial Guard to the army, brought from the Island of Elba 
+and dictated by Napoleon himself, were printed for the first 
+time. 
+
+Worn out with fatigue, and no longer entertaining any hope, 
+he lay down on a stone bench which stands at the doorway of 
+this printing oflSce. 
+
+At that moment an old woman came out of the church. She 
+saw the man stretched out in the shadow. *'What are you 
+loing there, my friend?" said she. 
+
+He answered harshly and angrily: ''As you see, my good 
+woman, I am sleeping." The good woman, who was w^H 
+worthy the name, in fact, was the Marquise de R. 
+
+*' On this bench ? " she went on. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+M CSS MlhERABLES. 
+
+** I have had a mattress of wood for nineteen yean^" saki 
+the man ; ^^ to-day I have a mattress of stone." 
+
+♦* You have been a soldier?" 
+
+** Yes, my good woman, a soldier/* 
+
+** Why do you not go to the inn?'* 
+
+" Beeanse I have no money." 
+
+*^ Alas ! " said Madame de R., ^^ I have only four soos In mj 
+purse." 
+
+" Give it to me all the same." 
+
+The man took the four sous. Madame de R. continued: 
+*^ You cannot obtain lodgings in an inn for so small a sum. 
+But have you tried? It is imi)08sible for you to pass the night 
+thus. You are cold and hungry, no doubt. Some one might 
+have given you a lodging out of charity/* 
+
+** I have knocked at all doors." 
+
+"Well?" 
+
+" I have been driven away everywhere.** 
+
+The " good woman " touched the man's arm, and pointed ont 
+to him on the other side of the street a small, low house, which 
+Btood beside the Bishop's palace. 
+
+** You have knocked at all doors?'* 
+
+"Yes." 
+
+** Have you knocked at that one?** 
+
+"No." 
+
+** Knock there.** 
+
+
+
+n. — Prudence Counselled to Wisdom. 
+
+That evening, the Bishop of D., after his promenade through 
+the town, remained sluit up rather late in his room. He was 
+busy over a great work on Duties^ which was never completed^ 
+unfortunately. He was carefulh' compiling everything that the 
+Fathere and the doctors have said on this important subject. 
+His book was divided into two parts : firstly, the duties of all ; 
+secondly, the duties of each individual, according to the class 
+to which he belongs. The duties of all are the great duties. 
+There are four of these. Saint Matthew points them out: 
+duties towards God {Matt, vi.) ; duties towards one's self 
+{Matt, V. 29, 30) ; duties towards one's neiglibor {Matt. vii. 
+12) ; duties towards animals {Matt. vi. 20, 25). As for the 
+other duties the Bisiiop found them pointed out and prescribed 
+elsewhere : to sovereigns and subjects, in the Epistle to the 
+Romans ; to magistrates, to wives, to mothers, to young men« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+'FANTINE, 67 
+
+hy Saint Peter ; to husbands, fathers, children and servants, in 
+the Epistle to the Ephesians ; to the faithful, in the ïîpistle to 
+the HeT»rttW8 ; to virgins, in the Epistle to the Corinthians. 
+Out of all these precepts he was laboriously constructing a 
+harmonious whole, which he desired to present to souls. 
+
+At eight o'clock he was still at work, writing with a good 
+deal of inconvenience upon little squares of paper, witii a big 
+book open on his keees, when Madame Magloire entered, 
+according to her wont, to get the silver-ware from the cupboard 
+near his bed. A moment later, the Bishop, knowing that the 
+table was set, and that his sister was probably waiting for him, 
+shut his book, rose from his table, and entered the dining-room. 
+
+The dining-room was an oblong apartment, with a fireplace, 
+which had a door opening on the street (as we have said) , and 
+a window opening on the garden. 
+
+Madame Magloire was, in fact, just putting the last touches 
+to the table. 
+
+As she performed this service, she was conversing with 
+Mademoiselle Baptistine. 
+
+A lamp stood on the table ; the table was near the fireplace. 
+A wood fire was burning there. 
+
+One can easily picture to one's self these two women, both of 
+whom were over sixty years of age. Madame Magloire small, 
+plump, vivacious; Mademoiselle Baptistine gentle, slender, 
+frail, somewhat taller than her brother, dressed in a gown of 
+puce-colored silk, of the fashion of 1806, which she had pur- 
+chased at that date in Paris, and which had lasted ever since. 
+To borrow vulgar phrases, which possess the merit of giving 
+utterance in a single word to an idea which a whole page would 
+hardly sufliice to express, Madame Magloire had the air of a 
+pectsayity and Mademoiselle Baptistine that of a lady, Madame 
+Magloire wore a white quilted cap, a gold Jeannette cross on a 
+velvet ribbon upon her neck, the only bit of feminine jewelry 
+that there was in the house, a very white fichu puffing out from 
+a gown of coarse black woollen stuff, with large, short sleeves, 
+an apron of cotton cloth in red and green checks, knotted round 
+the waist with a green ribbon, with a stomacher of the same 
+attached by two pins at the upper corners, coarse shoes on her 
+feet, and yellow stockings, like the women of Marseilles. 
+Mademoiselle Baptistine's gown was cut on the patterns of 180G, 
+with a short waist, a narrow, sheath-like skirt, puffed sleeves, 
+with flaps and buttons. She concealed her gray hair under a 
+frizzed wig known as the bnbt/ wig. Madame Magloire had an 
+intelligent, vivacioas, and kindly air ; the two corners of her 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+68 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+mouth unequally raised, and her upper lip, which was iarget 
+than tlie lower, imparted to her a rather crabbed and imperious 
+look. So long as Monseigneur held his peace, she talked tu 
+him resolutely with a mixture of respect and freedom ; but »6 
+soon as Monseigneur began to speak, as we have seen, she 
+obeyed passivel}' like her mistress. Mademoiselle Baptistine 
+did not even speak. She confined herself to obeying and pleas- 
+ing him. She had never been pretty, even when she was 
+young ; she had large, blue, prominent eyes, and a long arched 
+nose ; but her whole visage, her whole person, breathed forth an 
+ineffable goodness, as we stated in the beginning. She ha'l 
+always been predestined to gentleness; but faith, charity, 
+hope, those' three virtues which mildly warm the soul, had 
+gradually elevated that gentleness to sanctity. Nature ha 1 
+made her a lamb, religion had made her an angel. Poor 
+sainted virgin ! Sweet memory which has vanished ! 
+
+* Mademoiselle Baptistine has so often narrated what passe i 
+at the episcopal residence that evening, that there are man f 
+people now living wiio still recall the most minute details. 
+
+At the moment when the Bishop entered, Madame Magloire 
+was talking with considerable vivacity. She was haranguin;^ 
+Mademoiselle Baptistine on a subject which was familiar to her 
+and to which the Bishop was also accustomed. The questic^a 
+concerned the lock u^wn the entrance door. 
+
+It appears that while procuring some provisions for supper , 
+Madame Magloire had heard things in divers places. People 
+had spoken of a prowler of evil appearance ; a suspicious vaga- 
+bond had arrived who must be somewhere about the town, and 
+those who should take it into their heads to return home late 
+that night might be subjected to unpleasant encounters. The 
+police was very badly organized, moreover, because there was 
+no love lost between the Prefect and the Mayor, who sought to 
+injure each other by making things happen. It behooved wise 
+p(H)ple to play the part of their own police, and to guard them- 
+selves well, and care must be taken to duly close, bar, and 
+barricade their houses, and to fasten the doors well, 
+
+Madame Magloire emphasized these last words ; but the 
+Bisiiop had just come from his room, where it was rather cold. 
+He seated himself in front of the fire, and warmed himself, and 
+tiien fell to thinking of other things. He did not take up the 
+remark dropped with design by Madame Magloire. She 
+repoatert it. Then Mademoiselle Baptistine, desirous of sat- 
+isfving Madame Magloire without displeasing her brother, veu' 
+tured to say timidly : — 
+
+Digitized by CjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+PANTINE. 69 
+
+•* Did you hear what Madame Magloire is saying, brother?" 
+
+'' 1 have heard something of it in a vague way,*' replied the 
+Bishop. Then half-turning in his chair, placing his hands on 
+his knees, and raising towards the old servant woman his cor- 
+dial face, which so easily grew joyous, and which was illumi- 
+nated from below by the firelight, — " Come, what is the 
+matter? What is the matter? Are we in any great danger?" 
+
+Then Madame Magloire began the whole story afresh, exag- 
+gerating it a little without being aware of the fact. It appeared 
+that a Bohemian, a bare-footed vagabond, a sort of dangerous 
+mjudicant, was at that moment in the town. He had presented 
+himself at Jacquin Labarre's to obtain lodgings, but the latter 
+had not been willing to take him in. He had been seen to 
+arrive by the way of the boulevard Gassendi and roam about 
+the streets in the gloaming. A gallows-bird with a terrible 
+face. 
+
+" ReaDy ! " said the Bishop. 
+
+This willingness to interrogate encouraged Madame Magloire ; 
+it seemed to her to indicate that the Bishop was on the point of 
+becoming alarmed ; she pursued triumphantly : — 
+
+'' Yes, Monseigneur. That is how it is. There will be some 
+sort of catastrophe in this town to-night. Every one says so. 
+And withal, the police is so badly regulated" (a useful repeti' 
+tion). ^^ The idea of living in a mountainous country, and not 
+even having lights in the streets at night! One goes out. 
+Black as ovens, indeed ! And I say. Monseigneur, and Made- 
+moiselle there says with me — " 
+
+'* I/* interrupted his sister, " say nothing. What my brother 
+does is well done." 
+
+Madame Magloire continued as though there had been no 
+protest : — 
+
+^^ We say that this house is not safe at all ; that if Monseig 
+near will permit, I will go and tell Paulin Musebois, the lock- 
+smith, to come and replace the ancient locks on the doors ; wc 
+have them, and it is only the work of a moment ; for I say that 
+nothing is more terrible than a door which can be opened frorp 
+the outside with a latch by the first passer-by ; and I 
+say that we need bolts. Monseigneur, if only for this night ; 
+moreover. Monseigneur has the habit of always saying ' come 
+in ' ; and besides, even in the middle of the night, O mon Dieu ! 
+there is no need to ask permission." 
+
+. At that moment there came a tolerably violent knoek on the 
+door. 
+
+*'*' Ck>me in," said the Bishop. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+70 i^S MJSEHABLEiS. 
+
+
+
+m. — The Heroism or Fassitb Obédience. 
+
+The door opened. 
+
+It opened wide with a rapid movement, as though some one 
+had given it an energetic and resolute push. 
+
+A man entered. 
+
+We already know the man. It was the wayfarer whom we 
+have seen wandering about in search of shelter. 
+
+He entered, advanced a step, and halted, leaving the door 
+open behind him. He had his knapsack on his shoulders, bis 
+cudgel in his hand, a rough, audacious, weary, and violent 
+expression in his eyes. The fire on the hearth lighted him up. 
+He was hideous. It was a sinister apparition. 
+
+Madame Magloire had not even the strength to utter a cry. 
+She trembled, and stood with her mouth wide open. 
+
+Mademoiselle Baptistine turned round, beheld the man ca- 
+tering, and half started up in terror ; then, turning her head by 
+degrees towards the fireplace again, she- began to observe her 
+brother, and her face became once more prof oundl}"^ calm and 
+serene. 
+
+The Bishop fixed a tranquil eye on the man. 
+
+As he opened his mouth, doubtless to ask the new-comer what 
+he desired, the man rested both hands on his staff, directed his 
+gaze in turn at the old man and the two women, and without 
+waiting for the Bishop to speak, he said, in a loud voice : — 
+
+" See here. My name is Jean Valjean. I am a convict from 
+the galleys. I have passed nineteen years in the galleys. I 
+was liberated four days ago, and am on my waj' to Pontarlier, 
+which is my destination. I have been walking for four days 
+since I loft Toulon. I have travelled a dozen leagues to-day on 
+foot. This evening, when I arrived in these parts, I went to 
+an inn, and they turned me out, because of my yellow passport, 
+which I had shown at the town-hall. I had to do it. I went to 
+an inn. . They said to me, * Be off,* at both places. No one 
+would take me. I went to the prison ; the jailer would not ad- 
+mit me. I went into a dog's kennel ; the dog bit me and chased 
+me off, as though he had been a man. One would have said 
+that he knew who I was. I went into the fields, intending to 
+sleep in the open air, beneath the stars. There were no stars. 
+I thought that it was going to rain, and I re-entered the town, 
+to seek the recess of a doorway. Yonder, in the square, I 
+meant to sleep on a stone bench. A good woman pointed out 
+your house to me, and said to me, ^ Knock there I ' I have 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. îl 
+
+knocked. What is this place ? Do 3'ou keep an inn ? I have 
+money — savings. One hundred and nine francs fifteen sous» 
+which I earned in the galleys by my labor, in the course of 
+nineteen years. I will pay. What is that to me? I have 
+money. I am very weary ; twelve leagues on foot ; I am verj 
+hungry. Are you willing that I should remain ? " 
+
+'* Madame Magloire," said the Bishop, *' you will set another 
+place." 
+
+The man advanced three paces, and approached the lamp 
+which was on the table. '^ Stop," he resumed, as though he 
+had not quite understood; ^Mhat's not it. Did you hear? I 
+am a galley-slave ; a convict. I come from the galle3's." He 
+drew from his pocket a large sheet of yellow paper, which he 
+unfolded. " Here's my passport. Yellow, as you see. This 
+serves to expel me from every place where I go. Will you 
+read it? I know how to read. I learned in the galleys. There 
+is a school there for those who choose to learn. Hold, this is 
+what they put on this passport: ^Jean Valjean, discharged 
+convict, native of — that is nothing to you — 'has been nine- 
+teen years in the galleys: five years for house-breaking and 
+burglar}' ; fourteen years for having attempted to escape on 
+four occasions. He is a very dangerous man.' There ! Every- 
+one has cast me out. Are you willing to receive me ? Is this 
+an inn ? Will you give me something to eat and a bed ? Have 
+you a stable ? " 
+
+^'Madame Magloire," said the Bishop, ''you will put white 
+sheets on the bed in the alcove." We have already explained 
+the character of the two women's obedience. 
+
+Madame Magloire retired to execute these orders. 
+
+The Bishop turned to the man. 
+
+" Sit down, sir, and warm yourself. We are going to sup in 
+a few moments, and your bed will be prepared while you are 
+sapping." 
+
+At this point the man suddenly comprehended. The expres- 
+sion of his face, np to that time sombre and harsh, bore the 
+imprint of stupefaction, of doubt, of joy, and became extraordi- 
+usry. He began stammering like a crazy man : — 
+
+"Really? What! You will keep me? You do not drive 
+me forth ? A convict ! You call me sir I You do not address 
+me as thauf ' Get out of here, you dog 1 ' is what people always 
+say to me. I felt sure that you would expel me, so I told yon 
+at once who I am. Oh, what a good woman that was who di- 
+rected me hither ! I am going to sup ! A bed with a mattress 
+and sheets, like the rest of the world ! a bed I Tt is ninet«ieu 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+72 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+years since I have slept in a bed ! You actually do not want 
+me to go ! You are good people. Besides, I liave money. I 
+will pay well. Pardon me, monsieur the inn-keeper, but what 
+is your name ? I will pay anything you ask. You are a fine 
+man. You are an inn-keeper, are you not?" 
+
+" I am," replied the Bishop, " a priest who lives here." 
+
+" A priest ! " said the man. *'0h, what a fine priest ! Then 
+you are not going to demand any money of mc ? You are the 
+curé, are you not? the curé of this big church? Well! I am a 
+fool, truly ! I had not perceived your skull-cap." 
+
+As he spoke, he deposited his knapsack and his cudgel in a 
+corner, replaced his passport in his pocket, and seated himself. 
+Mademoiselle Baptistine gazed mildly at him. He continued : 
+
+" You are humane. Monsieur le Curé ; you have not scorned 
+me. A good priest is a very good thing. Then you do not re- 
+quire me to pay ? " 
+
+"No," said the Bishop; "keep your money. How mnch 
+have you? Did you not tell me one hundred and nine francs? ** 
+
+" And fifteen sous," added the man. 
+
+"One hundred and nine francs fifteen sous. And bow long 
+did it take you to earn that?" 
+
+" Nineteen years." 
+
+" Nineteen years ! " 
+
+The Bishop sighed deeply. 
+
+The man continued: " I have still the whole of my money. 
+In four da3's I have spent only twenty-five sous, which I earned 
+by helping unload scToe wagons at Grasse. Since you are an 
+abbé, I will tell you that we had a chaplain in the galleys. 
+And one day I saw a bishop there. Monseigneur is what they 
+call him. He was the Bishop of Majore at Marseilles. He is 
+the curé who rules over the other curés, you understand. Par- 
+don me, I say that very badly ; but it is such a far-off thing to 
+me ! You understand what we are ! He said mass in the mid- 
+dle of the galleys, on an altar. He had a pointed thing, made 
+of gold, on his head ; it glittered in the bright light of midday. 
+We were all ranged in lines on the three sides, with cannons 
+with lighted matches facing us. We could not see very well. 
+He spoke ; but he was too far off, and we did not hear. That 
+is what a bishop is like." 
+
+While he was speaking, the Bishop had gone and shut the 
+door, which had remained wide open. 
+
+Madame Magloire returned. She brought a silver fork and 
+spoon, which slie placed on the table. 
+
+" Madame Magloire," said the Bishop, " place those things 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+
+FANTINE. 73 
+
+as near the fire as possible." And turning to his guest : " The 
+night wind is hai-sh on the Alps. You must be cold, sir." 
+
+£ach time that he uttered the word sir, in his voice winch was 
+so gently grave and polished, the man's face lighted up. Mon^ 
+sieur to a convict is like a glass of water to one of the ship 
+wrecked of the Medusa. Ignominy thirsts for consideration. 
+
+'* This lamp gives a very bad light," said the Bishop. 
+
+Madame Magloire understood him, and went to get the two 
+silver candlesticks from the chimney-piece in Monseigneur'e 
+bed-chamber, and placed them, lighted, on the table. 
+
+" Monsieur le Curé," said the man, " you are good ; you do 
+not despise me. You receive me into your house. You light 
+yonr candles for me. Yet I have not concealed fixjm you 
+whence I come and that I am an unfortunate man." 
+
+The 3ishop, who was sitting close to him, gently touched his 
+hand. " You could not help telling me who you were. This 
+is not my house ; it is the house of Jesus Christ. This door 
+does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but 
+whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty ; 
+you are welcome. And do not thank me ; do not say that I 
+receive 3'ou in my house. No one is at home here, except the 
+man who needs a refuge. I say to jou, who are passing by, 
+that you are much more at home here than I am myself. Every- 
+thing here is 3-ours. What need have I to know your name ? 
+Besides, before you told me, you had one which I knew." 
+
+The man opened his eyes in astonishment. 
+
+'* Really? You knew what I was called? " 
+
+" Yes," replied the Bishop, " you are called my brother." 
+
+" Stop, Monsieur le Curé ! " exclaimed the man. " I was very 
+hungry when I entered here ; but you are so good, that I no 
+longer know what has happened to me." 
+
+The Bishop looked at him, and said, — 
+
+" You have suffered much?" 
+
+"Ob, the red coat, the ball on the ankle, a plank to sleep on, 
+heat, cold, toil, the convicts, the thrashings, the double chain 
+for nothing, the cell for one word ; even sick and in bed, still 
+the chain ! Dogs, dogs are happier ! Nineteen years ! I am 
+fortv-six. Now, there is the yellow passport. That is what it 
+is like." 
+
+"Yes," resumed the Bishop, "you have come from a very 
+sad place. Listen. There will be more joy in heaven over the 
+tear-bathed face of a repentant sinner than over the white robes 
+if a hundred just men. Tf you emerge from that sad place with 
+thoughts of hatred and of wrath against mankind, you are de- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+74 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+BerviDg of pity ; it you emerge with thoughts of good-wiL éUM) 
+of peace, you are more wortliy than any one of us." 
+
+In the meantime, Madame M:i<j;Ioire had 8er\'ed supper : soap. 
+made with water, oil, bread, and salt ; a little bacon, a bit of 
+mutton, figs, a fresh cheese, and a large loaf of rye bread. She 
+had, of her own accord, added to the Bishop's ordinary fare a 
+bottle of his old Mauves wine. 
+
+The Bishop's face at once assumed that expression of gayetj 
+which is peculiar to hospitable natures, *' To table ! ** he cried 
+vivaciously. As was his custom when a stranger supped with 
+him, he made the man sit on his right. Mademoiselle Baptis- 
+tine, perfectly ixîaceable and natural, took her seat at his left. 
+
+The Bishop asked a blessing ; then helped the soup himself, 
+according to his custom. The man began to eat with avidity. 
+
+All at once the Bishop said: "It strikes me there is some- 
+thing missing on this table." 
+
+Madame Magloire had, in fact, only placed the three sets of 
+forks and siK)on8 which were absolutely necessary. Now, it 
+was the usage of the house, when the Bishop had any one to 
+supper, to lay out the whole six sets of silver on the table-cloth 
+— an innocent ostentation. This graceful semblance of luxury 
+was a kind of chiUrs i)lay, which was full of charm in that gen- 
+tle and severe household, which raised poverty into dignity. 
+
+Madame Magloire understood the remark, went out without 
+saying a word, and a moment later the three sets of silver forks 
+and spoons demanded by the Bishop were glittering upon the 
+clotli, symmetrically arranged before the three persons seated 
+at the table. 
+
+
+
+IV. —Details concerning the Cheese-Daibiss op Pontar 
+
+LIER. 
+
+Now, in order to convey an idea of what passed at that table, 
+we cannot do l)etter than to transcribe here a passage from one 
+of Mademoiselle Baptistine's letters to Madame Boischevron, 
+wherein the conversation between the convict and the Bishop is 
+described with ingenuous minuteness. 
+
+"... This man paid no attention to any one. He ate with 
+the voracity of a starving man. However, after supper he said : 
+
+" ' Monsieur le Curé of the good God, all this is far too good 
+for me ; but I must say tiiat the carters who would not ^low 
+me to eat with tliem keeu a better table than you do.' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 75 
+
+** Between ourselves, the remark rather shocked me. My 
+brother replied : — 
+
+** ' They are inure fatigued than I.' 
+
+** ' No/ returned the man, ' they have more money. You are 
+poor ; I see tliat plainly. You cannot be even a curate. Are 
+you really a curé? Ah, if the good God were but just, you cer« 
+iainly ought to be a curé ! ' 
+
+'* * The good God is more than just,' said my brother. 
+
+*' A moment later he added : — 
+
+" * Monsieur Jean Valjean, is it to Pontarlier that you are go 
+ng?' 
+
+'' * With my road marked out for me.' 
+
+'' I think that is what the man said. Then he went on : — 
+
+" *" I must be on my way by daybreak to-morrow. Travelling 
+is hard. If the nights are cold, the days are hot.' 
+
+*' * You are going to a good country,' said my brother. * Dur- 
+ing the Revolution my family was ruined. I took refuge in 
+Franche-Comté at first, and there I lived for some time by the 
+toil of my hands. My will wras good. I found plenty to occupy 
+me. One has only to choose. There are paper mills, tanneries, 
+distilleries, oil factories, watch factories on a large scale, steel 
+mills, copper works, twenty iron foundries at least, four of 
+which, situated at Lods, at Châtillon, at Audincourt, and* at 
+Beure, are tolerably large.' 
+
+^*I think I am not mistaken in saying that those are the 
+names which my brother mentioned. Then he interrupted him- 
+self and addressed me : — 
+
+^^ ^ Have we not some relatives in tliose parts, my dear sis- 
+ter?' 
+
+"I replied, — 
+
+" ' We did have some ; among others, M. de Lucenet, who 
+was captain of <he gates at Pontarlier under the old régime.' 
+
+" ' Yes,* resumed ray brother; ' but in '93, one had no longer 
+any relatives, one had only one's arms. I worked. They have, 
+in the country of Pontarlier, whither you are going, Monsieur 
+Valjean, a truly patriarchal and truly charming industry, my 
+sister. It is their cheese-dairies, which they call fruitières.' 
+
+" Then my brother, while urging the man to eat, explained 
+to him, with great minuteness, what these fruitières of Pontar- 
+lier were ; that they were divided into two classes : the big banis^ 
+which belong to the rich, and where there are forty or fifty cows, 
+which produce from seven to eight thousand cheeses each sum- 
+mer, and the associated fruitières^ which belong to the poor ; 
+tiiese are the peasants of mid-mountaia. ivho hold their cows w 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
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+
+f6 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+comroon, and share the proceeds. * They engage the servicei 
+of a cheese-maker, whom tliey call the (jrnrin; the grurin re» 
+ceives the milk of the associates three times a day, and marks 
+the quantity on a double tally. It is towards the end of April 
+that the work of the cheese-dairies begins ; it is towards the 
+middle of June that the cheese-makers drive their cows to the 
+mountains.' 
+
+"The man recovered his animation as he ate. My brother 
+made him drink that good Mauves wine, which he does not 
+irink himself, because he says that wine is expensive. My 
+brotiier imparted all these details with that easy gayety of his 
+with which you are acquainted, interspersing his words with 
+graceful attentions to me. He recurred frequently to that 
+comfortable trade of grurin ^ as though he wished the man to 
+understand, without advising him directly and harshly, that this 
+would afford him a refug'e. One thing struck me. This man 
+was what I have told you. Well, neither during supper, nor 
+during the entire evening, did my brother utter a single word, 
+witli the exception of a few woixls about Jesus when he entered, 
+wliich could remind the man of what he was, nor of what my 
+brotiier was. To all appearances, it was an occasion for preach- 
+m^ him a little sermon, and of impressing the Bishop on the 
+convict, so that a mark of the passage might remain behind. 
+This might have appeared to any one else who had this unfortu« 
+nate man in his hands to afford a chance to nourish his soul as 
+well as his body, and to bestow upon him some reproach, sea- 
+soned with moralizing and advice, or a little commiseration, with 
+an exhortation to conduct himself better in the future. My 
+brother did not even ask him from what country he came, nor 
+what was his history. For in his history there is a fault, and 
+my brother seemed to avoid everything which could remind \\\m 
+of it. To such a point did he carry it, that at one time, when 
+my brother was speaking of the mountaineers of Pontarlicr, wJio 
+exercise a gentle labor near heaven^ and who^ he added, are hapjyy 
+because they are innocent^ he stopped short, fearing lest in this 
+remark there might have escaped him something which might 
+wound the man. By dint of reflection, I think I have compre- 
+hended what was passing in my brother's heart. He was think- 
+ing, no doubt, that this man, whose name is Jean Valjean, had 
+his misfortune only too vividly present in his mind ; that the 
+best thing was to divert him from it, and to make him believe, 
+if only momentarily, that he was a person like any other, by 
+treating him just in his ordinary way. Is not this, indeed, to 
+understand charity well ? Is there /lot, dear Madame, some 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 77 
+
+thing truly evangelical in this delicaej which abstains from ser 
+luon, from moralizing, from allusions? and is it not the truest 
+pity, when a man has a sore point, not to touch it at all? It 
+has seemed to me that this might have been my brother's pri- 
+vate thought. In any case, what I can say is that, if he enter 
+tained all these ideas, he gave no sign of them ; from beginning 
+to end, even to me he was the same as he is every evening, and 
+be supped with this Jean Valjean with the same air and in the 
+same manner in which he would have supped with M. Gédéon 
+'e Prévost, or with the curate of the parish. 
+
+^^ Towards the end, when we had reached the figd, there 
+came a knock at the door. It was Mother Gerbaud, with her 
+little one in her arms. My brother kissed the child on the 
+brow, and borrowed fifteen sous which I had about me to give 
+to Mother Gerbaud. The man was not paying much heed to 
+anything then. He was no longer talking, and he seemed very 
+much fatigued. After poor old Gerbaud had taken her depart- 
+ure, my brothsr said grace ; then he turned to the man and 
+said to him, ' You must be in great need of your bed.' Madame 
+Magloire cleared the table very promptly. I understood that 
+we must retire, in order to allow this traveller to go to sleep, 
+and we both went up stairs. Nevertheless, I sent Madame 
+Magloire down a moment later, to carry to the man's bed a goat 
+ekin from the Black Forest, which was in my room. The nights 
+are frigid, and that keeps one warm. It is a pity that this skin 
+is old ; all the hair is falling out. IVIy })iother bought it while 
+he was in Germany, at Tottlingen, near the sources of tlie Dan- 
+ube, as well as the little ivory-handled knife which I use at table. 
+
+'^ Madame Magloire returned immediately. We said our 
+prayers in the drawing-room, where we hang up the linen, and 
+then we each retired to our own chambers, without saying a 
+word to each other." 
+
+V. — Tranquillitt. 
+
+After bidding his sister good night, Monseigneur Bienvenu 
+yiok one of the two silver candlesticks from the table, handed 
+Che other to his guest, and said to him, — 
+
+'' Monsieur, I will conduct you to your room." 
+
+The man followed him. 
+
+As might have been observed from what has been said above^ 
+the house was so arranged that in order to pass into the oratory 
+where the alcove was situated, or to get out of it, it was neces- 
+sary to traverse the Bishop's bedroom. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+78 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+At the moment when he was crossing this apartment, 
+Madame Magloire was putting away the silverware in the eu|>- 
+board near the head of the bed. This was her last care every 
+evening before she went to bed. 
+
+The Bishop installed his guest in the alcove. A fresh white 
+bed had been prepared there. The man set the candle down 
+on a small table. 
+
+**Well," said the Bishop, "may you pass a good night. 
+To-morrow morning, before you set out, you shall drink a cup 
+of warm milk from our cows." 
+
+** Thanks, Monsieur T Abbé," said the man. 
+
+Hardly had he pronounced these words full of peace, when 
+ail of a sudden, and without transition, he made a strange 
+movement, which would iiave frozen the two sainted women 
+with horror, had they witnessed it. Even at this day it is dilK- 
+cult for us to explain what inspired him at that moment. Did 
+he intend to convey a warning or to throw out a menace? 
+Was he simply obeying a sort of instinctive impulse which was 
+obscure even to himself? He turned abruptly to the old man, 
+folded his arms, and bending upon his host a savage gaze, he 
+exclaimed in a hoarse voice : — 
+
+'* Ah ! really ! You lodge me in your house, close to your- 
+self , like this ?" 
+
+He broke off, and added with a laugh in which there lurked 
+something monstrous : — 
+
+" Have you really reflected well? How do you know that I 
+Dave not been an assassin ? " 
+
+The Bishop replied : — 
+
+** That is the concern of the good God." 
+
+Then gravely, and moving his lips like one who is praying or 
+talking to himself, he raised two Angers of his right band and 
+bestowed his benediction on tiie man, who did not bow, and 
+without turning his head or looking behind him, he returned to 
+his bedroom. 
+
+When the alcove was in use, a large serge curtain drawn 
+from wall to wall concealed the altar. The Bishop knelt 
+before this curtain as he passed and said a brief prayer. A 
+moment later he was in his garden, walking, meditating, con- 
+templating, his heart and soul wholly absorbed in those grand 
+and mysterious things which God shows at night to the eyes 
+which remain open. 
+
+As for the man, he was actually so fatigued that he did not 
+even profit by the nice white sheets. Snuffing out his candle 
+with bis nostrils after the manner of convicts, he dropped, aV 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FAN TINE. 79 
+
+dressed as he was, upon the bed, where he immediately fell into 
+a profound sleep. 
+
+Midnight struck as the Bishop returned from his garden to 
+his apartment. 
+
+A few minutes later all were asleep in the little house. 
+
+
+
+VI. — Jean Valjean. 
+
+Towards the middle of the night, Jean Valjean woke. 
+
+Jean Valjenn came from a poor peasant family of Brie. He 
+%ad not learned to read in his childhood. When he reached 
+man's estate, he became a tree-pruner at Faverolles. His 
+mother was named Jeanne Mathieu ; his father was called Jean 
+Valjean or V4ajean, probaT)ly a sobriquet, and a contraction of 
+voilà JeaUj "here's Jean." 
+
+Jean Valjean was of that thoughtful but not gloomy disposi- 
+tion which constitutes the peculiarity of affectionate natures. 
+On the whole, however, there was something decidedly sluggish 
+and insignificant about Jean Valjean, in appearance, at least. 
+He had lost his father and mother at a very earh' age. His 
+mother had died of a milk fever, which had not been properly 
+attended to. His father, a tree-pruner, like himself, had been 
+killed by a fall from a tree. All that remained to Jean Val- 
+jean was a sister older than himself, — a widow with seven chil- 
+dren, boys and girls. This sister had brought up Jean Valjean, 
+and so long as she had a husband she lodged and fed her young 
+brother. 
+
+The husband died. The eldest of the seven children was 
+eight jears old. The youngest, one. 
+
+Jean Valjean had just attained his twenty-fifth year. He 
+took the father's place, and, in his turn, supported the sister 
+who had brought him up. This was done simply as a duty and 
+even a little churlishly on the part of Jean Valjean. Thus Ills 
+youth had been spent in rude and ill-paid toil. He had never 
+known a "kind woman friend" in his native parts. He had 
+not had the time to fall in love. 
+
+He returned at night weary, and ate his broth without utter- 
+mg a word. His sister, mother Jeanne, often took the best 
+part of his repast from his bowl while he was eating, — a bit of 
+meat, a slice of bacon, the heart of the cabbage, — to give to 
+one of her children. As he went on eating, with his head bent 
+over the table and almost into his soup, his long hair falling 
+about his bowl and concealing his eyes, he had the air of per 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+80 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+oeiving nothing and allowing it. There was at FavePjUes, not 
+far from tlie Val jean thatched cottage, on the other side of the» 
+lane, a farmer's wife named Marie-Claude ; the Valjean chil- 
+dren, habitually famished, sometimes went to borrow from 
+Marie-Claude a pint of milk, in their mother's name, which 
+they drank behind a hedge or in some alley corner, snatching ) 
+the jug from each other so hastily that the little girls spilled it . 
+on their aprons and down their necks. If their mother had 
+known of this marauding, she would have punished the delin- 
+quents severely. Jean Valjean gruffly and grumblingly paid 
+Marie-Claude for the pint of milk behind their mother's back, 
+and the children were not punished. 
+
+In pruning season he earned eighteen sous a day ; then he 
+hired out as a hay-maker, as laborer, as neat-herd on a farm, 
+as a drudge. He did whatever he could. His lister workecl 
+also, but what could she do with seven little children? It wa.'a 
+a sad group enveloped in misery, which was being gradually 
+annihilated. A very hard winter came. Jean had no work. 
+The family had no bread. No bread literally. Seven children \ 
+
+One Sunday evening, Maubert Tsabeau, the baker on the 
+Church Square at Faverolles, was preparing to go to bed, whei> 
+he heard a violent blow on the grated front of his shop. He 
+arrived in time to see an arm passed through a hole made by 
+a blow from a fist, through the grating and the glass. Th« 
+arm seized a loaf of bread and carried it off. Isabeau ran out 
+in haste ; the robber fled at the full speed of his legs. Isabeau 
+ran after him and stopped him. The thief had flung away the 
+loaf, but his arm was still bleeding. It was Jean Valjean. 
+
+This took place in 1795. Jean Valjean was taken before the 
+tribunals of the time for theft and breaking a ad entering an 
+inhabited house at night. He had a gun . which he used 
+better than any one else in the world, he was a bit of a 
+poacher, and this injured his case. There exists a legitimate 
+prejudice against i)oachers. The poacher, like the smuggler, 
+smacks too strongly of the brigand. Nevertheless, we will 
+remark cursorily, there is still an abyss between these races of 
+men and the hideous assassin of the towns. The poacher lives 
+in the forest, the smuggler lives in the mountains or on the sea 
+The cities make ferocious men because they make corrupt men 
+The mountain, the sea, the forest, make savage men ; they 
+develop the fierce side, but often without destroying the 
+humane side. 
+
+Jean Valjean was pronounced guilty. The terms of the Cod* 
+were explicit. There occur formidable hours in our civilization • 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 81 
+
+there are moments when the penal laws decree a shipwreck. 
+What an ominous minate is that in which society draws back 
+and consummates the irreparable abandonment of a sentient 
+l)eiug! Jean Valjean was condemned to five years in the 
+galleys. 
+
+On the 22d of April, 1796, the victory of Montenotte, won 
+by the general-in-chief of the army of Italy, whom the mes- 
+sage of the Directory to the Five Hundred, of the 2d of Flo- 
+réal, year IV., calls Buona-Parte, was announced in Paris; on 
+that same day a great gang of galley-slaves was put in chains 
+at Bicetre. Jean Valjean formed a part of that gang. An 
+old turnkey of the prison, who is now nearly eighty years old, 
+still recalls perfectly that unfortunate wretch who was chained 
+to the end of the fourth line, in the north angle of the court- 
+yard. He was seated on the ground like the others. He did 
+not seem to comprehend his position, except that it was horri- 
+ble. It is probable that he, also, was disentangling from amid 
+the vague ideas of a poor man, ignorant of everything, some- 
+thing excessive. While the holt of his iron collar was being 
+riveted behind his head with heavy blows from the hammer, he 
+wept, his tears stifled him, they impeded his speech ; he only 
+manned to say from time to time, '' I was a tree-pruner at 
+FaveroUcs." Then still sobbing, he raised his right hand and 
+lowered it gradually seven times, as though he were touching 
+in succession seven heads of unequal heights, and from this 
+gesture it was divined that the thing which he had done, what- 
+ever it was, he had done for the sake of clothing and nourishing 
+seven little children. 
+
+He set out for Toulon. He arrived there, after a journey of 
+twenty-seven days, on a cart, with a chain on his neck. At 
+Toulon he was clothed in the red cassock. All that had consti- 
+tuted his life, even to his name, was effaced ; he was no longer 
+even Jean Valjean ; he was number 24,601. What became of 
+his sister? What became of the seven children? Who troubled 
+himself about that? What becomes of the handful of leaves 
+from the young tree which is sawed off at the root ? 
+
+It is alwa3*s the same story. These poor living beings, these 
+'.reatures of God, henceforth without support, without guide, 
+without refuge, wandered away at random, — who even knows? 
+• -each in his own direction perhaps, and little by little buried 
+themselves in that cold mist which engulfs solitary destinies; 
+gloom V shades, into which disappear in succession so many 
+unlucky heads, in the sombre march of the human race. They 
+quitted the country. The clock-tower of what had been their 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+82 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+village forgot them ; the boundary line of what had been their 
+field forgot them ; after a few years' residence in the galleys, 
+Jean Val jean himself forgot them. In that heart, where there 
+had been a wound, there was a scar. That is ail. Only once, 
+during all the time which he spent at Toulon, did he hear his 
+sister mentioned. This happened, I think, towards the end of 
+the fourth year of his captivity. I know not through what 
+channels the news reached him. Some one who had known thern 
+in their own country had seen his sister. She was in Paris. She 
+lived in a poor street near Saint-Sulpice, in the Rue du Giudre. 
+She had with her only one child, a little boy, the youngest. 
+Where were the other six ? Perhaps she did not know herself. 
+Every morning she went to a printing ollice, No. 3 Rue du Sabot, 
+where she was a folder and stitcher. She was obliged to be 
+there at six o'clock in the morning — long before daylight in 
+winter. In the same building with the printing office there was 
+a school, and to this school she took her little boy, who was 
+seven years old. But as she entered the printing office at six, 
+and the school only opened at seven, the child had to wait in the 
+courtyard, for the school to open, for an hour — one hour of a 
+winter night in the open air ! They would not allow the child to 
+come into the printing office, because he was in the way, they 
+said. When the workmen passed in the morning, they beheld 
+this poor little being seated on the pavement, overcome with 
+drowsiness, and often fast asleep in the shadow, crouched down 
+and doubled up over his basket. When it rained, an old woman, 
+the portress, took pity on him ; she took him into her den, where 
+there was a pallet, a spinning-wheel, and two wooden chairs, 
+and the little one slumbered in a corner, pressing himself close 
+to the cat that he might suffer less from cold. At seven 
+o'clock the school opened, and he entered. That is what was 
+told to Jean Val jean. 
+
+They talked to him about it for one day ; it was a moment, a 
+flash, as though a window had suddenly been opened upon the 
+destiny of those beings whom he had loved; then all closed 
+again. He heard nothing more forever. Nothing fiom them 
+ever reached him again ; he never beheld them ; he never met 
+them again ; and in the continuation of this mournful history 
+they will not be met with any more. 
+
+Towards the end of this fourth year Jean Val jean's turn to 
+escape arrived. His comrades assisted him, as is the custom in 
+that sad place. He escaped. He wandered fur two clays in the 
+fields at liberty, if being at liberty is to be hunted, to turn the 
+head every instant, to quake at the slightest noise, to be afraid 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. m 
+
+of everything, — of a smoking roof, of a passing man, of a 
+barking clog, of a galloping horse, of a striking clock, of the 
+day because one can see, of the niglit because one cannot see, 
+of the highway, of the path, of a bush, of sleep. On tiie even- 
+ing of the second day he was captured. He had neither eaten 
+nor slept for thirty -six hours. The maritime tribunal con- 
+demned him, for this crime, to a prolongation of his term for 
+three years, which made eight years. In the sixth year his 
+turn to escape occurred again ; he availed himself of it, but 
+conld not accomplish his flight fully. He was missing at roll- 
+call. The cannon were fired, and at night the patrol found him 
+hidden under the keel of a vessel in process of construction ; he 
+resisted the galley guards who seized him. Kscaix! and rebel- 
+lion. This case, provided for by a special code, was punished 
+by an addition of five years, two of them in the double chain. 
+Thirteen years. In the tenth 3'ear his turn came round again ; 
+he again profited by it ; he succeeded no better. Three years 
+for this fresh attempt. Sixteen years. Fhially, I think it was 
+during his thirteenth year, he made a last attempt, and only suc- 
+ceeded in getting retaken at the end of four hours of absence. 
+Tiiree years for those four hours. Nineteen years. In October, 
+1815, he was released ; he had entered there in 1796, for having 
+broken a i)ane of glass and taken a loaf of bread. 
+
+Room for a brief parenthesis. This is the second time, dur- 
+ing his studies on the penal question and damnation by law, 
+that tlie author of this book has come across tlie theft of a loaf 
+of bread as the point of departure for the disaster of a destiny. 
+Claude Guaux had stolen a loaf; Jean Valjean had stolen a 
+loaf. English statistics prove the fact that four thefts out of 
+five in Ix>ndon have hunger for their immediate cause. 
+
+Jean Valjean had entered the galleys sobbing and shuddering; 
+he emerged impassive. He had entered in despair ; he emerged 
+gloomy. 
+
+What bad taken place in that soul? 
+
+VII. — The Interior op Despair. 
+
+Let us try to say it. 
+
+It is necessary that society should look at these things, be- 
+cause it is itself which creates them. 
+
+He was, as we have said, an ignorant man, but he was not a 
+fool. The light of nature was ignited in him. Unhappiness, 
+which also possesses a clearness of vision of its own, augmented 
+the small amount of daylight which existed in this mind. Be* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+84 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+neath the cudgel, beneath the chain, in the cell, in hardship^ 
+beneath the burning sun of the galleys, upon the plank bed o( 
+the convict, he withdrew into his own consciousness and medi* 
+tated. 
+
+He sonstituted himself the tribunal. 
+
+He began by putting himself on trial. 
+
+He recognized the fact that he was not an innocent man au« 
+justly punished. He admitted that he had committed an ex 
+treme and blamewortliy act ; that that loaf of bread would prob 
+ably not have been refused to him had he asked for it ; that, in 
+any case, it would have been better to wait until he could get 
+it through compassion or through work ; that it is not an unan* 
+swerable argument to say, '' Can one wait when one is hungry? " 
+That, in the first place, it is very rare for any one to die ot 
+hunger, literally; and next, that, fortunately or unfortunately, 
+man is so constituted that he can suffer long and much, both 
+morally and physically, without jlying ; that it is therefore nee • 
+essary to liave patience ; that that would even have been bette" 
+for those ix)or little children ; that it had been an act of mad • 
+ness for him, a miserable, unfortunate wretch, to take society 
+at large violently by the collar, and to imagine that one can ea 
+cape from misery through theft; that that is in any case ft 
+poor door through which to escape from misery through which 
+infamy enters ; in short, that he was in the wrong. 
+
+Then he asked himself — 
+
+Whether he had been the onlj' one in fault in his fatal his • 
+tory. Whether it was not a serious thing, that he, a laborer, 
+out of work, that he, an industrious man, should have lacked 
+bread. And whether, the fault once committed and confesseil, 
+the chastisement had not been ferocious and disproportioned. 
+Whether there liad not been more abuse on the part of the law. 
+In respect to the penalty, than there had been on tlie part of 
+the culprit in respect to his fault. Whether there had not been 
+an excess of weights in one balance of the scale, in the one 
+which contains expiation. Whether the over-weight of the pen- 
+alty was not equivalent to the annihilation of the crime, ami 
+did not result in reversing the situation, of replacing tlie fauU 
+of the delinquent by the fault of the repression, of converting* 
+the guilty man into the victim, and the debtor into the creditor, 
+and of ranging the law definitely on the side of the man who 
+bad violated it. 
+
+Whether this penalty, complicated by successiye aggravationR 
+for attempts at escape, had not ended in becoming a sort of 
+outrage perpetrated by the stronger upon the feebler, a crime o^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 85 
+
+society against the individual, a crime which was being com- 
+mitted afresh every day, a crime which had lasted nineteen years. 
+
+He asked himself whether human society could have the right 
+to force its members to suffer equally in one case for its own 
+unreasonable lack of foresight, and in the other case for its piti- 
+less foresight; and to seize a poor man forever between a 
+defect and an excess, a default of work and an excess of punish- 
+ment. 
+
+Whether it was not outrageous for society to treat thus pre- 
+cisely those of its members who were the least well endowed in 
+the division of goods made by chance, and consequently the 
+most deserving of consideration. 
+
+These questions put and answered, he judged society and 
+condemned it. 
+
+He condemned it to his hatred. 
+
+He made it responsible for the fate which he was suffering, 
+and he said to himself that it might be that one day he should 
+not hesitate to call it to account. He declared to himself that 
+there was no equilibrium between the harm which he had caused 
+and the harm which was being done to him ; he finally arrived 
+at the conclusion that his punishment was not, in truth, unjust, 
+but that it most assuredly was iniquitous. 
+
+Anger may be both foolish and absurd ; one can be irritated 
+wrongifully ; one is exasperated only when there is some show 
+of right on one's side at bottom. Jean Valjean felt himself 
+exasperated. 
+
+And besides, human society had done him nothing but harm *, 
+he had never seen anything of it save that angry face which it 
+calls Justice, and which it shows to those whom it strikes. 
+Men had only touched him to bruise him. Eveiy contact with 
+them had been a blow. Never, since his infancy, since the days 
+of his mother, of his sister, had he ever encountered a friendl}^ 
+word and a kindly glance. From suffering to suffering, he had 
+gradually arrived at the conviction that life is a war ; and that 
+in this war he was the conquered. He had no other weapon 
+than his hate. He resolved to whet it in the galleys and to 
+bear it away with him when he departed. 
+
+There was at Toulon a school for the convicts, kept by the 
+Ignorantin friars, where the most necessary branches were taught 
+to those of the unfortunate men who had a mind for them. He 
+was of the number who had a mind. He went to school at the 
+nge of forty, and learned to read, to write, to cipher. He felt 
+that to fortify his intelligence was to fortify his hate. In certain 
+eases, edupation and enlightenment can serve to eke out evil. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+86 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+This is a sad thing to say ; after having judged society, which 
+had caused his unhappiness, he judged Provideuce, which had 
+made society, and he condemned it also. 
+
+Thus during nineteen years of torture and slavery, this soul 
+mounted and at the same time fell. Light entered it on one 
+side, and darkness on the other. 
+
+Jean Val jean had not, as we have seen, an evil nature. He 
+was still good when he arrived at the galleys. He there con- 
+demned society, and felt that he was becoming wicked ; he there 
+condemned Providence, and was conscious that he was becoming 
+impious. 
+
+It is diiUcult not to indulge in meditation at this point. 
+
+Does human nature thus change utterly and from top to bot- 
+tom ? Can the man created good by God be rendered wicked 
+by man ? Can the soul be completely made over by fate, and 
+become evil, fate being evil? Can the heart become misshapen 
+and contract incurable deformities and infirmities under the op- 
+pression of a disproportionate unhappiness, as the vertebral 
+column beneath too low a vault? Is there not in every human 
+soul, was there not in the soul of Jean Val jean in particular, a 
+first spark, a divine element, incorruptible in this world, immortal 
+in the other, which good can develop, fan, ignite, and make to 
+glow with splendor, and which evil can never wholly extinguish ? 
+
+Grave and obscure questions, to the last of which every phys- 
+iologist would probably have responded no, and that without 
+hesitation, had he beheld at Toulon, during the hours of repose, 
+which were for Jean Val jean hours of re very, this gloom}' galley- 
+slave, seated with folded arms upon the bar of some capstan, 
+with the end of his chain thrust into his pocket to prevent it< 
+dragging, serious, silent, and thoughtful, a pariah of the laws 
+which regarded the man with wrath, condemned by civilization, 
+and regarding heaven with severity. 
+
+Certainly, — and we make no attempt to dissimulate the fact, 
+— the observing physiologist wouul have beheld an irremediable 
+misery ; he would, perchance, have pitied this sick man, of the 
+law's making ; but he would not have even essayed any tieat- 
+ment ; he would have turned aside his gaze from the caverns of 
+which he would have caught a glimpse within this soul, and, like 
+Dante at the portals of hell, he would have effaced from this 
+Existence the word which the finger of God has, nevertheless, 
+inscribed upon the brow of every man, — hope. 
+
+Was this state of his soul, which we have attempted to ana- 
+lyze, as perfectly clear to Jean Valjean as we have tried to ren- 
+der it for those who read us? Did Jean Valjeaa distinctly 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FAN TINE. S7 
+
+perceive, after their formation, and had he seen distinctly dur- 
+ing the process of their formation, all the elements of which his 
+moral misery was composed ? Had this rough and unlettered 
+man gathered a perfectly clear perception of the succession of 
+ideas through which lie had, by degrees, mounted and de» 
+gcended to the lugubrious aspects which had, for so many years, 
+formed the inkier horizon of his spirit? Was he conscious of 
+all that passed within him, and of all that was working there? 
+That is something which we do not presume to state ; it is some- 
+thing which we do not even believe. There was too much igno- 
+rance in Jean Valjean, even after his misfortune, to prevent 
+much vagueness from still lingering there. At times, he did 
+not rightly know himself what he felt. Jean Valjean was in the 
+shadows ; he suffered in the shadows ; he hated in the shadows ; 
+one might have said that he hated in advance of himself. He 
+dwelt habitually in this shadow, feeling his way like a blind man 
+and a dreamer. Only, at intervals, there suddenly came to him, 
+from without and from within, an access of wrath, a surcharge 
+of sufTering, a livid and rapid flash which illuminated his whole 
+soul, and caused to appear abruptly all around him, in front, 
+behind, amid the gleams of a frightful light, the hideous preci- 
+pices and the sombre perspective of his destiny. 
+
+The flash passed, the night closed in again ; and where was 
+he ? He no longer knew. The peculiarity Df pains of this na- 
+ture, in which that which is pitiless — that is to sa}', that which 
+is brutalizing — predominates, is to transform a man, little by 
+little, by a sort of stupid transfiguration, into a wild beast; 
+sometimes into a ferocious beast. 
+
+Jean Valjean's successive and obstinate attempts at escape 
+would alone suffice to prove this strange working of the law 
+upon the human soul. Jean Valjean would have renewed these 
+attempts, utterly useless and foolish as they were, as often as 
+the opportunity had presented itself, without reflecting for an 
+instant on the result, nor on the experiences which he had al- 
+ready gone through. He escaped impetuously, like the wolf 
+who finds his cage open. Instinct said to him, " Flee ! " Rea- 
+son would have said, " Remain ! " But in the presence of so 
+violent a temptation, reason vanished ; nothing remained but 
+instinct. The beast alone acted. When he was recaptured, 
+the fresh severities inflicted ofl him only served to render him 
+still more wild. 
+
+One detail, which we must not omit, is that he possessed a 
+physical strength which was not approached by a single one of 
+the denizens of the galleys. At work, at paying out a cable 01 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+88 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+wiuding up a capstan, Jean Valjean was worth four men. Ha 
+Bometiines lifted and sustained enormous weights on his back ; 
+and when the occasion demanded it, he ;*eplaced that implement 
+which is called a jack-screw, and was formerly called orgueil 
+[pride], whence, we may remark in passing, is derived the name 
+of the Rue Montorgueil, near the Halles [Fishmarket] in Paris. 
+His comrades had nicknamed him Jean the Jack-screw. Once, 
+when they were repairing the balcony of the town-hall at Tou- 
+lon, one of those admirable caryatids of Puget, which Bup]K>rt 
+the balcony, became loosened, and was on the point of falling. 
+Jean Valjean, who was present, sup|x>rted the caryatid with his 
+shoulder, and gave the workmen time to arrive. 
+
+His suppleness even exceeded his strength. Certain convicts 
+who were forever dreaming of escape, ended by making a veri- 
+table science of foi-ce and skill combined. It is the science of 
+muscles. An entire system of mysterious statics is daily prac- 
+tised by prisoners, men who are forever envious of the flies and 
+birds. To climb a vertical surface, and to And ][>oints of sup- 
+port where hardly a projection was visible, was play to Jean 
+Valjean. An angle of the wall being given, with the tension of 
+his back and his legs, with his elbows and his heels fitted into 
+the unevennesscs of the stone, he raised himself as if by magic 
+to the third story. He sometimes mounted thus even to the 
+roof of the galley prison. 
+
+He spoke but little. He laughed not at all. An excessive 
+emotion was required to wring from him, once or twic« a year, 
+that lugubrious laugh of the convict, which is like the echo oif 
+the laugh of a demon. To all appearance, he seemed to be 
+occupied in the constant contemplation of something terrible. 
+
+He was absorbed, in fact. 
+
+Athwart the unhealthy perceptions of an incomplete nature 
+and a crushed intelligence, he was confusedly conscious that 
+some monstrous thing was resting on him. In that obscure and 
+wan shadow within which he crawled, each time that he turned 
+his neck and essayed to raise his glance, he perceived with ter- 
+ror, mingled with rage, a sort of frightful accumulation of 
+things, collecting and mounting above him, beyond the range 
+of his vision, — laws, prejudices, men, and deeds, — whose out- 
+lines escaped him, whose mass terrified him, and which was 
+nothing else than that prodigious pyramid which we call civili- 
+zation. He distinguished, here and there in that swarming and 
+formless mass, now near him, now afar oflP and on inaccessible 
+table-lands, some group, some detail, vividly illuminated ; here 
+the galley-sergeant and his cudgel ; there the gendarme and his 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Jf'ANTINE. 89 
+
+•word ; yonder the mitred archbishop ; away at the top, like a 
+Bort of sun, the Emperor, crowned and dazzling. Jt seemed tc 
+him that these distant splendors, far from dissipating his nighty 
+rendered it more funereal and more black. All this — laws, preju- 
+dices, deeds, men, things — went and came above him, over his 
+head, in accordance with the complicated and mysterious move- 
+ment which God imparts to civilization, walking over him and 
+crushing him with 1 know not what peacefulness in its crueltj 
+and inexorability in its indifference. Souls which have fallen 
+to the bottom of all possible misfortune, unhappy men lost in 
+the lowest of those limbos at which no one any longer looks, the 
+reproved of the law, feel the whole weight of this human society, 
+so formidable for him who is without, so frightful for him who 
+is beneath, resting uix)n their heads. 
+
+In this situation Jean Valjean meditated ; and what could be 
+the nature of his meditation? 
+
+If the grain of millet beneath the millstone had thoughts, it 
+would, doubtless, thiuk that same thing which Jean Valjean 
+thought. 
+
+All these things, realities full of spectres, phantasmagories full 
+of realities, had eventually created for him a sort of intcrioi 
+state which is almost indescribable. 
+
+At times, amid his convict toil, he paused. He fell to think- 
+ing. His reason, at one and the same time riper and morç 
+troubled than of yore, rose in revolt. Everything which ha<| 
+happened to him seemed to him absurd; everything that sur- 
+rounded him seemed to him impossible. He said to himself, '^I{ 
+is a dream." He gazed at the galley-sei^eant standing a few 
+paces from him ; the galley-sergeant seemed a phantom to him. 
+All of a sudden the phantom dealt him a blow with his cudgel. 
+
+Visible nature hardly existed for him. It would almost be 
+true to say that there existed for Jean Valjean neither sun, nor 
+fine summer days, nor radiant sky, nor fresh April dawns. I 
+know not what vent-hole daylight habitually illumined his soul. 
+
+To sum up, in conclusion, that which can be summed up and 
+translated into positive results in all that we have just pointed 
+out, we will confine ourselves to the statement that, in the course 
+of nineteen years, Jean Valjean, the inoffensive tree-pruner ol 
+Faverolles, the formidable convict of Toulon, had become capa- 
+ble, thanks to the manner in which the galleys had moulded 
+him, of two sorts of evil action : fii-stly, of evil action which 
+was rapid, unpremeditated, dashing, entirely instinctive, in the 
+nature of reprisals for the evil which he had undergone ; sec- 
+oo(ilv, of evil action which was serious, grave, consciously ar 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+90 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+gued ont and premeditated, with the false ideas which soch a 
+misfortune can furnish. His deliberate deeds passed tlu'ougb 
+three successive phases, which natures of a certain stamp can 
+alone traverse, — reasoning, will, perseverance. He had for 
+moving causes his habitual wrath, bitterness of soul, a profound 
+sense of indignities suffered, the reaction even against the good, 
+the innocent, and the just, if there are any such. The point of 
+departure, like the point of arrival, for ail his thoughts, was 
+hatred of human law ; that hatred which, if it be not arrested in 
+'its development by some providential incident, becomes, within 
+V given time, the hatred of society, then the hatred of the 
+juman race, then the hatred of creation, and which manifests 
+itself by a vague, incessant, and brutal desire to do harm to 
+some living being, no matter whom. It will be perceived thaï 
+it was not without reason that Jean Valjean's passpoit described 
+him as a very dangerous man. . 
+
+From year to year this soul had dried away slowly, but witli 
+fatal sureness. When the heart is dry, the eye is dry. On his 
+departure from the galleys it had been nineteen yeara since he 
+had shed a tear. 
+
+Vin. — Billows and Shadows. 
+
+A. MAN overboard ! 
+
+What matters it ? The vessel does not halt. The wind blows. 
+That sombre ship has a path which it is forced to pursue. It 
+passes on. 
+
+The man disappears, then reappears; he plunges, he rises 
+again to the surface ; he calls, he stretches out his arms ; he is 
+not heard. The vessel, trembling under the hurricane, is wholly 
+absorbed in its own workings ; the passengers and sailors do 
+not even see the drowning man ; his miserable head is but a 
+speck amid the immensity of the waves. He gives vent to des« 
+perate cries from out of the depths. What a spectre is that re- 
+treating sail ! He gazes and gazes at it frantically. It retreats, 
+it grows dim, it diminishes in size. He was there but just now, 
+he was one of the crew, he went and came along the deck with 
+the rest, he had his part of breath and of sunlight, he was a 
+living man. Now, what has taken place? He has slipped, he 
+has fallen ; all is at an end. 
+
+He is in the tremendous sea. Under foot he has nothing but 
+what flees and crumbles. The billows, torn and lashed by the 
+wind, encompass him hideously ; the tossings of the abyss beat 
+him away ; all the tongues of water dash over his head ; a popo- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 91 
+
+laoe of waves spite upon him ; confused opening half devoui 
+him ; every time that he sinks, he catches glimpses of precipicel 
+filled with night ; frightful aud unknown vegetations seize him, 
+knot about his feet, draw him to them ; he is conscious that he 
+is becoming an abyss, that he forms part of the foam ; the waves 
+toss him from one to another ; he drinks in the bitterness ; the 
+cowardly ocean attacks him furiously, to drown him ; the enor- 
+mity plays with his agony. It seems as though all that water 
+were hate. 
+
+Nevertheless, he struggles. 
+
+He tries to defend himself; he tries to sustain himself; he 
+makes an effort; he swims. He, his petty strength all el 
+hausted instantly, combats the inexhaustible. 
+
+Where, then, is the ship? Yonder. Barely visible in the pale 
+shadows of the horizon. 
+
+The wind blows iu gusts ; all the foam overwhelms him. He 
+raises his eyes^ and beholds only the lividness of the clouds. 
+He witnesses, amid his death-pangs, the immense madness of 
+the sea. He is tortured by this madness ; he hears noises 
+strange to man, which seem to come from be3'ond the limits of 
+the earth, and from one knows not what frightful region beyond. 
+
+There are birds in the clouds, just as there are angels above 
+human distresses ; but what can they do for him ? They sing 
+and fly and float, and he, he rattles in the death agony. 
+
+He feels himself buried in those two infinities, the ocean and 
+the sk^', at one and the same time : the one is a tomb ; the othe» 
+is a shroud. 
+
+Night descends; he has been swimming for hours; hiC 
+strength is exhausted ; that ship, that distant thing in which therd 
+were men, has vanished ; he is alone in the formidable twilight 
+gulf ; he sinks, he stiffens himself, he tv/ists himself ; he feelff 
+under him the monstrous billows of the invisible ; he shouts. 
+
+There are no more men. Where is God? 
+
+He shouts. Help ! Help ! He still shouts on. 
+
+Nothing on the horizon ; nothing in heaven 
+
+He implores the expanse, the waves, the seaweed, the reef ; 
+they are deaf. He beseeches the tempest; the imperturbable 
+tempest obeys only the infinite. 
+
+Around him darkness, fog, solitude, the stormy and non-sen- 
+tient tumult, the undefined curling of those wild waters. In him 
+horror and fatigue. Beneath him the depths. Not a point of 
+support. He thinks of the gloomy adventures of the corpse in 
+the limitless shadow. The bottomless cold paralyzes him. Uia 
+iiands contract convulsively ; they close, and grasp nothingness. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+92 LES MISER ABIES. 
+
+Winds, cloads, whirlwinds, gnsts, useless stare I What is t« 
+^ done? The desperate man gives up; he is weary, ha 
+chooses the alternative of death ; he resists not ; he lets him 
+delf go ; he abandons his grip ; and tlien he tosses forevermore 
+in the lugubrious dreary depths of engulfment. 
+
+Oh, implacable march of human societies ! Oh, losses of men 
+^nd of souls on the way ! Ocean into which falls all that the 
+law lets slip ! Disastrous absence of help ! Oh, moral death ! 
+
+The sea is the inexorable social night into which the penal 
+laws fling their condemned. The sea is the immensity of wretch-- 
+edness. 
+
+The soul, going down stream in this gulf, may become m 
+corpse. . Who shall resuscitate it? 
+
+
+
+IX.— Nbw Troubles. 
+
+When the hour came for him to take his departure from th« 
+galleys, when Jean Valjean heard in his ear the strange woixis, 
+Thou art free! the moment s'^emed improbable and unprece« 
+dented ; a ray of vivid light, a ray of the time light of the living, 
+suddenly penetrated within him. il(it it was not long before 
+this ray paled. Jean Valjean had been dazzled by the idea of 
+liberty . He had believed in a new life. He very speedily per- 
+ceived what sort of liberty it is to which a yellow passport is 
+provided. 
+
+And this was encompassed with much bitterness. He had 
+calculated that his earnings, during his sojourn in the galleys, 
+ought to amount to a hundred and seventy-one francs. It is 
+but just to add that he had forgotten to include in his calc:ila« 
+tions the forced repose of Sundays and festival days during 
+nineteen years, which entailed a diminution of about eighty 
+francs. At all events, his hoard had been reduced by various 
+local levies to the sum of one hundred and nine francs fifteen 
+«ous, whicli had been counted out to him on his departure. 
+
+He had understood nothing of this, and had thought himself 
+wronged. Let us say the word — robbed. 
+
+On the day following his liberation, he saw, at Grasse, in 
+front of an orange-flower distillery, some men engaged in un- 
+loadi ng bales. He offered his services. Business was pressing ; 
+they were accepted. He set to work. He was intelligent, ro* 
+bust, adroit ; he did his best ; the master seemed pleased. Whi.^ 
+he was at work, a gendarme passed, observed him, and de- 
+roauded his papers. It was necessary to show him the yellow 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 93 
+
+passport. That done, Jean Valjean resumed his labor. A lit* 
+tie while before he had questioned one of the workmen as to the 
+amount which they earned each day at this occupation ; he had 
+been told thiHy sous. When evening arrived, as he was forced 
+to set out again on the following day, he presented himself to 
+the owner of the distillery and requested to be paid. The owner 
+did not utter a word, but handed him fifteen sous. He objected. 
+He was told, ^^TIuU is enough for thee.'* He persisted. Tba 
+master looked him straight between the eyes, and said to him, 
+^^ Beware of the prison.** 
+
+There, again, he considered that he had been robbed. 
+
+Society, the State, by diminishing his hoard, had robbed him 
+wholesale. Now it was the individual who was robbing him at 
+retail. 
+
+Liberation is not deliverance. One gets free from the gal- 
+leys, but not from the sentence. 
+
+That is what happened to him at Grasse. We have seen m 
+what manner he was received at D. 
+
+
+
+X. — Th£ Man aroused» 
+
+As the Cathedral clock struck two in the morning, Jean Val* 
+]ean awoke. 
+
+What woke him was that his bed was too good. It was nearly 
+twenty years since he had slept in a bed, and, altliough he had 
+not undressed, the sensation was too novel not to disturb his 
+slumbers. 
+
+He had slept more than four hours. His fatigue had passed 
+away. He was accustomed not to devote many hours to reix)se. 
+
+He opened his eyes and stared into the gloom wliich sur- 
+rounded him; then he closed them again, with the intention of 
+going to sleep once more. 
+
+When man}' varied sensations have agitated the day, when 
+various matters preoccupy the mind, one falls asleep once, but 
+not a second time. Sleep comes more easily than it returns. 
+This is what happened to Jean Valjean. He could not get to 
+sleep again, and he fell to thinking. 
+
+He was at one of those moments when the thoughts which 
+one has in one's mind are troubled. There was a sort of dark 
+confusion in his brain. His memories of the olden time and of 
+the immediate present floated there pell-pell and mingled con- 
+fusedly, losing their proper forms, becoming disproportionately 
+targe, then suddenlj disappearing, as in a muddy and perturbed 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+94 t.ES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+pool. Many thoughts occurred to him ; but there was one whicb 
+kept constantly presenting itself afresh, and which drove away 
+all the others. We will mention this thonght at once : he had 
+observed the six sets of silver forks and spoons and the ladle 
+which Madame Magloire had placed on the table. 
+
+Those six sets of silver haunted him. — They were there. — A 
+few paces distant. — Just as he was traversing the adjoining room 
+to reach the one in which he then was, the old servant-woman 
+had been in the act of placing them in a little cupboard near the 
+head of the bed. — He had taken careful note of this cupboard. 
+— On the right, as you entered from the dining-room. — They 
+were solid. — And old silver. — From the ladle one could get 
+at least two hundred francs. — Double what he had earned in 
+^neteen years. — It is true that he would have earned more if 
+*' the administration had not robbed him,** 
+
+His mind wavered for a whole hour in fluctuations with which 
+there was certainly mingled some struggle. Three o'clock struck. 
+He opened his eyes again, drew himself up abruptly into a sit- 
+ting posture, stretched out his ann and felt of his knapsack^ 
+which he had thrown down on a corner of the alcove ; then he 
+hung his legs over the edge of the bed, and placed his feet on 
+the floor, and thus found himself, almost without knowing it, 
+seated on his bed. 
+
+He remained for a time thoughtfully in this attitude, which 
+vould have been suggestive of something sinister for any one 
+who had seen him thus in the dark, the only person awake in 
+Ihat house where all were sleeping. All of a sudden he stooped 
+down, removed his shoes and placed them softly on the mat l)e- 
+tide the bed ; then he resumed his thoughtful attitude, and be« 
+came motionless once more. 
+
+Throughout this hideous meditation, the thoughts which we 
+have al)ove indicated moved incessantly through his brain; 
+entered, withdrew, re-entered, and in a manner oppressed 
+him ; and then he thought, also, without knowing why, and with 
+the mechanical persistence of re very, of a convict named Brevet, 
+whom he had known in the galleys, and whose trousers had been 
+upheld by a single suspender of knitted cotton. The checkered 
+pattern of that suspender recurred incessantly to his mind. 
+
+He remained in this situation, and would have so remained 
+indefinitely, even until daybreak, had not the clock struck one 
+-^the half or quarter hour. It seemed to him that that stroke 
+said to him, "Come on !" 
+
+He rose to his feet, hesitated still another moment, and lis- 
+tened; all was quiet in the house: theu he walked straight 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+PANTINE. 99 
+
+ahead, with short steps, to the window, of which he caught a 
+glimpse. The night was not very dark ; there was a full moon, 
+across which coursed large clouds, driven by the wind. Thia 
+created, outdoors, alternate shadow and gleams of light, eclipses, 
+then bright openings of the clouds; and indoors a sort of twi- 
+light. This twilight, sufficient to enable a person to see his 
+way, intermittent on account of the clouds, resembled the sort 
+of livid light which falls through an air-hole in a cellar, befori 
+which the passers-b}' come and go. On arriving at the window, 
+Jean Valjean examined it. It had no grating ; it opened ii 
+the garden and was fastened, according to the fashion of th€ 
+country, only by a small pin. He opened it; but as a rush of 
+cold and piercing air penetrated the room aL; iptl}-, he closed it 
+again immediately. He scrutinized the garden with that atten- 
+tive gaze which studies rather than looks. The garden was 
+enclosed by a tolerably low white wall, easy to climb. Far 
+away, at the extremity, he perceived tops of trees, spaced at 
+regular intervals, which indicated that the wall separated the 
+garden from an avenue or lane planted with trees. 
+
+Having taken this survey, he executed a movement like that 
+of a man who has made up his mind, strode to his alcove, 
+grasped his knapsack, opened it, fumbled in it, pulled out of it 
+something which he placed on the bed, put his shoes into one of 
+his pockets^ shut the whole thing up again, threw the knapsack 
+on his shoulders, put on his cap, drew the visor down over his 
+eyes, felt for his cudgel, went and placed it in the angle of the 
+window ; then returned to the bed, and resolutely seized the 
+object which he had deposited there. It resembled a short bar 
+of iron, pointed like a pike at one end. It would have been diffi- 
+cult to distinguish in that darkness for what employment that 
+bit of iron could have been designed. Perhaps it was a lever ; 
+possibly it was a club. 
+
+In the daytime it would have been possible to reoc^nize it as 
+nothing more than a miner's candlestick. Convicts were, at 
+that period, sometimes employed in quarrying stone from the 
+lofty hills which environ Toulon, and it was not rare for them to 
+have miners' tools at their command. These miners' candle 
+sticks are of massive iron, terminated at the lower extremity bj 
+a point, by means of which they are stuck into the rock. 
+
+He took the candlestick in his right hand ; holding his breath 
+and tryiiig to deaden the sound of his tread, he directed his 
+steps to the door of the adjoining room, occupied by the Bishop, 
+as we alread}' know. 
+
+On arriving ai this door, he found it ajar. The Bishop had 
+not closed it. 
+
+Digitized by CjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+86 LES MISEUABLES. 
+
+
+
+XI. — What hk dobs. 
+
+Jean Valjean listened. Not a souud. 
+
+He gave the door a push. 
+
+Ile pushed it gently with the tip of his finger, lightly, with tLi 
+iUrtive and uneasy gentleness of a eat which is desirous o! 
+sntering. 
+
+The door yielded to this pressure, and made an imperceptibU 
+and silent movement, which enlarged the opening a little. 
+
+He waited a moment; then gave the door a second and a 
+bolder push. 
+
+It continued to yield in silence. The opening was now large 
+enough to allow him to pass. But near the door there stood a 
+little table, which formed an embarrassing angle with it, and 
+barred the entrance. 
+
+Jean Valjcan recognized the difliculty. It was necessary» at 
+any cost, to enlarge the aperture still further. 
+
+He decided on his course of action, and gave the door a third 
+push, more energetic than the two preceding. This time a bacHy 
+oiled hinge suddenly emitted amid the silence a hoarse and pro- 
+longed cry. 
+
+Jean Valjean sliuddered. The noise of the hinge rang in his 
+ears with something of the piercing and formidable sound of the 
+trump of the Day of Judgment. 
+
+In the fantastic exaggerations of the first moment he almost 
+imagined that that hinge had just become animated, and had 
+suddenl}' assumed a terrible life, and that it was barking like a 
+dog to arouse every one, and warn and to wake those who were 
+asleep. He halted, shuddering, bewildered, and fell back from 
+the tips of his toes upon his heels. He heard the arteries in his 
+temples beating like two forge hammers, and it seemed to him 
+that his breath issued from his breast with the roar of the wind 
+issuing from a cavern. It seemed impossible to him that the 
+horrible clamor of that irritated hinge should not have disturbed 
+the entire household, like the shock of an earthquake ; tlie door, 
+pushed by him, had taken the alarm, and had shouted ; the old 
+man would rise at once ; the two old women would shriek out ; 
+people would come to their assistance ; in less than a quarter of 
+an hour tlic town would be in an u[)roar, and the gendarmerie 
+on hand. For a moment he thouirht himself lost. 
+
+He remained where he was, petrified like the statue of saltf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. W 
+
+not dariDg to make a movement. Several minutes elapsed. The 
+door had fallen wide open. He ventured to peep into the next 
+room. Nothing had stirred there. lie lent an ear. Nothing 
+was moving in the house. The noise made by the rusty hinge 
+had not awakened any one. 
+
+This first danger was past ; but there still reigned a frightful 
+tumult within him. Nevertheless, he did not retreat. Even 
+when he had thought himself lost, he had not drawn back. His 
+only thought now was to finish as soon as possible. He took a 
+gtep and entered the room. 
+
+This room was in a state of perfect calm. Here and there 
+vague and confused forms were distinguishable, which in the 
+daylight were papers scattered on a table, open folios, volumes 
+piled upon a stool, an arm-chair heaped with clothing, a prie- 
+Dieu, and which at that hour were only shadowy corners and 
+whitish spots. Jean Valjean advanced with precaution, taking 
+care not to knock against the furniture. He could hear, at the 
+extremity of the room, the even and tranquil breathing of the 
+sleeping Bishop. 
+
+He suddenly came to a halt. He was near the bed. He had 
+arrived there sooner than he had thought for. 
+
+Nature sometimes mingles her effects and her spectacles with 
+our actions with sombre and intelligent appropriateness, as 
+though she desired to make us reflect. For the last half-hour a 
+large cloud had covered the heavens. At the moment when 
+Jean Valjean paused in front of the bed, this cloud parted, as 
+though on purpose, and a ray of light, traversing the long win- 
+dow, suddenly illuminated the Bishop's pale face. He was 
+sleeping peacefully. He lay in his bed almost completely 
+dressed, on account of the cold of the Basses- Alpes, in a gar- 
+ment of brown wool, which covered his arms to the wrists. Hia 
+heed was thrown back on the pillow, in the careless attitude of 
+repose ; his hand, adorned with the pastoral ring, and whence 
+had fallen so many good deeds and so many holy actions, was 
+hanging over the edge of the bed. His whole face was illnrained 
+with a vague expression of satisfaction, of hope, and of felicity. 
+It was more than a smile, and almost a radiance. He bore upon 
+his brow the indescribable reflection of a light which was invisi« 
+ble. The soul of the just contemplates in sleep a mysterious 
+heaven. 
+
+A reflection of that heaven rested on the Bishop. 
+
+It was, at the same time, a luminous transparency, for thai 
+heaven was within him. That heaven was his conscience. 
+
+At the moment when the ray of moonlight superposed itselfi 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+98 LES MISjERABLBS. 
+
+so to speak, upon that inward radiance, the sleeping Bishop 
+seemed as in a glory. It remained, however, gentle and veiled 
+in an ineffable half-light. That moon in the sky, that slumber- 
+ing nature, that garden without a quiver, that house which was 
+«o calm, the hour, the moment, the silence, added some solemn 
+and unspeakable qualit}' to the venerable repose of this man, 
+and enveloped in a sort of serene and majestic aureole that 
+white hair, those closed eyes, that face in which all was hope 
+and all was confidence, that head of an old man, and that 
+slumber of an infant. 
+
+There was something almost divine in this man, who was thus 
+august, without being himself aware of it. 
+
+Jean Val jean was in the shadow, and stood motionless, with 
+his iron candlestick in his hand, frightened by this luminous old 
+man. Never had he beheld anything like this. This confidence 
+terrified him. The moral world has no grander spectacle than 
+this : a troubled and uneasy conscience, which has arrived on 
+the brink of an evil action, contemplating the slumber of the 
+Just. 
+
+That slumber in that isolation, and with a neighbor like him* 
+self, had about it something sublime, of which he was vaguely 
+but imperiously conscious. 
+
+No one could have told what was passing within him, not even 
+himself. In order to attempt to form an idea of it, it is neces- 
+sary to think of the most violent of things in the presence of the 
+most gentle. Even on his visage it would have been impossi- 
+ble to distinguish anything with certainty. It was a sort of 
+haggard astonishment. He gazed at it, and that was all. But 
+what was his thought? It would have been impossible to divine 
+it. What was evident was, that he was touched and astounded. 
+But what was the nature of this emotion ? 
+
+His eye never quitted the old man. The only thing which was 
+;$learly to be infened from his attitude and his physiognomy was 
+a strange indecision. One would have said that he was hesitat- 
+ing between the two abysses, — the one in which one loses one's 
+self and that in which one saves one's self. He seemed prepared 
+to crush that skull or to kiss that hand. 
+
+At the expiration of a few minutes his left arm rose slowlj' 
+towards his brow, and he took off his cap ; then his arm feU 
+back with the same deliberation, and Jean Valjean fell to medi- 
+tating once more, his cap in his left hand, his club in his right 
+hand, his hair bristling all over his savage head. 
+
+The Bishop continued to sleep in profound peace beneath that 
+terrifying gazo. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+I^ANTINB 99 
+
+The gleam of tiie moon rendered oonf nsedly visible the cmci 
+fix over the chimney-piece, which seemed to be extending its 
+arms to l>olh of them, with a benediction for one and pardon 
+for the other. 
+
+Suddenly Jean Valjean replaced his cap on his brow ; thea 
+itepped rapidly past the bed, without glancing at the Bishop, 
+straight to the cupboard, which he saw near the head ; he raised 
+his iron candlestick as though to force the lock ; the key was 
+there ; he opened it ; the first thing which presented itself to 
+him was the basket of silverware ; he seized it, traversed the 
+chamber with long strides, without taking any precautions and 
+without troubling himself about the noise, gained the door, re« 
+entered the oratory, opened the window, seized his cudgel, be< 
+strode the window-sill of the ground-floor, put the silver into 
+his knapsack, threw awa}' the basket, crossed the garden, leaped 
+over the wall like a tiger, and fled. 
+
+XII. — The Bishop wobks* 
+
+The next morning at sunrise Monseigneur Bienvenu waa 
+strolling in his garden. Madame Magloire ran up to him in 
+utter consternation. 
+
+*' Monseigneur, Monseigneur!" she exclaimed, '^does your 
+Grace know where the basket of silver is ? " 
+
+"Yes," replied the Bishop. 
+
+'^ Jesus the Lord be blessed ! " she resumed ; " I did not know 
+what had become of it." 
+
+The Bishop had just picked up the basket in a flower-bed. He 
+presented it to Madame Magloire. 
+
+" Here it is." 
+
+" Well ! " said she. » ' Nothing in it ! And the sUver ? " 
+
+"Ah," returned the Bishop, "so it is the silver which trou 
+Aes you? I don't know where it is." 
+
+" Great, good God ! It is stolen I That man who was here 
+last night has stolen it." 
+
+In a twinkling, with all the vivacity of an alert old woman, 
+Madame Magloire had rushed to the oratory, entered the alcove, 
+and returned to the Bishop. The Bishop had just bent down, 
+and was sighing as he examined a plant of cochlearia des Guil« 
+Ions, which the basket had broken as it fell across the bed. Ha 
+rose up at Madame Magloire's cry. 
+
+"Monseigneur, tb^ 3iMd? H «one! The silver has beef 
+itolca- • 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+\00 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+As she uttered this exclamation, her eyes fell upon a cornel 
+of the garden, where traces of the wall having been scaled were 
+visible. The coping of the wall had been torn away. 
+
+" Stay ! yonder is the waj' he went. He jumped over into 
+Cochefîlet Lane. Ah, the abomination I He has stolen our sil- 
+ver ! " 
+
+The Bishop remained silent for a moment ; then he raised hie 
+grave eyes, and said gently to Madame Magloire : — 
+
+" And, in the first place, was that silver ours? " 
+
+Madame Magloire was speechless. Another silence ensued 5 
+then the Bishop went on : — 
+
+'' Madame Magloire, I have for a long time detained that 
+silver wrongfully. It belonged to the poor. Who was that 
+man? A poor man, evidently." 
+
+'* Alas I Jesus ! " returned Madame Magloire. " It is not for 
+my sake, nor for Mademoiselle's. It makes no difference to us. 
+But it is for the sake of Monseigneur. What is Monseigneur 
+to eat with now ? " 
+
+The Bishop gazed at her with an air of amazement. 
+
+^^ Ah, come 1 Are there no such things as pewter forks and 
+spoons?" 
+
+Madame Magloire shrugged her shoulders. 
+
+" Pewter has an odor." 
+
+" Iron forks and spoons, then." 
+
+Madame Magloire made an expressive grimace* 
+
+'* Iron has a taste." 
+
+" Very well," sai(i the Bishop ; " wooden ones then.** 
+
+A few moments later he was breakfasting at the very table at 
+which Jean Valjean had sat on the previous evening. As he 
+ate his breakfast. Monseigneur Welcome remarked gayly to his 
+sister, who said nothing, and to Madame Magloire, who was 
+grumbling under her breath, that one really does not need either 
+fork or spoon, even of wood, in order to dip a bit of bread in a 
+oi.j) of milk. 
+
+** A pretty idea, truly," said Madame Magloire to herself, as 
+she went and came, " to take in a man like that ! and to lodge 
+him close to one's self ! And how fortunate that he did nothing 
+but steal ! Ah, mon Dieu ! it makes one shudder to think of 
+It!" 
+
+As the brother and sister were about to rise from the table, 
+there came a knock at the door. 
+
+" Come in," said the Bishop. 
+
+The door opened. A singular and violent group made ita 
+appearance on the threshold. Three men were holding a fourth 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FA NT I NE. 101 
+
+man by the collar. The three men were gendarmes ; the other 
+was Jean Valjean. 
+
+A brigadier of gendarmes, who seemed to be in command of 
+the group, was standing near the door. He entered and 
+advanced to the Bishop, making a military salute. 
+
+" Monseigneur — " said he. 
+
+At this word, Jean Valjean, who was dejected and seemed 
+overwhelmed, raised his head with an air of stupefaction. 
+
+" Monseigneur ! '' he murmured. " So he is not the curé ? '" 
+
+"Silence!'' said a gendarme. "He is Monseigneur the 
+Bishop." 
+
+In the meantime, Monseigneur Bienvenu had advanced as 
+quickly as his great age permitted. 
+
+" Ah ! here you are ! " he exclaimed, looking at Jean Val- 
+jean. " I am glad to see you. Well, but how is this ? I ^ave 
+you the candlesticks too, which are of silver like the rest, and 
+for which you can certainly get two hundred francs. Why did 
+you not carry them away with your forks and spoons ? " 
+
+Jean Valjean opened his eyes wide, and stared at the vener- 
+able Bishop with an expression which no human tongue can 
+render an}- account of. 
+
+" Monseigneur," said the brigadier of gendarmes, '' so what 
+this man said is true, then? We came across him. He was 
+walking like a man who is running away. We stopped him to 
+look into the matter. He had this silver — " 
+
+" And he told you," interposed the Bishop, with a smile, 
+^^ that it had been given to him by a kind old fellow of a priest 
+with whom he had passed the niffht? I see how the matter 
+stands. And you have brought him back here ? It is a mis- 
+take." 
+
+"In that case," replied the brigadier, ** we can let him go?'* 
+
+" Certainly," replied the Bishop. 
+
+The gendarmes released Jean Valjean, who recoiled. 
+
+" Is it true that I am to be released? " he said, in an almost 
+narticulate voice, and as though he were talking in his sleep. 
+
+'*Ye8, thou art released; dost thou not understand ?" said 
+one of the gendarmes. 
+
+'* My friend," resumed the Bishop, " before you go, here are 
+your candlesticks. Take them." 
+
+He stepped to the chimney-piece, took the two silver candle- 
+sticks, and brought them to Jean Valjean. The two women 
+Icx>ked on without uttering a word, without a gesture, without a 
+kok which coald disconcert the Bishop. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+102 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Jean Valîcan was trembling in every limb. He took the two 
+:andlesticks mechanically, and with a bewildered air. 
+
+'* Now," Baid the Bishop, *' go in peace. By the way, when 
+jrou return, my friend, it is not necessary to pass through the 
+garden. You can always enter and depart through the street 
+floor. It is never fastened with anything but a latch, either by 
+day or by night." 
+
+Then, turning to the gendarmes ; — 
+
+** You may retire, gentlemen." 
+
+The gendarmes retired. 
+
+Jean Val jean was like a man on the point of fainting. 
+
+The Bishop drew near to him, and said in a low voice : — 
+
+'' Do not forget, never forget, that you have promised to use 
+this money in becoming an honest man." 
+
+Jean Val jean, who had no recollection of ever having 
+promised an}* thing, remained speechless. The Bishop had em- 
+phasized the words when he uttered them. He resumed with 
+solemnity : — 
+
+*' Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but 
+to good. It is your soul that I buy from you ; I withdraw it 
+from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to 
+God." 
+
+Xin. — LnTLE Gebyais. 
+
+Jean Valjean left the town as though he were fleeing from 
+it. He set out at a very hasty pace through the fields, taking 
+whatever roads and paths presented themselves to him, without 
+perceiving that he was incessantly retracing his steps. He 
+wandered thus the whole morning, without having eatea any- 
+thing and without feeling hungry. He was the prey of a throng 
+of novel sensations. He was conscious of a sort of rage ; he 
+did not know against whom it was directed. He could not have 
+told whether he was touched or humiliated. There came over 
+him at moments a strange emotion which he resisted and to 
+which he opposed the hardness acquired during the last twenty 
+years of his life. This state of mind fatigued him. He per- 
+ceived with dismay that the sort of frightful calm which the 
+injustice of his misfortune had conferred upon him was giving 
+way within him. He asked himself what would replace this. 
+A-t times he would bave actually preferred to be in prison with 
+«.Le uçeiufarmes. and tbat things should not have hap|)ened in 
+thi:: '/ay; ii would have agitated him less. Although the 
+deason was tolerably far advanced, there were still a few lata 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 108 
+
+flowers m the hedge-rows here and there, whose odor as he 
+passed through them in his march recalled to him memories ot 
+his childhood. These memories were almost intolerable to him, 
+it was so long since they had recurred to him. 
+
+Unutterable thoughts assembled within him in this manner all 
+lay long. 
+
+As the sun declined to its setting, casting long shadows 
+itliwart the soil from every pebble, Jean Val jean sat down 
+behind a bush upon a large ruddy plain, which was absolutely 
+deserted. There was nothing on the horizon except the Alps. 
+Not even the spire of a distant village. Jean Valjean might 
+have been three leagues distant from D. A path which inter- 
+sected the plain passed a lew paces from the bush. 
+
+In the middle of this meditation, which would have contrib- 
+uted not a little to render his rags terrifying to any one who 
+might have encountered him, a joyous sound became audible. 
+
+He turned his head and saw a little Savoyard, about ten years 
+of age, coming up the path and singing, his hurdy-gurdy on 
+his hip, and his marmot-box on his back. 
+
+One of those gay and gentle children, who go from land to 
+land affording a view of their knees through the holes in their 
+trousers. 
+
+Without stopping his song, the lad halted in his march from 
+time to time, and played at knuckle-bones with some coins 
+which he had in his hand — his whole fortune, probably. 
+
+Among this money there was one forty-sou piece. 
+
+The child halted beside the bush, without perceiving Jean 
+Valjean, and tossed up his handful of sous, which, up to that 
+time, he had caught with a good deal of adroitness on the back 
+of his hand. 
+
+This time the forty-sou piece escaped him, and went rolling 
+towards the brushwood until it reached Jean Valjean. 
+
+Jean Valjean set his foot upon it. 
+
+In the meantime, the child had looked after his coin and had 
+caught sight of him. 
+
+He showed no astonishment, but walked straight up to the 
+man. 
+
+The spot was absolutely solitary. As far as the eye could 
+8ee there was not a person on the plain or on the path. The 
+only sound was the tiny, feeble criés of a flock of birds of 
+passage, which was traversing the heavens at an immense 
+height. The child was standing with his back to the sun, which 
+cast threads of gold in his hair and empurpled with its blood- 
+red gleam the savage face of Jean Valjean. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+104 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+" Sir," said the little Savoyard, with that childish confidence 
+which is coini)osed of ignorance and innocence, " my money." 
+
+" What is your name ? " said Jean Valjean. 
+
+" Little Gervais, sir." 
+
+" Go away," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+** Sir," resumed the child, " give me back my money." 
+
+Jean Valjean dropped his head, and made no reply. 
+
+The child began again, " My money, sir." 
+
+Jean Valjean's eyes remained fixed on the earth. 
+
+" My piece of money ! " cried the child, " my white piece Î 
+my silver ! " 
+
+It seemed as though Jean Valjean did not hear him. The 
+child grasi)«d him by the collar of his blouse and shook him. 
+At the same time he made an effort to displace the big iron- 
+shod shoe which rested on his treiisure. 
+
+" I want my piece of money ! my piece of forty sous ! " 
+
+The child wept. Jean Valjean raised his head. He still re- 
+mained seated. His eyes were troubled. He gazed at the child 
+in a sort of amazement, then he stretched out liis hand towards 
+his cudgel and cried in a terrible voice, " Wlio's there ? " 
+
+" I, sir," replied the child. " Little Gervais ! I ! Give me 
+back my forty sous, if you please ! Take your foot away, sir, 
+if you please ! " 
+
+Then irritated, though he was so small, and becoming almost 
+menacing : — 
+
+" Come now, will you take your foot away ? Take your foot 
+away, or we'll see ! " 
+
+" Ah ! It's still you ! " said Jean Valjean, and rising abruptly 
+to his feet, his foot still resting on the silver piece, he added: — 
+
+" Will you take yourself off ! " 
+
+The frightened child looked at him, then began to tremble 
+from head to foot, jind after a few moments of stupor he set 
+out, running at the top of his speed, without daring to turn his 
+neck or to utter a cry. 
+
+Nevertlieless, lack of breath forced him to halt after a cer- 
+tain distance, and Jean Valjean heard him sobbing, in the midst 
+of his own re very. 
+
+At the end of a few moments the child had disappeared. 
+
+The sun had set. 
+
+The shadows were descending around Jean Valjean. He had 
+eaten nothing all day ; it is probable that he was feverish. 
+
+He had remained standing and had not changed his attitude 
+after the child's flight. The breath heaved his chest at lonp 
+and irregular intervals. His gaze, fixed ten or twelve pactss in 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FA NT f NE. 103 
+
+front ^f him, Beemed to be scrutinizing with profound attentioc 
+the s^ape of an ancient fragment of blue earthenware which 
+had fallen in the grass. All at once he shivered ; he had juHt 
+begun to feel the chill of evening. 
+
+lie settled his cap more firml}' on his brow, sought mechani- 
+cally to cross and button his blouse, advanced a step, and 
+itooped to pick up his cudgel. 
+
+At that moment he caught sight of the forty-sou piece, which 
+his foot had half ground into the earth, and which was shining 
+among the pebbles. It was as though he had received a gal- 
+vanic shock. " What is this?" he muttered between his teetli. 
+He recoiled three paces, then halted, without being able to 
+detach his gaze from the spot which his foot had trodden but 
+an instant before, as though the thing which lay glittering there 
+in the gloom had been an open eye riveted upon him. 
+
+At the expiration of a few moments he darted convulsively 
+towards the silver coin, seized it, and straightened himself up 
+again and began to gaze afar off over the plain, at the same 
+time casting his eyes towards all points of the horizon, as he 
+stood there erect and shivering, like a terrified wild animai 
+^hich is seeking a refuge. 
+
+He saw nothing. Night was falling, the plain was cold and 
+vague, great banks of violet haze were rising in the gleam of 
+the twilight. 
+
+He said, ^^ Ah !" and set out rapidly in the direction in which 
+the child had disappeared. After about thirty paces he paused, 
+looked about him and saw nothing. 
+
+Then he shouted with all his might : — 
+
+*' Little Gervais ! Little Gervais 1 ** 
+
+He paused and waited* 
+
+There was no reply. 
+
+The landscape was gloomy and deserted. He was encom 
+passed by space. There was nothing around him but an ob 
+scanty in which his gaze was lost, and a silence which engulfed 
+his voice. 
+
+An icy north wind was blowing, and imparted to things 
+around him a sort of lugubrious life. The bushes shook their 
+thin little arms with incredible fury. One would have said 
+that they were threatening and pursuing some one. 
+
+He set out on his march again, then he began to run ; and 
+from time to time he halted and shouted into that solitude, 
+with a voice which was the most formidable and the most dis- 
+consolate that it was possible to hear, ^^ Little Gervais I Little 
+Qervais I '^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+106 LES MISERABLES 
+
+Assuredly, if the child had heard him, he would haye bee« 
+aiarmed and would have taken good care not to Rhow himself. 
+But the child was no doubt already far away. 
+
+He encountered a priest on horseback. He stepped up to 
+him and said : — 
+
+*•*' Monsieur le Curé, have you seen a child pass?" 
+
+''No," said the priest. 
+
+*' One named Little Gervais?" 
+
+" I have seen no one." 
+
+He drew two five-franc pieces from his money-bag ano 
+banded them to the priest. 
+
+''Monsieur le Curé, this is for your poor i)eople. Monsieur 
+le Curé, he was a little lad, about ten years old, with a marmot, 
+1 think, and a hurdy-gurdy. One of those Savoyaitis, you 
+know?" 
+
+" I have not seen him." 
+
+"Little Gervais? There are no villages here? Can you 
+tell me?" 
+
+" If he is like what you say, my friend, he is a little stranger. 
+Such persons pass through tiiese parts. We know nothing of 
+them." 
+
+Jean Valjean seized two more coins of five francs each with 
+violence, and gave them to. the priest. 
+
+"For your poor," he said. 
+
+Then he added, wildly : — 
+
+" Monsieur l'Abbé, have me arrested. I am a thief •" 
+
+The priest put spurs to his horse and fled in haste, much 
+alarmed. 
+
+Jean Valjean set out on a run, in the direction which he had 
+first taken. 
+
+In this way he traversed a tolerably long distance, gazing, 
+calling, shouting, but he met no one. Two or three times he 
+ran across the plain towards something which conveyed to him 
+the effect of a human being reclining or couching down ; it 
+turned out to be nothing but bnishwood or rocks nearly on 
+a level with the earth. At length, at a spot where three paths 
+intersected each other, he stopped. The moon had risen. He 
+sent his gaze into the distance and shouted for the last time, 
+" Little Gervais ! Little Gervais ! Little Gervais ! " His shout 
+died away in the mist, without even awakening an echo. He 
+murmured yet once more, " Little Gervais ! " but in a feeble and 
+almost inarticulate voice. It was his last effort ; his legs gave 
+way abruptly under him, as though an invisible power had sud- 
+denly over^ helmed him with the weifirht of his evU conscience ; 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 107 
+
+Ae fell exhansted, on a large stone, his fists clenched in his hair 
+and his face on his knees, and he cried, " I am a wretch ! *' 
+
+Then his heart burst, and he began to cry. It was the first 
+time that be had wept in nineteen years. 
+
+When Jean Valjeah left the Bishop's house, he was, as we 
+have seen, quite thrown out of ever3*thing that had been his 
+thought hitherto. He could not yield to the evidence of what 
+iFas going on within him. He hardened himself against the 
+HDgelic action and the gentle words of tiie old man. *'You 
+have promised me to become an honest man. I buy your soul. 
+I take it away from the spirit of perversit}' ; I give it to the 
+good God." 
+
+This recurred to his mind unceasingly. To this celestial 
+kindness he opposed pride, which is the fortress of evil within 
+08. He was indistinct!}' conscious that the pardon of this priest 
+was the greatest assault and the most formidable attack which 
+had moved him yet ; that his obduracy was finally settled if he 
+resisted this clemency ; that if he yielded, he should be obliged 
+to renounce that hatred with which the actions of other men 
+had filled his soul through so many years, and which pleased 
+him ; that this time it was necessary to conquer or to be con- 
+quered ; and that a struggle, a colossal and final struggle, had 
+heen begun between his viciousness and the goodness of that 
+man. 
+
+In the presence of these lights, he proceeded like a man who 
+is intoxicated. As he walked thus with haggard eyes, did he 
+have a distinct perception of what might result to him from 
+his adventure at D. ? Did he understand all those mysterious 
+murmurs which warn or importune the spirit at certain moments 
+of life? Did a voice whisper in his ear that he had just passed 
+the solemn hour of his destiny ; that there no longer remained 
+a middle course for him ; that if he were not henceforth the 
+best of men, he would be the worst ; that it behooved him now, 
+80 to speak, to mount higher than the Bishop, or fall lower 
+than the convict; that if he wished to become good, he must 
+become an angel ; that if he wished to remain evil, he must be- 
+come a monster? 
+
+Here, again, some questions must be put, which we have 
+already put to ourselves elsewhere : did he catch some shadow 
+of all this in his thought, in a confused way? Misfortune cer- 
+tainly, as we have said, does form the education of the inti'Ui- 
+pence ; nevertheless, it is doubtful whether Jean Valjean was 
+in a condition to disentangle all that we have here indicated. 
+If these ideas occurred to him, he but caught glimpses of, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+108 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+rather than saw them, and they only succeeded m throwing 
+him into an uuiitterabic and almost painful state of emotion. 
+On emerging from that black and deformed thing which is 
+called the galleys, the Bishop had hurt his soul, as too vivid a 
+light would have hurt his eyes on emerging from the dark. 
+The future life, the possible life which offered itself to him 
+henceforth, all pure and radiant, filled him with* tremors and 
+anxiety. lie no longer knew where he really was. Like an 
+owl, who should suddenly see the sun rise, the convict had been 
+dazzled and blinded, as it were, by virtue. 
+
+That which was certain, that which he did not doubt, was that 
+he was no longer the same man, that ever3'thing about him was 
+changed, that it was no longer in his power to make it as though 
+the Bishop had not spoken to him and had not touched him. 
+
+In this state of mind he had encountered little Gervais, and 
+had robbed him of his forty sous. Why ? He certainly could 
+not have explained it ; was this the last effect and the supreme 
+effort, as it were, of the evil thoughts which he had brought 
+away from the galleys, — a remnant of impulse, a result of what 
+is called in statics, acquired force? It was that, and it was 
+also, perhaps, even less than that. Let us say it simply, it 
+was not he who stole ; it was not the man ; it was the beast, 
+who, by habit and instinct, had simply placed its foot upon 
+that money, w^hile the intelligence was struggling amid so many 
+novel and hitherto unheard-of thoughts besetting it. 
+
+When intelligence re-awakened and beheld that action of the 
+brute, Jean Valjean recoiled with anguish and uttered a crj* of 
+terror. 
+
+It was because, — strange phenomenon, and one which was 
+possible only in the situation in which he found himself, — in 
+stealing the money from that child, he had done a thing of 
+which he was no longer capable. 
+
+However that may be, this last evil action had a decisive 
+effect on him ; it abruptly traversed that chaos which he boi e 
+in his mind, and dispersed it, placed on one side the thick obscu- 
+rity, and on the other the light, and acted on his soul, in the 
+state in which it then was, as certain chemical reagents act 
+upon a troubled mixture by precipitating one element and clari- 
+fying the other. 
+
+First of all, even before examining himself and reflecting, all 
+bewildered, like one who seeks to save himself, he tried to find 
+the child in order to return his money to him ; then, when he 
+recognized the fact that this was impossible, he halted in despair. 
+At the moment when he exclaimed ^^ I am a wretch!" he had 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 109 
+
+Just perceived what he was, and he was already separated from 
+himself to sach a degree, that he seemed to himself to be no 
+longer anj'thing more than a phantom, and as if he had, there 
+before him, in flesh and blood, the hideous galley-convict, Jean 
+Valjean, cudgel in hand, his blouse on his hips, his knapsack 
+filled with stolen objects on his back, with his resolute and 
+gloomy visage, with his thoughts filled with abominable projects. 
+
+Excess of unhappiness had, as we have remarked, made him 
+in some sort a visionary. This, then, was in the nature of a 
+vision. He actually saw that Jean Valjean, that sinister face, 
+before him. He had almost reached the point of asking himself 
+who that man was, and he was horrified by him. 
+
+His brain was going through one of those violent and yet 
+perfectly calm moments in which revery is so profound that it 
+absorbs reality. One no longer beliolds the objects which one 
+has before one, and one sees, as though apart from one's self, 
+the figures which one has in one's own mind. 
+
+Thus he contemplated himself, so to speak, face to face, and 
+at the same time, athwart this hallucination, he perceived in a 
+mysterious depth a sort of light which he at first took for a 
+torch. On scrutinizing this light -which appeared to his con- 
+science with more attention, he recognized the fact that it pos- 
+sessed a human form and that this torch was the Bishop. 
+
+His conscience weighed in turn these two men thus placed 
+before it, — the Bishop and Jean Valjean. Nothing less than 
+the first was required to soften the second. By one of those 
+singular effects, which are peculiar to this sort of ecstasies, in 
+proportion as his revery continued, as the Bishop grew great 
+and resplendent in his eyes, so did Jean Valjean grow less 
+and vanish. After a certain time he was no longer anything 
+more than a shade. All at once he disappeared. The Bishop 
+alone remained ; he filled the whole soul of this wretched man 
+with a magnificent radiance. 
+
+Jean Valjean wept for a long time. He wept burning tears, 
+he sobbed with more weakness than a woman, with more fright 
+than a child. 
+
+As he wept, daylight penetrated more and more clearly into 
+his soul ; an extraordinary' light ; a light at once ravishing and 
+terrible. His past life, his first fault, his long expiation, his 
+external brutishness, his internal hardness, his dismissal to 
+liberty, rejoicing in manifold plans of vengeance, what had hap- 
+pened to him at the Bishop's, the last thing that he had done, 
+that theft of forty sous from a child, a crime air the more 
+cowardly and all the more monstrous since it had come after 
+the Bishop's pardon, — all this recurred to his mind and appeared 
+
+
+
+110 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+clearly to him, but with a clearness which he had never hitherto 
+witnessed. He examined liis life, and it seemed horiii>le to 
+him ; his soul, and it seemed frigiitfiil to him. In the luean- 
+tirae a gentle light rested over tliis life and this soul. It 
+seemed to liim that he beheld Satan by the light of Paradise. 
+
+How many hours did he weep thus? What did he do after 
+he had wept? Whither did he go! No one ever knew. The 
+only thing which seems to be authenticated is that that same 
+night the carrier who served Grenoble at that eix>oh, and who 
+arrived at D. about three o'clock in the morning, saw, as he 
+tnivei-sed the street in which the Bishop's residence was Bit 
+uated, a man in t]\e attitude of prayer, kneeling on the pave 
+ment in the shadow, in front of the door of Monseigneoi 
+Welcome. 
+
+
+
+BOOK THIRD.— IN THE YEAR 1817 
+
+I.— The Year 1817. 
+
+1817 is the year which Louis XVIII., with a certain royaJ 
+assurance which was not wanting in pride, entitled the twenty- 
+second of his reign. It is the year in which M. Bruguière de 
+Sorsum was celebrated. All the hairdressers' shops, hoping 
+for powder and the return of the royal bird, were besmeare<i 
+with azure and decked with fleurs-de-lys. It was Ihe candid 
+time at which Count Lynch sat every Sunday as church-warden 
+in the church-warden's pew of Saint-Germain-des-Prés, in his 
+costume of a peer of France, with his red ribbon and his long 
+nose and the majesty of profile peculiar to a man who has per- 
+formed a brilliant action. The brilliant action performed by 
+M. Lynch was this: being mayor of Bordeaux, on the 12th of 
+March, 1814, he had surrendered the city a little too promptly 
+to M. the Duke d'Angouleme. Hence his peerage. In 1817 
+fashion swallowed up little boys of from four to six years of 
+age in vast caps of morocco leather with ear-tabs resembling 
+Esquimaux mitres. The French arm}* was dressed in white, 
+after the mode of the Austrian ; the regiments were called 
+legions; instead of numbers they bore the names of depart- 
+ments ; Napoleon was at St. Helena ; and since England refused 
+him green cloth, he was having his old coats turned. In 1817 
+Pelligrini sang ; Mademoiselle Bigottini danced ; Potier reigned ; 
+Odry did not yet exist. Madame Saqui had succeeded M 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. Ill 
+
+F(Hio60. There were still Prussians in France. M. Delalol 
+was a personage. Legitiroaey had jnst asserted itself by cut 
+ting off the hand, then the head, of Pieignier, of Carbonneau, 
+and of Tolleron. The Prince de Talleyrand, grand chamber- 
+lain, and the Abbé Louis, appointed minister of finance, langhed 
+as they looked at each other, with the langh of the two augurs ; 
+both of them had celebrated, on the 14th of July, 1790, the mass 
+of federation in the Champ de Mars ; Talleyrand had said it as 
+bishop, Louis had served it in the capacity of deacon. In 1817, 
+in the side-alleys of this same Champ de Mars, two great cylin- 
+ders of wood might have been seen lying in the rain, rotting 
+amid the grass, painted blue, with ti*aces of eagles and bees, 
+from which the gilding was falling. These were the columns 
+which two years before had upheld the Emperor's platfoim in 
+the Champ de Mai. They were blackened here and ther^ with 
+the scorches of the bivouac of Austrians encamped near Gros- 
+Caillou. TVo or three of these columns had disappeared in 
+these bivouac fires, and had warmed the large hands of the 
+Imperial troops. The Field of May had this remarkable point : 
+that it had been held in the month of June and in the Field of 
+March (Mars). In this year, 1817, two things were popular: 
+the Voltaire-Touquct and the snuff-box à la Charter. The most 
+recent Parisian sensation was the crime of Dautun, who had 
+thrown his brother's head into the fountain of the Flower- 
+Market. 
+
+They had begun to feel anxious at the Naval Department, on 
+acconntof the lack of news from that fatal frigate, Tlie Medusa^ 
+which was destined to cover Chaumareix with infamy and G6ri- 
+cault with glory. Colonel Selves was going to Egypt to be- 
+come Soliman-Pasha. The palace of Thermes, in the Rue de La 
+Harpe, served as a shop for a cooper. On the platform of the 
+octagonal tower of the Hotel de Cluny, the little shed of boards, 
+which had served as an observatory to Messier, the naval as- 
+tronomer under Louis XVI., was still to be seen. The Duchesse 
+de Duras read to three or four friends her unpublished Ourika^ 
+in her boudoir furnished by X. in sky-blue satin. The N's were 
+scratched off the Louvre. The bridge of Austerlitz had abdi- 
+cated, and was entitled the bridge of the King's Garden [du 
+Jardin du Roi] , a double enigma, which disguised the bridge of 
+Ansterlitz and the Jardin des Plantes at one stroke. Louis 
+XVIII., much preoccupied while annotating Horace with the 
+corner of his finger-nail, heroes who have become emperors, 
+and makers of wooden shoes wlio have become dauphins, had 
+two anxieties, — Napoleon and Matburin Bmneau. The French 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+112 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+Academy had given for its prize subject, Tlie Happiness pro- 
+cured through Study, M. Bellart was oliiciall}' eloquent. In 
+iiis shadow could be seen germinating that future advocate- 
+general of Broë, dedicated to the sarcasms of Paul-Liouis 
+Courier. There was a false Chateaubriand, named Marchang^^, 
+in the interim, until there should be a false Marchangy, 
+named d'Arlincourt. Claire d*Albe and Malek-Adel were 
+masterpieces ; Madame Cottin was proclaimed the chief writer 
+of the epoch. The Institute had the academician, Napoleon 
+Bonaparte, stricken from its list of members. A royal ordi- 
+nance erected Angouleme into a naval school ; for the Duo 
+d'Angouleme, being lord high admiral, it was evident that the 
+city of Angouleme had all the qualities of a seaport ; other- 
+wise the monarchical principle would have received a wound. 
+In tlie Council of Ministtîrs the question was agitated whether 
+vignettes representing slack-rope performances, which adorned 
+Franconi's advertising posters, and which attracted throngs of 
+street urchins, should be tolerated. M. Paer, the author of 
+Agnese^ a good sort of fellow, with a square face and a wart on 
+his cheek, directed the little private concerts of the Marquise de 
+Sasenaye, in the Rue Ville TÉvcque. AU tlie young girls were 
+singing the Hei-mit of Saint-Acelle^ with words by Edmond 
+Géraud. Tlie Yellow Dwarf was transferred into Mirror. 
+The Café Lemblin stood up for the Emperor, against the Café 
+Valois, whicli upheld the Bourbons. The Due de Bern, al- 
+ready sui-veyed from the shadow by Louvel, had just been 
+married to a princess of Sicily. Madame de Staël had died 
+a year previously. The body-guard hissed Mademoiselle Mars. 
+The grand newspapers were all very small. Their form was 
+restricted, but their liberty was great. The Constitutionnel 
+was constitutional. La Minerve called Chateaubriand Chateau- 
+briant. That t made the good middle-class people laugh heartily 
+at the expense of the great writer. In journals which sold them- 
+selves, prostituted journalists, insulted the exiles of 1815. 
+David had no longer any talent, Arnault had no longer any 
+wit, Carnot was no longer honest, Soult had won no battles ; 
+:t is true that Napoleon had no longer any genius. No one is 
+ignorant of the fact that letters sent to an exile by post very 
+rarely reached him, as the police made it their religious duty to 
+intercept them. This is no new fact ; Descartes complained o< 
+it in his exile. Now David, liaving, in a Belgian publication, 
+shown some displeasure at not receiving letters which had 
+been written to him, it struck the royalist journals as amusing; 
+and they derided the prescribed man well on this occasion. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB:, \\t 
+
+What separated two men more than an abyss was to say, the 
+"egicides^ or to say the voters; to say the vnemies^ or to say the 
+allies; to say Napoleon^ or to say Buonaimrte. All sensible 
+people were agreed that the era of revolution had been closed 
+forever by King Louis XVIII., surnamed "The Immortal 
+Author of the Charter." On the platform of the Pont-Neuf, 
+the word Redivivus was carved on the pedestal that awaited 
+the statue of Henry IV. M. Piet, in the Rue Thérèse, No. 4, 
+was making the rough draft of his privy assembly to consolidate 
+the monarch}-. The leaders of the Right said at grave conjunc- 
+tures, " We must write to Bacot." MM. Cauuel, O'Mahoney, 
+and De Chappedelaine were preparing the sketch, to some 
+extent with Monsieur's approval, of what was to become later 
+on '• The Conspiracy of the Bord de l'Eau" — of the waterside. 
+L'Épingle Noire was already plotting in his own quarter. 
+Delaverderie was conferring with Trogoff . M. Decazes, who was 
+liberal to a degree, reigned. Chateaubriand stood every morn- 
+ing at his window at No. 27 Rue Sahit-Dominique, clad in 
+footed trousers, and slippers, with a madras kerchief knotted 
+over his gray hair, witli his eyes fixed on a mirror, a complete 
+set of dentist's instruments spread out before him, cleaning his 
+teeth, which were charming, while he dictated llie Monarchy aC' 
+cording to the Charter to M. Pilorge, his secretary. Criticism, 
+assuming an authoritative tone, preferred Lafon to Talma. 
+M. de Féletz signed himself A. ; M. liotFuiann signed himself 
+Z. Charles Nodier wrote Tliérèse Anhert. Divorce was abol- 
+ished. Lyceums called themselves colleges. The collegians, 
+decorated on the collar with a golden fleur-de-lys, fought each 
+other aproj)OS of the King of Rome. The counter-police of the 
+château hud denounced to her Royal Highness Madame, the 
+portrait, everywhere exhibited, of M. the Due d'Orléans, who 
+made a Ixîtter appearance in his uniform of a colonel-general 
+of hussars than M. the Due de Berri, in his uniform of colonel- 
+general of dragoons — a serious inconvenience. The city of 
+Paris was having the dome of the Invalides regilded at its own 
+expense. Serious men asked themselves what M. de Trinque* 
+lague would do on such or such an occasion ; M. Clausel de 
+Montais differed on divers points from M. Clausel de Cousser- 
+gues; M. de Salaberry was not satisfied. The comedian 
+Picard, who belonged to the Academy, which the comedian 
+Molière had not been able to do, had Tlie Ttvo Philiherts played 
+at the Odéon, upon whose pediment the removal of the letters 
+still allowed Tiikatre op the Empuess to be plainly read. 
+People took part for or against Cugnet de Montakiot. Fabviel 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+114 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+was factious ; Bavoux was revolutionary. The Liberal, Pélicief 
+publislicd an edition of Voltaire, with tlie following title*. 
+Works of Voltaire, of the French Academy. ''That will 
+attract purchasers," said the ingenuous editor. The general 
+opinion was that M. Charles Loyson would be the genius of 
+the century; envy was beginning to gnaw at him — a sign of 
+gloiy; and this verse was composed on him: — 
+
+** £?en when Ix>y8on steals, one feels that he has paws." 
+
+As Cardinal Fesch refused to resign, M. de Pins, Archbishop of 
+Amasie, administered the diocese of Lyons. The quarrel over 
+the valley of Dappes was begun between Switzerland and France 
+by a memoir from Captain, afterwards General, Dufour. Saint • 
+Simon, ignored, was erecting his sublime dream. There was a 
+celebrated Fourier at the Academy of Science, whom posterity 
+has forgotten ; and in some garret an obscure Fourier, whom 
+the future will recall. Lord Byron was beginning to make his 
+mark; a note to a poem by Mille voye introduced him to France 
+in these terms : a certain Lord Baron. David d'Angers was 
+trying to work in marble. Tiie Abbé Caron was speaking in 
+terms of praise, to a private gathering of seminarists io the 
+blind alley of Feuillantines, of an unknown priest, named 
+Félicité-Robert, who, at a latter date, became Lamennais. A 
+thing which smoked and clattered on the Seine with the noise 
+of a swimming dog went and came beneath the windows of the 
+Tuileries, from the Pont Royal to the Pont Louis XV. ; it was 
+a piece of mechanism which was not good for much ; a sort of 
+plaything, the idle dream of a dream-ridden inventor; an 
+Utopia — a steamboat. The Parisians stared indifferently at 
+this useless tiling. M. de Vaublanc, the reformer of the Insti- 
+tute by a coup d'état, the distinguished author of numerous 
+academicians, ordinances, and batches of members, after hav- 
+ing created them, could not succeed in becoming one himself. 
+The Faubourg Saint-Germain and the pavilion de Marsan wished 
+to have M. Delaveau for prefect of police, on account of his 
+piety. Dupuytren and Récamier entered into a quarrel in the 
+amphitheatre of the School of Medicine, and threatened each 
+other with their fists on the subject of tlie divinity of Jesus 
+Christ. Cuvier, with one eye on Genesis and the other on 
+nature, tried to please bigoted reaction by reconciling fossils 
+with texts and by making mastodons flatter Moses. 
+
+M. François de Neufchâteau, the praiseworthy cultivator of 
+the memory of Parmentier, made a tiiousand efforts to have 
+pomme de terre [potato] pronounced ixirmentière, and succeeded 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. 115 
+
+therein not at all. The Abbé Grégoire, ex-bishop, ex-conven 
+tionarj, ex-senator^ had passed, in the royalist polemics, to the 
+state of '^ Infamous Grégoire." The locution of which we have 
+made use — passed to the state of — has been condemned as a 
+neologism by M. Royer CoUard. Under the third arch of the 
+Tont de Jena, the new stone with which, the two years previously, 
+the mining aperture made by Blucher to blow up the bridge had 
+hien stopped up, was still recognizable on account of its white- 
+ness. Justice summoned to its bar a man who, on seeing the 
+^)omte d'Artois enter Nôtre Dame, had said aloud : ^^Sapristil 
+
+f regret the time when I saw Bonaparte and Talma enter the Bel 
+Sauvage^ arm in arm.** A seditious utterance. Six months in 
+prison. Traitors showed themselves unbuttoned ; men who had 
+gone over to the enemy on the eve of battle made no secret of 
+their recompense, and strutted immodestly in the light of day, 
+in tiie cynicism of riches and dignities ; deserters from Ligny 
+and Quatre-Bras, in the brazeuness of their well-paid turpitude, 
+exhibited their devotion to the monarchy in the most barefaced 
+manner. 
+
+This is what floats up confusedly, pell-mell, for the year 1817. 
+and is now forgotten. History neglects nearly all these partic- 
+ulars, and cannot do otherwise ; the infinity would overwhelm 
+(t. Nevertheless, these details, which are wrongly called trivial,* 
+
+— there are no trivial facts in humanity, nor little leaves in 
+regetation, — are useful. It is of the physiognomy of the years 
+that the physiognomy of the centuries is composed. In this 
+year of 1817 four young Parisians arranged '^ a fine farce.*' 
+
+
+
+n.— A Double Quartette. 
+
+These Parisians came, one from Toulouse, another from 
+Limites, the third from Cahors, and the fourth from Montau- 
+han ; but they were students ; and when one says student, one 
+says Parisian : to study in Paris is to be born in Paris. 
+
+These young men were insignificant ; every one has seen such 
+faces ; four specimens of humanity taken at random ; neither 
+good nor bad, neither wise nor ignorant, neither geniuses nor 
+fools; handsome, with that charming April which is called 
+twenty j-ears. They were four Oscars ; for, at that epoch, 
+Arthurs did not yet exist. Bum for him the perfumes of Arahy ! 
+exclaimed romance. Oscar advances. Oscar ^ I shall behold 
+him ! People had just emerged from Ossian ; elegance was 
+Seaodinavian and Caledonian ; the pure English style was only 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+116 LES MISERABLES, * 
+
+lo prevail later, and the first of tlie Arthurs, Wellington, haa 
+but just won the buttle of Waterloo. 
+
+These Oscars bore the names, one of Felix Tholom^'ès, of 
+Toulouse ; the second, Listolier, of Cahors ; the next, Fanieuil, 
+of Limoges ; the last, Blachevelle, of Moutauban. Naturally, 
+each of them had his mistress. Blachevelle loved Favourite, 
+BO named because she had been in England ; Listolier adored 
+Dahlia, who had taken for her nickname the name of a flower, 
+Fameuil idolized Z^'phine, an abridgment of Joséphine ; Tho- 
+lomyès had Fantine, called the Blonde, because of her beautiful, 
+sunny hair. 
+
+Favourite, Dahlia, Zéphine, and Fantine were four ravishing 
+young women, perfumed and radiant, still a little like working- 
+women, and not yet entirely divorced from their needles ; some- 
+what disturbed by intrigues, but still retaining on their faces 
+something of the serenity of toil, and in their souls that flower 
+of honesty which survives the first fall in woman. One of the 
+four was called the young, because she was the youngest of 
+them, and one was called the old ; the old one was twenty-three. 
+Not to conceal anything, the three first were more experienced, 
+more heedless, and more emancipated into the tumult of life 
+than Fantine the Blonde, who was still in her first illusions. 
+• Dahlia, Zéphine, and especially Favourite, could not have said 
+as much. Tliere had alrea<ly been more tiian one episode in 
+their romance, though hardly begun ; and the lover who had 
+borne the name of Adolph in tlie first chapter had turned out to 
+be Alphonse in the second, and Gustave in the third. Poverty 
+and coquetry arc two fatal counsellors ; one scolds and the other 
+flatters, and the beautiful daughters of the people have both of 
+them whispering In their ear, each on its own side. These 
+badly guarded souls listen. Hence the falls which thcN' accom- 
+plish, and the stones which are thrown at them. They are over- 
+whelmed with splendor of all that is immaculate and inaccessible. 
+Alas ! what if the Jungfrau were hungry ? 
+
+Favourite having been in England, was admired by Dahlia 
+and Zéphine. 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. Siie met her father from time 
+to time, and he bowed to her. One morning an old woman, with 
+the air of a devotee, had entered her apartments, and had said 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+PAN'flNéi. Ill 
+
+CO iier, ** Yoa do not know me, Mademoiselle ? " *' No." ** 1 
+un your mother.*' Tlien the old woman opened the sideboard, 
+aikI ate and drank, had a mattress whicli slie owned bronght in, 
+and installed herself. This cross and pious okl mother never 
+spoke to Favourite, remained hours without uttering a word, 
+breakfasted, dined, and supped for four, and went down to the 
+porter's quarters for company, where she spoke ill of her daugh- 
+ter. 
+
+It was having rosy nails that were too pretty which had drawn 
+Dahlia to Listolier, to others perhaps, to idleness. IIow could 
+she make such nails work ? She who wishes to remain virtuous 
+must not have pity pn her hands. As for Zéphine, she had 
+conquered Famenil by her roguish and caressing little way of 
+Baying *' Yes, sir." 
+
+The young men were comrades ; the young girls were friends. 
+Such loves are always accompanied by such friendships. 
+
+Goodness and philosophy are two distinct tilings ; the proof 
+of this is that, after making all due allowances for these little 
+irregular households. Favourite, Zéphine, and Dahlia were piiil- 
+osophical young women, while Fantine was a good girl. 
+
+Good ! some one will exclaim ; and Tholomyès ? Solomon 
+would reply that love forms a part of wisdom. We will confîne 
+ourselves to saying that the love of Fantine was a Grst love, a 
+sole love, a faithful love. 
+
+She alone, of all the four, was not called " thou " by a single 
+one of them. 
+
+Fantine was one of those beings who blossom, so to speak, 
+from the dregs of the people. Though she had emerged from 
+the most unfathomable depths of social shadow, she bore 
+on her brow the sign of the anonymous and the unknown. 
+She was born at M. sur M. Of "what parents? Who can 
+say? She had never known father or mother. She was called 
+Fantine. Why Fantine ? She had never borne any other name. 
+At the epoch of her birth the Directory still existed. She had 
+no family name ; she had no family ; no baptismal name ; the 
+Church no longer existed. She bore the name which pleased 
+tiic first random passer-by, who had encountered her, when a 
+very small child, running bare-legged in the street. She re- 
+ceived the name as she received the water from the clouds upon 
+her brow when it rained. She was called little Fantine. No 
+one knew more than that. This human creature had entered 
+life in just this wa}'. At the age of ten, Fantine quitted thr 
+town and went to service with some farmers in the neighbor- 
+hood. At fifteen she came to Paris " to seek her fortune.* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+118 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Fantine was beautiful, and remained pure as long as she could. 
+She was a lovely blonde, with fine teeth. She had gold and 
+pearls for her dowry ; but her gold was on her head, and her 
+pearls were in her mouth. 
+
+She worked for her living ; then, still for the sake of her liv- 
+ing, — for the heart, also, has its hunger, — she loved. 
+
+She loved Tholomyès. 
+
+An amour for him ; passion for her. The streets of the Latin 
+Quarter, filled with throngs of students and grisettes, saw the 
+beginning of their dream. Fantine had long evaded Tholomyès 
+in the mazes of the hill of the Pantheon, where so many adven- 
+turers twine and untwine, but in such a way as constantly to en- 
+counter him again. There is a way of avoiding which resembles 
+seeking. In short, the eclogue took place. 
+
+Blachevelle, Listolier and Fameuil formed a sort of group of 
+which Tholomyès was the head. It was he who possessed the 
+wit. 
+
+Tholomyès was the antique old student ; he was rich ; he had 
+an income of four thousand francs ; four thousand francs ! a 
+;;>lendid scandal on Mount Saint-Geneviève. Tholomyès was a 
+fast mai. of thirty, and badly preserved. He was wrinkled and 
+toothless, and he had the beginning of a bald spot, of which he 
+himself said without sadness, the skull at thirty y the knee at forty. 
+His digestion was mediocre, and he had been attacked by a 
+watering in one eye. But in proportion as his youth disap- 
+peared, gayety was kindled ; he replaced his teeth with buf- 
+fooneries, his hair with mirth, his health with irony, his weeping 
+eye laughed incessantly. He was dilapidated but stiH in flower. 
+His youth, which was packing up for departure long before its 
+time, beat a retreat in good order, bursting with laughter, and no 
+one saw anything but fire. He had had a piece rejected at the 
+Vaudeville. He made a few verses now and then. In addition 
+to this he doubted everything to the last degree, which is a vast 
+force in the eyes of the weak. Being thus ironical and bald, he 
+was the leader. Iron is an English word. Is it possible that 
+irony is derived from it ? 
+
+One day Tholomyès took the three others aside, with the 
+gesture of an oracle, and said to them : — 
+
+'• Fantine, Dahlia, Zephine, and Favourite have been teasing 
+us for nearly a year to give them a surprise. We have prom- 
+ised them solemnly that we would. They are forever talking 
+about it to us, to me in particular, just as the ohl women in 
+Naples cry to Saint Januarius, * Fa^ccia gialluta^ fa o miracolo. 
+Yellow face, perform thy miracle,' so our beauties say to me 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+ifANTIKJ. lia 
+
+boessantly, ^ Tholomyès, when will you bring forth youi 8a^ 
+prise?' At the same time our parents keep writing to as. 
+Pressure on both sides. The moment has aiTived, it seems to 
+me ; let us discuss the question." 
+
+Thereupon, Tholomyès lowered his voice and articulated some- 
+thing so mirthful, that a vast and enthusiastic griii broke out 
+Dpon the four mouths simultaneously, and Blachevelle ex- 
+claimed, " That is an idea." 
+
+A smoky tap-room presented itself; they entered, and the 
+remainder of their confidential colloquy was lost in shadow. 
+
+The result of tliese shades was a dazzling pleasure party 
+which took place on the following Sunday, the four young men 
+.Miviting the four young girls. 
+
+m. — Four and Pour. 
+
+Iv U bard nowadays to picture to one's self what a pleasure- 
+Crip of students and grisettes to the country was like, forty-five 
+3'ears ago. The suburbs of Paris are no longer the same ; the 
+physiognomy of what may be called circumparisian life has 
+changed completely in the last half -century ; where there was 
+the cuckoo, tliere is the railway car ; where there was a tender- 
+boat, there is now the steamboat; people speak of Fecamp 
+nowadays as they spoke of Saint-Cloud in those days. The 
+Paris of 1862 is a city which has France for its outskirts. 
+
+The four couples conscientiously went through with all the 
+country follies possible at that time. The vacation was begin- 
+ning, and it was a warm, bright, summer day. On the pre- 
+ceding day. Favourite, the only one who knew how to write, 
+had written the following to Tholomyès in the name of the four : 
+"It is a good hour to emerge from happiness." That is why 
+they rose at five o'clock in the morning. Then they went to 
+Saint-Cloud by the coach, looked at the dry cascade and ex- 
+claimed, ''This must be very beautiful when there is water ! " 
+rhey breakfasted at the Tète-Noire^ where Castaing had not 
+yet been ; they treated themselves to a game of ring-throT\ ing 
+ander the quincunx of trees of the grand fountain; tliey as- 
+cended Diogenes' lantern, they gambled for macaroons at the 
+roulette establishment of the Pont de Sèvres, picked bouquets 
+at Puteaux, bought reed-pipes at Neuilly, ate apple tarts every- 
+where, and were perfectly happy. 
+
+The young girls rustled and chatted like warblers escaped 
+from their cage. It was a perfect delirium. From time to 
+*.:me they bestowed little taps on the young men. Matutinal 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+120 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+iiitoxicatioQ of life ! adorable yeart} ! the wings of the drmgon. 
+fly quiver. Oh, whoever you may be, do you not remember? 
+Have you rambled through the brushwood, holding aside the 
+brauches, on account of the charming head which is coming on 
+behind you? Have you slid, laughing, down a slope all wet 
+with rain, with a beloved woman holding your hand, and crying, 
+'* Ah, my new boots ! what a state they are in ! " 
+
+Let us sa}- at once that that merry obstacle, a shower, was 
+lacking in the case of this good-humored party, although 
+Favourite had said as they set out, with a magisterial and 
+maternal tone, '* TJie slugs are crawling in thepaths, — a sign of 
+rain^ children.*' 
+
+All four were madly pretty. A good old classic poet, then 
+famous, a good fellow who had an Éléonore, M. le Chevalier de 
+Labouisse, as he strolled that day beneath the chestnut-trees 
+of Saint-Cloud, saw them pass about ten o'clock in the morning, 
+and exclaimed, ** There is one too many of them," as he thought 
+of the Graces. Favourite, Blachevelle's friend, the one aged 
+three and twenty, the old one, ran on in front under the great 
+green boughs, jumped tiie ditches, stalked distractedl}' over 
+bushes, and presided over this merry-making with the spirit of 
+a young female faun. Zéphinc and Dahlia, whom chance had 
+made beautiful in such a way that they set each off when they 
+were together, and completed each other, never left each other, 
+more from an instinct of coquetry than from friendship, and 
+clinging to each otiier, they assumed English poses ; the first 
+keepsakes had just made their api)earance, melancholy was 
+dawning for women, as later on, Byronism dawned for men ; 
+and the hair of the tender sex began to droop dolefully. 
+Zéphine and Dahlia had their hair dressed in rolls. Listolier 
+and Fameuil, who were engaj^ed in discussing their professors, 
+exj)lained to Fautinc the difference that existed between M. 
+Del v incourt and M. Blondeau. 
+
+Blachevelle seemed to have been created expressly to carry 
+Favourite's single-bordered, imit:ition India shawl of Ternaux's 
+manufacture, on his arm on Sundays. 
+
+Tholomyès followed, dominating the group. He was very 
+gay, but one felt tiie force of government in him ; there was 
+dictation in his joviality ; liis principal ornament was a pair of 
+trousers of elephant-leg pattern of nankeen, with straps of 
+braided copper wire ; he carried a stout rattan worth two hundred 
+francs in his hand, and, as ho treated iiimself to everything, a 
+strange thii;g called a cigar in his mouth. Nothing was sacred 
+to him ; he smoked. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 121 
+
+*^ That Tholomyès is astounding ! " said the others, with 
+veneration. ** What trousers ! What energy ! ''* 
+
+As for Fantine, she was a joy to behold. Her splendid teeth 
+had evidently received an otiice from God, — laughter. She 
+preferred to carry her httle hat of sewed straw, with its long 
+white strings, in her hand rather than on her head. Her thick 
+blond hair, which was inclined to wave, and which easily 
+uncoiled, and which it was necessary to fasten up incessantly, 
+seemed made for the flight of Galatea under the willows. Her 
+rosy lips babbled enchantingly. The corners of her mouth 
+voluptuously turned up, as in the antique masks of Erigone, 
+bad an air of encouraging the audacious ; but her long, shadowy 
+lashes drooped discreetly over the jollity of the lower part of 
+the face as though to call a halt. There was soncething inde- 
+scribably harmonious and striking about her entire dress. She 
+wore a gown of mauve barège, little reddish brown buskins, 
+whose ribbons traced an X on her fine, white, open-worked 
+stockings, and that sort of muslin spencer, a Marseilles inven- 
+tion, whose name, canezou^ a corruption of the words quinze 
+a4>ût pronounced after the fashion of the Canebière, signifies 
+fine weather, heat, and midday. The three others, less timid, 
+as we have already said, wore low-necked dresses without dis- 
+guise, which in summer^ beneath flower-adorned hats, are very 
+graceful and enticing ; but by the side of these audacious out- 
+fits, blond Fantine's canezou, with its transparencies, its indis- 
+cretion, and its reticence, concealing and displaying at one and 
+the same time, seemed an alluring godsend of decency, and the 
+famous Court of Love, presided over by the Vicomtesse de 
+Cette, with the sea-gieen eyes, would, perhaps, have awarded 
+the prize for coquetry to this canezou, in the contest for the 
+prize of modesty. The most ingenuous is, at times, the wisest. 
+This does hapi)en. 
+
+Brilliant of face, delicate of profile, with eyes of a deep blue^ 
+heavy lids, feet arched and small, wrists and ankles admirably 
+formed, a white skin which, here and there allowed the azure 
+branching of the veins to be seen, joy, a cheek that was young 
+and fresh, the robust throat of the Juno of ^gina, a strong and 
+supple nape of the neck, shoulders modelled as though by Cous- 
+tou, with a voluptuous dimple in the middle, visible through the 
+iDQslin ; a gajety cooled by dreaminess ; sculptural and exquis- 
+ite — such was Fantine ; and beneath these feminine adornments 
+find these ribbons one could divine a statue, and in that statue 
+a soul. 
+
+Fantine was beautiful, without being too conscious of it. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+IM LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Thoee rare dreamers, mysterious priests of the beautifi wbo 
+silently confront everything with perfection, would have caught 
+a glimpse in this little working- worn an, through the transpart ncy 
+of her Parisian grace, of the ancient sacred euphony. This 
+daughter of the shadows was thoroughbred. She was beautiful 
+in the two ways — style and rhythm. Style is the form of the 
+ideal ; rhythm is its movement. 
+
+We have said that Fantine was joy ; she was also modesty. 
+
+To an observer who studied her attentively, that which 
+breathed from her athwart all the intoxication of her age, the 
+season, and her love affair, was an invincible expression of re- 
+serve and modest}'. She remained a little astonished. This 
+chaste astonishment is the shade of difference which separates 
+Psyche from Venus. Fantine had the long, white, fine fingeis 
+of the vestal virgin who stirs the ashes of the sacred fire with a 
+golden pin. Although she would have refused nothing to Tho- 
+lomyés, as we shall have more than ample opportunitv to see, 
+her face in repose was supremely Virginia! ; a sort of serious and 
+almost austere dignity suddenly overwhelmed her at certain times, 
+and there was nothing more singular and disturbing than to see 
+gayety become so suddenly extinct there, and meditation succeed 
+to cheerfulness without any transition state. This sudden aud 
+sometimes severely accentuated gravity resembled the disdain 
+of a goddess. Her brow, her nose, her chin, presented that 
+equilibrium of outline which is quite distinct from equilibrium 
+of proportion, and from which harmony of countenance results ; 
+in the very characteristic interval which separates the base of 
+the nose from the upper lip, she had that imperceptible and 
+charming fold, a mysterious sign of chastity, which makes Bar- 
+bcrousse fall in love with a Diana found in the treasures of 
+Iconia. 
+
+Love is a fault ; so be it. Fantine was innocence floating 
+high over fault. 
+
+
+
+iV. — Tholomtès is so Merrt that he sinqs a Spamisb 
+
+DiTTT' 
+
+That day was composed of dawn, from one end to the other. 
+Ali nature seemed to be having a holiday, and to be laughing. 
+The flower-beds of Saint-Cloud perfumed the air ; the breath of 
+^Cî Seine rustled the leaves vaguely ; the branches gesticulated 
+in the wind, bees pillnged the jasmines ; a whole bohemia of 
+butterflies swooped down upon the yarrow, the clover, and tli« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 123 
+
+sterile oats ; in the august park of the King of France thers 
+was a pack of vagabonds, the birds. - 
+
+The four merry couples, mingled with the sun, the fields, the 
+flowers, the trees, were resplendent. 
+
+And in this community' of Paradise, talking, singing, running, 
+dancing, chasing butterflies, plucking convolvulus, wetting their 
+pink, open-work stockings in the tall grass, fresh, wild, without 
+malice, all received, to some extent, the kisses of all, with the 
+exception of Fan tine, who was hedged about with that vague 
+resistance of hers composed of dreaminess and wildness, and 
+who was in love. "You always have a queer look about you," 
+said Favourite to her. 
+
+Such things are joys. These passages of happy couples are 
+a profound appeal to life and nature, and make a caress and 
+light spring forth froni everything. There was once a fairy 
+who created the fields and forests expressly for those in love, — 
+in that eternal hedge-school of lovers, which is forever be- 
+ginning anew, and which will last as long as there are hedges 
+«od scholars. Hence the populaiity of spring among thinkers. 
+The patrician and the knife-grinder, the duke and the peer, the 
+limb of the law, the courtiers and townspeople, as they used to 
+lay in olden times, all are subjects of this fairy. They laugh 
+and hunt, and there is in the air the brilliance of an apotheosis — 
+what a transfiguration effected by love ! Notaries' clerks are 
+gods. And the little cries, the pursuits through the grass, the 
+waists embraced on the fly, those jargons which are melodies, 
+those adorations which burst forth in the manner of pronounc- 
+ing a syllable, those cherries torn from one mouth by another, 
+—all thi4 blazes forth and takes its place among the celestial 
+glories. Beautiful women waste themselves sweetly. They 
+think thftt this will never come to an end. Philosophers, poets, 
+painters, observe these ecstasies and know not what to make of 
+it, so greatly are they dazzled by it. The departure for Cythe- 
+ra ! exclaims Watteau ; Lancret, the painter of plebeians, eon- 
+templates his bourgeois, who have flitted away into the azure 
+iky ; Diderot stretches out his arms to all these love idyls, and 
+d'Urfé mingles druids with them. 
+
+After breakfast the four couples went to what was then called 
+the King's Squarg to see a newly arrived plant from India, whose 
+name escapes our memory at this moment, and which, at that 
+epoch, was attracting all Paris to Saint-Cloud. It was an odd 
+and charming shrub with a long stem, whose numerous branches, 
+bristling and leafless and as fine as threads, were covered with 
+a miUioQ tiny white rosettes ; this gave the shrub the air of a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+124 LhS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Head oi hair studded with flowers. There was always an admif 
+ing crowd about it. 
+
+After viewing the shrub, ïholomyès exclaimed, " I offer yoM 
+asses ! " and having agreed upon a price with the owner of the 
+asses, they returned by way of Vanvres and Issy. At Issy an 
+incident occurred. The ti'uly national park, at that time owned 
+by Bourguin the contractor, happened to be wide open. They 
+passed the gates, visited the manikin anchorite in his grotto, 
+tried the mysterious little effects of the famous cabinet of mir- 
+rors, the wanton trap worthy of a satyr become a millionnaire or 
+of Turcaret metamorphosed into a Priapus. They had stoutly 
+shaken the swing attached to the two chestnut-trees celebrated 
+by the Abbé de Bernis. As he swung these beauties, one after 
+the other, producing folds in the fluttering skirts which Grcuze 
+would have found to his taste, amid peals of laughter, the Tou- 
+lousan Tholomyès, who was somewhat of a Spaniard, Toulouse 
+being the cousin of Tolosa, sang, to a melancholy chant, the 
+old ballad gallega, probably inspired by some lovely maid dash' 
+ing in full flight upon a rope between two trees : — 
+
+''Soy de Badajoz, ^'Badajoz is my home. 
+Amor me llama. And Love U my name; 
+
+Toda ml alma. To my eyes in flame, 
+
+Es en mi ojos, All my soul doth come; 
+
+Porque enseSas, For instruction meet 
+
+A tuas piernas. I receive at thy feet** 
+
+Fantine alone refused to swing. 
+
+*'I don't like to have people put on airs like that," mattered 
+Favourite, with a good deal of acrimony. 
+
+After leaving the asses there was a fresh delight ; they crossed 
+the Seine in a boat, and proceeding from Passy ou foot they 
+reached the barrier of l'Étoile. They had been up since five 
+o'clock that morning, as the reader will remember; but bah! 
+*Âere is 710 such thing as fatigue on Sunday^ said Favourite ; 
+on Sunday fatigue does not work. 
+
+About three o'clock the four couples, frightened at their hap- 
+piness, were sliding down the Russian mountains, a singulai 
+edifice which then occupied the heights of Beaujon, and whose 
+undulating line was visible above the trees of the Champs 
+Élysées. 
+
+From time to time Favourite exclaimed : — 
+
+*' And the surprise? I claim the surpri»e." 
+
+** Patience," replied Tholomyès. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTtNE. 1» 
+
+
+
+V, — At Bombarda'8. 
+
+The Russian mountains having been exhaiiBted, they began to 
+think about dinner ; and the radiant party of eight, somewhat 
+weary at last, became stranded in Bombaitla's public house, a 
+^)rânch establishment which had been set up in the Champs- 
+Elysées by that famous restanrant-keepcr, Bombarda, whop«' 
+âis:n could then be seen in the Rue de Rivoli, near Delorme 
+Alley. 
+
+A large but ugly room, with an alcove and a bed at the end 
+(they had been obliged to put up with this accommodation in 
+view of the Sunday crowd) ; two windows whence they could 
+Hurvey beyond the elms, the quay, and the river ; a magnificent 
+August sunlight lightly touching the panes ; two tables ; upon 
+«•ne of them a triumphant mountain of bouquets, mingled with 
+ihe hats of men and of women ^, at the other the four couples 
+seated round a merry confusion of plattei-s, dishes, glasses, and 
+wttles ; jugs of beer mingled with flasks of wine ; very little 
+order on the table, some disorder beneath it ; 
+
+** They made beneath the table 
+A noise, a clatter of the feet that was abommable," 
+
+says Molière. 
+
+This was the state which the shepherd idyl, begun at five 
+o'clock in the morning, had reached at half -past four in the 
+iftemoon. The sun was setting ; their appetites were satisfied. 
+
+The Champs-Elysées, filled with sunshine and with people, 
+were nothing but light and dust, the two things of which glory 
+is composed. The horses of Marly, those neighing marbles, 
+were prancing in a cloud of gold. Carriages were going and 
+coming. A squadron of magnificent body-guaids, with their 
+clarions at their head, were descending the Avenue de Neuilly ; 
+*he white flag, showing faintly rosy in the setting sun, fiouied 
+ner the dome of the Tuileries. The Place de la Concorde, 
+fc'hich had become the Place Louis XV. once more, was choked 
+with happ3' promenaders. Many wore the silver fleur-de-lys 
+daspended from the white-watered ribbon, which had not yet 
+wholly disappeared from button -holes in the year 1817. Here 
+and there choruses of little girls threw to the winds, amid the 
+passers-by, who formed into circles and ai)plauded, the then 
+celebrated Bourbon air, which was destined to strike the Hun- 
+^fed Days with lightning, and which had for its refrain ; — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+126 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+" Rendez-nous notre père de Gand, 
+Rendez-nous noire père.*' 
+
+"Give us back our fatlier from Ghent, 
+Give us back our father/* 
+
+Groups of dwellers in the suburbs, in Sunday array, some* 
+times even decorated with the fleur-de-lys, like the boui^eois, 
+scattered over the large square and the Mariguy square, were 
+playing at rings and revolving on the wooden horses ; otliers 
+were engaged in drinking ; some journeyman printers had on 
+paper caps ; their laughter was audible. Everything was 
+radiant. It was a time of undisputed peace and profound roy- 
+alist security ; it was the epoch when a special and private 
+report of Chief of Police Angles to the King, on the subject of 
+the suburbs of Paris, terminated with these lines : — 
+
+'* Taking all things into consideration, Sire, there is nothing 
+to be feared from these people. The}* are as heedless and as 
+indolent as cats. The populace is restless in the provinces ; it 
+is not in Paris. These are very petty men. Sire. It would 
+take all of two of thom to make one of your grenadiers. There 
+id nothing to be feared on the part of the populace of Paris the 
+capital. It is remarkable that the stature of this [X)pulation 
+should have diminished in the last fifty years ; and the populace 
+of the suburbs is still more puny than at the time of the Revo- 
+lution. It is not dangerous. In short, it is an amiable rabble." 
+
+Prefects of police do not deem it possible that a cat can 
+transform itself into a lion ; that does happen, however, and in 
+that lies the miracle wrought by the populace of Paris. More- 
+over, the cat so despised by Couut Angles possessed the esteem 
+of the republics of old. In their eyes it was liberty incarnate; 
+and as though to serve as pendant to the Minerva Aptera of the 
+Piraeus, there stood on the pubUc square in Corinth the colos- 
+sal bronze figure of a cat. The ingenuous police of the Restora- 
+tion beheld the i)opulace of Paris in too " rose -colored " a light • 
+it is not so much of * ' an amiable rabble " as it is thought. The 
+Parisian is to the Frenchman what the Athenian was to the 
+Greek : no one sleeps more soundly than he, no one is more 
+frankly frivolous and lazy than he, no one can better assume 
+the ah' of forgetfulness ; Let him not be trusted, nevertheless ; 
+he is ready for any sort of cool deed ; but when there is glory 
+at the end of it, he is worthy of admiration in every sort of 
+fury. Give him a pike, he will produce the 10th of August; 
+give him a gun, you will have Austerlitz. He is Napoleon's 
+stay, and Danton's resource. Is it a question of country, he 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 127 
+
+enlists ; is it a question of liberty, he tears up the pavements. 
+Beware ! his hair, filled with wrath, is epic ; his blouse drapes 
+itself like the folds of a ehlamys. Take care ! he will make of 
+the first Rue Greuétat which comes to hand Caudine Forks. 
+When the hour strikes, this man of the faubourgs will grow in 
+statare ; this little man will arise, and his gaze will be terrible, 
+and his breath will become a tempest, and there will issue forth 
+from that slender chest enough wind to disarrange the folds of 
+the Alps. It is, thanks to the suburban man of Paris, that the 
+Revolution, mixed with arms, conquers Europe. He sings ; it is 
+his 'delight. Proportion his song to his nature, and you will 
+sec ! As long as he has for refrain nothing but la Carmagnole^ 
+he only overthrows Louis XVI. ; make him sing the Marseillaise^ 
+and he will free the world. 
+
+This note jetted down on the margin of Angles' report, we will 
+return to our four couples. The dinner, as we have said, was 
+drawing to its close. 
+
+VI- — A Chapter in which they adore Each Other. 
+
+Chat at tabic, the chat of love ; it is as impossible to repro- 
+duce one as the other ; the chat of love is a cloud ; the chat at 
+table is smoke. 
+
+Fameuil and Dahlia were humming. Tholomyès was drink- 
+ing. Zéphine was laughing, Fantine smiling, Listolier blow- 
+ing a wooden trumpet which he had purchased at Saint-Cloud. 
+
+Favonrite gazed tenderly at Blachevelle and said : — 
+
+" Blachevelle, I adore you." 
+
+This called forth a question from Blachevelle : — 
+
+*' What would you do. Favourite, if I were to cease to love 
+you?" 
+
+"I !" cried Favourite. "Ah ! Do not say that even in jest ! 
+If you were to cease to love me, I would spring after you, I 
+would scratch you, I should rend you, I would throw yon into 
+the water, I would have you arrested." 
+
+Blachevelle smiled with the voluptuous self-conceit of a man 
+who is tickled in his self-love. Favourite resumed : — 
+
+"Yes, I would scream to the police ! Ah ! I should not re- 
+strain myself, not at all ! Rabble ! " 
+
+Blachevelle threw himself back in his chair, in an ecstasy, 
+and closed both eyes proudly. 
+
+Dahlia, as she ate, said in a low voice to Favourite, amid the 
+uproar:— 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+i28 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+^'So you really idolize biin deeply, that Blachevelle ot 
+youra ? " 
+
+^^ I? I detest him/' replied Favourite in the same tone, seizing 
+her fork again. **lle is avaricious. I love the little fellow 
+opposite me in my house. He is very nice, tiiat young man ; dc 
+you know him? One can see that he is an actor by profession. 
+I love actors. As soon as he comes in, his mother sajs to him : 
+' Ah ! mon Dieu ! my peace of mind is gone. There he goes 
+with his shouting. But, my dear, you are splitting my head ! 
+So he goes up to rat-ridden garrets, to black holes, as high as 
+he can mount, and there he sets to singing, declaiming, how do 
+I know what ? so that he can be heard down stairs ! He earns 
+twenty sous a day at an attorney's by penning quibbles. He ia 
+the son of a former precentor of 8aint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas. 
+Ah ! he is very nice. He idolizes me so, that one day when he 
+saw me making batter for some pancakes, he said to me : ^ -Mam 
+selle^ make your gloves into fritters^ and I will eat them.* It is 
+only artists who can say such tilings as that. Ah ! he is very 
+)iice. I am in a fair way to go out of my head over that little 
+fellow. Never mind ; I tell Blachevelle that I adore him — how 
+Ilie! Hey! How I do lie !" 
+
+Favourite paused, and then went on : — 
+
+^^1 am sad, you see. Dahlia. It has done nothing but rain 
+all summer ; the wind irritates me ; the wind does not abate. 
+Blachevelle is very stingy ; there are hardly any green peas in 
+the market ; one does not know what to eat. I have the spleen^ 
+as the English say, butter is so dear ! and then you see it is 
+liorril)le, here we are dining in a room with a bed in it, and that 
+flisgusts me with life." 
+
+
+
+Vn. — The Wisdom of Tholomtès. 
+
+In the meantime, while some sang, the rest talked together 
+tumultuously all at once ; it was no longer anything but noise. 
+Fholomyès intervened. 
+
+" Let us not talk at random nor too fast," he exclaimed. " Jau 
+HB reflect, if we wish to be brilliant. Too much improvisation 
+empties the mind in a stupid wsiy. Running beer gathers no 
+froth. No haste, gentlemen. Let us mingle majesty with the 
+feast. Let us eat with meditation ; let us make haste slowly. 
+Let us not hurry. Consider the sprin<^time ; if it makes haste, 
+Jt is done for ; that is to say. it gets frozen. . Excess of zeal 
+ruins peaoh-trees and apricot-trees. Excess of zeal kills the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTÎNE. l29 
+
+grace and the mirth of good dinners. No seal, gentlemen ! 
+Grimed de la Ilt*ynière agrees with Talleyrand." 
+
+A lioUow sound of rebellion rumbled througii the group. 
+
+'* Leave us in jxiaee, Tholomyès," said Blachevelle. 
+
+"Down with the tyrant!" said Famenil. 
+
+^^ Bombarda, Bombance, and Bambochel !" cried Listolier. 
+
+*' Sunday exists," resumed Fameuil. 
+
+" We are sober," added Listolier. 
+
+'^Tholomyès," remarked Blachevelle, ''contemplate my calm 
+^aess {mon calme],*' 
+
+" You are the Marquis of that," retorted Tholomyès. 
+
+This mediocre play upon words produced the effect of a 
+stone in a pool. The Marquis de Montcalm was at that time a 
+celebrated royalist. All the frogs held their peace. 
+
+*^ Friends," cried Tholomyès, with the accent of a man who 
+had recovered his empire, "come to yourselves. This pun 
+which has fallen from the skies must not be received with too 
+mach stupor. Everything which falls in that way is not neces- 
+sarily worthy of enthusiasm and respect. The pun is the dung 
+of the mind which soars. The jest falls, no matter where ; and 
+the mind after producing a piece of stupidity plunges into the 
+azure depths. A whitish speck flattened against the rock does 
+not prevent the condor from soaring aloft. Far be it from me 
+to insnlt the pun ! I honor it in proportion to its merits ; noth- 
+ing more. AH the most august, the most sublime, the most 
+charming of humanity, and perhaps outside of humanity, have 
+made puns. Jesus Christ made a pun on Saint Peter, Moses 
+on Isaac, JEschylus on Polynices, Cleopatra on Octavius. 
+And observe that Cleopatra's pun preceded the battle of Ac- 
+tium, and that had it not been for it, no one would have remem- 
+bered the city of Toryne, a Greek name which signifies a ladle. 
+That once conceded, I return to my exhortation. I repeat, 
+brothers, I repeat, no zeal, no hubbub, no excess ; even in witti- 
+cisms, gayety, jollities, or plays on words. Listen to me. I 
+have the prudence of Amphiaraus and the baldness of Ccesar. 
+There must be a limit, even to rebuses. Est modus in rebus. 
+
+*' There must be a limit, even to dinners. You are fond of 
+apple turnovers, ladies ; do not indulge in them to excess. 
+Even in the matter of turnovers, good sense and art are requi- 
+site. Gluttony chastises the glutton, Gula punit Gulax. Indi- 
+gestion is charged by the good God with preaching morality to 
+stomachs. And remember this : each one of our passions, even 
+love, has a stomach which must not be filled too full. In all 
+things the word finis must be written in good season ; self- con- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+130 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+trol must be exercised when the matter becomes urgent; the 
+bolt must be drawn on appetite ; one must set one's own fantasy 
+to the violin, and carry one's self to tlie post. The sage is the 
+man who knows how, at a given moment, to effect his own 
+arrest. Have some confidence in me, for I have succeeded to 
+some extent in my study of the law, according to the verdict of 
+my examinations, for I know the difference between tlie ques- 
+tion put and tlie question pending, for I have sustained a thesis 
+in Latin ui)on the manner in which torture was administered at 
+Rome at the epoch when Munatius Démens was quaBstor of the 
+Parricide ; because I am going to be a doctor, apparently it does 
+not follow that it is absolutely necessary that I should be an 
+imbecile. I recommend you to moderation in your desires. It 
+is true that my name is Félix Tholomyès ; I speak well. Happy- 
+is he who, when the hour strikes, takes a heroic resolve, and 
+abdicates like Sylla or Origenes." 
+
+Favourite listened with profound attention. 
+
+'^ Félix," said she, '' what a pretty word 1 I love that name. 
+It is Latin ; it means prosper." 
+
+Tholorayès went on : — 
+
+" Quirites, gentlemen, caballeros, my friends. Do you wish 
+never to feel the prick, to do without the nuptial bed, and to 
+6rave love? Nothing more simple. Here is the receipt : lem- 
+onade, excessive exercise, hard labor ; work yourself to death, 
+irag blocks, sleep not, hold vigil, gorge yourself with nitrous 
+oeverages, and potions of nymphaeas ; drink emulsions of poppies 
+and agnus castus ; season this with a strict diet, starve youreelf , 
+and add thereto cold baths, girdles of herbs, the application of 
+a plate of lead, lotions made with the subacetate of lead, and 
+fomentations of oxycrat." 
+
+''1 prefer a woman," said Listolier. 
+
+''Woman," resumed Tholomyès ; '' distrust . her. Woe to 
+him who yields himself to the unstable heart of woman ! 
+Woman is perfidious and disingenuous. She detests the 8eri)ent 
+from professional jealousy. The serpent is the shop over the 
+way." 
+
+*' Tholomyès ! " cried Blachevelle, " you are drunk ! " 
+
+" Pardieu," said Tholomyès. 
+
+'' Then be gay," resumed Blachevelle. 
+
+*' I agree to that," responded Tholomyès. 
+
+And, refilling his glass, he rose. 
+
+''Glory to wine! Nunc te y Bacche, canam! Pardon me, 
+ladies ; that is Spanish. And the proof of it, seîîoras, is this . 
+like people, like cask. The arrobe of Castille contains sixteei/ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+i^ AN TINE. 131 
+
+liti-es ; the cantaro of Alicante, twelve ; the almude of the Caua« 
+ries, twenty -five; the cuartin of the Balearic Isles, twenty-six; 
+the boot of Tzar Peter, thirty. Long live that Tzar who waa 
+great, and long live his boot, whicli was still greater ! Ladies, 
+take the advice of a friend ; make a mistake in your neighbor 
+if you see fit. 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. 
+It is not made for that ; it errs gayly, our gentle love. It has 
+been said, error is human ; I say, error is love. Ladies, I idol- 
+ize you all. O Zéphine, O Joséphine ! face more than irregular, 
+you would be charming were you not all askew. You have the 
+air of a pretty face upon which some one has sat down by mis- 
+take. As for Favourite, O nymphs and muses ! one day when 
+Blachevelle was crossing the gutter in the Rue Guérin-Boisseau, 
+he espied a beautiful girl with white stockings well drawn up, 
+which displayed her legs. This prologue pleased him, and 
+Blachevelle fell in love. The one he loved was Favourite. O 
+Favourite, thou hast Ionian lips. There was a Greek painter 
+named Euphorion, who was surnamed the painter of the lips. 
+That Greek alone would have been worthy to paint thy mouth. 
+Listen ! before thee, there was never a creature worthy of the 
+name. Thou wert made to receive the apple like Venus, or to 
+eat it like Eve ; beauty begins with thee. I have just referred 
+to Eve ; it is thou who hast created her. Thou deservest the 
+letters-patent of the beautiful woman. O Favourite, I cease to 
+address you as 'thou,' because I pass from poetry to prose. 
+You were speaking of my name a little while ago. That 
+touched me ; but let us, whoever we may be, distrust names. 
+The}' may delude us. I am called Félix, and I am not happy. 
+Words are liars. Let us not blindly accept the indications 
+which they afford us. It would be a mistake to write to Liège ' 
+for corks, and to Pau for gloves. Miss Dahlia, were I in your 
+place, I would call myself Rosa. A flower should smell sweet, 
+and woman should have wit. I say nothing of Fan tine ; she is 
+a dreamer, a musing, thoughtful, pensive person ; she is a 
+phantom possessed of the form of a nymph and the modesty- of 
+a nun, who has strayed into the life of a grisette, but who takes 
+refuge in illusions, and who sings and prays and gazes into the 
+azure without very well knowing what she sees or what she is 
+doing, and who, with her eyes fixed on heaven, wanders in a 
+garden where there are more birds than are in existence. O 
+
+1 Liège: a cork-tree. Pau: a jest on peat/, skin. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+132 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Fautiue, know this : I, Tholomyès, I am an illusion ; but sht 
+does not even hear me, that blond maid of Chimeras ! as for 
+the rest, everything about her is freshness, suavity, youth, 
+sweet morning light. O Fantine, maid worthy of being called 
+Marguerite or Pearl, you are a woman from the beauteous 
+Orient. Ladies, a second p»eee of advice : do not marr}' ; mar- 
+riage is a graft ; it takes well or ill : avoid that risk. But bah Î 
+what am I. saying? I am wasting ray words. Girls are incurable 
+on the subject of marriage, and all that we wise men can say 
+will not prevent the waistcoat-maker? and the shoe-stitchers 
+from dreaming of husbands studded with diamonds. Well, so 
+be it ; but, my beauties, remember this, you eat too much sugar. 
+You have but one fault, O woman, and that i8 nibbling sugar. 
+O nibbling sex, your pretty little white t^eth adore sugar. 
+Now, heed me well, sugar is a salt. All salts are withering. 
+Sugar is the most desiccating of all salts ; it sucks the liquids of 
+the blood through the veins ; hence tlie coagulation, and then the 
+solidification of the blood ; hence tubercles in the lungs, hence 
+death. That is why diabetes borders on consumption. 'I hen- 
+do not crunch sugar, and you will live. I turn to the men? 
+gentlemen, make conquest, rob each other of your well-belove^ 
+without remorse. Chassez across. In love there are no frienfi^ 
+Everywhere where there is a pretty woman hostility is open 
+No quarter, war to the death ! a pretty woman is a casus belli I 
+a pretty woman is flagrant misdemeanor. All the invasions o( 
+history have been determined by petticoats. Woman is man*tf 
+right. Romulus cairied off the Sabines ; William carried off th* 
+Saxon women ; Cœsar carried off the Roman women. The maw 
+who is not loved soars like a vulture over the mistresses of other 
+Juen ; and for my own part, to all those unfortunate men wh<^ 
+are widowers, I throw the sublime proclamation of Bonaparte 
+to the army of Italy : '' Soldiers, you are in need of everything; 
+the enemy has it." 
+
+Tholomyès paused. 
+
+*'Take breath, Tholomyès," said Blachevelle. 
+
+At the same moment, Blachevelle, supported by Listolief 
+and Fameuii, struck up to a plaintive air, one of those studio 
+songs composed of the first words which come to hand, rhymed 
+richly and not at all, as destitute of sense as the gesture of the 
+tree and the sound of the wind, which have their birth in the 
+vapor of pipes, and are dissipated and take their flight with 
+them. This is the couplet by which the group replied to Tholo 
+myès' harangue : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. ISa 
+
+•'The father turkey-cocks so grar* 
+Some money to an agent gave, 
+That master good Clermont-Tonnerre 
+Might be made pope on Saint Jotms' day fair. 
+But this good Clermont could not be 
+Made pope, because no priest was he ; 
+And then their agent, whose wrath burned, 
+With all their money back returned." 
+
+This was not calculated to calm Tholorayès' improvisation ; 
+he emptied his glass, filled, refilled it, and began again : — 
+
+'* Down with wisdom ! Forget all that I have said. Let us 
+De neither prudes nor prudent men nor prudhommes. 1 pro- 
+I)ose a toast to mirth ; be merry. Let us complete our course 
+of law by folly and eating ! Indigestion and the digest. Let 
+Justinian be the male, and Feasting, the female ! Joy in the 
+depths ! Live, O creation ! The world is a great diamond. I 
+am happy. The birds are astonishing. What a festival every- 
+where ! The nightingale is a gratuitous Elleviou. Summer, I 
+salute thee ! O Luxembourg ! O Georgics of the Rue Madame 
+and of the Allée de l'Observatoire ! O pensive infantry soldiers ! 
+all those charming nurses who, while they guard the children, 
+amuse themselves ! The pampas of America would please me 
+if J had not the arcades of the Odéon. My soul flits away into 
+the virgin forests and to the savannas. All is beautiful. The 
+flies buzz in the sun. The sun has sneezed out the humming 
+bird. Embrace me, Fantine ! " 
+
+He made a mistake and embraced Favourite. 
+
+
+
+Vin. — The Death of a Horse. 
+
+" The dinners are better at Édon's than at Bombarda's," ex- 
+claimed Zéphine. 
+
+*' 1 prefer Bombarda to Édon," declared Blachevelle. ''There 
+is more luxury. It is more Asiatic. Look at the room dowii- 
+stauïî ; there are miiTors [glaceti] on the walls." 
+
+" I prefer them [glaces^ ices] on my plate," said Favourite. 
+
+Bkchevelle persisted : — 
+
+*' Look at the knives. The handles are of silver at Bom 
+barda's and of bone at Édon's. Now, silver is more valuable 
+than bone." 
+
+" Except for those who have a silver chin," observed Tholo- 
+myès. 
+
+He was looking at the dome of the Invalides, which was visi- 
+ble from Bombarda's windows. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+134 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+A pause ensued. 
+
+" Tholomyès," exclaimed Fameuil^ " Listolier and I were 
+having a discussion just now." 
+
+'' A discussion is a good thing/' replied Tholomjès ; ** a quar« 
+rel is better." 
+
+'* We were disputing about philosophy." 
+
+''Well?" 
+
+*' Which do you prefer, Descartes or Spinoza?'* 
+
+*' Désaugiers," said Tholomyès. 
+
+This decree pronounced, he took a drink, and went on ! — 
+
+" I consent to live. All is not at an end on earth since wft 
+can still talk nonsense. For that I return thanks to the immor- 
+tal gods. We lie. One lies, but one laughs. One affirms, 
+but one doubts. The unexpected bursts forth from the syllo- 
+gism. That is fine. There are still human beings here below 
+who know how to open and close the surprise box of the para- 
+dox merrily. This, ladies, which you are drinking with so 
+tranquil an air is Madeira wine, you must know, from the 
+vineyard of Coural das Freiras, which is three hundred and 
+seventetiu fathoms above the level of the sea. Attention while 
+you drink ! three hundred and seventeen fathoms ! and Mon- 
+sieur Bombarda, the magnificent eating-house keeper, gives you 
+those tln*ee hundred and seventeen fathoms for four francs and 
+fifty centimes." 
+
+Again Fameuil interrupted him : — 
+
+'' Tholomyès, your opinions fix the law. Who is your fayorite 
+Author?" 
+
+"Ber— *• 
+
+*'Quin?" 
+
+"No; Choux.*' 
+
+And Tholomyès continued ; — 
+
+''Honor to Bombarda! Ile would equal Munophis of Elc- 
+phanta if he could but get me an Indian dancing-girl, and Thy- 
+gelion of Chaeronea if he could bring me a Greek courtesan ; 
+for, oh, ladies ! there were Bombaidiis in Greece and in Egypt, 
+^pnleuis tells us of them. Alas ! always the same, and nothing 
+new ; nothing more unpublished by the creator in creation Î 
+Nil sub sole novum^ says Solomon ; aynor omnibus idem^ says 
+Virgil ; and Carabine mounts with Caral^in into "the bark at 
+Saint-Cloud, as Aspasia embarked with Pericles uix)n the fleet 
+at Samos. One last word. Do you know what Aspasia was, 
+ladies? Although she lived at an epoch when women had, as 
+yet, no soul, she was a soul; a soul of a rosy and purple hue, 
+more ardent hued than fire, fresher than the dawn. Aspasia was a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 185 
+
+treature in whom the two extremes of womanhood met; she 
+vras the goddess prostitute ; Socrates plus Manon Lescaut. 
+Aspasia was created in case a mistress should he needed for 
+Trometheus." 
+
+Tholomyès, once started, would have found some difficulty in 
+stopping, had not a horse fallen down upon the quay just at that 
+moment. The shock caused the cart and the orator to come to 
+a (lead halt. It was a. Beauceron mare, old and thin, and one 
+fit for the knacker, which was dragging a very heavy cart. On 
+arriving in front of Bombarda's, the worn-out, exhausted beast 
+had refused to proceed any further. This incident attracted a 
+crowd. Hardly had the cursing and indignant carter had time 
+to utter with proper energy the sacramental word, Mâtin (the 
+jade), backed up with a pitiless cut of the whip, when the jade 
+fell, never to rise again. On hearing the hubbub made by the 
+passers-by, Tholomyès' merry auditors turned their heads, and 
+Tholomyès took advantage of the opportunity to bring his alio- 
+cation to a close with this melancholy strophe : — 
+
+'* Elle était de ce inonde ou coucous et carrosses ^ 
+Ont le même destin ; 
+Et, rosse, elle a vécu ce que vivent les rostet, 
+L'espace d'un mâtin I " 
+
+" Poor horse ! " sighed Fantine. 
+
+And Dahlia exclaimed : — 
+
+'* There is Fantine on the point of crying over horses. How 
+can one be such a pitiful fool as that ! " 
+
+At that moment Favoui'ite, folding her arms and throwing her 
+head back, looked resolutely at Tholomyès and said : — 
+
+"Come, now! the surprise?" 
+
+"Exactly. The moment has arrived," replied Tholomyès. 
+*' Gentlemen, the hour for giving these ladies a surprise has 
+struck. Wait for us a moment, ladies." 
+
+** It begins with a kiss," said Blaclievelle. 
+
+"On the brow," added Tholomyès. 
+
+Each gravely bestowed a kiss on his mistress's brow ; then 
+all four filed oat through the door, with their fingers on their 
+lips. 
+
+Favourite clapped her hands on their departure. 
+
+" It is beginning to be amusing already," said she. 
+
+"Don't be too long," murmured Fantine; "we are waiting 
+for you." 
+
+^ She belonged to that circle where cuckoos and carriages share the same 
+fate; and a jade herself, she lived, as jades live, for the space of a mominii 
+lor Jade). 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+L86 t.ES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+EX. — A Merry End to Mirth. 
+
+When the young girls were left alone, they leaned two bj 
+two on the window-sills, chatting, craning out their heatls, 
+and talking from one window to the other. 
+
+They saw the young men emerge from the Café Bombanls 
+xrm in arm. The latter turned round, made signs to them 
+smiled, and disappeared in that dusty Sunday throng which 
+makes a weekly invasion into the Champs-Elysées. 
+
+'' Don't be long ! " cried Fantine. 
+
+'' What are they going to bring us?" said Zéphine. 
+
+'* It will certainly be something pretty," said Dahlia. 
+
+" For my part,*' said Favourite, '' I want it to be of gold." 
+
+Their attention was soon distracted by the movements on the 
+shore of the lake, which they could see through the branches of 
+the large trees, and which diverted them greatly. 
+
+It was the hour for the departure of the mail-coaches and dili- 
+gences. Nearly all the stage-coaches for the south and west 
+passed through the Champs-Elysées. The majority followed 
+the quay and went through the Passy lîarrier. From moment 
+to moment, some huge vehicle, painted yellow and black, heavily 
+loaded, noisily harnessed, rendered shapeless by trunks, tar}>au- 
+lins, and valises, full of heads which imnie<liately <lisappeared, 
+rushed through the crowd with all the sparks of a forge, with 
+dust for smoke, and an air of fury, grinding the pavements, 
+changing all the paving-stones into steels. This uproar de- 
+lighted the young girls. Favourite exclaimed : — 
+
+"What a row! One would say that it was « pile of chains 
+flying away." 
+
+It chanced that one of tht?8e vehicles, which they could only 
+gee with difficulty through the thick elms, halted for a moment, 
+then set out i^ain at a gallop. This surprised Fantine. 
+
+"That's odd!" said she. "I thought the diligence never 
+itopped." 
+
+Favourite shrugged her shoulders. 
+
+'^This Fantine is surprising. I am coming to take a look at 
+her out of curiosity. She is dazzled by the simplest things. 
+Suppose a case : I am a traveller ; I say to the diligence, * I 
+will go on in advance ; you shall pick me up on the quay as you 
+pass.' The diligence passes, sees me, halts, and takes rae. 
+That is done every day. You do not know life, my dear." 
+
+In this manner a certain time elapsed. All at once Favourite 
+made a movement, like a person who is just waking up. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINÈ. Iâ7 
+
+" Well," said she, " and the surprise?" 
+
+"Yes, by the way," joiued in Dahlia, *' the famous sur- 
+prise?" 
+
+''They are a very long time about it ! " said Fantine. 
+
+As Fantine concluded this sigh, the waiter who had served 
+them at dinner entered. He held in his hand something which 
+resembled a letter. 
+
+" What is that?" demanded Favourite. 
+
+The waiter replied : — 
+
+'' It is a paper that those gentlemen left for these ladies." 
+
+*' Why did you not bring it at once? " 
+
+" Because," said the waiter, *' the gentlemen ordered me not 
+to deliver it to the ladies for an hour." 
+
+Favourite snatched the paper from the waiter's hand. It was, 
+in fact, a letter. 
+
+'' Stop ! " said she ; '' there is no address ; but this is what is 
+written on it : — " 
+
+"This is the Surprise." 
+
+She tore the letter open hastily, opened it, and read [she 
+knew how to read] : — 
+
+"OOuR Beloved: — 
+
+"You must know that we have parents. Parents — you do not know 
+much about such tilings. They arc called fathers and mothers by the civil 
+code, which is puerile and honest. Now, these parents groan, these old 
+folks implore us, these good men and these good women call us prodigal 
+sons; they desire our return, and offer to kill calves for us. Being virtu- 
+ous, we obey them. At the hour when you read this, five fiery horses will 
+l)e bearing us to our papas and mammas. We are pulling up our stakes, 
+as Bossuet says. We are going ; we are gone. We flee in the arms of 
+Lafitte and on the wings of Gaillard. The Toulouse diligence tears us from 
+the abyss, and the al)yss is you, O our little beauties! We return to 
+society, to duty, to respectability, at full trot, at the rate of three lengnt's 
+an hour. It is necessary for the good of the country that we should be. 
+'ike all the rest of the world, prefects, fathers of families, rural police and 
+.'ouncillors of state. Venerate us. We are sacrificing ourselves. Mourn 
+for U8 in haste, and replace us with speed. If this letter lacerates you, do 
+the same by it. Adieu. 
+
+" For the space of nearly two years we have made you happy. We bear 
+^oa no grudge for that. 
+
+"Signed: Blachevelle. 
+
+Famdeil. 
+
+LiSTOLIER. 
+
+Felix TholomtAs. 
+"^ PotUcriptum. The dinner is paid for/' 
+
+The four young women looked at each other. 
+Favourite was the first to break the silence. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+l38 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+"Well!" she exclaimed, "it's a very pretty farce, all the 
+same." 
+
+" It is very droll," said Zéi)hine. 
+
+" That must have been lilachevelle's idea," resumed Favour* 
+ite. "It makes me in love with him. No sooner is he gone 
+than he is loved. This is an adventure, indeed." 
+
+" No," said Dalilia ; " it was one of Tholomyès' ideas. That 
+ia evident." 
+
+"In that Cîvse," retorted Favourite, "death to Blachevelley 
+and long live Tholomyès ! " 
+
+" Long live Tholomyès !" exclaimed Dahlia and Zéphine. 
+
+And tliey burst out laughing. 
+
+Fantine laughed witli the rest. 
+
+An hour later, when she had returned to her room, she wept. 
+It was her first love affair, as we have said ; she had given her- 
+self to this Tholomyès as to a husband, and the poor girl had 
+a child. 
+
+
+
+BOOK FOURTH.— TO CONFIDE IS SOMETIMES TO 
+DELIVER INTO A PERSON'S POWER. 
+
+I. — One Mother meets Another Mother. 
+
+There was, at Montfermeil, near Paris, during the fiçst quar- 
+ter of this century, a sort of cook-shop which no longer exists, 
+This cook-shop was kept by some people named Thenardier, 
+husband and wife. It was situated in Boulanger Lane. Over 
+the door there was a board nailed flat against the wall. LTpon 
+this board was painted something which resembled a man carry- 
+ing another man on his back, the latter wearing the big gilt 
+epaulettes of a general, with large silver stars ; red spots repre- 
+stMited blood ; the rest of the picture consisted of smoke, and 
+probably represented a battle. Below ran this inscri[)tion : At 
+THE Sign of Sergeant of Waterloo {Ail Sergent de Waterloo), 
+
+Nothing is more common than a cart or a truck at the door of 
+a hostelry. Nevertheless, the vehicle, or, to speak more accu- 
+rately, the fragment of a vehicle, which encumbered the street 
+in front of the cook-shop of the Sergeant of WcUerloo^onQ even- 
+ing in the spring of 1818, would certainly have attracted, by its 
+Yuass, the attention of any painter who had passed that wa}'. 
+
+It was the fore-carriage of one of those trucks which are usec^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FASTI NE. 189 
+
+^lî wooded tracts of country, and which serve to transport thich 
+planks and the trunks of trees. This f ore-carriage was com- 
+[)osed of a uiassive iron axle-tree with a ))iv()t, into which was 
+tix'^d a heavy shaft, and which was supported by two liuge 
+^c^els. The wiiole thing was compact, overwhehning, and 
+misshapen. It seemed like the gun-carriage of an enormous 
+Mnnon. The ruts of the road had bestowed ou the wheels, the 
+ellies, the hub, the axle, and the sluiCt, a layer of mud, a 
+hideous yellowish daubing hue, toleraî)ly like that with which 
+«.'ople are fond of ornamenting cathedrals. The wood was dis- 
+appearing under mud, and the iron beneath rust. Under the 
+;xle-tree hung, like drapery, a huge chain, worthy of some (loli- 
+ïth of a convict. This chain suggested, not the beams, which 
+X was its office to transport, but the mastodons and mammoths 
+which it might have served to harness ; it had the air of the 
+galleys, but of cyclopean and superhuman galleys, and it seemed 
+to have been detached from some monster. Homer would have 
+bound Polyphemus with it, and Shakespeare, Caliban. 
+
+Why was that fore-carriage of a truck in that place in the 
+street? In the first place, to encumber the street; next, in 
+order that it might finish the process of rusting. There is a 
+throng of institutions in the ohl social order, which one comes 
+across in this fashion as one walks about outdoors, and which 
+have no other reasons for existence than the above. 
+
+The centre of the chain swung very near the ground in the 
+middle, and in the )oop, as in the rope of a swing, there were 
+seated and grouped, on that particular evening, in exquisite in- 
+terlacement, two little girls ; one about two years and a half old, 
+the other, eighteen months ; the younger in the arms of the other. 
+A handkerchief, cleverh' knotted about them, prevented their 
+faUing ont. A mother had caught sight of that frightful chain, 
+and had said, " Ck)me ! there's a plaything for my children." 
+
+The two children, who were dressed prettily and with some 
+elegance, were radiant with pleasure ; one would have said that 
+they were two roses amid old iron ; their eyes were a triumph ; 
+their fresh cheeks were full of laughter. One had chestnut hair ; 
+the other, brown. Their innocent faces were two delighted sur- 
+prises ; a blossoming shrub which grew near waftod to the pas- 
+sers-by perfumes which seemed to emanate from them ; the child 
+of eighteen months displayed her pretty little bare stomach with 
+the chaste indecency of cliildhood. Above and around these 
+two delicate heads, all made of happiness and steeped in light, 
+the gigantic fore-carriage, black with rust, almost terrible, all 
+»vtangied in curves and wild an^rles, rose in a vault, like the en* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+i40 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+trance of a cavern. A few paces apart, crouching down upon 
+the threshold of the hostelry, the mother, not a very pre[H>8ses8' 
+ing woman, b}' the way, though touching at that moment, was 
+swinging the two children by means of a long cord, watching 
+them carefully, for fear of accidents, with that animal and ct»les- 
+tial expression which is peculiar to maternity. At every back- 
+lYard and forward swing the hideous links emitted a strident 
+30und, which resembled a cry of rage ; the little girls were in 
+ecstasies ; the setting sun mingled in this joy, and nothing could 
+be more charming than this caprice of chance which had made 
+of a chain of Titans the swing of cherubim. . 
+
+As she rocked her little ones, the mother hummed in adis^ 
+cordant voice a romance then celebrated : — 
+
+" It must be, said a warrior." 
+
+Her song, and the contemplation of her daughters, prevented 
+ber hearing and seeing what was going on in the street. 
+
+In the meantime, some one had approached her, as she was 
+beginning the first couplet of the romance, and suddenly she 
+heard a voice saying very near her ear : — 
+
+'* You have two beautiful children there, Madame." 
+
+** To the fair and tender Imogene — *' 
+
+replied the mother, continuing her romance ; then she turned her 
+bead. 
+
+A woman stood before her, a few paces distant. This woman 
+also had a child, which she carried in her arms. 
+
+She was carrying, in addition, a large carpet-bag, whicli 
+seemed very heavy. 
+
+This woman's child was one of the most divine creatures that 
+it is possible to behold. It was a girl, two or three years of 
+age. She could have entered into competition with tlie two 
+other little ones, so far as the coquetry of her dress was con- 
+cerned ; she wore a cap of fine linen, ribbons on her bodice, ami 
+V^alenciennes lace on her cap. The folds of her skirt were raised 
+so as to permit a view of her white, firm, and dimpled leg. Slir 
+was admirably rosy and healthy. The little beauty inspired a 
+desire to take a bite from the apples of her cheeks. Of her eyes 
+nothing could be known, except that they must be very large, and 
+that tiiey had magnificent lashes. She was asleep. 
+
+She slept with that slumber of absolute confidence peculiar to 
+ber age The arms of mothers are made of tenderness ; in them 
+children sleep profoundly. 
+
+As for the mother, her appearance was sad and poverty^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 141 
+
+stricken. She was dressed like a workiDg-woman who is in 
+dined to turn into a peasant again. She was young. Was sho 
+handsome ? Perhaps ; but in that attire it was not apparent. 
+Her hair, a golden lock of which had escaped, seemed very 
+thick, but was severely concealed beneath an ugly, tight, close, 
+nun-like cap, tied under the chin. A smile displays beautiful 
+teeth when one has them; but she did not smile. Her eyes 
+did not seem to have been dry for a very long time. She was 
+pale • she had a very weary and rather sickly appearance. She 
+gazed upon her daughter asleep in her arms with the air peculiar 
+to a mother who has nursed her own child. A large blue hand- 
+irerchief, such as the Invalides use, was folded into a fichu, and 
+aoncealed her figure clumsily. Her hands were sunburnt and 
+«II dotted with freckles,, her forefinger was hardened and lacer- 
+ated with the needle ; she wore a cloak of coarse brown woollen 
+• tuff, a linen gown, and coarse shoes. It was Fantine. 
+
+It was Fantine, but diflScult to recognize. Nevertheless, on 
+icrutinizing her attentively, it was evident that she still retained 
+l.er beauty. A melancholy fold, which resembled the beginning 
+<.f irony, wrinkled her right cheek. As for her toilette, that aerial 
+tDilette of muslin and nbbons, which seemed made of mirth, of 
+folly, and of music, full of bells, and perfumed with lilacs, had 
+lanished like that beautiful and dazzling hoar-frost which is 
+uistaken for diamonds in the sunlight ; it melts and leaves the 
+hranch quite black. 
+
+Ten months had elapsed since the " pretty farce." 
+
+What had taken place during those ten months? It can be 
+«kivined. 
+
+After abandonment, straightened circumstances. Fantine 
+iad immediately lost sight of Favourite, Zéphine, and Dahlia ; 
+the bond once broken on the side of the men, it was loosed 
+between the women ; they would have been greatly astonished 
+had any one told them a fortnight later, that they had been 
+friends ; there no longer existed any reason for such a thing. 
+Fantine had remained alone. The father of her child gone, — 
+ilas ! such ruptures are irrevocable, — she found herself abso- 
+lutely isolated, minus the habit of work and plus the taste for 
+pleasure. Drawn away by her liaison with Tholomyès to dis- 
+dain the petty trade which she knew, she had neglected to keep 
+her market open ; it was now closed to her. She had no 
+resource. Fantine barely knew how to read, and did not know 
+how to write ; in her childhood she had only been taught to sign 
+her name ; she had a public letter-writer indite an epistle to 
+Tholomyèsi then a second, then a third. Tholomyès reolied to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+142 LES MISÉRABIKS- 
+
+none of them. Fan tine heard the gossips sa}^ as they looked 
+at her child: ''Who takes those eliildren seriously! One 
+only shrugs one's shoulders over such childreu ! " Then she 
+thought of Tholomyès, who had shrugged his shoulders over 
+his child, and who did not take that innocent being seriously ; 
+and her heart grew gloomy toward that man. But what was she 
+to do? She no longer knew to whom to apply. She had com- 
+mitted a fault, but the foundation of her nature, as will be 
+remembered, was modesty and virtue. She was vaguely con- 
+scious that she was ou the verge of falling into distress, and of 
+gliding into a worse state. Courage was necessary ; she pos- 
+sessed it, and held herself finn. The idea of returning to 
+her native town of M. sur M. occurred to her. There, some 
+one might possibly know her and give . her work ; yes, but it 
+would be necessary to conceal her fault. In a confused way 
+she perceived the necessity of a separation which would be 
+more painful than the first one. Her heart contracted, but she 
+took her resolution. Fan tine, as we shall see, had the fierce 
+bravery of life. She had already valiantly renounced finery, 
+had dressed herself in linen, and had put all her silks, all her 
+ornaments, all her ribbons, and all her laces on her daughter, 
+the only vanity which was left to her, and a holy one it was. 
+She sold all that she had, which produced for her two hundred 
+francs ; her little debts paid, she liad only about eighty francs 
+left. At the age of twenty-two, on a beautiful spring morning, 
+she quitted Paris, bearing her child on her back. Any one who 
+had seen these two pass would have had pity on them. This 
+woman had, in all the world, nothing but her child, and the 
+child had, in all the world, no one but this woman. Fantine 
+had nursed her child, and this had tired her chest, and she 
+coughed a little. 
+
+We shall have no further occasion to speak of M. Félix 
+Tholomyès. Let us confine ourselves to saying, that, twenty 
+years later, under King Louis Philippe, he was a great provin- 
+cial lawyer, wealthy and influential, a wise elector, and a very 
+severe juryman ; he was still a man of pleasure. 
+
+Towards the middle of the day, after having, from time to 
+time, for the sake of resting herself, travelled, for three or four 
+sous a league, in what was then known as the Petites Voitures 
+des Environs de PariSy the " little suburban coach serA'ice," 
+Fantine found herself at Montfermeil, in the alley Boulanger. 
+
+As she passed the Th^nardier hostelry, the two little girls, 
+blissful in the monster swing, had dazzled her in a manner, and 
+ebe had halted in front of that vision of joy. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 143 
+
+Charms exist. These two little girls were a charm to this 
+mother. 
+
+She gazed at them in much emotion. The presence of angels 
+is an announcement of Paradise. She thought that, above this 
+inn, she beheld the mysterious UKKE of Providence. These two 
+little creatures were evidently happy. Slie gazed at them, she 
+admired them, in such emotion that at the moment when their 
+mother was recovering her breath between two couplets of her 
+song, she could not refrain from addressing to her the remark 
+which we have just read : — 
+
+" You have two pretty children, Madame." 
+
+The most ferocious creatures are disarmed by caresses be- 
+stowed on their young. 
+
+The mother raised her head and thanked her, and bade the 
+wayfarer sit down on the bench at the door, she herself being 
+seated on the threshold. The two women began to chat. 
+
+'* My name is Madame Thénardier," said the mother of the 
+two little girls. ''We keep this inn." 
+
+Then, her mind still running on her romance, she resumed, 
+humming between her teeth : — 
+
+" It must be 80 ; I am a knight. 
+And I am off to Palestine." 
+
+This Madame Thénardier was a sandy-complexioned woman, 
+thin and angular — the type of the soldier's wife in all its unpleas- 
+antness ; and what was odd, with a languishing air, which 
+she owed to her perusal of romances. She was a simpering, 
+but masculine creature. Old romances produce that effect when 
+rubbed against the imagination of cook-shop woman. She was 
+still young ; she was barely thirty. If this crouching woman 
+had stood upright, her lofty stature and her frame of - ^.eram- 
+bulatiug colossus suitable for fairs, might have frightened the 
+traveller at the outset, troubled her confidence, and disturbed 
+what caused what we have to relate to vanish. A person who is 
+seated instead of standing erect — destinies hang upon such a 
+thing as that. 
+
+The traveller told her story, with slight modifications. 
+
+That she was a working-woman ; that her husband was dead ; 
+that her work in Paris had failed her, and that she was on her 
+way to seek it elsewhere, in her own native parts ; that she had 
+left Paris that morning, on foot ; that, as she was carrying her 
+child, and felt fatigued, she had got into the Villemorable coach 
+when she met it ; that from Villemomble she had come to Mont- 
+fermeil on foot ; that the little one had walked a little, but not 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+144 i^isiS MISKHAISLtsSi. 
+
+much, because she was so young, and that she bad been obliged 
+»o take her up, and the jewel had fallen asleep. 
+
+At this word she bestowed on her daughter a passionate 
+kiss, which woke her. The child opened lier eyes, great blue 
+eyes like her mother's, and looked at — what? Nothing; with 
+that serious and sometimes severe air of little children, which is 
+a mystery of tlieir luminous innocence in the presence of our 
+twilight of virtue. One would say that they feel themselves to 
+be angels, and that they know us to be men. Then the child 
+began to laugh ; and although the mother held fast to her, she 
+slipped to the ground with the unconquerable energy of a little 
+being which wished to run. All at once she caught sight of 
+the two others in the swing, stopped short, and put out her 
+tongue, in sign of admiration. 
+
+Mother Thénardier released her daughters^ made them desoentl 
+from the swing, and said : — 
+
+'* Now amuse yourselves, all three of you.'* 
+
+Children become acquainted quickly at that age, and at the 
+expiration of a minute the little Thénardiers were playing with 
+the new-comer at making holes in the ground, which was an 
+immense pleasure. 
+
+The new-comer was very gay ; the goodness of the mother is 
+written in the gayety of the child ; she had seized a scrap of 
+wood which served her for a shovel, and energetically dug a 
+cavity big enough for a fly. The grave-digger's business be • 
+comes a subject for laughter when performed by a child. 
+
+The two women pursued their chat. 
+
+*' What is vour little one's name?" 
+
+"Cosette.'"' 
+
+For Cosette, read Euphrasie. The child's name was Enphra 
+sie. But out of Euphrasie the mother had made Cosette by that 
+sweet and graceful instinct of mothers and of the po[)ulace 
+which changes Josepha into Pépita, and Françoise into Sillette. 
+It is a sort of derivative which disarranges and disconcerts the 
+whole sjience of the etymologists. We have known a grand 
+mother who succeeded in turning Theodore into Gnon. 
+
+*'H()W old is she?'* 
+
+*' She is going on three.** 
+
+*' That is the age of my eldest." 
+
+In the meantime, the three little girls were grouped in an al^ 
+lîtude of profound anxiety and blis? fulness ; an event had hap- 
+pened ; a big worm had emerged from the ground, and they 
+were afraid ; and they were in ecstasies over it. 
+
+Their radiant brows touched each other ; one would have satif 
+«hat there were three heads iu oue aureole. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE, 145 
+
+**How easily children get acquainted at once!'* exclaimed 
+tlother Thénardier; "one would swear that they were three 
+«isters ! " 
+
+This remark was probably the spark which the other mother 
+had been waiting for. She seized the Thénardier's hand, looked 
+at her fixedly, and said : — 
+
+" Will you keep my child for me ? " 
+
+Tlie Thénardier made one of those movements of surprise 
+which signify neither assent nor refusal. 
+
+Cosette's mother continued : — 
+
+"You see, I cannot take my daughter to the country. My 
+ffork will not permit it. With a child one can find no situation* 
+People are ridiculous in the country. It was the good God who 
+i;aQscd me to pass your inn. When I caught sight of your little 
+ones, so pretty, so clean, and so happy, it overwhelmed me. I 
+liaid : * Here is a good mother. That is just the thing ; that 
+will make three sisters.' And then, it will not be long before I 
+i-etum. Will you keep my child for me ? " 
+
+"I must see about it," replied the Thénardier, 
+
+"I will give you six francs a month." 
+
+Here a man's voice called from the depths of the cook- 
+fthop : — 
+
+^'Not for less than seven francs. And six months paid in 
+«dvance." 
+
+"Six times seven makes forty-two," said the Thénardier. 
+
+"I will give it," said the mother. 
+
+"And fifteen francs in addition for preliminary expenses," 
+added the man's voice." 
+
+"Total, fifty-seven francs," said Madame Thénardier. And 
+she hummed vaguely, with these Ggures :-» 
+
+"It must be, said a warrior." 
+
+*'I will pay it," said the mother. "I have eighty francs. 1 
+Jiall have enough left to reach the country, by travelling on 
+{oot. I shall earn money there, and as soon as I have a little. 
+[ ivill return for my darling." 
+
+The man's voice resumed : — 
+
+"The little one has an outfit?" 
+
+"That is my husband," said the Thénardier. 
+
+"Of course she has an outfit, the poor treasure. — I undei^ 
+btood perfectly that it was your husband. — And a beautiful out- 
+fit, too! a senseless outfit, everything by the dozen, and silk 
+gowns like a lady. It is here, in my carpet-bag." 
+
+'^ YoQ must hand it over," struck in the man's voice again. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+146 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+'*0f coui-se I shall give it to you,'* said tlie iiiotlier. *'R 
+would be very queer if I were to leave mv daughter quite 
+naked ! " 
+
+The master's face appeared. 
+
+'' That's good," said he. 
+
+The bargain was concluded. The mother passed the night 
+at the inn, gave up her money and left hor cliild, fastened lu r 
+carpet-bag once more, now reduced in volume by the reniov:i' 
+of the outfit, and light henceforth, and set out on the foUowint» 
+morning, intending to return soon. People arrange such de- 
+partures tranquilly ; but they are despairs ! 
+
+A neighbor of the Thénardiers met this mother as she was 
+setting out, and came back with the remark : — 
+
+'• I have just seen a woman crying in the street so that it was 
+enough to rend your heart." 
+
+When Cosette's mother had taken her dei)arture, the man 
+said to the woman : — 
+
+"That will serve to pay my note for one hundred and ten 
+francs which falls due to-morrow ; I lacked fifty francs. Do 3 uu 
+know that 1 should have had a bailiff and a protest after me? 
+You played the mouse-trap nicely with your young ones." 
+
+'* Without suspecting it," said the woman. 
+
+
+
+II. — First Sketch op two Unpkkpossessing Figures. 
+
+The mouse which had been caught was a pitiful specimen ; 
+but the cat rejoices even over a lean mouse. 
+
+Who were these Thénardiers ? 
+
+Let us say a word or two of them now. We will complete 
+the sketch later on. 
+
+Those beings belonged to that bastard class composed of 
+coarse people who have been successful, and of intelligent 
+people who have descended in the scale, which is between tin 
+class called '* middle" and the class denominated as ** inferior,' 
+and which combines some of the defects of the second with 
+nearly all the vices of the first, without possessing the gener- 
+ous impulse of the workingman nor the honest order of the 
+bourgeois. 
+
+They were of those dwarfed natures which, if a dull (Ire 
+chances to warm them up, easily become monstrous. There 
+was in the woman a substratum of the brute, and in the man 
+the material for a blackguard. lioth w<'re susceptible, in llu» 
+highest degree, of the sort of hideous progress which is acconi- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 147 
+
+plished in the direction of evil. There exist crab-like souls 
+which are continually retreating towards the darkness, retro- 
+grading in life rather than advancing, employing experience 
+U) augment their deformity, growing incessantly worse, and 
+becoming more and more impregnated with an ever-augment- 
+ing blackness. This man and woman i)ossessed such souls. 
+
+Thénardier, in particular, was troublesome for a physiogno- 
+mist. One can only look at some men to distrust them ; foi 
+one feels that they are dark in both directions. They are 
+aneasy in the rear and threatening in front. There is some- 
+thing of the unknown about them. One can no more answer 
+for what they have done than for what they will do. The 
+shadow which they bear in their glance denounces them. 
+From merely hearing them utter a word or seeing them make a 
+gesture, one obtains a glimpse of sombre secrets in their past 
+aod of sombre mysteries in their future. 
+
+This Thénardier, if he himself was to be believed, had been 
+a soldier — a sergeant, he said. He had probably been through 
+the campaign of 1815, and had even conducted himself with 
+tolerable valor, it would seem. We shall see later on how much 
+truth there was in this. The sign of his hostelry was in allu- 
+sion to one of his feats of arms. He had painted it himself ; 
+for he knew how to do a little of everything, and badly. 
+
+It was at the epoch when the ancient classical romance 
+which, after having been Clélie^ was no longer anything but 
+LodfAska^ still noble, but ever more and more vulgar, having 
+fallen from Mademoiselle de Scudéri to Madame Bournon- 
+Malarme^ and from Madame de Lafayette to Madame Barthél- 
+einy-Hadot, was setting the loving hearts of the portresses of 
+Paris aflame, and even ravaging the suburbs to some extent. 
+Madame Thénardier was just intelligent enough to read this 
+sort of books. She lived on them. In them she drowned what 
+brains she possessed. This had given her, when very young, 
+iml even a little later, a sort of pensive attitude towards her 
+husband, a scamp of a ceilain depth, a ruffian lettered to the 
+extent of the grammar, coarse and fine at one and the same 
+time, but, so far as sentimentalism was concerned, given to 
+the perusal of Pigault- Lebrun, and '*in what concerns the 
+sex," as he said in his jargon — a downright, unmitigated 
+but. His wife was twelve or fifteen years younger than he 
+was. Later on, when her hair, arranged in a romantically 
+jlrooping fashion, began to grow gray, wlien tlie Magjera began 
+to be developed from the Pamela, the female Thénardier was 
+nothing but a coarse, vicious woman, who had dabbled in 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+148 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Btupid romances. Now, one cannot read nonsense with in- 
+|)unitv. The result was that her eldest daughter was namei 
+Éponine ; as for the youuger, the poor little thing came near 
+being called Guluare ; I know not to what divei*siou, effectei 
+by a romance of Ducray-Dumenil, she owed the fact tliat she 
+merely bore the name of Azelma. 
+
+However, we will remark by the way, everything was not 
+ridiculous and superficial in that curious epoch to which we are 
+alluding, and which may be designated as the anarchy of bap- 
+tismal names. By the side of this romantic element which we 
+have just indicated there is the social symptom. It is not rare 
+for the neatherd's boy nowadays to bear the name of Artliui, 
+Alfred, or Alphonse, and for the vicomte — if there are still 
+any vicomtes — to be called Thomas, Pierre, or Jacques. This 
+displacement, which places the '' elegant" name on the plebeian 
+and the rustic name on the aristocrat, is nothing else than an 
+eddy of equality. The irresistible penetration of the new in^ 
+spiration is there as everywhere else. Beneath this apparent 
+discord there is a great and a profound thing, — the French 
+Revolution. 
+
+nL — The Lark. 
+
+It is not all in all sufficient to be wicked in order to prosper 
+The cook-shop was in a bad way. 
+
+Thanks to the traveller's fifty -seven francs, Thénardier haxi 
+been able to avoid a protest and to honor his signature. On 
+the following month they were again in need of money. The 
+woman took Cosette's outfit, to Paris, and pawned it at the 
+pawnbroker's for sixty francs. As soon as that sum was spent^ 
+the Thénardiers grew accustomed to look on the little girl 
+merely as a child whom they were caring for out of charity ; 
+and they treated her accordingly. As she had no longer any 
+clothes, they dressed her in the cast-off petticoats and chemises 
+of the Thénardier brats ; that is to say, in rags. They fed lioi 
+on what all the rest had left — a little better than the dog, s 
+Httle worse than the cat. Moreover, the cat and the dog wei-s 
+her habitual' table-companions ; Cosette ate with them uiuley 
+the table, from a wooden bowl similar to theirs. 
+
+The mother, who had established herself, as we shall see 
+later on, at M. sur M., wrote, or, more correctly, caused to hn 
+written, a letter every month, that she might have news of her 
+child. The Thénardiers reolied invariably, "Cosette is doin$; 
+wonderfully' well. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. 14» 
+
+At the expiration of the first six moaths the mother sent 
+aeven francs for the seventh montlj, and continued lier remiU 
+tances with tolerable regularity from month to month. The 
+year was not completed when Thénardier said : " A fine favor 
+she is doing us, in sooth ! What does she expect us to do with 
+her seven francs?" and he wrote to demand twelve francs. 
+The mother, whom they had persuaded into the belief that her 
+child was happy, '^and was coming on well," submitted, and 
+forwarded the twelve francs. 
+
+Certain natures cannot love on the one hand without hating 
+on the other. Mother Théuardier loved her two daughters pas- 
+sionately, which caused her to hate the stranger. 
+
+It is sad to think that the love of a mother can possess vil- 
+lanons aspects. Little as was the space occupied by Cosette, 
+it seemed to her as though it were taken from her own, anci 
+ihat that little child diminished the air which her daughters 
+breathed. This woman, like many women of her sort, had a 
+load of caresses and a burden of blows and injuries to dispense 
+each day. If she had not had Cosette, it is certain that her 
+daughters, idolized as they were, would have received the 
+whole of it; but the stranger did them the service to divert 
+the blows to herself. Her daughters received nothing but ca- 
+resses. Cosette could not make a motion which did not draw 
+down upon her head a heavy shower of violent blows and ud- 
+merited chastisement. The sweet, feeble being, who should 
+not have understood anything of this world or of God, inces- 
+santly punished, scolded, ill-used, beaten, and seeing beside 
+her two little creatures like herself, who lived in a ray of dawn ! 
+
+Madame Thénardier was vicious with Cosette. Éponine and 
+^elina were vicious. Children at that age are only copies of 
+their mother. The size is smaller ; that is all. 
+
+A year passed ; then another. 
+
+People in the village said : — 
+
+'* Those Thénardiers are good people. They are not rich, and 
+yet they are bringing up a poor child who was abandoned on 
+their hands ! " 
+
+They thought that Cosette's mother had forgotton her. 
+
+In the meanwhile, Thénardier, having learned, it is impossible 
+to say by what obscure means, that the child was probably a 
+bastard, and that the mother could not acknowledge it, exacted 
+fifteen francs a month, saying that " the creature" was growing 
+and '* eating," and threatening to send her away. " Let her 
+not botber me/' be exclaimed, ^^or I'll fire her brat right into 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+150 LES MISJERABLES. 
+
+Che middle of her secrets. I must have an increase." The 
+mother paid the fifteen francs. 
+
+From year to year the child grew, and so did her wretche<i' 
+ness. 
+
+As long as Cosctte was little, she was the scape-goat of tlie 
+two other children ; as soon as she began to develop a little, 
+that is to say, before she was even five years old, she became 
+ihe servant of the household. 
+
+Five years old ! the reader will say ; that is not probable. 
+Alas I it is true. Social suffering begins at all ages. Have we 
+not recently seen the trial of a man named Dumollard, an 
+orphan turned bandit, who, from the age of five, as the official 
+documents state, being alone in the world, " worked for his liv- 
+ing and stole " ? 
+
+Cosette was made to run on errands, to sweep the rooms, the 
+courtyard, the street, to wash the dishes, to even carry bur- 
+dens. The Thénardiers considered themselves all the more au- 
+thorized to behave in this manner, since the mother, who was 
+still at M. sur M. had become irregular in her payments. Some 
+months she was in arrears. 
+
+If this mother had returned to M ontfermeil at the end of these 
+three years, she would not have recognized her child. Cosette, 
+so pretty and rosy on her arrival in that house, was now thin 
+and pale. She had an indescribably uneasy look. "The sly 
+creature," said the Thénardiers. 
+
+Injustice had made her peevish, and misery had made her 
+ugly. Nothing remained to her except her beautiful eyes, 
+which inspired pain, because, large as they were, it seemed as 
+though one beheld in them a still larger amount of sadness. 
+
+It was a heart-breaking tiling to see this poor child, not yet 
+six years old, shivering in the winter in her old rags of linen, 
+full of holes, sweeping tlie street before daylight, with an enor- 
+mous broom in her tiny red hands, and a tear in her great eyes. 
+
+She was called the Lark in the neighborhood. The populace, 
+who are fond of those figures of speech, had taken a fancy to 
+bestow this name on this trembling, frightened, and shivering 
+little creature, no bigger tlian a l)ird, who was awake every 
+morning before any one else in the house or the village, and 
+was always in the street or the fields before daybreak. 
+
+Only the little lark never sang. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. loi 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIFTH. —THE DESCENT. 
+L-— The History of a Progress in Black Glass TKutKETti 
+
+And in the meantime, what had become of that mother who, 
+according to the people at Montfermeil, seemed to have aban- 
+doned her child ? Where was she ? What was she doing ? 
+
+After leaving her little Cosette with the Tliénardiers, she 
+had continued her joume^', and had reached M. sur M. 
+
+This, it will be remembered, was in 1818. 
+
+Fantine had quitted her province ten years before. M. sur M. 
+had changed its aspect. While Fantine had been slowly de- 
+sceoding from wretchedness to wretchedness, her native town had 
+prospered. 
+
+About two years previously one of those industrial facta 
+which are the grand events of small districts had taken place. 
+
+This detail is imi)ortant, and we regard it as useful to develop 
+it at length ; we should almost say, to underline it. 
+
+From time immemorial, M. sur M. had had for its special indus- 
+try the imitation of English jet and the black glass trinkets of 
+Germany. This industry had always vegetated, on account of 
+the high price of the raw material, which reacted on the manu- 
+facture. At the moment when Fantine returned to M. sur 
+M., an unheard-of transformation had taken place in the pro- 
+duction of "black goods." Towards the close of 1815 a man, 
+a stranger, had established himself in the town, and had 
+been inspired with the idea of substituting, in this manufacture, 
+gum-lac for resin, and, for bracelets in particular, slides of 
+sheet-iron simply- laid together, for slides of soldered sheet-iron. 
+
+This very small change had effected a revolution. 
+
+This ver}' small change had, in fact, prodigiously reduced the 
+cost of the raw material, which had rendered it possible in the 
+first place, to raise the price of manufacture, a benefit to the 
+ooontn* ; in the second place, to improve the workmanship, an 
+advantage to the consumer; in the third place, to sell at a lowel 
+price, while trebling the profit, which was a benefit to the manu* 
+facturer. 
+
+Thus three results ensued from one idea. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+152 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+lu less than three years the inventor of this process had be- 
+come rich, which is good, and had made Qv^ry one about him 
+rich, which is better. He was a stranger in the Department. 
+Of his origin, nothing was known ; of the bogining of his career, 
+very little. It was rumored that he had come to town with very 
+little money, a few hundred francs at the most. 
+
+It was from this slender capital, enlisted in the service of an 
+ingenious idea, developed by method and thought, that he had 
+drawn his own fortune, and the fortune of the whole country* 
+side. 
+
+On his arrival at M. sur M. he had onl}* the garments, the 
+appearance, and the language of a workingman. 
+
+It appears that on the very day when he made his obscure 
+entry into the little town of M. sur M., just at nightfalK 
+on a December evening, knapsack on back and thorn club in 
+hand, a large fire had broken out in the town-hall. This man 
+had rushed into the flames and had saved, at the risk of his own 
+life, two children who belonged to the capUiin of the gendar- 
+merie ; this is why they had forgotten to ask him for his pass- 
+port. Afterwards they had learned his name. He was called 
+Father Madeleine. 
+
+II. — Madeleine. 
+
+He was a man about fifty years of age, who had a preoccu- 
+pied air, and who was good. That was all that could be said 
+about him. 
+
+Thanks to the rapid progress of the industry which he had so 
+admirably re-constructed, M. sur M. had become a rather impor- 
+tant centre of trade. Spain, which consumes a good deal of 
+black jet, made enormous purchases there each 3'ear. M. sur 
+M. almost rivalled London and Berlin in this branch of 
+commerce. Father Madeleine's profits were such, that at the 
+end of the second year he was able to erect a large factory, in 
+which there were two vast workrooms, one for the men, and 
+the other for women. Any one who was hungry could present 
+himself there, and was sure of finding employment and bread. 
+Father Madeleine required of tiie men good will, of the women 
+pure morals, and of all, probity. lie had separated the work- 
+rooms in order to separate the sexes, and so that the women 
+and girls might remain discreet. On this point he was inflex- 
+ible. It was the only tiling in which he was in a manner 
+intolerant, lie was all the more firmly set on this severity, 
+fincc M. sur M., being a garrison town, opportunities for 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 153 
+
+oorraption abouDded. However, his coming had been a 
+boon, and his presence was a godsend. Before Father Mad- 
+eleine's arrival, everything had languislied in the country ; 
+now everything lived with a healthy life of toil. A strong 
+circnlation warmed everything and penetrated everywhere 
+Slack seasons and wretchedness were unknown. There was 
+no pocket so obscure that it had not a little money in it; 
+no dwelling so lowly that there was not some little joy within 
+it. 
+
+Father Madeleine gave employment to every one. He 
+exacted but one thing: Be an honest man. Be an honest 
+woman. 
+
+As we have said, in the midst of this activity of which he was 
+the cause and the pivot, Father Madeleine made his fortune ; 
+hut a singular thing in a simple man of business, it did not 
+seem as though that were his chief care. He appeared to be 
+thinking much of others, and little of himself. In 1820 he was 
+known to have a sum of six hundred and thirty thousand francs 
+lodged in his name with Laffîtte ; but before reserving these six 
+hundred and thirty thousand francs, he had spent more than a 
+million for the town and its poor. 
+
+The hospital was badly endowed ; he founded six beds there. 
+M. sur M. is divided into the upper and the lower town. 
+The lower town, in which he lived, had but one school, 
+a miserable hovel, which was falling to ruin : he constructed 
+two, one for gii'ls, the other for boys. He allotted a salary 
+from his own funds to the two instructors, a salary twice as 
+large as their meagre official salary, and one day he said to 
+some one who expressed surprise, "The two prime function- 
+aries of the state are the nurse and the schoolmaster." He 
+created at his own expense an infant school, a thing then 
+almost unknown in France, and a fund for aiding old and in- 
+firm workmen. As his factory was a centre, a new quarter, in 
+which there were a good many indigent families, rose rapidly 
+around him ; he established there a free dispcnsar}'. 
+
+At first, when they watched his beginnings, the good soula 
+said, "He's a jolly fellow who means to get rich." When 
+they saw him enriching the country before he enriched himself, 
+the good souls said, " He is an ambitious man." This seemed 
+all the more probable since the man was religious, and even 
+practised his religion to a certain degree, a thing which was 
+very favorably viewed at that epoch. He went regularly to low 
+mass every Sunday. The local deputy, who nosed out all rivalry 
+everywhere, soon began to grow uneasy ovei this religioa 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+154 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+This deputy' had been a member of the legislative body of the 
+Empire, aud shared the religious ideas of a father of the Ora- 
+toire, known under the name of Fouché, Duc d*Otrante, whose 
+creature and friend he had been. He indulged in gentle rail- 
+lery at God with closed doors. But when he beheld the wealth} 
+manufacturer Madeleine going to low mass at seven o'clock, he 
+perceived in him a possible candidate, and resolved to outdo 
+him ; he took a Jesuit confessor, and went to high mass and to 
+vespers. Ambition was at that time, in the direct acccptatioD 
+of the word, a race to tlie steeple. The poor profited by thie 
+terror as well as the good God, for the honorable deputy also 
+founded two beds in the hospitol, which made twelve. 
+
+Nevertheless, in 1819 a rumor one morning circulated tln*ough 
+the town to the effect that, on tlie representations of the pre- 
+fect and in consideration of the services rendered by him to the 
+country. Father Madeleine was to be appointed by the King, 
+mayor of M. sur M. Tliose wlio had pronounced this 
+new-comer to be *' an ambitious fellow," seized with delight on 
+this opportunity which all men desire, to exclaim, '* There ! 
+what did we say ! " All M. sur M. was in an upix)ar. The 
+rumor was well founded. Several days later Uie appoint- 
+ment appeared in tlie Moniteur . On the following day Father 
+Madeleine refused. 
+
+In tliis same year of 1819 tlie products of the new process 
+invented by Madeleine figured in the industrial exhibition ; when 
+the jury made their report, the King appointed the inventor s 
+chevalier of the Legion of Honor. A fresh excitement in the 
+little town. Well, so it was the cross that he wanted ! Father 
+Madeleine refused the cross. 
+
+Decidedly, this man was an enigma. The good souls got 
+out of their predicament by saying, *' After all, he is some sort 
+of an adventurer." 
+
+We have seen that the country owed much to him ; the poor 
+owed him everything ; he was so useful and he was so gentle 
+that people had been obliged to honor and respect him. His 
+workmen, in particular, adored him, and he endured this adora- 
+tion with a sort of melancholy gravity. When he was known 
+to be rich, "people in society" bowed to him, and he receiA-e<î 
+invitations in the town ; he was called, in town. Monsieur Mad- 
+eleine ; his workmen and the children continued to call hini 
+Father Madeleine, and that was what was most adapted to make 
+him smile. In proportion as he mounted, throve, invitations 
+rained down upon him. "Society" claimed him for its own 
+The prim little drawing-rooms on M. sur M., which, of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+PANTINE. Ifia 
+
+coarse, had at first been closed to the artisan, opened both leavei 
+of their folding-doors to the millionnaire. They made a thousand 
+advances to him. He refused. 
+
+This time the good gossips had no trouble. ^^ He is an igno- 
+rant man, of no education. No one knows where he came from. 
+He would not know how to behave in society. It has not been 
+absolutely proved that he knows how to read." 
+
+When they saw him making money, they said, ^^ He is a man 
+of basioess." When they saw him scattering his mcmey about* 
+they said, "He is an ambitious man." When he was seen to 
+decline honors, they said, " He is an adventurer." When they 
+flaw him repulse society, they said, " He is a brate." 
+
+In 1820, five years after his arrival in M. sur M., the 
+services which he had rendered to the district were so dazzling, 
+the opinion of the whole country round about was so unanimous, 
+that the King again appointed him mayor of the town. He again 
+declined ; but the prefect resisted his refusal, all the notabilities 
+of the place came to implore him, the people in the street be- 
+soaght him; the urging was so vigorous that he ended bj 
+accepting. It was noticed that the thing which seemed chiefly 
+to bring him to a decision was the almost irritated apostrophe 
+addressed to him by an old woman of the people, who called to 
+him from her threshold, in an angrj- way : " ^ good mayor is q 
+^d thing. Is he drawing hack before the good which lie ca% 
+dor 
+
+This was the third phase of his ascent. Father Madeleine- 
+had become Monsieur Madeleine. Monsieur Madeleine became 
+Honsienr le Maire. 
+
+
+
+m. — Sums deposited with Laffittb. 
+
+On the other hand, he remained as simple as on the first day. 
+He had gray hair, a serious eye, the sunburned complexion uf 
+a lal)orer, the thoughtful visage of a philosopher. He habitually 
+wore a hat with a wide brim, and a long coat of coarse cloth, 
+buttoned to the chin. He fulfilled his duties as mayor; but, 
+with that exception, he lived in solitude. He spoke to but few 
+people. He avoided polite attentions ; he escaped quickly ; he 
+smiled to relieve himself of the necessity of talking ; he gave, m 
+order to get rid of the necessity for smiling. Tlie women said 
+of him, '^ What a good-natured bear ! " His pleasure consisted 
+in strolling in the fields. 
+
+He always took his meals alone, with an open book before 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+IM LES MISERABLES. 
+
+him, which he read. He had a well-selected little libracy. He 
+loved books ; books are cold but safe friends. In proportion 
+as leisure came to him with fortune, he seemed to take advaa 
+tage of it to cultivate his mind. It had been observed that, 
+ever since his arrival at M. sur M., his language had grown 
+more polished, more choice, and more gentle with ever^ passing 
+year. He liked to carry a gun with him on his strolls, but he 
+rarely made use of it. When he did happen to do so, his shoot- 
+ing was something so infallible as to inspire terror. He never 
+killed an inoffensive animal. He never shot at a little bird. 
+
+A^lthcugh he was no longer young, it was thought that he was 
+still prodigiously' strong. He offered his assistance to any one 
+who was in need of it, lifted a horee, released a wheel clogged 
+in the mud, or stopped a runaway bull by the horns. He al- 
+ways had his pockets full of money when he went out ; but they 
+were empty on his return. When he passed through a village, 
+the ragged brats ran. joyously after him, and surrounded him 
+like a swarm of gnats. 
+
+It was thought that he must, in the past, have lived a country 
+life, since he knew all sorts of useful secrets, which he taught 
+to the peasants. He taught them how to destroy scurf on 
+wheat, by sprinkling it and the granary and inundating the 
+cracks in the floor with a solution of common salt; and how to 
+chase away weevils by hanging up orviot in bloom everywhere, 
+on the walls and the ceilings, among the grass and in the houses- 
+He had " recipes " for exterminating from a field, blight, 
+tares, toxtail, and all parasitic growths which destroy the wheat. 
+He defended a rabbit warren against rats, simply by the odor 
+of a guinea-pig which he placed in it. 
+
+One day he saw some country people busily engaged in pull« 
+ing up nettles ; he examined the plants, which were uprooted 
+and already dried, and said: "They are dead. Nevertheless, 
+it would be a good thing to know how to make use of them. 
+When the nettle is young, the leaf makes an excellent vegetable ; 
+when it is older, it has filaments and fibres like hemp and flax. 
+Nettle cloth is as good as linen cloth. Chopped up, nettles are 
+good for poultry ; pounded, they are good for horned cattle. The 
+<3eed of the nettle, mixed with fodder, gives gloss to the hair of 
+animals; the root, mixed with salt, produces a beautiful yellow 
+ooloring-raatter. Moreover, it is an excellent hay, which can 
+be cut twice. And what is required for the nettle? A little 
+soil, no care, no culture. Only the seed falls as it is ripe, and 
+it is difficult to collect it. That is all. With the exercise of a 
+tittle care« the nettle could be made useful ; it is neglected and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 157 
+
+H beoomes hnrtful. It is exterminated. How many men re- 
+semble the nettle!" He added, after a pause: ^^ Remember 
+ibis, my friends : there are no such things as bad plants or bad 
+men. There are onl}- bad cultivators." 
+
+The children loved him because he knew how to make charm- 
+ing little trifles of straw and cocoanuts. 
+
+When he saw the door of a church hung in black, he entered : 
+he sought out funerals as other men seek christenings. Widow- 
+hood and the grief of others attracted him, because of his great 
+gentleness ; he mingled with the friends clad in mourning, with 
+families dressed in black, with the priests groaning around a 
+coffin. He seemed to like to give to bis thoughts for text these 
+funereal psalmodies filled with the vision of the other world. 
+With his eyes fixed on heaven, he listened with a sort of aspira- 
+tion towards all the mysteries of the infinite, those sad voices 
+which sing on the verge of the obscure abyss of death. 
+
+He performed a multitude of good actions, concealing his 
+agency in them as a man conceals himself because of evil ac- 
+tions. He penetrated houses privately, at night; he ascended 
+staircases furtively. A poor wretch on returning to his attic 
+would find that his door had been opened, sometimes even 
+forced, during his absence. The poor man made a clamor over 
+it: some malefactor had been there ! He entered, and the first 
+thing he beheld was a piece of gold lying forgotten on some 
+piece of furniture. The '^ malefactor" who had been there was 
+Father Madeleine. 
+
+He was affable and sad. The people said : ^' There is a rich 
+man who has not a haughty air. There is a happy man who 
+has not a contented air." 
+
+Some people maintained that he was a mysterious person, 
+and that no one ever entered his cliamber, which was a regular 
+anchorite's cell, furnished with winged hour-glasses and en- 
+livened by cross-bones and skulls of dead men ! This was nmcb 
+talked of, so that one of the elegant and malicious young 
+women of M. sur M. came to him one day, and asked : ^^ Mon- 
+sieur le Maire, pray show us your chamber. It is said to be a 
+grotto." He smiled, and introduced them instintly into this 
+'* grotto," Tliey were well punished for their curiosity. Tlie 
+room was very simply furnished in mahogany, which was rather 
+ugly, like all furniture of that sort, and hung with paper worth 
+twelve sous. They could see nothing remarkable about it, ex- 
+cept two candlesticks of antique pattern which stood on the 
+chimney-piece and appeared to be silver, " for they were hall- 
+marked,'* an observation full of the type of wit of petty towns. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+|$8 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Nevertheless, people continued to say that no one ever j^ot 
+fnto the room, and that it was a hermit's cave, a mysterioas re- 
+treat, a hole, a tomb. 
+
+It was also whispered about that he had '* immense" sums 
+deposited with Laffitte, with this peculiar feature, that they were 
+always at his immediate disposal, so that, it was added, M. 
+Madeleine could make liis appearance at La(litto*s any mornin^v 
+sign a receipt, and can*y off his two or three millions in ten 
+minutes. In reality, *' these two or three millions" were redu- 
+cible, as we have said, to six hundred and thirty or forty thou 
+sand francs. 
+
+IV. — M. Madeleine ik Mourning. 
+
+At the beginning of 1820 the newspapers announced the death 
+of M. Myriel, Bishop of D., surnamed *' Monseigneur Bienvenu," 
+who had died in the odor of sanctity at tiie age of eighty-two. 
+
+The Bishop of D. — to supply here a detail which the papers 
+omitted — had been blind for many years before his death, and 
+content to be blind, as his sister was beside him. 
+
+Let us remark b}* the way, that to be blind and to be loved^ 
+is, in fact, one of the most strangely exquisite forms of happi- 
+ness upon this earth, where nothing is complete. To have con- 
+tinually at one's side a woman, a daughter, a sister, a charming 
+being, who is there because you need her and because she can- 
+not do without you ; to know that we are indispensable to a 
+person who is necessary to us ; to be able to incessantly measure 
+one's affection by the amount of her presence which she bestows 
+on us, and to say to ourselves, '* Since she consecrates the 
+whole of her time to me, it is because I possess the whole of 
+lier heart " ; to behold her thought in lieu of her face ; to be able 
+to verify the fidelity of one being amid the eclipse of the world ; 
+to regard the rustle of a gown as the sound of wings ; to hear her 
+come and go, retire, speak, return, sing, and to think that one is 
+the centre of these steps, of this speech ; to manifest at each in- 
+staut one's personal attraction ; to feel one's self all the more 
+powerful because of one's infirmity ; to become in one's obscu- 
+rity, and through one's obscurity, the star around which this angel 
+gravitates, — few felicities equal this. The supreme happiness of 
+life consists in the conviction that one is loved ; loved for one's 
+own sîike — let us say rather, loved in spite of one's self ; this con- 
+viction the blind man possesses. To be served in this distress 
+is to be caressed. Does he lack anything? No. One does not 
+lose the light when one has love. And what love ! A love 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 169 
+
+«vholly constituted of virtue ! There is no blindness where there 
+is certainty. Soul seeks soul, gropingly, and finds it. And 
+this soul, found and tested, is a woman. A hand sustains you . 
+it is tiers : a mouth lightly touches your brow ; it is her mouth • 
+you hear a breath ver}* near you ; it is hers. To have every- 
+thing of her, from her worship to her pity, never to be left, to 
+have that sweet weakness aiding you, to lean upon that immov- 
+able reed, to touch Providence with one's hands, and to be able . 
+to take it in one's arms, — God made tangible, — what bliss ! The 
+heart, that obscure, celestial flower, undergoes a mysterious blos- 
+soming. One would not exchange that shadow for all bright- 
+ness ! The angel soul is there, uninterruptedly there ; if she 
+departs, it is but to return again ; she vanishes like a dream, and 
+reappears like realit}'. One feels warratli approaching, and be- 
+hold ! she is there. One overflows with serenity, with gayety, 
+with ecstasy ; one is a radiance amid the night. And there are 
+a thousand little cares. Nothings, whicii are enormous in that 
+void. The most ineffable accents of the feminine voice em- 
+ployed to lull you, and supplying the vanished universe to you. 
+()ne is caressed with the soul. One sees nothing, but one feels 
+that one is adored. It is a paradise of shadows. , 
+
+It was from this paradise that Monseigneur Welcome had 
+passed to the other. 
+
+The announcement of his death was reprinted by the loca* 
+journal of M. sur M. On the following day, M. Madeleine 
+appeared clad wholly in black, and with crape on his hat. 
+
+This mourning was noticed in the town, and commented on 
+It seemed to throw a light on M. Madeleine's origin. It wa^ 
+concluded that some relationship existed between him and the 
+venerable Bishop. " He lias gone into mourning for the Bishop 
+of D." said the drawing-rooms; this raised M. Madeleine's 
+credit greatly, and procured for him, instantly and at one 
+blow, a certain consideration in the noble world of M. sur M. 
+The microscopic Faubourg Saint-Germain of the place medi- 
+tated raising the quarantine against M. Madeleine, the probable 
+relative of a bishop. M. Madeleine perceived the advancement 
+which he had obtained, by the more numerous curtesies of the 
+old women and the more plentiful smiles of the young ones. 
+One evening, a ruler in that petty great world, who was curious 
+hy right of seniority, ventured to ask him, ''M. le Maire is 
+doubtless a cousin of the late Bishop of D.?" 
+
+He said, *' No, Madame." 
+
+^^ But/' resumed the dowager, '^you are wearing mourning 
+for him.** 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+100 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+He replied, ** It is because I was a servant in his family in 
+
+aay youth." 
+
+Another thing which was renuirked, was, that every time thai 
+he encountered in the town a >'oung Savoyard who was roaming 
+about the country and seeking chimneys to sweep, the mayor hat! 
+him summoned, inquired his name, and gave him money. Tlie 
+little Savoyards told each other about it : a great many of them 
+passed that way 
+
+
+
+V. — Vagdb Flashes on the Horizon. 
+
+LriTLE by little, and in the course of time, all this opposition sub- 
+sided. There had at firat been exercised against M. Madeleine, 
+in virtue of a sort of law which all those who rise must sub- 
+mit to, blackenings and calumnies ; then they grew to be nothiug 
+more tiian ill-nature, then merely malicious remarks, then even 
+this entirely disappeared ; respect became complete, unanimous, 
+cordial, and towards 1821 the moment arrived when the word 
+'* Monsieur Ic Maire " was pronounced at M. sur M. with almost 
+the same accent as "Monseigneur the Bishop" had been 
+nronounccd in D. in 1815. X*eople came from a distance of 
+ten leagues around to consult M. Madeleine. He put an end 
+to differences, he prevented lawsuits, he reconciled enemies. 
+Every one took him for the judge, and with good i-eason. It 
+seemed as though he had for a soul the book of the natural law. 
+It was like an ei)idemic of veneration, which in the course of six 
+or seven years gradually took possession of Uie whole district. 
+
+One single man in the towu, in tlie arrondissement, absolutely 
+escaped this contagion, and, whatever Father Madeleine did, 
+remained his opponent as though a sort of incorruptible and 
+imperturbable instinct kept him on tlie alert and uneasy. It 
+seems, in fact, as though there existed in certain men a verita- 
+ble bestial instinct, though pure and upright, like all instincts, 
+which creates antipathies and sympathies, which fatally sepa* 
+rates one nature from another nature, which does not hesitate, 
+which feels no disquiet, which does not hold its peace, and which 
+never belies itself, clear in its obscurity, infallible, imperious^ 
+intractable, stubborn to all counsels of the intelligence and to al) 
+the dissolvents of reason, and which, in whatever manner des- 
+tinies are arranged, secretly warns the man-dog of the presence 
+of the man-cat, and the man-fox of the presence of the man- 
+tion. 
+
+It frequently happened that when M. Madeleine was passing 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FAN TINE. 161 
+
+along a street, calm, affectionate, surrounded by the blessings 
+of all, a man of lofty stature, clad in an iron-gray frock-coat 
+armed with a heavy cane, and wearing a battered hat, turned 
+lound abruptly behind him, and followed him with his eyes 
+until he disappeared, with folded arms and a slow shake of the 
+head, and his upper lip raised in company with his lower to his 
+nose, a sort of significant grimace which might be translated 
+by: *' What is that man, after all? I certainly have seen him 
+somewhere. In any case, I am not his dupe." 
+
+This pei-son, grave with a gravity which was almost menacing, 
+was one of those men who, even when only seen by a rapid 
+glimpse, arrest the spectator's attention. 
+
+His name was Javert, and he belonged to the police. 
+
+At M. sur M. he exercised the unpleasant but useful func- 
+tions of an inspector. He had not seen Madeleine's beginnings. 
+Javert owed the post which he occupied to the protection of 
+M. Chabouillet, the secretary of the Minister of State, Comte 
+Angles, then prefect of police at Paris. When Javert arrived 
+at M. sur M. the fortune of the great manufacturer was already 
+made, and Father Madeleine had become Monsieur Madeleine. 
+
+Certain police officers have a peculiar physiognomy, which is 
+complieated with an air of baseness mingled with an air of 
+authority. Javert possessed this physiognomy minus the base- 
+ness. 
+
+It is our conviction that if souls were visible to the ejes, we 
+should be able to see distinctly that sti-ange thing that each one 
+individual of the human race corresponds to some one of the 
+species of the animal creation ; and we could easily recognize 
+this truth, hardly perceived by the thinker, that from the oyster 
+to the eagle, from the pig to the tiger, all animals exist in man, 
+and that each one of them is in a man. Sometimes even several 
+of them at a time. 
+
+Animals are nothing else than the figures of our virtues and 
+our vices, straying before our eyes, the visible phantoms of our 
+souls. God shows them to us in order to induce us to reflect. 
+Only since animals are mere shadows, God has not made them 
+capable of education in the full sense of the word ; what is the 
+lise? On the contrary, our souls being realities and having a 
+goal which is appropriate to them, God has bestowed on them 
+intelligence ; that is to say, the possibility of education. Social 
+education, when well done, can always draw from a soul, of 
+whatever sort it may be, the utility which it contains. 
+
+This, be it said, is of course from the restricted point of 
+Hew of the terrestrial life which is apparent, and without pre- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+162 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+judging the profound question of the anterior or ulterior person* 
+ality of the beings which are not man. The visible / in nowise 
+authorizes the thinker to deny the latent J. Having made this 
+reservation, let us pass on. 
+
+Now, if the reader will admit, for a moment, with us, tiiat in 
+every man there is one of the animal species of creation, it will 
+be easy for us to say what there was in Police Officer Javert. 
+
+The peasants of Asturias are convinced that in every litter of 
+solves there is one dog, which is killed by the mother because, 
+otherwise, as he grew up, he would devour the other little ones. 
+
+Give to this dog-son of a wolf a human face, and the result 
+will be Javert. 
+
+Javert had been bom in prison, of a fortune-teller, whose 
+husband was in the galleys. As he grew up, he thought that 
+he was outside the pale of society, and he despaired of ever re- 
+entering it. He observed that society unpardoningly excludes 
+two classes of men, — those who attack it and those who guard 
+it ; he had no choice except between these two classes ; at the 
+same time, he was conscious of an indescribable foundation of 
+rigidity, regularity, and probity, complicated with ah inexpres- 
+sible hatred for the race of bohemians whence he was sprung. 
+He entered the police ; he succeeded there. At forty years of 
+age he was an inspector. 
+
+During his youth he had been employed in the convict estab- 
+lishments of the South. 
+
+Before proceeding further, let us come to an understanding 
+as to those words, *' human face," which we have just applied 
+to Javert. 
+
+The human face of Javert consisted of a flat nose, with two 
+deep nostrils, towards which enormous whiskers ascended on 
+his cheeks. One felt ill at ease when he saw these two forests 
+and these two caverns for the first time . When Javert laughed , — 
+and his laugh was rare and terrible, — his thin lips parted and re- 
+vealed to view not only his teeth, but his gums, and around his 
+nose there formed a flattened and savage fold, as on the muzzle 
+of a wild beast. Javert, serious, was a watch-dog ; when he 
+laughed, he was a tiger. As for the rest, he had very little 
+skull and a great deal of jaw ; his hair concealed his forehead 
+and fell over his eyebrows ; between his eyes there was a per- 
+manent, central frown, like an imprint of wrath ; his gaze was 
+obscure; his mouth pursed up and terrible; his air that of 
+ferocious command. 
+
+This man was composed of two very simple and two very 
+good sentiments, comparatively ; but he rendered them almost 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 163 
+
+bad, by dint of exaggerating them, — respect for authority, 
+hatred of rebellion; and in his eyes, murder, robbery, all 
+crimes, are only forms of rebellion. He enveloped in a blind 
+and profound faith every one who had a function in the state, 
+from the prime minister to the rural policeman. He covered 
+with scorn, aversion, and disgust every one who had once crossed 
+the legal threshold of evil. He was absolute, and admitted no 
+exceptions. On the one hand, he said, " The functionary can 
+•nake no mistake ; the magistrate is never in the wrong." On 
+the other hand, he said, "These men are irremediably lost. 
+Nothing good can come from them." He fully shared the opin» 
+ion of those extreme minds wiiich attribute to human law I know 
+not what power of making, or, if the reader will have it so, of 
+authenticating, demons, and who place a Styx at the base of 
+society. He was stoical, serious, austere ; a melancholy dreamer, 
+humble and haught^^ like fanatics. His glance was like a gim* 
+let, cold and piercing. His whole life hung on these two words : 
+watchfulness and supervision. He had introduced a straight 
+line into what is the most crooked thing in the world ; he pos- 
+sessed the conscience of Tiis usefulness, the religion of his func- 
+tions, and he was a spy as other men are priests. Woe to the 
+man who fell into his hands ! He would have arrested his own 
+father, if the latter had escaped from the galleys, and would 
+have denounced his mother, if she bad broken her ban. And 
+he would have done it with that sort of inward satisfaction which 
+is conferred by virtue. And, withal, a life of privation, isola- 
+tion, abnegation, chastity, with never a diversion. It was im- 
+placable duty ; the police understood, as the Spartans understood 
+Sparta, a pitiless lying in wait, a ferocious honesty, a marble 
+informer, Brutus in Vidocq. 
+
+Javerf s whole person was expressive of the man who spies 
+and who withdraws himself from observation. The mystical 
+school of Joseph de Maistre, which at that epoch seasoned with 
+lofty cosmo<îony those things which were called the ultra news- 
+papers, would not have failed to declare that Javert was a S3'm- 
+bol- His brow was not visible ; it disappeared beneath his hat » 
+his eyes were not visible, since they were lost under his eye* 
+brows : his chin was not visible, for it was plunged in his cravat : 
+his hands were not visible ; the}' were drawn up in his sleeves : 
+and his cane was not visible ; he carried it under his coat. But 
+when the occasion presented itself, there was suddenly seen to 
+emerge from all this shadow, as from an ambuscade, a narrow 
+and angular forehead, a baleful glance, a threatening chin, enor* 
+moas hands, and a monstrous cudgel. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+164 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+In his leîsare moments, which were far from flreqaent, he read, 
+although he hated books ; this caused him to be not wholly illit 
+erate. This could be recognized by some emphasis in hk 
+speech. 
+
+As we have said, he had no vices. When he was pleased 
+with himself, he permitted himself a pinch of snuff. Thereil 
+lay his connection with humanity. 
+
+Tlie reader will have no difficulty in understanding that Javert 
+was the terror of that whole class which the annual statistics of 
+the Ministry of Justice designates under the rubric, Vagrants. 
+Tlie name of Javert routed them by its mere utterance ; the face 
+of Javert petrified them at sight. 
+
+Such was this formidable man* 
+
+Javert was like an eye constantly fixed on M. Madeleine* An 
+eye full of suspicion and conjecture. M. Madeleine had finally 
+perceived the fact ; but it seemed to be of no importance to him. 
+He did not even put a question to Javert ; he neither sought nof 
+avoided him ; he bore that embarrassing and almost oppressive 
+gaze without appearing to notice it. .He treated Javert with 
+ease and courtesy, as he did all the rest of the world. 
+
+It was divined, from some words which escaped Javert, that 
+he had secretly investigated, with that curiosity which belongs 
+to the race, and into which there enters as much instinct as will, 
+all the anterior traces which Father Madeleine might have left 
+elsewhere. He seemed to know, and he sometimes said in cov- 
+ert words, that some one had gleaned certain information in a 
+certain district about a family which had disappeared. Once he 
+chanced to say, as he was talking to himself, ^^ I think I have 
+him I '* Then he remained pensive for three days, and uttered 
+not a word. It seemed that the thread which he thought he held 
+had broken. 
+
+Moreover, and this furnishes the necessary corrective for the 
+too absolute sense which certain words might present, there car 
+be nothing really infallible in a human creature, and the |>ecu 
+liarity of instinct is that it can become confused, thrown off th« 
+track, and defeated. Otherwise, it would be superior to intelli- 
+gence, and the beast would be found to be provided with a bet- 
+ter light than man. 
+
+Javert was evidently somewhat disconcerted by the perfect 
+natnralness and tranquillity of M. Madeleine. 
+
+One day, nevertheless, his strange manner appeared to pro- 
+dace an impression on M. Madeleine. It was on the foDowing 
+occasion. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FAN TINE. ^6d 
+
+
+
+VI. — Father Fauchelevent. 
+
+Om morning M. Madeleine was passing through an nnpaTed 
+alley of M. sur M. ; he heard a noise» and saw a group some 
+distance away. He approached. An old man named Fathei 
+Fauchelevent had just fallen beneath his cart, his horse hav« 
+mg tumbled down. 
+
+This Fauchelevent was one of the few enemies whom M. Mad 
+eleine bad at that time. When Madeleine arrived in the neigh* 
+borhood, Fauchelevent, an ex-notary and a peasant who was 
+almost educated, had a business which was beginning to be in 
+a bad way. Fauchelevent had seen this simple workman grow 
+rich, while he, a lawyer, was being mined. This had filled him 
+with jealousy, and he had done all he could^ on every occasion, 
+to injure Madeleine. Then bankmptcy had come ; and as the 
+old man had nothing left but a cart and a horse, and neither 
+family nor children, he had turned carter. 
+
+The horse had two broken legs and could not rise. The old 
+man was caught in the wheels. The fall had been so unlucky 
+that the whole weight of the vehicle rested on his breast. The 
+cart was quite heavily laden. Father Fauchelevent was rattling 
+in the throat in the most lamentable manner. They had tried, 
+but in vain, to drag him out. An unmethodical effort, aid awk> 
+wardly given, a wrong shake, might kill him. It was impossible 
+to disengage him otherwise than by lifting the vehicle off of him. 
+Javert, who had come up at the moment of the accident, had 
+sent for a jack-screw. 
+
+M. Madeleine arrived. People stood aside respectfully. 
+
+^' Help ! ** cried old Fauchelevent ^' Who will be good and 
+save the old man ? " 
+
+M. Madeleine turned towards those present: — 
+
+'* Is there a jack-screw to be had ?•* 
+
+*^ One has been sent for,*' answered the peasant. 
+
+" How long will it take to get it 1 ** 
+
+** They have gone for the nearest, to Flachot's place, whert 
+there is a farrier ; but it makes no difference \ it will take a jooû 
+quarter of an hour.** 
+
+^* A quarter of an hour Y '^ exclaimed Madeleine. 
+
+It hsA rained on the preceding night ; the soil was soakcu. 
+The cart was sinking deeper into the earth every moment, and 
+cmshing the old carter^s breast more and more. It was evident 
+Ibat his ribs would be broken in five minute» more 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+166 L'ES MISERABLES, 
+
+" It is impossible to wait another quarter of an hour," said 
+Madeleine to the peasants, who were staring at him. 
+
+« We must ! '* 
+
+" But it will be too late then ! Don't you see that the cart 
+is sinking ? " 
+
+« Well ! '' 
+
+<* Listen/' resumed Madeleine ; " there is still room enougli 
+under the cart to allow a man to crawl beneath it and raise it 
+with his back. Only half a minute, and the poor man can be 
+taken out. Is there any one here who has stout loins and 
+heart ? There are five louis d'or to be earned ! " 
+
+Not a man in the group stirred. 
+
+" Ten louis," said Madeleine. 
+
+The persons present dropped their eyes. One of them mut- 
+tered : "A man would need to be devilish strong. And then 
+he runs the risk of getting crushed ! " 
+
+"Come," began Madeleine again, "twenty louis." 
+
+The same silence. 
+
+" It is not the will which is lacking," said a voice. 
+
+M. Madeleine turned round, and recognized Javert He had 
+not noticed him on his arrival. 
+
+Javert went on: — 
+
+" It is strength. One would have to be a terrible man to do 
+such a thing as lift a cart like that on his back." 
+
+Then, gazing fixedly at M. Madeleine, he went on, emphar 
+sizing every word that he uttered : — 
+
+" Monsieur Madeleine, I have never known but one man 
+capable of doing what you ask." 
+
+Madeleine shuddered. 
+
+Javert added, with an air of indifference, but without remov 
+ing his eyes from Madeleine : — 
+
+" He was a convict." 
+
+" Ah ! " said Madeleine. 
+
+" In the galleys at Toulon." 
+
+Madeleine turned pale. 
+
+Meanwhile, the cart continued to sink slowly. Father Fau- 
+chelevent rattled in the throat, and shrieked : — 
+
+" I am strangling ! My ribs are breaking ! a screw ! some- 
+thing ! Ah ! " 
+. Madeleine glanced about him. 
+
+" Is there, then, no one who wishes to earn twenty louis and 
+save the life of this i)oor old man ? " ' 
+
+No one stirred. Javert resumed ; — 
+
+" I have never known but one man who could take the place 
+of a screw, and he was that convict." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTiNR. 1er 
+
+'* Ah I It is crashing me I " cried the old man. 
+
+Madeleine raised his head, met Javert's falcon eye still fixed 
+open him, looked at the motionless peasants, and smiled sadly. 
+Then, without saying a word, he fell on his knees, and before 
+the crowd had even had time to utter a cry, he was underneath 
+the vehicle* 
+
+A terrible moment of expectation and silence ensued. 
+
+They beheld Madeleine, almost flat on his stomach beneath 
+that terrible weight, make two vain efforts to bring his knees 
+and his elbows together. They shouted to him, '* Father Made- 
+leine, come out ! '* Old Fauchelevent himself said to him, 
+^' Monsieur Madeleine, go away ! You see that I am fated to 
+die I Leave me 1 You will get yourself crushed also 1 *' Mad- 
+eleine made no reply. 
+
+All the spectators were panting. The wheels had continued 
+to sink, and it had become almost impossible for Madeleine to 
+make his way from under the vehicle. 
+
+Suddenly the enormous mass was seen to quiver, the cart 
+rose slowly, the wheels half emerged from the ruts. They heard 
+a stifled voice crying, ^^Make haste! Help I" It was Made- 
+leine, who had Just made a final effort. 
+
+They rushed forwards. The devotioa of a single man had 
+given force and courage to all. The cart was raised by twenty 
+arms. Old Fauchelevent was saved. 
+
+Madeleine rose. He was pale, though dripping with perspira- 
+tion. His clothes were torn and covered with mud. All wept. 
+The old man kissed his knees and called him the good God. 
+As for him, he bore upon his countenance an indescribable ex- 
+pression of happy and celestial suffering, and he fixed his ti*an- 
+quil eye on Javert, who was still staring at him. 
+
+
+
+yn. — Fauchsleyemt becomes a Gardener in Paris. 
+
+Faucheleyent had dislocated his kneepan in his fall. Father 
+Madeleine had him conveyed to an infirmary which he had es- 
+tablished for his workmen in the factory building itself, and 
+which was served by two sisters of charity. On the following 
+morning the old man found a thousand-franc bank-note on his 
+night-stand, with these words in Father Madeleine's writing : " i 
+purchase your horse and cxirt*' The cart was broken, and the 
+horse was dead. Fauchelevent recovered, but his knee remained 
+Btiff. M* Madeleine, on the recommendation of the Bisters of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+168 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+charily and of his priest, got the good man a place as gardenei 
+in a female convent in the Rue Saint- Antoine in Paris. 
+
+Some time afterwards, M. Madeleine was appointed ma>'ot. 
+The first time that Javert beheld M. Madeleine clothed in the 
+scarf which gave him authority over the town, he felt the sort 
+of shudder which a watch-dog might experiance on smelling u 
+wolf in his master's clothes. From that time forth he avoiclt»() 
+.him as much as he possibly could. When the requirements of 
+the service imperatively demanded it, and he could not do other- 
+wise than meet the mayor, he addressed him with profound re 
+spect. 
+
+This prosperity created at M. sur M. by Father Made* 
+leine had, besides the visible signs which we have mentioned, 
+another symptom which was none the less significant for not being 
+visible. This never deceives. When the population suffers, 
+when work is lacking, when there is no commerce, the tax-payer 
+resists imposts through penury, he exhausts and oversteps his 
+respite, and the state expends a great deal of money in the 
+charges for compelling and collection. When work is abundant, 
+when the country is rich and happy, the taxes are paid easily 
+and cost the state nothing. It may be said, that there is one 
+infallible thermometer of the public misery and riches,— the cost 
+of collecting the taxes. In the course of seven years the ex- 
+pense of collecting the taxes had diminished three-fourths in 
+the arrondissement of M. sur M., and this led to this arron- 
+dissement being frequently cited from all the rest by M. de 
+Villèle, then Minister of Finance. 
+
+Such was the condition of the country when Fan tine returned 
+thither. No ope remembered her. Fortunately, the door of M. 
+Madeleine's factory was like the face of a friend. She presen- 
+ted herself there, and was admitted to the women's workroom. 
+The trade was entirely new to Fantine ; she could not be very 
+skilful at it, and she therefore earned but little by her day's 
+work ; but it was sufficient ; the problem was solved ; she was 
+earning her living. 
+
+
+
+Vni. — Madamb Vioturnien expends Thibtt Francs ok 
+Morality. 
+
+When Fantine saw that she was making her living, she felt 
+joyful for a moment. To live honestly by her own labor, what 
+morcy from heaven ! The t.i8te for work had really returned to 
+her. She bought a looking-giass, took pleasure in surveying 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 1G9 
+
+tk it her youth, her beautiful hair, her fine teeth ; she forgot 
+many things ; she thought only of Cosette aiid of the possible 
+future, and was almost happy. She hired a little rooui and 
+furnished on credit on the strength of her future work — a lin- 
+gering trace of her improvident ways. As she was not able to 
+»ay that she was married, she took good care, as we have seen, 
+not to mention her little girl. 
+
+At first, as the reader has seen, she paid the Thénardiers 
+promptly. As she only knew how to sign her name, she was 
+obliged to write through a public letter- writer. 
+
+She wrote often, and this was noticed. It began to be said 
+in an undertone, in the women's workroom, that Fan tine ^^ wrote 
+letters " and that *^ she had ways about her." 
+
+There is no one for spying on people's actions like those 
+who are not concerned in them. Why does that gentleman 
+never come except at nightfall ? Why does Mr. So-and-So never 
+hang his key on its nail on Tuesday ? Why does he always take 
+the narrow streets ? Why does Madame always descend from her 
+hackney-coach before reaching her house? Why does she send 
+out to purchase six sheets of note paper, when she has a ^^ whole 
+stationer's shop full of it?" etc. There exist beings who^ for 
+the sake of obtaining the key to these enigmas, which are, more- 
+over, of no consequence whatever to them,. spend more money, 
+waste more time, take more trouble, than would be required for 
+ten good actions, and that gratuitously, for their own pleasure, 
+without receiving any other payment for their curiosity than 
+curiosity. They will follow up such and such a man or woman 
+for whole days ; they will do sentry duty for hours at a time on 
+the comers of the streets, under alley-way doors at night, in 
+cold and rain ; they will bribe errand-porters, they will make the 
+drivers of hackney-coaches and lackeys tipsy, buy a waiting- 
+maid, suborn a porter. Why? For no reason. A pure passion 
+for seeing, knowing, and penetrating into things. A pure itch 
+for talking. And often these secrets once known, these mys- 
+•eries made public, these enigmas illuminated by the light of 
+day, bring on catastrophies, duels, failures, the ruin of families, 
+and broken lives, to the great loy of those who have " found 
+out everything," without any interest in the matter, and by pure 
+mstinct.* A sad thing. 
+
+Certain persons are malicious solely through a necessity for 
+talking. Their conversation, the chat of the drawing-room, gos- 
+sip of the anteroom, is like those chimneys which consume 
+wood rapidly ; they need a great amount of combustibles ; and 
+their combustibles are furnished by their neighbors. 
+
+
+
+uigiiized 
+
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+170 LES MtSERABLhS. 
+
+So Fantine was watched. 
+
+In addition, many a one was jealous of her golden hair and 
+of her white teeth. 
+
+It was remarked that in the workroom she often turned aside, 
+in the midst of the rest, to wipe away a tear. These were the 
+moments when she was thinking of her child ; perhaps, also, of 
+the man whom she had loved. 
+
+Breaking the gloomy bonds of the past is a mournful tas]^. 
+
+It was observed that she wrote twice a month at least, anc 
+that she paid the carriage on the letter. They managed to ob 
+tain the address : Monsieur^ Monsieur Thénardier^ inn^keepe: 
+at MontfermeiL The public writer, a good old man who could 
+not fill his stomach with red wine without emptying his pocket 
+of secrets, was made to talk in the wine-shop. In short, it 
+was discovered that Fantine had a child. ^^She must be a 
+pretty sort of a woman." An old gossip was found, who made 
+the trip to Montfermeil, talked to the Thénardiers, and said or 
+her return : " For my five and thirty francs I have freed my 
+mind. I have seen the child." 
+
+The gossip who did this thing was a gorgon named Madame 
+Victurnien, the guardian and door-keeper of every one's virtue. 
+Madame Victurnien was fifty -six, and re-enforced the mask of 
+ugliness with the mask of age. A quavenng voice, a whimsical 
+mind. This old dame had once been young — astonishing fact! 
+In her youth, in '93, she had married a monk who had fled from 
+his cloister in a red cap, and passed from the Bernardinea to the 
+Jacobins. She was dry, rough, peevish, sharp, captious, almost 
+venomous ; all this in memory of her monk, whose widow she 
+was, and who had ruled over her masterfully and bent her to his 
+wilL She was a nettle in which the rustle of the cassock waa 
+visible. At the Restoration she had turned bigot, and that 
+with so much energy that the priests had forgiven her her monk. 
+She had a small property, which she bequeathed with much os- 
+tentation to a religious community. She was in high favor at 
+the episcopal palace of Arras. So this Madame Victurnien 
+went to Montfermeil, and returned with the remark, ^'*I have 
+seen the child." 
+
+All this took time. Fantine had been at the factory for more 
+than a year, when, one morning, the superintendent of the work- 
+room handed lier fifty francs from the mayor, told her that she 
+was no longer employed in the shop, and requested her, in the 
+mayor's name, to leave the neigliboi'hood; 
+
+This was the very month when the Thénardiers, after having 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+rAJfiTINE. i1\ 
+
+demanded twelve francs instead of six, bad Jnst exacted fifteen 
+francs instead of twelve. 
+
+Fantine was overwhelmed. She could not leave the neigh* 
+borhood ; she was in debt for her rent and furniture. Fifty 
+francs was not sufficient to cancel this debt. She stammered a 
+few supplicating words. The superintendent ordered her to 
+leave the shop on the instant. Besides, Fantine was only a 
+moderately good workwoman. Overcome with shame, even 
+.iiore than with despair, she quitted the shop, and returned to 
+aer room. So her fault was now known to every one. 
+
+She no longer felt strong enough to say a word. She was 
+>d vised to see the mayor ; she did not dare. The mayor had 
+^ven her fifty francs because he was good, and had dismissed 
+^er because he was just. She bowed before the decision. 
+
+
+
+IX. — Madame Victdrnien's Success. 
+
+So the monk's widow was good for something. 
+
+Bat M. Madeleine had heard nothing of all this. Life is fUl 
+of just such combinations of events. M. Madeleine was in the 
+habit of almost never entering the women's workroom. 
+
+At the head of this room he had placed an elderly spinster, 
+whom the priest had provided for him, and he had full confi- 
+dence in this superintendent, — a truly respectable person, firm, 
+equitable, upright, full of the charity which consists in giving, 
+but not having in the same degree that charit}' which consists 
+in understanding and in forgiving. M. Madeleine relied wholly 
+on her. The best men are often obliged to dele<:^ate their 
+authority. It was with this full power, and the conviction that 
+she was doing right, that the superintendent had instituted the 
+suit, judged, condemned, and excuted Fantine. 
+
+As regards the fifty francs, she had given them from a fund 
+irhich M. Madeleine had intrusted to her for charitable pur- 
+poses, and for giving assistance to the workwomen, and of 
+which she rendered no account. 
+
+Fantine tried to obtain a situation as a servant in the neigh - 
+t)orhood; she went from house to house. No one would have 
+her. She could not leave town. The second-hand dealer, to 
+whom she was in debt for her furniture — and what furniture ! 
+— said to her, *'If you leave, I will have you arrested as a 
+thief.*' The householder, whom she owed for her rent, said to 
+ner, *' You are young and pretty ; you can pay." She divided 
+the fiHy francs between the landlord and the furniture-dealer, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+172 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+returned to the latter three-quarters of his goods, kept oiuj 
+necessaries, and found herself without work, without a tiade, 
+with nothing but her bed, and still about fifty francs iu debt. 
+
+She began to make coarse shirts for soldiers of the garri- 
+son, and earned twelve sous a day. Her daughter cost her 
+ten. It was at this point that she began to pay the Thénardiera 
+Irregularly. 
+
+However, the old woman who lighted her candle for hei 
+^hen she returned at night, taught her the art of living in 
+misery. Back of living on little, there is the living on nothing. 
+These are the two chambers ; the first is dark, the second is 
+black. 
+
+Fantine learned how to live without fire entirely in the winter ; 
+how to give up a bird which eats a half a farthing's worth of 
+millet every two days ; how to make a coverlet of one's petti- 
+coat, and a petticoat of one's coverlet ; how to save one's can- 
+dle, by taking one's meals by the light of the opposite window. 
+No one knows all that certain feeble creatures, who have grown 
+old in privation and honesty, can get out of a sou. It ends by 
+being a talent. Fantine acquired this sublime talent, and re- 
+gained a little courage. 
+
+At this epoch she said to a neighbor, '' Bah! I say to m3'- 
+■elf, by only sleeping five hours, and working all the rest oi 
+the time at my sewing, I shall alwa3s manage to nearly earn 
+my bread. And, then, when one is sad, one eats less. Well, 
+sufferings, uneasiness, a little bread on one hand, trouble on the 
+other, — all this will support me." 
+
+It would have been a great happiness to have her little girl 
+with her in this distress. She thought of having her come. 
+But what then ! Make her share her own destitution ! And 
+then, she was in debt to the Thénardiers ! How could she pay 
+them? And the journey ! How pay for that? 
+
+The old woman who had given her lessons in what may bf? 
+called the life of indigence, was a sainted spin§ter named Mar- 
+guerite, who was pious with a true piety, poor and charitable 
+towards the poor, and even towards the rich, knowing how to 
+write just sufficiently to sign herself Mai^uerite, and believing 
+in God, which is science. 
+
+There are many such virtuous people in this lower world ; 
+some day they will be in the world above. This life has a 
+morrow. 
+
+At first, Fantine bad been so ashamed that she had not 
+dared to go out. 
+
+When she was in the street, she divined that people tarned 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTiNE. 173 
+
+rouud behind her^ and pointed at her ; every one stared at her. 
+and no one greeted her; the cold and bitter scorn of the pass- 
+ers-by penetrated her very flesh and soul like a north wind. 
+
+It seems as though an unfoitunate woman were utterly bare 
+beneath the sarcasm and the curiosity of all in small towns. 
+In Palis, at least, no one knows you, and this obscurity is a 
+£;arment. Oh ! how she would have liked to betake herself to 
+Paris ! Impossible I 
+
+She was obliged to accustom herself to disrepute, as she had 
+accnstomed herself to indigence. Gradually she decided on 
+her course. At the expiration of two or three months she 
+shook off her shame, and began to go about as though there 
+were nothing the matter. '^ It is all the same to me," she said. 
+
+She went and came, bearing her head well up, with a bitter 
+smile, and was conscious that she was becoming brazen-faced. 
+
+Madame Victurnien sometimes saw her passing, from her 
+window, noticed the distress of *' that creature" who, " thanks 
+to her," had been "put back in her proper place," and con- 
+gratulated herself. The happiness of the evil-minded is black. 
+
+Excess of toil wore out Fantine, and the little dry cough 
+which troubled her increased. She sometimes said to her neigh* 
+bor. Marguerite, " Just feel how hot my hands are ! " 
+
+Nevertheless, when she combed her beautiful hair in the 
+morning with an old broken comb, and it flowed about her like 
+floss silk, she experienced a moment of happ^* coquetry. 
+
+
+
+X. — Result op the Success. 
+
+She had been dismissed towards the end of the winter ; the 
+summer passed, but winter came again. Short days, less work. 
+Winter: no warmth, no light, no noonday, the evening join- 
+ing on to the morning, fogs, twilight ; the window is gray ; it 
+is impossible to see clearly at it. The sky is but a veut-Iiolc. 
+The whole day is a cavern. The sun has the air of a beggar. 
+A frightful season! Winter changes the water of heaven 
+and the heart of man into a stone. Her creditors harassed 
+her. 
+
+Fantine earned too little. Her debts had increased. The 
+Thénardiers, who were not promptly paid, wrote to her con- 
+stanth' letters whose contents drove her to despair, and whose 
+carriage ruinecl her. One day they wrote to her that her little 
+Gosette was entirely naked in that cold weather, that slie 
+needed a woollen skirt, and that her mother must send at leasl 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+174 LES MISËkABLES. 
+
+ten francs for this. She received the letter, and crushed it w 
+her liands all day long. That evening she went into a barber's 
+sliop at the corner of the street, and pulled out her comb. Her 
+admh*able golden hair fell to her knees. 
+
+*' What, splendid hair ! " exclaimed the barber. 
+
+" IIow much will you give me for it?" said she. 
+
+'' Ten francs." 
+
+" Cut it off." 
+
+She purchased a knitted petticoat and sent it to the Thénar- 
+Jiers. This petticoat made the Thénardiers furious. It was 
+the money that they wanted. They gave the petticoat to Épo- 
+nine. The poor Lark continued to shiver. 
+
+Fantine thought: '•My child is no longer cold. I have 
+clothed her with my hair." She i)ut on little round caps wliich 
+concealed her shorn head, and in which she was still pretty. 
+
+Dark thoughts held possession of Fan tine's heart. 
+
+When she saw that she could no longer dress her hair, she 
+began to hate every one about her. She had long shared the 
+universal veneration for Father Madeleine; yet, by dint of 
+repeating to herself that it was he who had discharged her, that 
+he was the cause of her unhappiness, she came to hate him 
+also, and most of all. When she passed the factor}' in working 
+hours, when the workpeople were at tlie door, she affected to 
+laugh and sing. 
+
+An old workwoman who once saw her laughing and singings |n 
+this fashion said, '' There's a girl who will come to a bad end." 
+
+She took a lover, the first who offered, a man whom she did 
+not love, out of bravado and with rnge in her heart. He was a 
+miserable scamp, a sort of mendicant musician, a lazy begprar, 
+who beat her, and who abandoned her as she bad taken him, iu 
+disgust. 
+
+She adored her child. 
+
+The lower she descended, the darker everything grew about 
+iKT, the more radiant shone that little angel at the bottom of 
+her heart. She said, " When I get rich, I will have my Cosette 
+with me ; " and she laughed. Her cough did not leave her, and 
+she had sweats on her back. 
+
+One day she received from the Thénardiers a letter couebed 
+in the following terms: ^'Cosette is ill with a malady which is 
+going the rounds of the neighborhood. A miliary fever, thev 
+call it. Expensive drugs are required. This is rnining us, and 
+we can no longer pay for them. If you do no^ send us fortv 
+franca before the week is out, the little one will be dead." 
+
+She burst out laughing, and said to her old neighbor : ^^ Ah 1 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FAN TINE. 175 
+
+they are good! Forty francs! the idea! That makes two 
+napoleons ! Where do they think I am to get them ? These 
+peasants are stupid, truly." 
+
+Nevertheless she went to a dormer window in the staircase 
+and read the letter once more. Then she descended the stairs 
+aud emerged^ running and leaping and still laughing. 
+
+Some one met her and said to her, " What makes you so 
+gay?" 
+
+She replied : ^' A fine piece of stupidity that some country 
+people have written to me. They demand forty francs of me 
+So much for you, you peasants I " 
+
+As she crossed the square, she saw a great many people col- 
+lected around a carriage of eccentric shape, upon the top of 
+which stood a man dressed in red, who was holding forth. He 
+was a quack dentist on his rounds, who was offering to the pub- 
+lic fiill sets of teeth, opiates, powders, and elixirs. 
+
+Fantiue mingled in the group, and began to laugh with the 
+rest at the harangue, which contained slang for the populace 
+and jargon for respectable people. The tooth-puller espied the 
+lovely, laughing girl, and suddenly exclaimed: "You have 
+beautiful teeth, you girl there, who are laughing ; if you want 
+to sell me your palettes, I will give you a gold napoleon apiece 
+for them." 
+
+"What are ray palettes?" asked Fantine. 
+
+"The palettes," replied the dental professor, " are the front 
+teeth, the two upper ones." 
+
+" How horrible ! " exclaimed Fantine. 
+
+'* Two napoleons ! " grumbled a toothless old woman who 
+was present. '* Here's a lucky girl ! " 
+
+Fantine fled and stopped her ears that she might not hear the 
+hoarse voice of the man shouting to her : " Reflect, my beauty ! 
+two napoleons ; they may prove of service. If your heart bids 
+you, come this evening to the inn of the Tillac é^ Argent; you 
+will find me there." 
+
+Fantine returned home. She was furious, and related the 
+occurrence to her good neighbor Marguerite : " Can you under- 
+stand such a thing ? Is he not an abominable man ? How can 
+they allow such people to go about the country ! Pull out my 
+two front teeth I Why, I should l)e horrible I My hair will 
+grow again, but my teeth ! Ah ! what a monster of a man ! I 
+ehould prefer to throw myself head first on the pavement from 
+the fifth story ! He told me that he should be at the Tillar 
+^Argent this evening." 
+
+" And what did he offer?" asked Marguerite. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+176 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+** Two napoleons." 
+
+*' That makes forty francs/* 
+
+" Yes," said Fantine ; '' that makes forty francs/* 
+
+She remained thouglitful, and began her work. At the ex 
+piration of a quarter of an hour she left her sewing and went to 
+read the Théiiardiers' letter once more on the staircase. 
+
+On her return, she said to Marguerite, who was at work 
+beside her : — 
+
+" What is a miliary fever? Do you know?" 
+
+" Yes," answered the old spinster ; '' it is a diseaae." 
+
+*' Does it require many drugs?" 
+
+"Oh! terrible drugs/' 
+
+" How does one get it? " 
+
+" It is a malady tliat one gets without knowing how.** 
+
+" Then it attacks children ? " 
+
+" Children in particular." 
+
+'* Do people die of it? " 
+
+" They ma}/* said Marguerite. 
+
+Fantine left the ix>om and went to read her letter onoe mora 
+on the staircase. 
+
+That evening she went out, and was seen to turn her steps in 
+the direction of the Rue de Paris, where the inns are situated. 
+
+The next morning, when Marguerite entered Fan tine's room 
+before daylight, — for they always worked together, and in this 
+manner used only one candle for the two, — she found Fantine 
+seated on her bed, pale and frozen. She had not lain down. 
+Her cap had fallen on her knees. Her candle had burned all 
+night, and was almost entirely consumed. Marguerite halted 
+on the threshold, petrified at this tremendous wastefuluess, and 
+exclaimed ; — 
+
+" Lord i the candle is all burned out! Something has hap- 
+pened." 
+
+Then she looked at Fantine, who turned toward her her head 
+bereft of its hair. 
+
+Fantine had grown ten years older since the preceding night. 
+
+" Jesus ! " said Marguerite," what is the matter with you, 
+Fantine?" 
+
+''Nothing," replied Fantine. *' Quite the contrary. My 
+child will not die of that frightful malady, for lack of succor. 
+I am content." 
+
+So saying, she pointed out to the spinster two napoleons 
+which were glittering on the table. 
+
+*' Ah ! Jesus God ! " cried Marguerite. " Why, it is a for- 
+tune ! Where did you get those louis d'or ? " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+FANTINE. 171 
+
+**I got them," replied Faotine. 
+
+At the same time she smiled. The candle illaminated her 
+eountenance. It was a bloody smile. A reddish saliva soiled 
+the comers of her lips, and she had a black hole in her mouth. 
+
+The two teeth had been extracted. 
+
+She sent the forty francs to Monfermeuil. 
+
+After all it was a ruse of the Thénardiers to obtain money. 
+Cosette was not ill. 
+
+Fantine threw her mirror out of the window. She had long 
+since quitted her cell on the second floor for an attic with 
+ouly a latch to fasten it, next the roof; one of those attics 
+whose extremity foims an angle with the floor, and knocks you 
+on Uie head every instant. The poor occupant can reach the 
+end of his chamber as he can the end of his destiuy, only by 
+bending over more and more. 
+
+She had no longer a bed ; a rag which she called her coverlet, 
+a mattress on the floor, and a scatless chair still remained. A 
+little rosebush which slie had, had dried up, forgotten, in one cor- 
+ner. In the other corner was a butter-pot to hold water, which 
+froze in winter, and in which the various levels of the water 
+remained long marked by these circles of ice. She had lost her 
+shame ; she lost her coquetry. A final sign. She went out, 
+witii dirt}' caps. Whether from lack of time or from indiffér- 
+ence, she no longer mended her linen. As the heels wore out, 
+she dragged her stockings down into her shoes. This was evi- 
+dent from the perpendicular wrinkles. She patched her bodice 
+which was old and worn out, with scraps of calico which tore at 
+the slightest movement. The people to whom she was in- 
+debted made ''scenes" and gave her no peace. She found 
+them in the street, slie found them again on her staircase. 
+She passed many a night weeping and thinking. Her eyes 
+were very bright, and she felt a steady pain in her shoulder 
+towards the top of the left shoulder-blade. She coughed a 
+great deal. She deeply hated Father Madeleine, but made no 
+ix^mplaint. She sewed seventeen hours a day ; but a contractor 
+for the work of prisons, who made the prisoners work at a 
+discount, suddenly made prices fall, which reduced the daily 
+earnings of working- women to nine sous. Seventeen hours of 
+toil, and nine sous a day ! Her creditors were more pitiless 
+than ever. The second-hand dealer, who had taken back nearly 
+all his furniture, said to her incessantly ''When will you pay 
+roe, you hussy? " What did they want of her, good God ! She 
+felt that she was being hunted, and something of the wild beast 
+developed in her. About the same time, Thénurdier wrote to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+178 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+her that he had waited with decidedly too much amiabilfty 
+and that he must have a hundred francs at once ; otherwise ha 
+would turn little Cosette out of doora, convalescent as she was 
+from her heavy illness, into the cold and the streets, and that 
+she might do what she liked with herself, and die if she chose. 
+'* A hundred francs," thought Fan tine. '* But in what trad^ 
+5Hn one earn a hundred sous a day ? " 
+" Come ! "said she, " let us sell what is left.*' 
+The unfortunate girl became a woman of the town* 
+
+
+
+XI. — Christus nos liberayit. 
+
+What is this history of Fantine? It is society purchasing a 
+slave. 
+
+From whom ? From misery. 
+
+From hunger, cold, isolation, destitution. A dolorous bar- 
+gain. A soul for a morsel of bread. Misery offers; society 
+accepts. 
+
+The sacred law of Jesus Christ governs our civilization, but 
+it does not, as yet, permeate it ; it is said that slavery has dis- 
+appeared from ïiuropean civilization. This is a mistake. It 
+still exists ; but it weighs only upon the woman, and it is called 
+prostitution. 
+
+It weighs upon the woman, that is to say, upon grace, weak- 
+ness, beauty, maternit}'. This is not one of the least of man*8 
+disgraces. 
+
+At the point in this melancholy drama which we have dow 
+reached, nothing is left to Fantine of that which she had for- 
+merly been. 
+
+She has become marble in becoming mire. Whoever touches 
+her feels cold. She passes ; she endures you ; she ignores you ; 
+3hc is the severe and dishonored figure. Life and the soi*ial 
+order have said their last word for her. All has happened to 
+her that will hapi)en to her. She has felt everything, borne 
+3verything, experienced everything, suffered everything, lost 
+everything, mourned everything. She is resigned, with that 
+resignation which resembles indifference, as death resembles 
+sleep. She no longer avoids anything. Let all the clouds fall 
+upon her, and all the ocean sweep over her ! What matters it 
+to her? She is a sponge that is soaked. 
+
+At least, she believes it to be so ; but it is an error to imag^ine 
+tliat fate can be exhausted, and that one has reached the bottom 
+of anything whatever. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 179 
+
+Alas ! What are all these fates, driven on pell-mell? Whithei 
+are they going? Why are they thus? 
+He who knows that sees the whole of the shadow. 
+He is alone. His name is God. 
+
+
+
+Xn. — M. Bamatabois's iNAcnvnr. 
+
+Therb is, in all small towns, and there was at M. sur M. iii 
+particular, a class of young men who nibble away an income of 
+fifteen hundred francs with the same air with which their proto* 
+types devour two hundred thousand francs a year in Paris. These 
+are beings of the great neuter species : impotent men, parasites, 
+cyphers, who have a little land, a little folly, a little wit ; who 
+would be rustics in a drawing-room, and who think themselves 
+gentlemen in the dram-shop ; who say, *' My fields, my peasants, 
+my woods " ; who hiss actresses at the theatre to prove that 
+they are persons of taste ; quarrel with the officers of the garri- 
+son to prove that they are men of war ; hunt, smoke, yawn, drink, 
+smell of tobacco, play billiards, stare at travellers as they de- 
+scend from the diligence, live at the café, dine at the inn, have 
+a dog which eats the bones under the table, and a mistress who 
+eats the dishes on the table ; who stick at a sou, exaggerate the 
+fashions, admire tragedy, despise women, wear out their old 
+boots, copy London through Paris, and Paris through the me- 
+dium of Pont-à-Mousson, grow old as dullards, never work, 
+serve no use, and do no great harm. 
+
+M. Félix Tholomyès, had he remained in his own province 
+and never beheld Paris, would have been one of these men. 
+
+If they were richer, one would say, "They are dandies" ; if 
+they were poorer, one would sa}-, " They are idlere." They are 
+simply men without employment. Among these unemployed 
+there are bores, the bored, dreamers, and some knaves. 
+
+At that period a dandy was composed of a tall collar, a big 
+cravat, a watch with trinkets, three vests of different colors, 
+worn one on top of the other — the red and blue inside ; of a 
+short-waisted olive coat, with a codfish tail, a double row of 
+silver buttons set close to each other and running up to the 
+shoulder; and a pair of trousers of a lighter shade of olive, 
+ornamented on the two seams with an indefinite, but always 
+uneven, number of lines, varying from one to eleven — a limit 
+which was never exceeded. Add to this, high shoes with little 
+irons on the heels, a tall hat with a narrow brim, hair worn in a 
+taft« an emormous cane, and conversation set off by puns o( 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+180 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+Potier. Over all, spurs and a mustache. At that epoch mu» 
+taches indicated the bonigeois, and spurs the pedestrian. 
+
+The provincial dandy wore the longest of spurs and the fierc- 
+est of mustaches. 
+
+It was the period of the conflict of the republics of South 
+\merica with the king of Spain, of Bolivar against Morillo. 
+Narrow-brimmed hats were royalist, and were called moriUos; 
+liberals wore hats with wide brims, which were called bolivars. 
+
+Eight or ten months, then, after that which is related in the 
+preceding pages, towards the first of January, 1823, on a SDowy 
+evening, one of these dandies, one of these unemplo3'ed, a 
+" right thinker," for he wore a morillo, and was, moreover, 
+warmly enveloped in one of those large cloaks which completed 
+the fashionable costume in cold weather, was amusing himself 
+by tormenting a creature who was prowling about in a ball-dress, 
+with neck uncovered and flowers in her hair, in front of the 
+oflScers' café. This dandy was smoking, for he was decidedly 
+fashionable. 
+
+Each time that the woman passed in front of him, he bestowed 
+on her, together with a puff from his cigar, some apostrophe 
+which he considered witty and mirthful, such as, "How ugly 
+you are ! — Will you get out of my sight ? — You have no teeth ! " 
+etc., etc. This gentleman was known as M. Bamatabois. The 
+woman, a melancholy, decorated spectre which went and came 
+through the snow, made him no reply, did not even glance at 
+him, and nevertheless continued her promenade in silence, and 
+with a sombre regularity, which brought her every five minutes 
+within reach of this sarcasm, like the condemned soldier who 
+returns under the rods. The small effect which he produced no 
+doubt piqued the lounger ; and taking advantage of a moment 
+when her back was turned, he crept up behind her with the jjait 
+of a wolf, and stifling his laugh, bent down, picked up a handful 
+of snow from the pavement, and thrust it abruptly into her hack, 
+between her bare shoulders. The woman uttered a roar, whirlecl 
+round, gave a leap like a panther, and hurled herself ujwn the 
+man, burying her nails in his face, with the most frightful words 
+which could fall from the guard-room into the gutter. These 
+insults, poured forth in a voice roughened by brandy, did, in- 
+deed, proceed in hideous wise from a mouth which lacked ita 
+two front teeth. It was Fantine. 
+
+At the noise thus produced, the oflScers ran out in throng 
+from the café, passers-by collected, and a large and merry cir- 
+cle, hooting and applauding, was formed around this whirlwind 
+composed of two beings, whom there was some diflliculty id 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 181 
+
+#BO(^!zîng as a man and a woman : the man struggling, his hal 
+on the ground ; the woman striking out with feet and fists, bare- 
+lieaded, bowling, minus hair and teeth, livid with wrath, hor- 
+rible. 
+
+Suddenly a man of lofty stature emerged vivaciously from the 
+crowd, seized the woman by her satin bodice, which was cov- 
+ered with mud, and said to her, *' Follow me ! *' 
+
+The woman raised her head ; her furious voice suddenly died 
+away. Her eyes were glassy ; she turned pale instead of livid, 
+and she trembled with a quiver of terror. She had recognized 
+Javert. 
+
+The dandy took advantage of the incident to make his es- 
+cape. 
+
+
+
+XIII. — The SoLimoN op Some Questions connected with 
+THE Municipal Police. 
+
+Javert thrust aside the spectators, broke the circle, and set 
+cot with long strides towai-ds the police station, which is situated 
+at the extremity of the square, dragging the wretched woman 
+after him. She yielded mechanically. Neither he nor she ut- 
+tered a word. The cloud of spectators followed, jesting, in a 
+paroxysm of delight. Supreme misery an occasion for ob- 
+scenity. 
+
+On arriving at the police station, which was a low room, 
+warmed by a stove, with a glazed and grated door opening on 
+the street, and guarded by a detachment, Javert opened the 
+door, entered with Fantine, and shut the door behind him, to 
+the great disappointment of the curious, who raised themselves 
+on tiptoe, and craned their necks in front of the thick glass of 
+the station-house, in their effort to see. Curiosity is a sort of 
+gluttony. ÏO see is to devour. 
+
+On entering, Fantine fell down in a corner, motionless and 
+mute, crouching down like a terrified dog. 
+
+The sergeant of the guard brought a lighted candle to the 
+table. Javert seated himself, drew a sheet of stamped paper 
+from his pocket, and began to write. 
+
+This class of women is consigned by our laws entirely to the 
+discretion of the police. The latter do what they please, punish 
+them, as seems good to them, and confiscate at their will those 
+two sorry things which they entitle their industry and their 
+liberty. Javeit was impassive; his grave face betrayed no 
+emotion wbat«:ver. Nevertheless, he was seriously and deeply 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+182 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+preoccupied. It was one of those moments when he was exe? 
+cisiiig without control, but subject to all the scruples of a severe 
+conscience, his redoubtable discretionary power. At that mo- 
+ment he was conscious that his i>oIice agent's stool was a tri- 
+bunal. He was entering judgment. He judged and condemned. 
+He summoned all the ideas which could possibly exist in his 
+mind, around the great thing which he was doing. The more 
+he examined the deed of this woman, the more shocked he felt. 
+It was evident that he had just witnessed the commission of 
+a crime. He had just beheld, yonder, in the street, society, in 
+the person of a freeholder and an elector, insulted and attacked 
+by a creature who was outside all pales. A prostitute had 
+made an attempt on the life of a citizen. He had seen that, he, 
+Javert. He wrote in silence. 
+
+When he had finished lie signed the paper, folded it, and said 
+to the sergeant, of the guard, as he handed it to him, ** Take 
+three men and conduct this creature to jail." 
+
+Then, turning to Fan tine, '' You are to have six months of 
+it." The unhappy woman shuddered. 
+
+'' Six months ! six months of prison ! '* she exclaimed. "Six 
+months in which to earn seven sous a day ! But what will be- 
+come of Cosctte? My daughter! my daughter! But I still 
+owe the Thénardiers over a hundred francs ; do yon know that, 
+Monsieur Inspector?" 
+
+She dragged herself across the damp floor, among the muddy 
+boots of all those men, without rising, with clasped hands, and 
+taking great strides on her knees. 
+
+" Monsieur Javert," said she, " I beseech your mere}'. } 
+assure you that I was not in the wrong. If you had seen th* 
+beginning, you would have seen. I swear to you by the good 
+God that I was not to blame ! That gentleman, the bourgeois, 
+whom I do not know, put snow in my back. Has any one the 
+right to put snow down our backs when we are walking along 
+peaceably, and doing no harm to any one? I am rather ill, as 
+you see. And then, he had been saying impertinent things to 
+m'î for a long time : ' You are ugly ! you have no teeth ! * J 
+know well that I have no longer those teeth. I did nothing ; 
+I said to myself, ' The gentleman is amusing himself.' I was 
+honest with him ; I did not speak to him. It was at that 
+moment that he put the snow down my back. Monsieur Javert, 
+good Monsieur Inspector ! is there not some person here who saw 
+it and can tell you that this is quite true ? Perhaps I did wrong 
+to get angry. You know that one is not master of one's self at 
+the first moment. One sives way to vivacity; and then, when 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FA NT I NE. 183 
+
+pome one puts something cold down your back Just when yon 
+are not expecting it! I did wrong to spoil that gentleman's 
+hat. Why did he go away? I would ask his pardon. Oh, my 
+God! It makes no difference to me whether I ask his pardon. 
+Do me the favor to-day, for this once, Monsieur Javert. Hold ! 
+joa do not know that in prison one can earn only seven sous a 
+day ; it is not the government's fault, but seven sous is one's 
+earnings ; and just fancy, I must pay one hundred francs, or my 
+little girl will be sent to me. Oh, my God ! I cannot have her 
+with me. What I do is so vile ! Oh, my Cosette ! Oh, my 
+little angel of the Holy Virgin ! what will become of her, poor 
+creature? I will tell you: it is the Thénardiers, inn-keepers, 
+peasants ; and such people are unreasonable. They want money. 
+Don't put me in prison I You see, there is a little girl who will 
+he turned out into the street, to get along as best she may, in 
+the very heart of the winter ; and you must have pity on such 
+a being, my good Monsieur Javert. If she were older, she 
+might earn her living ; but it cannot be done at that age. I am 
+not a bad woman at bottom. It is not cowardliness and glut- 
+tony that have made me what I am. If I have drunk brandy, 
+it was out of misery. I do not not love it ; but it benumbs the 
+senses. When I was happy, it was only necessary to glance 
+into my closets, and it would have been evident that I was not 
+a coquettish and untidy woman. I had linen, a great deal of 
+linen. Have pity on me, Monsieur Javert ! " 
+
+She spoke thus, rent in twain, shaken with sobs, blinded with 
+tears, her neck bare, wringing her hands, and coughing with a 
+dry, short cough, stammering softly with a voice of agony. 
+Great sorrow is a divine and terrible ray, which transfigures the 
+nnhappy. At that moment Fantine had become beautiful once 
+more. From time to time she paused, and tenderly kissed tlie 
+police agent's coat. She would have softened a heart of gran- 
+ite ; but a heart of wood cannot be softened. 
+
+" Come ! " said Javert, " I have heard you out. Have you 
+entirely finished ? You will get six months. Now march ! The 
+Eternal Father in person could do nothing more." 
+
+At these solemn words, ^''the Eternal Father in person could 
+do nothing mare," she understood that her fate was sealed. 
+She sank down, murmuring, " Mercy I " 
+
+Javert turned his back. 
+
+The soldiers seized her by the arms. 
+
+A few moments earlier a man had entered, but no one had 
+paid any heed to him. He shut the door, leaned his bacb 
+•gainst it, and listened to Fantinc's despairing supplications 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+t84 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+At the instant when the soldiers laid their hands upon the on 
+fortunate woman, who would not rise, he emerged from tbe 
+shadow, and said : — - 
+
+*' One moment, if you please/ 
+
+Javert raised his eyes and recognized M. Madeleine. He re- 
+moved his hat, and, saluting him with a sort of aggrieveâ awk* 
+wardness : — 
+
+" Excuse me, Mr. Mayor — " 
+
+The words "Mr. Mayor" produced a curious effect npon 
+Fantine. She rose to her feet with one bound, like a spectre 
+springing from the earth, thrust aside the soldiers with both 
+arms, walked straight up to M. Madeleine before any one could 
+prevent her, and gazing intently at him, with a bewildered air, 
+she cried : — 
+
+*' Ah ! so it is you who are M. le Maire ! ** 
+
+Then she burst into a laugh, and spit in his face. 
+
+M. Madeleine wiped his face, and said : — 
+
+" Inspector Javert, set this woman at liberty •** 
+
+Javert felt that he was on tlie verge of going mad. He ex- 
+perienced at that moment, blow upon blow and almost simulta- 
+neously, the most violent emotions which he had ever undergone 
+in all his life. To see a woman of the town spit in the mayor's 
+face was a thing so monstrous that, in his most daring flights 
+of fancy, he would have regarded it as a sacrilege to believe it 
+possible. On the other hand, at the ver}' bottom of his thought, 
+he made a hideous comparison as to what this woman was, and 
+as to what this mayor might be ; and then he, with horror, 
+caught a glimpse of I know not what simple explanation of 
+this prodigious attack. But when he beheld that mayor, that 
+magistrate, calmly wipe his face and say, " Set this woman ai 
+liberty" he underwent a sort of intoxication of amazement; 
+thought and word failed him equally ; the sum total of possible 
+astouisliinciit had been exceeded in his case. He remained 
+mute. 
+
+The words had produced no less strange an effect on Fantine. 
+She raised her bare arm, and clung to the damper of the stove. 
+like a person who is reeling. Nevertheless, she glanced about 
+her, and began to speak in a low voice, as though talking to 
+herself : — 
+
+" At liberty 1 I am to be allowed to go ! I am not to go to 
+prison for six months ! Who said that? It is not possible that 
+any one could have said that. I did not hear aright. It can- 
+not have been that monster of a mayor ! Was it you, my good 
+Monsieur Javert, who said that I was to be set free? Oh, see 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FÂNTINE. 185 
+
+here ! I will tell you about it, and you will let me go. That 
+monster of a mayor, tliat old blackguard of a mayor, is the 
+cause of all. Just imagine. Monsieur Javert, he turned mc out 1 
+all because of a pack of rascally women, who gossip in the work- 
+room. If that is not a horror, what is? To dismiss a poor 
+girl who is doing her work honestly I Then I could no longer 
+earn enough, and all this misery followed. In the first place, 
+there is one improvement which these gentlemen of the police 
+ought to make, and that is, to prevent prison contractors from 
+wroDging poor people. I will exi>lain it to you, you see : you 
+are earning twelve sous at shirt-making, the price falls to nine 
+sous ; and it is not enough to live on. Then one has to become 
+whatever one can. As for me, I had my little Cosette, and I 
+was actually forced to become a bad woman. Now you under- 
+stand how it is that that blackguard of a. mayor caused all the 
+mischief. After that I stamped on that gentleman's hat in front 
+of the officers* café ; but he had spoiled m}- whole dress with 
+snow. We women have but one silk dress for evening wear. 
+You see that I did not do wrong delibenitely — traly, Monsieur 
+Javert; and everywhere I behold women who are far more 
+wicked than I, and who are much happier, O Monsieur Javert I 
+it was you who gave orders that I am to be set free, was it not? 
+Make inquiries, speak to my landlord ; I am paying my rent 
+now ; they will tell you that I am perfectly honest. Ah ! my 
+God ! I beg your pardon ; I have unintentionally touched the 
+damper of the stove, and it has made it smoke." 
+
+M. Madeleine listened to her with profound attention. While 
+she was speaking, he fumbled in his waistcoat, drew out his 
+purse and opened it. It was empty. He put it back in his 
+pocket. He said to Fantine, ^^ How much did you say that 
+you owed?" 
+
+Fantine, who was looking at Jatert only, turned towards 
+Wm: — 
+
+" Was I speaking to you P" 
+
+Then, addressing the soldiers : — 
+
+" Say, you fellows, did you see how I spit in his face ? Ah ! 
+f-^u old wretch of a mayor, you came here to frighten me, but 
+I'm not afraid of you. I am afraid of Monsieur Javert. I am 
+afraid of my good Monsieur Javert ! " 
+
+So saying, she turned to the inspector again : — 
+
+"And yet, you see, Mr. Inspector, it is necessary to be just. 
+I understand that you are just, Mr, Inspector ; in fact, it is 
+perfectly simple : a man amuses himself by putting snow down 
+% woman's back, and that makes the officers laugh ; one mus< 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+186 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+divert themselves in some way; and we — well, we are hen 
+for them to amuse themselves with, of course ! And then, 
+you, you come ; 30U are certainly obliged to preserve oi-der, you 
+lead off the woman who is in the wrr g ; but on reflection, 
+since you are a good man, you say tuc.t I am to be set at lib- 
+erty ; it is for the sake of the little one, for six months in prison 
+would prevent my supporting my child. ' Only, don*t do it 
+again, you hussy ! * Oh ! I won't do it again. Monsieur Javert 1 
+They may do whatever they please to me now ; I will not stir. 
+But to-day, you see, I cried because it hurt me. I was not ex- 
+pecting that snow from the gentleman at all ; and then, as I 
+told you, I am not well ; I have a cough ; I seem to have a 
+Dnrning ball in my stomach, and the doctor tells me, ^Take 
+care of yourself.' Here, feel, give me your hand ; don't be 
+afraid — it is here." 
+
+She no longer wept, her voice was caressing; she placed 
+Javert's coarse hand on her delicate, white throat and looked 
+smilingly at him. 
+
+Alt at once she rapidly adjusted her disordered garments, 
+dropped the folds of her skirt, which had been pushed up as she 
+dragged herself along, almost to the height of her knee, and 
+8tei)ped towards the door, saying to the soldiers in a low voice, 
+and with a friendly nod : — 
+
+'^ Children, Monsieur l'Inspecteur has said that I am to 1> 
+released, and I am going." 
+
+She laid her hand on the latch of the door. One step more 
+and she would be in the street. 
+
+Javert up to that moment had remained erect, motionless, 
+with his eyes fixed on the ground, cast athwart this scene like 
+some displaced statue, which is waiting to be put away some- 
+where. 
+
+The sound of the latch roused him. He raised his head with 
+an expression of sovereign authority, an expression all the 
+more alarming in proportion as the authority rests on a low 
+level, ferocious in the wild beast, atrocious in the man of no 
+estate. 
+
+''Sergeant!" he cried, "don't you see that that jade is 
+walking off! Who bade you let her go? " 
+
+'' I," said Madeleine. 
+
+Fantine trembled at the sound of Javert's voice, and let go 
+of the latch as a thief relinquishes the article which he has 
+stolen. At the sound of Madeleine's voice she turned around, 
+and from that moment forth she uttered no word, nor dared so 
+Qiuch as to breathe freely, but her glance strayed from Made- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTlNE. 18f 
+
+ieine to Javert, and from Javert to Madeleine in turn, accord 
+iDg to which was speaking. 
+
+It was evident that Javert must have been exasperated be- 
+yond measure before he would permit himself to apostrophize 
+the sei-geant as he had done, after the mayor's suggestion that 
+Fantine should be set at liberty. Had he reached the point of 
+forgetting the mayor's presence? Had he finally declared to 
+himself that it was impossible that any ^' authority " should 
+have given such an order, and that the mayor must certainly 
+have said one thing by mistake for another, without intending 
+it? Or, in view of the enormities of which he had been a wit- 
+ness for the past two hours, did he say to himself, that it was 
+necessary to recur to supreme resolutions, that it was indis- 
+pensable that the small should be made great, that the police 
+Bpy should transform himself into a magistrate, that the police- 
+man should become a dispenser of justice, and that, in this 
+prodigious extremity, order, law, morality, government, society 
+in its entirety-, was personified in him, Javert? 
+
+However that may be, when M. Madeleine uttered that word, 
+/, as we have just heard. Police Inspector Javert was seen to 
+turn toward the mayor, pale, cold, with blue lips, and a look 
+of despair, his whole body agitated by an imperceptible quivtr 
+and an unprecedented occurrence, and say to him, with down- 
+east eyes but a firm voice : — 
+
+*'Mr. Mayor, that cannot be." 
+
+" Why not ? " said M. Madeleine. 
+
+^^ This miserable woman has insulted a citizen.** 
+
+" Inspector Javert," replied the mayor, in a calm and con- 
+ciliating tone, ^' listen. You are an honest man, and I feel no 
+hesitation in explaining matters to you. Here is the true state 
+of the case : I was passing through the square just as you were 
+leading this woman away ; there were still groups of people 
+standing about, and I made inquiries, and learned everything,^ 
+it was the townsman who was in the wrong and who should 
+have been arrested by properly conducted police." 
+
+Javert retorted : — 
+
+' This wretch has just insulted Monsieur le Maire.*' 
+
+"That concerns me," said M. Madeleine. "My own insult 
+Wongs to me, I think. I can do what I please about it." 
+
+"I beg Monsieur le Maire's pardon. The insult is not to 
+him, but to the law." 
+
+/* Inspector Javert," replied M. Madeleine, " the highest law 
+» conscience. I have heard this woman ; I know what I am 
+doing." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+188 i'E^ MISERABLES. 
+
+♦•And I, Mr. Mayor, do not know what I see.'* 
+
+*♦ Then content yourself with obeying." 
+
+•' I am obeying *my duty. My duty demands that this wo^ 
+man shall serve six months in prison.** 
+
+•* M. Madeleine replied gently : — 
+
+** Heed this well ; she will not serve a single day*'* 
+
+At this decisive word, Javert ventured to fix a searching look 
+on the mayor and to say, but in a tone of voice that was still 
+profoundly respectful : — 
+
+^^ 1 am sorr}' to oppose Monsieur le Maire ; it is for the first 
+time in my life, but he will permit me to remark that I am 
+witliin the bounds of my authorit3\ I confine myself, since 
+Monsieur le Maire desires ft, to the question of the gentleman. 
+I was present This woman flung herself on Monsieur Bama- 
+tabois, who is an elector and the proprietor of that handsome 
+house with a balcony, which forms the corner of the esplanade, 
+three stories high and entirely of cut stone. Such things as 
+there are in the world 1 In any case, Mousieur le Maire, this is 
+a question of police regulations in the streets, and concerna 
+me, and I shall detain this woman Fan tine." 
+
+Then M. Madeleine folded his arms, and said in a severe 
+voice which no one in the town had heard hitherto: — 
+
+'*The matter to which you refer is one connected with the mu- 
+nicipal police. According to the terms of articles nine, eleven, 
+fifteen, and sixty-six of the code of criminal examination, I am 
+the judge. I order that this woman shall be set at liberty." 
+
+Javert ventured to make a final effort. 
+
+**But, Mr. Mayor — " 
+
+^^ I refer you to article eighty-one of the law of the 13th of 
+December, 1799, in regard to arbitrarv detention.^ 
+
+'* Monsieur le Maire, permit me — 
+
+" Not another word." 
+
+"But — " 
+
+*' Leave the room," said M. Madeleine. 
+
+Javert received the blow erect, full in the face, in his breast, 
+like a Russian soldier. He bowed to the very earth before the 
+mayor and left the room. 
+
+Fantine stood aside from the door and stared at him in 
+amazement as he passed. 
+
+Nevertheless, she also was the prey to a strange confusion. 
+She had just seen herself a subject of dispute between two 
+opposing powers. She had seen two men who held in theii 
+hands her liberty, her life, hersouU her child, in combat befoYe 
+ber very eyes ; one of these men was drawing her towards darb 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINR IM 
+
+Dess, the other was leading her back towards the light. In this 
+(X)nflict, viewed through the exaggerations of terror, these two 
+tûcn had appeared to her like two giants ; the one spoke like 
+ber demon, the other like her good angel. The angel had con< 
+quered the demon, and, strange to saj', that which made her 
+shudder from head to foot was the fact that this angel, this 
+Hherator, was the very man whom she abhorred, that mayor 
+whom she had so long regarded as the author of all her woes, 
+that Madeleine ! And at the very moment when she had insult- 
+ed him in so hideous a fashion, he had saved her I Had she, 
+then, been mistaken ? Must she change her whole soul ? She 
+did not know ; she trembled. She listened in bewilderment, she 
+looked on in affright, and at every word uttered by M. Made- 
+leine she felt the frightful shades of hatred crumble and melt 
+within her, and something warm and ineffable, indescribable, 
+which was both joy, confidence, and love, dawn in her heart. 
+
+When Javert had taken his departure, M. Madeleine turned 
+1o her and said to her in a deliberate voice, like a serious man 
+who does not wish to weep and who finds some difficulty in 
+tpeaking : — 
+
+*' I have heard you. I knew nothing about what you have 
+loentioned. I believe that it is true, and I feel that it is true. 
+I was even ignorant of the fact that you had left my shop. 
+Why did you not apply to me? But here; I will pay your 
+Hebts, I will send for your child, or you shall go to her. You 
+i.hall live here, in Paris, or where you please. I undertake the 
+<!are of your child and yourself. You shall not work any longer 
+if you do not like. I will give all the money you require. You 
+shall be honest and happy once more. And listen ! I declare 
+to you that if all is as 3'ou say, — and I do not doubt it, — you 
+have never ceased to be vli-tuous and holy in the sight of God. 
+Oh ! poor woman." 
+
+This was more than Fantine could bear. To have Cosette ! 
+To leave this life of infamy. To live free, rich, happy, respect- 
+ive with Cosette ; to see all these realities of paradise blossom 
+)f a sudden in the midst of her misery. She stared stupidly at 
+«his man who was talking to her, and could only give vent to 
+two or three sobs, *' Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! " 
+
+Her limbs gave way beneath her, she knelt in front of M. 
+Madeleine, and before he could prevent her he felt her grasp 
+^is hand and press her lips to it* 
+
+Then she fainted* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+IM LES MISERABLES, 
+
+
+
+BOOK SIXTH.— JAVEET. 
+
+L — The Beginiïing of Reposb. 
+
+M. Madeleine had Fantine removed to that inflrmai-j whic* 
+be had established iu his own house. He confided her to the 
+Bisters, who put her to bed. A burning fever had come on 
+She passed a part of the night in delirium and raving. At 
+length, however, slie fell asleep. 
+
+On the morrow, towards midday, Fantine awoke. She beard 
+Bonie one breatliiug close to her bed ; she drew aside the curtain 
+and saw M. Madeleine standing there and looking at something 
+over her head. His gaze was full of pity, anguish, and supplica- 
+tion. She followed its direction, and saw tliat it was fixed on a 
+crucifix which was nailed to the wall. 
+
+Thenceforth, M. Madeleine was transfigured in Fan tine's eyes. 
+He seemed to her to be clothed in light. He was absorbed in a 
+sort of prayer. S lie gazed at him for a long time without daring 
+to interrupt him. At last she said timidly : — 
+
+" What are 30U doing?" 
+
+M. Madeleine had been there for an hour. He had been 
+waiting for Fantine to awake. He took her hand, felt of her 
+pulse, and replied : — 
+
+'' How do you feel?** 
+
+" Well, I have slept," she replied ; "I think that I am better. 
+It is nothing." 
+
+He answered, responding to the first question which she had 
+put to him as though he had but just heard it : — 
+
+*' I was praying to the martyr there on high." 
+
+And he added in his own mind, *' For the martyr here below." 
+
+M. Madeleine had passed the night and the morning in mak- 
+ing inquiries. He knew all now. He knew Fantine's history 
+in all its heart-rending details. He went on : — 
+
+*' You have suffered much, poor mother. Oh ! do not complain ; 
+you now have the dowry of the elect. It is thus that men are 
+transformed into angels. It is not their fault the}' do not know 
+how to go to work otherwise. You see, this hell from which 
+you have just emerged is the first form of heaven. It was nec- 
+essary to begin there." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 191 
+
+He sighed deeply. But she smiled on him with that sublime 
+anile in which two teeth were lacking. 
+
+That same night, Javert wrote a letter. The next morning 
+he posted it himself at the office of M. sur M. It was ad- 
+dressed to Paris, and the superscription ran : To Monsieur 
+Ch'jbomUety Secretary of Monsieur le Préfet of Police, As thp 
+affair in the station-house had been bruited about, the post- 
+mistress and some other persons who saw the letter before it 
+was sent off, and who recognized Javcrt's handwriting on the 
+cïover, thought that he was sending in his resignation. 
+
+M. Madeleine made haste to write to the Thénardiers. Fan- 
+tme owed them one hundred and twenty francs. He sent them 
+three hundred francs, telling them to pay themselves from that 
+sum, and to fetch the child instantly to M. sur M., where her 
+sick mother required her presence. 
+
+This dazzled Thénardier. *' The devil ! *' said the man to his 
+wife; "don't let's allow the child to go. This lark is going 
+to tnm into a milch cow. I see through it. Some ninny has 
+taken a fancy to the mother." 
+
+He replied with a very well drawn-up bill for five hundred 
+and some odd francs. In this memorandum two indisputable 
+items figured up over three hundred francs, — one for the doctor, 
+tlie other for the apothecary who had attended and physicked 
+Eponine and Azelma through two long illnesses. Cosette, as we 
+have already said, had not been ill. It was only a question of a 
+trifling substitution of names. At the foot of the memorandum, 
+Thénardier wrote, Received on account ^ three hundred francs, 
+
+M. Madeleine immediately sent three hundred francs more, 
+and wrote, '* Make haste to bring Cosette." 
+
+" Christ! ! " said Thénardier, '' let's not give up tlie child." 
+
+In the meantime, Fantine did not recover. She still remained 
+in the infirmary. 
+
+The sisters had at first only received and nursed •' that 
+woman " with repugnance. Those who have seen the bas-reliefs 
+of Rhcims will recall the inflation of the lower lip of the wise vir- 
+gins as they survey the foolish virgins. The ancient scorn of the 
+vestals for the ambubajœ is one of the most profound instincts 
+of feminine dignity ; the sisters felt it with the double force 
+contributed by religion. But in a few days Fantine disarmed 
+them. She said all kinds of humble and gentle things, and the 
+mother in her provoked tenderness. One day the sisters heard 
+her say amid her fever: " I have been a sinner; but when I 
+have my child beside me, it will be a sign that God has pardoned 
+ine. While I was leading a bad life, I should not have liked to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+192 LES AfISÊRABLES. 
+
+have my Cosette with me ; I could Dot have borne her sad, aston- 
+ished eyes. It was for her sake that I did evil, and that is why 
+God pardons me. I siiall feel the benediction of the good God 
+when Cosette is here. I shall gaze at her ; it will do me good 
+to see that innocent creature. She knows nothing at all. She 
+is an angel, you see, my sisters. At that age the wings have not 
+fallen off." 
+
+M. Madeleine went to see her twice a day, and each time she 
+asked him : — 
+
+'' Shall I see my Cosette soon?" 
+
+He answered : — 
+
+^^ To-morrow, perhaps. She may arrive at any moment. 1 
+am expecting her." 
+
+And the mother's pale face grew radiant. 
+
+" Oh ! " she said, " how happy I am going to be ! '* 
+
+We have just said that she did not recover her health. Ol, 
+the contrary, her condition seemed to become more grave from. 
+week to week. That handful of snow applied to her bare skir 
+between her shoulder-blades had brought a})out a sudden sup- 
+pression of perspiration, as a consequence of which the malady 
+which had been smouldering within her for inany years was vio- 
+lently developed at last. At that time people were beginning 
+to follow the fme Laennec's fine suggestions in the study and 
+treatment of chest maladies. The doctor sounded Fautine'fi 
+chest and shook his head. 
+
+M. Madeleine said to the doctor : — 
+
+*'Well?" 
+
+^^Has she not a child which she deshres to see?** said tbo 
+doctor. 
+
+*' Yes." 
+
+'' Well ! Make haste and get it here.** 
+
+M. Madeleine shuddered. 
+
+Fantine inquired : — 
+
+'' What did the doctor say?" 
+
+M. Madeleine forced himself to smile. 
+
+^^ He said that your child was to be brought speedily. Tha^ 
+that would restore your health." 
+
+" Oh ! " she rejoined, " he is right ! But what do those Thé- 
+nardiers mean by keeping my Cosette from me ! Oh ! she \9 
+coming. At last I behold happiness close beside me ! " 
+
+In the meantime, Thénardier did not ''let go of the child," 
+and gave a hundred insufficient reasons for it. Cosette was nol 
+quite well enough to take a Jouniey in the winter. And then, 
+there still remained some petty but pressing debts in the neigh 
+borhood, and they were collecting the bilL» for them, etc., etc 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FAJSTINE. 193 
+
+*^ I shall send some one to fetch Cosette I " said Father Mad- 
+rleine. ** If necessary, I will go myself." 
+
+He wrote the following letter to Fantine's dictationi and 
+made her sign it: — 
+
+^ MOMSUSUK Thénasdier : — 
+
+Tou will deliver Cosette to this person. 
+You will be paid for all the little things. 
+I have the honor to salute you with respect. 
+
+Faktikb,* 
+
+In the meantime a serious incident occurred. Cai-ve as we. 
+^ill the mysterioua block of which our life is made, the black 
+«'ein of destiny constantly reappears in it» 
+
+n. — How Jean mat become Champ. 
+
+One morning M. Madeleine was in his study, occupied in 
+arranging in advance some pressing matters connected with the 
+.nayor's office, in case he should decide to take the trip to Mont- 
+fenneil, when he was informed that Police Inspector Javert waa 
+desirous of speaking with him. Madeleine could not refrain 
+from a disagreeable impression on bearing this name. Javert 
+had avoided him more than ever since the affair of the police- 
+station, and M. Madeleine had not seen him. 
+
+" Admit him," he said. 
+
+Javert entered. 
+
+M. Madeleine had retained his seat near the fire, pen in hand, 
+his eyes fixed on the docket which he was turning over and 
+annotating, and which contained the trials of the commission on 
+highways for the infraction of police regulations. He did not 
+disturb himself on Javert's account. He could not help think- 
+ing of poor Fantine, and it suited him to be glacial in his 
+manner. 
+
+Javert bestowed a respectful salute on the mayor, whose 
+back was turned to him. The mayor did not look at him, but 
+7eQt on annotating this docket. 
+
+Javert advanced two or three paces into the study, and halted, 
+without breaking the silence. 
+
+If any physiognomist who had been familiar with Javert, and 
+who had made a lengthy study of this savage in the sei-vice of 
+civilization, this singular composite of the Roman, the Spartan, 
+èhe monk, and the corporal, this spy who was incapable of a lie, 
+this unspotted police agent — if any physiognomist had known his 
+i^cret and long-cherished aversion for M. Madeleine, his con- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+194 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+flict with the mayor on the subject of Fan tine, and had exam 
+ined Jiivert at that moment, he would have said to himself 
+'* What has taken place?" It was evident to any one ac 
+quainted witli that clear, upright, sincere, honest, austere, and 
+ferocious conscience, that Javert had but just gone through 
+some great interior struggle. Javert had nothing in his soul 
+whicii he had not also in his countenance. Like violent people 
+in general, he was subject to abrupt changes of opinion. His 
+physiognomy' had never been more peculiar and startling. On 
+entering he bowed to M. Madeleine with a look in which there 
+was neither rancor, anger, nor distrust ; he halted a few paces in 
+the rear of the mayor's arm-chair, and there Tie stood, perfectly 
+erect, in an attitude almost of discipline, with the cold, ingenu- 
+ous roughness of a man who has never been gentle and who has 
+always been patient ; he waited without uttering a word, with- 
+out making a movement, in genuine humility and tranquil 
+resignation, calm, serious, hat in hand, with eyes cast down, 
+and :m expression which was half-way between that of a soldier 
+in the presence of his officer and a criminal in the presence of 
+his judge, until it siiould please the mayor to turn round. All 
+the sentiments as well as all the memories which one might 
+have attributed to him had disappeared. That face, as impen* 
+etrable and simple as granite, no longer bore any trace of any- 
+thing but a melancholy depression. His whole person breathed 
+lowliness and firmness and an indescribable courageous de- 
+spondency. 
+
+At last the mayor laid down his pen and turned half round. 
+
+Well ! What is it? what is the matter, Javert? " 
+
+Javert remained silent for an instant as though collecting his 
+ideas, then raised his voice with a sort of sad solemnity, which 
+did not, however, preclude simplicity. 
+
+*^This is the matter, Mr. Mayor; a culpable act has beep 
+committed." 
+
+''What act?" 
+
+''An inferior agent of the authorities has failed in respect, 
+and in the gravest manner, towards a magistrate. I have come 
+to bring the fact to your knowledge, as it is my duty to do." 
+
+" Who is the agent? " asked M. Madeleine. 
+
+" I," said Javert. 
+
+'*You?" 
+
+"And who is the magistrate who has reason to oomplaip ol 
+
+the agent?" 
+
+*' You, Mr. Mayor." 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+fANTIIfB^ JUô 
+
+M. Madeleine sat erect in his arm-chair* Javert went on^ 
+Mrith a severe air and his eyes still cast down. 
+
+'^Mr. Mayor, I have come to request you to instigate tha 
+authorities to dismiss me." 
+
+M. Madeleine opened his mouth in amazement. Javert in- 
+terrupted him : — 
+
+^^ You will say that I might have handed in my resignation* 
+but that does not suffice. Handing in one's resignation is hon» 
+orable. I have failed in my duty ; I ought to be punished ; J 
+must be turned out." 
+
+And after a pause he added : •— 
+
+" Mr. Mayor, you were severe with me the other day, and 
+unjustly. Be so to-day, with justice." 
+
+"Come, now! Why ?" exclaimed M. Madeleine. "What 
+nonsense is this? What is the meaning of this? What culpa- 
+ble act have you been guilty of towards me ? What have you 
+done to me? What are your wrongs with regard to me? Yon 
+accuse yourself ; you wish to be superseded — " 
+
+" Turned out," said Javert. 
+
+" Turned out ; so it be, then. That is well. 1 do not under* 
+stand." 
+
+'* You shall understand, Mr. Mayor." 
+
+Javert sighed from the very bottom of his chest, and resumed, 
+still coldly and sadly : — 
+
+''Mr. Mayor, six weeks ago, in consequence of the scene 
+over that woman, I was furious, and I informed against you." 
+
+" Informed against me ! " 
+
+"At the Prefecture of Police in Paris." 
+
+M. Madeleine, who wa^ not in the habit of laughing much 
+oftcner than Javert himself, burst out laughing now : — 
+
+"As a mayor who had encroached on the province of tha 
+poHce?" 
+
+"As an ex-convict.** 
+
+The mayor turned livid. 
+
+Javert, who had not raised his eyes, went on : — - 
+
+" I thought it was so. I had had an idea for a longtime; 
+1 resemblance ; inquiries which you had caused to be made at 
+Faverolles ; the strength of your loins ; the adventure with old 
+F'aachelevant ; your skill in markmanship ; your leg, which you 
+irag a little ; — I hardly know what all, — absurdities I But, at 
+ill events, I took you for a certain Jean Val jean.!* 
+
+"A certain — What did you say the name was?" 
+
+"Jean Valjean. He was a convict whom I was in the habit 
+of seeing twenty years ago, when I was adjutant-guard of con* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+196 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+victfl at Toulon. On leaving the galleys, this Jean YalJeAO, sj 
+'t appears, robbed a bishop ; then he committed another theft, 
+accompanied with violence, on a public highwa}' on the person 
+of a little Savo3ard. He disappeared eight years ago, no one 
+knows how, and ho has been sought, I fancied. In short, I 
+did tins thing ! Wrath impelled me ; I denounced jou at the 
+Prefecture ! " 
+
+M. Madeleine, who had taken up the docket again severa 
+moments before this, resumed with an air of perfect iodifrer- 
+ence : — 
+
+"And what reply did you receive?** 
+
+** That I was mad." 
+
+**Well?'' 
+
+** Well, they were right,'* 
+
+" It is lucky that you recognize the fact.** 
+
+" I am forced to do so, since the real Jean Val jean has beet 
+found.'' 
+
+The sheet of paper which M. Madeleine was holding droppeil 
+from his hand ; he raised his head, gazed fixedly at Javert, au'l 
+said with his indescribable accent : — 
+
+*'Ah!" 
+
+Javert continued : — 
+
+'* This is the way it is, Mr, Mayor. It seems that there wa* 
+in the neighborhood near Ailly-le-Haut-Clocher an old fellow 
+who was called Father Champmathieu. He was a very wretchci 
+creature. No one paid any attention to him. No one knowii 
+what such people subsist on. Lately, last autumn. Father 
+Ciiampmatliieu was arrested for tlie theft of some cider applet 
+from — Well, no matter, a theft had been committed, a wall 
+scaled, branches of trees broken. My Champmathieu was ar- 
+rested. He still had the branch of apple-tree in his hand. 
+The scamp is locked up. Up to this point it was merely an 
+affair of a misdemeanor. But here is where Providence inter- 
+vened. 
+
+"The jail being in a bad condition, the examining magistrate 
+finds it con\enient to transfer Champmathieu to Arras, where 
+the departmental prison is situated. In this prison at Arras 
+there is an ex-convict named Brevet, who is detained for I know 
+not what, and who has been appointed turnkey of the house, 
+because of good behavior. Mr. Mayor, no soonei had Champ 
+raathieu arrived than Brevet exclaims : 'Eh ! Why, I know 
+that man ! He is sl fagot !^ Take a good look at me, my good 
+
+1 As ez-convlat. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 157 
+
+man! You are Jean Valjean!' 'Jean Valjean! who's Jeau 
+Valjean ?' Champmathieu feigns astonishment. ' Don't play the 
+innocent dodge,* says Brevet. * You are Jean Valjean ! You 
+iiave been in the galleys of Toulon ; it was twenty years ago ; 
+we were there together.' Champmathieu denies it. Parbleu ! 
+You understand. The case is investigated. The thing was well 
+ventilated for me. This is what they discovered : This Champ- 
+mathieu had been, thirty years ago, a pruner of trees in various 
+localities, notably at Faverolles. There all trace of him was 
+lost. A long time afterwards he was seen again in Auvergne ; 
+then in Paris, where he is said to have been a wheelwright, and 
+to have had a daughter, who was a laundress ; but that has not 
+been proved. Now, before going to the galleys for theft, what 
+was Jean Valjean ? A pruner of trees. Where? At Faverolles. 
+Another fact. This Valjean's Christian name was Jean, and his 
+mother's surname was Mathieu. What more natural to suppose 
+than that, on emerging from the galleys, he should have taken 
+his mother's name for the purpose of concealing himself, and 
+have called himself Jean Mathieu ? He goes to Auvergne. The 
+local pronunciation turns Jean into Ckan — he is called Chan 
+Mathieu. Our man offers no opposition, and behold him trans- 
+formed into Champmathieu. You follow me, do you not? In- 
+quiries were made at Faverolles. The family of Jean Valjean 
+is no longer there. It is npt known where they have gone. 
+You know that among those classes a family often disappears. 
+Search was made, and nothing was found. When such people 
+are not mud, they are dust. And then, as the beginning of the 
+story dates thirty years back, there is no longer any one at 
+Faverolles who knew Jean Valjean. Inquiries were made at 
+Toulon. Besides Brevet, there are only two convicts in exist- 
+ence who have seen Jean Valjean ; they are Cochepaille and 
+Cheoildien, and are sentenced for life. They are taken from 
+the galleys and confronted with the pretended Champmathieu» 
+They do not hesitate ; he is Jean Valjean for them as well as for 
+Brevet. The same age, — he is fifty-four, — the same height, 
+the same air, the same man ; in short, it is he. It was pre- 
+cisely at this moment that I forwarded my denunciation to the 
+Prefecture in Paris. I was told that I had lost my reason, 
+and that Jean Valjean is at Arras, in the power of the authori- 
+ties. You can imagine whether this surprised me, when I 
+thought that I had that same Jean Valjean here. I write to 
+the examining judge ; he sends for me ; Champmathieu is cou' 
+ducted to me — " 
+"Well?" interposed M. Madeleine. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+198 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Javert replied, his face incorruptible, and as melancholjr aa 
+ever : — 
+
+" Mr. Mayor, the truth is the truth. I am sorry j but that 
+man is Jean Valjean. I recognized him also." 
+
+M. Madeleine resumed ip a very low voice : — 
+
+"You are sure?" 
+
+Javert began to laugh, with that mournful laugh which oomea 
+from profound conviction. 
+
+''O! Sure!" 
+
+He stood there thoughtfully for a moment, mechanically 
+caking pinches of powdered wood for blotting ink from the 
+wooden bowl which stood on the table, and he added : — 
+
+" And even now that I have seen the real Jean Valjean, I do 
+not see how I could have thought otherwise. I beg your par- 
+don, Mr. Mayor." 
+
+Javert, as he addressed these grave and supplicating words 
+to the man, who six weeks before had humiliated him in the 
+presence of the whole station-house, and bade him ''•leave the 
+room," — Javert, that haughty man, was unconsciously full of 
+simplicity and dignity, — M. Madeleine made no other reply to 
+his prayer than the abrupt question : — 
+
+' ' And what does this man say ? " 
+
+"Ah! Indeed, Mr. Mayor, it's a bad business. If he is 
+Jean Valjean, he has his previous conviction against him. To 
+climb a wall, to break a branch, to purloin apples, is a mis- 
+chievous trick in a child ; for a man it is a misdemeanor ; for a 
+convict it is a crime. Robbing and housebreaking — it is all 
+there. It is no longer a question of correctional police ; it is a 
+matter for the Court of Assizes. It is no longer a matter of a 
+few days in prison ; it is the galleys for life. And then, there 
+is the affair with the little Savoyard, who will return, I hope. 
+The deuce ! there is plenty to dispute in the matter, is there 
+not? Yes, for any one but Jean Valjean. But Jean Valjean 
+is a sly dog. That is the way I recognized him. Any other 
+man would have felt that things were getting hot for him ; he 
+would struggle, he would cry out — the kettle sings before the 
+fire ; he would not be Jean Valjean, et cetera. But he has not 
+the appearance of understanding ; he says, ' I am Champma- 
+thieu, and I won't depart from that ! ' lie has an astonished 
+air, he pretends to be stupid ; it is far better. Oh ! the rogue is 
+clever! But it makes no difference. The proofs are there, 
+lie has been recognized by four persons ; the old scamp will be 
+condemned. The case has been taken to the Assizes at Arras. 
+I shall go there to give my testimony. I have been summoned.'' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+PANTINE. lî^9 
+
+M. Madeleine had turned to his desk again, and taken up hia 
+docket, and was turning over the leaves tninquillv, reading and 
+writing by turns, like a busy man. He turned to Javert : — 
+
+*'Tbat will do, Javert. In truth, all these details interest 
+me but little. We are wasting our time, and we have pressing 
+business on hand. Javert, you will betake yourself at once to 
+tlie house of the woman Buseaupied, who sells lierl)8 at the cor- 
+ner of the Rue Saint-Saulve. You will toll her that she must 
+enter her complaint against carter Pierre Chesnelong. The 
+man is a brute, who came near crushing this woman and hei 
+child. He must be punished. You will then go to M. Char- 
+eellay, Rue Montre-de-Champigny. He complained that there 
+is a gutter on the adjoining house which discharges rain-water 
+on his premises, and is undermining the foundations of his house. 
+After that, you will verify the infractions of police regulations 
+which have been reported to me in the Rue Guibourg, at Widow 
+Doris's, and Rue du Garraud-Blanc, at Madame Renée le 
+Bossé's, and you will prepare documents. But I am giving 
+you a great deal of work. Are yon not to be absent? Did 
+you not tell me that you were going to Arras on that matter in 
+A week or ten days ? " 
+
+'' Sooner than that, Mr. Mayor.'' 
+
+*' On what day, then?" 
+
+" Why, I thought that I had said to Monsieur le Maire that 
+the case was to be tried to-morrow, and that I am to set out by 
+diligence to-night." 
+
+M. Madeleine made an imperceptible movement. 
+
+*' And how long will the case last ? " 
+
+*' One day, at the most. The judgment will be pronounce<' 
+to-morrow evening at latest. But I shall not wait for the sen- 
+tence, which is certain; I shall return here as soon as my 
+deposition has been taken." 
+
+"That is well," said M. Madeleine. 
+
+And he dismissed Javert with a wave of the hand. 
+
+Javert did not withdraw. 
+
+"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor," said he. 
+
+"What is it now?" demanded M. Madeleine. 
+
+" Mr. Mayor, there is still something of which I must remind 
+you." 
+
+"What is it!" 
+
+" That I must be dismissed." 
+
+M. Madeleine rose. 
+
+" Javert, yon are a man of honor, and I esteem you. Yon 
+exaggerate your fault. Moreover, this is an offence which con 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+200 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+ceivis me. Javert, yoii deserve promotion instead of dégrada 
+tion. I wish you to retain your post." 
+
+Javert gazed at M. Madeleine with his candid ey\~':^^ ii» whose 
+deptiis his not very enlightened but pure and rigid conscience 
+seemed visible, and said in a tranquil voice : — 
+
+'* Mr. Mayor, I cannot grant you that." 
+
+" I repeat," replied M. Madeleine, '* that the matter concerns 
+me." 
+
+But Javert, heeding his own thought only, continued : — 
+
+" So far as exaggeration is concerned, I am not exaggerating. 
+This is the way I reason : I have suspected you unjustly. That 
+is nothing. It is our right to cherish suspicion, although sus- 
+picion directed above ourselves is an abuse. But without 
+proofs, in a fit of rage, with the object of wreaking my ven- 
+geance, I have denounced you as a convict, you, a respectable 
+man, a ma^'or, a magistrate ! That is serious, very serious. I 
+have insulted authority in your person, I, an agent of the au- 
+thorities ! If one of my subordinates had done what I have 
+done, I should have declared him unworthy of the service, and 
+have expelled him. Well? Stop, Mr. Mayor; one word more. 
+I have often been severe in the couree of my life towards others. 
+That is just. I have done well. Now, if I were not severe 
+towards myself, all the justice that I have done would become 
+injustice. Ought I to spare myself more than others? No! 
+What ! I should be good for nothing but to chastise others, and 
+not myself ! Why, I should be a blackguard ! Those who say, 
+' That blackguard of a Javert ! ' would be in the right. Mr. 
+Mayor, I do not desire that you should treat me kindly ; your 
+kindness roused sufUcient bad blood in me when it was directed 
+to others. I want none of it for myself. The kindness which 
+consists in upholding a woman of the town against a citizen, the 
+police agent against the mayor, the man who is down against 
+the man who is up in the world, is what I call false kindness. 
+That is the sort of kindness which disorganizes society. Good 
+God ! it is very easy to be kind ; the difficulty lies in being just. 
+Come ! if you had been what I thought you, I should not have 
+been kind to you, not I ! You would have seen ! Mr. Mayor, 
+I must treat myself as I would treat any other man. When I 
+^lave subdued malefactors, when I have proceeded with vigor 
+against rascals, I have often said to myself, ' If you flinch^ if 
+ever I catch you in fault, you may rest at your ease ! ' I have 
+flinched, I have caught myself in a fault. So much the worse ! 
+Come, discharged, cashiered, expelled ! That is well. I have 
+arms. I will till the soil ; it makes no difference to me. Mr. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+FANTINE. 201 
+
+Diayor, the good of the seiTice demands an example. I simply 
+require the discliarge of Inspector Javert." 
+
+All this was uttered in a proud, humble, despairing, yet coi> 
+vinced tone, which lent indescribable grandeur to this singular, 
+honest man. 
+
+'* We shall see," said M. Madeleine. 
+
+And he offered him his hand. 
+
+Javert recoiled, and said in a wild voice : — 
+
+" Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, but this must not be. A mayor 
+ioes not offer his hand to a police spy." 
+
+He added between his teeth : — 
+
+" A police spy, yes ; from the moment when I have misused 
+the police, I am no more than a police spy." 
+
+Then he bowed profoundly, and directed his steps towards 
+the door. 
+
+There be wheeled round, and with eyes still downcast : — 
+
+" Mr. Mayor," he said, *'I shall continue to serve until I am 
+«ai)ei'seded." 
+
+He withdrew. M. Madeleine remained thougiitfull}- listening 
+to the firm, sure step, which died away on the pavement of the 
+corridor. 
+
+
+
+BOOK SEVENTH.— THE CHAMPMATHIEU AFFAIR. 
+I. — Sister Simplice. 
+
+The incidents the reader is about to peruse were not all 
+known at M. sur M. But the small portion of them which 
+became known left such a memory in that town that a serious 
+ga{) would exist in this book if we did not narrate tliera in their 
+most minute details. Among, these details the reader will en- 
+coQDter two or three improbable circumstances, which we pre- 
+serve out of respect for the truth. 
+
+On the afternoon following the visit of Javert, M. Madeleine 
+went to see Fantine according to his wont. 
+
+Before entering Fantine's room, he had Sister Simplice sum- 
+DM>ned. 
+
+The two nuns who performed the services of nurse in the 
+infirmary. Lazariste ladies, like all sisters of charity, bore the 
+names of Sister Perpétue and Sister Simplice. 
+
+Sister Perpétue was an ordinary villager, a sister of charity 
+
+
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+202 LES MISERABL}t!:^\ 
+
+in a coarse style, who had entered the service of God as one 
+enters any other service. Slie was a nnn as other women are 
+cooks. This type is not so very rare. The monastic orders 
+gladly accept this heavy peasant earthenware, which is easily 
+fusliioned into a Capuchin or an Ureuline. These rustics are 
+utilized for the rough work of devotion. The transition from 
+a drover to a Carmelite is not in the least violent ; the one turns 
+into the other without much effort; the fund of ignorance 
+common . to the village and the cloister is a preparation ready 
+at hand, and places the boor at once on the same footing as 
+the monk : a little more amplitude in the smock, and it becomes 
+a frock. Sister Perpétue was a robust nun from Marines near 
+Pontoise, who chattered her patois, droned, grumbled, sugared 
+the potion according to the bigotry or the hyjwcrisy of the 
+invalid, treated her patients abruptly, roughly, was crabbed 
+with the dying, almost flung God in their faces, stoned their 
+death agony with prayers mumbled in a rage ; was bold, honest, 
+and ruddy. 
+
+Sister Simplice was white, with a waxen pallor. Beside Sis- 
+ter Perpétue, she was the taper beside the candle. Vincent de 
+Paul has divinely traced the features of the Sister of Charity in 
+these admirable words, in which he mingles as much freedom 
+as servitude : ' ' They shall have for their convent onl}' the 
+house of the sick ; for cell only a hired room ; for chapel only 
+their parish church ; for cloister only the streets of the town 
+and the wards of the hospitals ; for enclosure only obedience ; 
+for gratings only the fear of God ; for veil only modesty." This 
+ideal was realized in the living person of Sister Simplice : she 
+had never been young, and it seemed as though she would never 
+grow old. No one could have told Sister Simplice's age. She 
+was a person — we dare not say a woman — who was gentle, 
+austere, well-bred, cold, and who had never lied. She was so 
+gentle that she appeared fragile ; but she was more solid than 
+granite. Slie touched the unhappy with fingers that were charm- 
+ingly pure and fine. There was, so to speak, silence in her 
+speech ; she said just what was necessary, and she possessed a 
+tone of voice which would have equally edified a confessional or 
+enchanted a drawing-room. This delicacy accommodated itself 
+to the serge gown, finding in this harsh contact a continual 
+reminder of heaven and of God. Let us emphasize one detail. 
+Never to have lied, never to have said, for any interest what- 
+ever, even in indifference, any single thing which was not the 
+truth, the sacred truth, was Sister Simplice*s distinctive trait; 
+it vfBS the accent of her virtue. She was almost renowned in 
+
+
+
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+FA NT I NE. 203 
+
+the congregation for this imperturbable veracity. The AblWs 
+Sicard s[>cak8 of Sister Simplice in a letter to the deaf-mute 
+Massieu. However pure and sincere we may be, we all bear 
+upon our candor the crack of the little, innocent lie. She did 
+not. Little lie, innocent lie — does such a thing exist? To lie 
+is the absolute form of evil. To lie a little is not possible : 
+be who lies, lies the whole lie. To lie is the very face of the 
+iemon. Satan has two names ; lie is called Satan and Lying. 
+That is what she thought; and as she thought, so she did. 
+riie result was the whiteness wiiieh we have mentioned — a 
+whiteness which covered even her lips and her eyes with radi- 
+ance. Her smile was white, her glance was white. There was 
+not a single spider's web, not a grain of dust, on the glass 
+window of that conscience. On entering the order of Saint 
+Vincent de Paul, she had taken the name of Simplice by special 
+choice. Simplice of Sicily, as we know, is the saint who pre- 
+ferred to allow both her breasts to be torn oflF rather than to 
+say that she had been born at Segesta when she had been 
+bom at Syracuse — a lie which would have saved her. This 
+patron saint suited this soul. 
+
+Sister Simplice, on her entrance into the order, had had two 
+faults which she had gradually corrected : she had a taste for 
+dainties, and she liked to receive letters. She never read any- 
+thing but a book of prayers printed in Latin, in coarse type. 
+She did not understand Lratin, but she understood the book. 
+
+This pious w^oraan hdd conceived an affection for Fantine, 
+probably feeling a latent virtue there, and she had devoted her- 
+self almost exclusively to her care. 
+
+M. Madeleine took Sister Simplice apart and recommended 
+Fantine to her in a singular tone, which the sister recalled later on. 
+
+On leaving the sister, he approached Fantine. 
+
+Fantine awaited M. Madeleine's appearance every day as one 
+awaits a ray of warmth and joy. She said to the sisters, '• 1 
+only live when Monsieur le Maire is here." 
+
+She had a great deal of fever that day. As soon as she saw 
+^I. Madeleine she asked him : — 
+
+"AndCosette?" 
+
+He replied with a smile ; — 
+
+"Soon." 
+
+M. Madeleine was the same as usaal with Fantine. Only he 
+remained an hour instead of lialf an hour, to Fantine's great 
+delight. He urged every one repeatedly not to allow the in- 
+valid to want for anything. It was noticed that there was a 
+moment when his countenance became very sombre. But this 
+
+
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+204 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+was explained when it became known that the doctor had benl 
+down to his ear and said to him, " She is losing ground fast.'* 
+Then he returned to the town-hall, and tlie clerk obsei-^'ed 
+him attentively examining a road map of France which hung in 
+his study. lie wrote a few figures on a bit of paper with a 
+pencil. 
+
+
+
+n. — The Perspicaciit of Master Soaufflairk. 
+
+From the town-hall he betook himself to the extremity of tJic 
+town, to a Fleming named Master Scaufflaer, French Scaufflaire, 
+who let out •* horses and cabriolets as desired." 
+
+In order to reach this Scaufilaire, the shortest way was to tak^ 
+the little-frequented street in which was situated the parson- 
+age of the parish in which M. Madeleine resided. The curé 
+was, it was said, a worthy, respectable, and sensible man. At 
+the moment when M. Madeleine arrived in front of the parson* 
+age there was but one passer-by in the street, and this person 
+noticed this : After the mayor had passed the priest's house he 
+halted, stood motionless, then turned about, and retraced his 
+steps to the door of the parsonage, which had an iron knocker. 
+He laid his hand quickly on the knocker and lifted it ; then he 
+paused again and stopped short, as though in thought, and 
+after the lapse of a few seconds, instead of allowing the knocker 
+to fall abruptly, he replaced it gently, and resumed his way 
+with a sort of haste which had not been apparent previously. 
+
+M. Madeleine found Master Scaufflaire at home, engaged in 
+stitching a harness over. 
+
+"Master Scaufflaire," he inquired, '*have you a good horse?** 
+
+" Mr. Mayor," said the Fleming, *' all my horses are good. 
+Wliat do you mean by a good horse ? " 
+
+"I mean a horse which can travel twenty leagues in a day.'* 
+
+" The deuce ! " said the Fleming. '' Twenty leagues 1 " 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+" Hitched to a cabriolet? '* 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+*' And how long can he rest at the end of his journey? ** 
+
+^^ He must be able to set out again on the next day if neoe» 
+wiry." 
+
+" To traverse the same road?" 
+
+''Yes." 
+
+" The deuce ! the deuce ! And it is twenty leagues? ** 
+
+M. Madeleine drew from his pocket the paper on which he 
+
+
+
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+FANTINE. 205 
+
+had pencilled some figures. He showed it to the Fleming. The 
+figures were 5, 6, 8^. 
+
+'* You see,*' he said, '* total, nineteen and a half ; as well say 
+twenty leagues." 
+
+"Mr. Mayor," returned the Fleming, "I have just what you 
+want. My little white horse — you may have seen him pass 
+occasionally ; he is a small beast from Lower Boulonnais. He is 
+full of fire. They wanted to make a saddle-horse of him at 
+first. Bah ! He reared, he kicked, he laid everybody flat on 
+the ground. He was thought to be vicious, and no one knew 
+what to do with him. I bought him. I harnessed him to a 
+carriage. That is what he wanted, sir; he is as gentle as a 
+girl ; he goes like the wind. Ah ! indeed he must not be mounted. 
+It does not suit his ideas to be a saddle-horse. Every one has 
+his ambition. 'Draw? Yes. Carry? No!' We must sup- 
+pose that is what he said to himself." 
+
+'' And he will accomplish the trip? " 
+
+'' Your twenty leagues all at a full trot, and in less than eight 
+hours. But here are the conditions." 
+
+" State them." 
+
+**In the first place, you will give him half an hour's breath- 
+ing spell midway of the road ; he will eat ; and some one must 
+be by while he is eating to prevent the stable boy of the inn from 
+stealing his oats ; for I have noticed that in inns the oats are more 
+often drunk by the stable men than eaten by the horses." 
+
+"Some one will be by." 
+
+"In the second place — is the cabriolet for Monsieur le 
+Maire?" 
+
+"Yes." 
+
+" Does Monsieur le Maire know how to drive?" 
+
+"Yes." 
+
+" Well, Monsieur le Maire will travel alone and without bag- 
+gage, in order not to overload the horse ? " 
+
+" Agreed." 
+
+" But as Monsieur le Maire will have no one with him, he 
+will be obliged to take the trouble himself of seeing that the 
+oats are not stolen." 
+
+"That is understood." 
+
+" I am to have thirty francs a day. The days of rest to be 
+paid for also — not a farthing less ; and the beast's food to be 
+at Monsieur le Maire's expense." 
+
+M. Madeleine drew three napoleons from his purse and laid 
+them on the table. 
+
+"Here is the pay for two days in advance." 
+
+
+
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+
+" Fourthly, for such a journey a cabriolet would be too heavy, 
+and would fatiji;ne tlie horse. Monsieur le Maire must conseut 
+to travel in a little tilbury that I own." 
+
+"I consent to tliat." 
+
+*' It is light, but it has no cover." 
+
+"That makes no difference to me." 
+
+*'Has Monsieur le Maire reflected that we are In the middle 
+of winter?" 
+
+M. Madeleine did not reply. The Fleming resumed : — 
+
+'*That it is very cold?" 
+
+M. Madeleine preserved silence. 
+
+Master Scaufflaire continued: — 
+
+"That it may rain?" 
+
+M. Madeleine raised his head and said : — 
+
+*' The tilbury and the horse will be in front of my door to- 
+morrow morning at half-pjvst four o'clock." 
+
+*' Of course, Monsieur le Maire," replied Scaufflaire ; then, 
+scratching a speck in the wood of the table with his thumb-nail, 
+he resumed with that careless air which the Flemings understand 
+so well how to mingle with their shrewdness : — 
+
+" But this is what I am thinking of now : Monsieur le Maire 
+has not told me where he is going. Where is Monsieur le Maire 
+going?" 
+
+He had been thinking of nothing else since the beginning of 
+the conversation, but he did not know why he had not dared to 
+put the question. 
+
+" Are your horse's forelegs good? " said M. Madeleine. 
+
+" Yes, Monsieur le Maire. You must hold him in a little 
+when going down hill. Are there many descents between here 
+and the place whither yon are going?" 
+
+" Do not forget to be at my door at preciriely half-past font 
+o'clock to-morrow morning," replied M. Madeleine ; and he took 
+his departure. 
+
+The Fleming remained "utterly stupid," as he himâelf said 
+some time afterwards. 
+
+The mayor had been gone two or three minutes when the door 
+opened again : it was the ma^or once more. 
+
+He still wore the same impassive and preoccupied air. 
+
+" Monsieur Scaufflaire," said he, " at what sum do you esti- 
+mate the value of the horse and tilbury which vou are to let to 
+me, — the one bearing the other? " 
+
+"The one dragging the other, Moonieur le Maire." aaid the 
+Fleming, with a broad smile- 
+
+" So be it. WeU?'' 
+
+
+
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+FANTINE. 207 
+
+"Does Monsieur le Maire wisli to purchase them of me? " 
+
+** No ; but I wish to guarantee you in any case. You shall 
+give me back the sura at ray return. At what value do you 
+estimate your horse and cabriolet?" 
+
+" Five hundred francs, Monsieur le Maire." 
+
+'' Here it is." 
+
+M. Madeleine laid a bank-bill on the table, then left the 
+room ; and this time he did not return. 
+
+Master Scaufflaire experienced a frightful regret that he had 
+not said a thousand francs. Besides, the horse and tilbury 
+together were worth but a hundred crowns. 
+
+Tlie Fleming called his wife, and related the affair to her. 
+'* Where the devil could Monsieur le Maire be going?" They 
+held counsel together. *' lie is going to Paris," said the wife. 
+" I don't believe it," said the husband. 
+
+M. Madeleine had forgotten the paper with the figures on it, 
+and it lay on tlie chimney-piece. The Fleming picked it up 
+and studied it. "Five, six, eight and a half? That must 
+designate the posting relays." He turned to his wife : — 
+
+" I have found out." 
+
+"What?" 
+
+*'It is five leagues from here to Hesdin, six from Hesdin to 
+Saint-Pol, eight and a half from Saint-Pol to Arras. He is 
+going to Arras." 
+
+Meanwhile, M. Madeleine had returned home. He had taken 
+the longest way to return from Master Scauflttaire's, as though 
+the parsonage door had been a temptation for him, and he had 
+wished to avoid it. He ascended to his room, and there he shut 
+himself up, which was a very simple act, since he liked to go tc 
+bed early. Nevertheless, the portress of the factory, who was, 
+at the same time, M. Madeleine's only servant, noticed that the 
+latter's light was extinguished at half- past eight, and she men- 
+tioned it to the cashier when he came home, adding : — 
+
+'' Is Monsieur le Maire ill? I thought he bad a rather singu 
+W air." 
+
+This cashier occupied a room situated directly under M. Mad 
+aleine's chamber. He paid no heed to the portress's word», 
+but went to bed and to sleep. Towards midnight he woke up 
+with a 8tai*t ; in his sleep he had heard a noise above his head. 
+He listened ; it was a footstep pacing back and forth, as though 
+some one were walking in the room above him. He listenod 
+more attentively, and recognized M. Madeleine's step. This 
+stnick him as strange ; usually, there was no noise in M. 
+Madeleine's chamber u^til he rose in the morning. A moment 
+
+
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+208 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+later the cashier heard a noise which resembled that of a cap 
+board being opened, and then shut again ; then a piece of fur 
+niture was disarranged ; tlien a pause ensued ; then the step begaie 
+again. The cashier sat up in bed, quite awake now, and star- 
+ing ; and through his window-panes he saw the reddish glean* 
+of a lighted window reflected on the opposite wall; from the 
+direction of the rays, it could only come from the window of 
+M. Madeleine's chamber. The reflection wavered, as though it 
+came rather from a fire which had been lighted than from a 
+candle. The shadow of the window-frame was not shown, 
+which indicated that the window was wide open. The fact that 
+this window was open in such cold weather was surprising. 
+The cashier fell asleep again. An hour or two later he waked 
+again. The same step was st^ll passing slowly and regnlarlv 
+back aud forth overliead. 
+
+The reflection was still visible on the wall, but now it wafl 
+pale nnd peaceful, like the reflection of a lamp or of a candle 
+The window was still open. 
+
+This is what had taken place in M. Madeleine's room. 
+
+
+
+in. — A Tempest in a Skull. 
+
+The reader has, no doubt, already divined that M. Madeleine 
+is no other thau Jean Valjean. 
+
+We have already gazed into the depths of this conscience ; 
+the moment has now come when we must take another look 
+into it. We do so not without emotion and trepidation. There 
+is nothing more terrible in existence than this sort of contem- 
+plation. The eye of the spirit can nowliere find more dazzling 
+brilliance and more shadow than in man ; it can fix itself on no 
+other thing which is more formidable, more complicated, nx re 
+mysterious, and more infinite. There is a spectacle more grard 
+than the sea ; it is heaven : there is a spectacle more grand than 
+heaven ; it is the inmost recesses of the soul. 
+
+To make the poem of the human conscience, were It only 
+with reference to a single man, were it only in connection with 
+the basest of men, would be to blend all epics into one snperioi 
+and definitive epic. Conscience is the chaos of chimeras, of 
+lusts, and of temptations ; the furnace of dreams ; the lair of 
+Ideas of which we are ashamed ; it is the panderoonlnm of 
+sophisms ; it is the battle-field of the passions. Penetrate, af 
+rertain hours, past the livid face of a human being who is en- 
+gaged in reflection, and look behind, gaze into that soul, gasf 
+
+
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+FAN TINE. 209 
+
+into that obscurity. There, beneath that external silence, bat- 
+tles of giants, like those recorded in Homer, are in progress ; 
+Bkirmishes of dragons and hydras and swarms of phantoms, as 
+in Milton ; visionary circles, as in Dante. What a solemn 
+thing is this infinity which every man bears within him, and 
+which he measures with despair against the caprices of his 
+brain and the actions of his life ! 
+
+iVlighieri one day met with a sinister-looking door, before 
+which he hesitated. Here is one before us, upon whose thresh- 
+jld we hesitate. Let us enter, nevertheless. 
+
+We have but little to add to what the reader already knows 
+of what had happened to Jean Valjean after the adventure with 
+Little Gervais. From that moment forth he was, as we have 
+seen, a totally different man. What the Bishop had wished to 
+make of him, that he carried out. It was more than a trans- 
+formation ; it was a transfiguration. 
+
+He succeeded in disappearing, sold the Bishop's silver, reserv- 
+ing only the candlesticks as a souvenir, crept from town to 
+town, traversed France, came to M. sur M., conceived the idea 
+which we have mentioned, accomplished what we have related, 
+succeeded in rendering himself safe from seizure and inacces- 
+sible, and, thenceforth, established at M. sur M., happy in 
+feeling his conscience saddened by the past and the first half of 
+his existence belied by the last, he lived in peace, reassured 
+and hopeful, having henceforth only two thoughts, — to conceal 
+his name and to sanctifv his life ; to escape men and to return 
+to God. 
+
+These two thoughts were so closely intertwined in his mind 
+that they formed but a single one there ; both were equally ab- 
+sorbing and imperative and ruled his slightest actions. In gen- 
+eral, they conspired to regulate the conduct of his life ; they 
+turned him towards the gloom ; they rendered him kindly and 
+simple ; they counselled him to the same things. Sometimes, 
+however, they conflicted. In that case, as the reader will re- 
+member, the man whom all the country of M. sur M. called M. 
+Madeleine did not hesitate to sacrifice the first to the second — 
+iiia security to his virtue. Thus, in spite of all his reserve and 
+all his prudence, he had preserved the Bishop's candlesticks, 
+worn mourning for him, summoned and interrogated all the 
+little Savoyards who passed that way, collected information 
+^ega^ding the families at Faverolles, and saved old Fauchele- 
+vent's life, despite the disquieting insinuations of Javert. It 
+beemed, as we have already remarked, as though he thought, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+210 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+following the example of all tiiose who h:ive been wise, holy, 
+and just, that his first duty was not towards hiiDsclf. 
+
+At the same time, it must be confessed, nothing just like this 
+had yet presented itself. 
+
+Never had the two ideas which governed the unhappy man 
+whose sufferings we are narrating, engaged in bo serious a 
+struggle. lie understood this confusedly but profoundly at tlu* 
+very first words pronounced by Javert, when the latter entered 
+his study. At the moment when that name, which he had bur- 
+ied beneath so many la3ers, was so strangely articulated, he 
+was struck with stupor, and as though intoxicated with the sin- 
+ister eccentricity of his destiny ; and through this stupor be felt 
+that shudder which precedes great shocks. He bent like an oak 
+at the approach of a storm, like a soldier at the approach of 
+an assault. He felt shadows filled with thunders and lightnings 
+descending upon his head. As he listened to Javert, the 
+first thought wliich occurred to him was to go, to run and de- 
+nounce himself, to take that Chainpmatliieu out of prison and 
+place himself there ; this was as painful and as poignant as an 
+incision in the living flesh. Then it passed away, and he said 
+to himself, " We will see ! We will see ! " He repressed this 
+first, generous instinct, and recoiled before heroism. 
+
+It would be beautiful, no doubt, after the Bishop's holy 
+words, after so many years of repentance and abnegation, in 
+the midst of a penitence admirably begun, if this man had 
+not flinched for an instant, even in the presence of so ten*ible a 
+conjecture, but had continued to walk with the same step 
+towards tliis yawning precipice, at the bottom of which lay 
+heaven ; that would have been beautiful ; but it was not thus. 
+We must render an account of the things which went on in this 
+soul, and we can only tell what there was there. He was car- 
+ried away, at first, by the instinct of self-preservation ; lie 
+rallied all his ideas in haste, stifled his emotions, took into eon 
+sideration Javert's presence, that gieat danger, postponed all 
+decision with the firmness of terror, shook off thought as to what 
+he had to do, and resumed his calmness as a warrior picks up 
+his buckler. 
+
+He remained in this state during the rest of the day, a whirl- 
+wind within, a profound tranquillity without. He took no 
+''* preservative measures," as they may be called. Everything 
+was still confused, and jostling together in his brain. His 
+trouble was so great that he could not perceive the form of a 
+single idea distinctly, and he could have t<;ld nothing about him 
+self, except that he had received a great blow. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE, 2n 
+
+He repaired to Fantiiie's bed of suffering, as usual, and pro- 
+longed his visit, through a kindly instinct, telling himself that 
+he must behave thus, and recommend her well to the sisters, in 
+case he should be obliged to be absent himself. He had a 
+vague feeling that he might be obliged to go to Arras ; and 
+without having the least in the world made up his mind to this 
+trip, he said to himself that being, as he was, beyond the 
+shadow of any suspicion, there could be nothing out of the way 
+in being a witness to what was to take place, and he engaged 
+the tilbury from Scaufflaire in order to be prepared in any event. 
+
+He dined with a good deal of appetite. 
+
+On returning to his room, he communed with himself. 
+
+He examined the situation, and found it unprecedented ; so 
+unprecedented that in the midst of his revery he rose from his 
+3hair, moved by some inexplicable impulse of anxiety, and 
+bolted his door. He feared lest something more should enter. 
+He was barricading himself against possibilities. 
+
+A moment later he extinguished his light; it embarrassed 
+Kim. 
+
+It seemed to him as though he might be seen. 
+
+By whom ? 
+
+Alas ! That on which he desired to close the door had already 
+. mtered ; that which he desired to blind was staring him in the 
+face, — his conscience. 
+
+His conscience ; that is to say, God. 
+
+Nevertheless, he deluded himself at first; he had a feeling of 
+security and of solitude ; the bolt once drawn, he thought him- 
+st4f impregnable ; the candle extinguished, he felt himself invis- 
+il)le. Then he took possession of himself : he set his elbows 
+OQ the table, leaned his head on his hand, and began to medi- 
+tate in the dark. 
+
+'* Where do I stand? Am not I dreaming? What have I 
+heard ? Js it really true that I have seen that Javert, and that 
+he spoke to me in that manner? Who can that Champmathieu 
+be ? So he resembles me ! Is it possible ? When I reflect that 
+Yesterday I was so tranquil, and so far from suspecting anything ! 
+What was I doing yesterday at this hour? What is there in this 
+incident? What will the end be? What is to be done? " 
+
+This was the torment in which he found himself. His brain 
+had lost its power of retaining ideas ; they passed like waves, 
+and he clutched his brow in both hands to arrest them. 
+
+Nothing but anguish extricated itself from this tumult which 
+overwhelmed his will and his reason, and from which he sought 
+t<> tiraw proof and resolution. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+212 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+His head was burning. He went to the window and thren 
+t wide open. There were no stars in the sky. He retomeé 
+and seated himself at the table. 
+
+The first hour passed in this manner. 
+
+Gradually, however, vague outlines began to take form ami 
+to fix themselves in his meditation, and he was able to catch t 
+glimpse with precision of the reality, — not the whole situation, 
+but some of the details. He began by recognizing the fact 
+that,' critical and extraordinary as was this situation, he was 
+completely master of it. 
+
+This only caused an increase of his stupor. 
+
+Independently of the severe and religious aim which he ha<l 
+assigned to his actions, all that he had made up to that day hac* 
+been nothing but a hole in which to bury his name. That whic?£ 
+he had always feared most of all in his hours of self-communion . 
+during his sleepless nights, was to ever hear that name pro 
+nounced ; he had said to himself that that would be the end o\ 
+all things for him ; that on the day when that name made iti 
+reappearance it would cause his new life to vanish from aboa i 
+him, and — who knows ? — perhaps even his new soul within him 
+also. He shuddered at the very thought that this was possible 
+Assuredly, if any one had said to him at such moments that th«' 
+hour would come when that name would ring in his ears, wheit 
+the hideous words, Jean Valjean, would suddenly emerge front 
+the darkness and rise in front of him, when that formidabl** 
+light, capable of dissii)ating the mystery in which he had envel- 
+oped himself, would suddenly blaze forth above his bead, an I 
+that that name would not menace him, that that light would but 
+produce an obscurity more dense, that this rent veil would 
+but increase the mystery, that this earthquake would solidify 
+his edifice, that this prodigious incident would have no other 
+result, so far as he was concerned, if so it seemed good to him, 
+than that of rendering his existence at once clearer and more 
+impenetrable, and that, out of his confrontation with the phan* 
+tom of Jean Valjean, the good and worthy citizen Monsieur 
+Madeleine would emerge more honored, more peaceful, and 
+more respected than ever — if any one had told him that, ho 
+would have tossed his head and regarded the words as those of 
+a madman. Well, all this was precisely what had just come to 
+pass ; all that accumulation of im[)ossibilities was a fact, ani\ 
+God had permitted these wild fancies to become real things ! 
+
+His revery continued to grow clearer. He came more ancl 
+more to an understanding of his position. 
+
+It seemed to him that he had but just waked up from somv 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 218 
+
+inexplicable dream, and that he found himself slipping down a 
+declivity in the middle of the night, erect, shivering, holding 
+back all in vain, on the very brink of the abyss. He distinctly 
+perceived in the darkness a stranger, a man unknown to him, 
+whom destiny had mistaken for him, and whom she was thrust- 
+ing into the gulf in his stead ; in order that the gulf might close 
+once more, it was necessary that some one, himself or that 
+other man, should fall into it : he had only let things take their 
+course. 
+
+The light became complete, and he acknowledged this to him- 
+self : That his place was empty in the galleys ; that do what he 
+«roald, it was still awaiting him ; that the theft from little Ger- 
+vais had led him back to it ; that this vacant place would await 
+him, and draw him on until he filled it ; that this was inevitable 
+and fatal ; and then he said to himself, ^^ that, at this moment, 
+he had a substitute ; that it appeared that a certain Champma- 
+thicu had that iU luck, and that, as regards himself, being pres- 
+ent in the galleys in the person of that Champmathieu, present 
+in society under the name of M.- Madeleine, he had nothing 
+more to fear, provided that he did not prevent men from sealing 
+over the head of that Champmathieu this stone of infamy which, 
+like the stone of the sepulchre, falls once, never to rise again." 
+
+All this was so strange and so violent, that there suddenly 
+took place in him that indescribable movement, which no man 
+feels more than two or three times in the course of his life, a 
+sort of convulsion of the conscience which stirs up all that 
+there is doubtful in the heart, which is composed of irony, of 
+Joy, and of despair, and which may be called an outburst of in- 
+ward laughter. 
+
+lie hastily relighted his candle. 
+
+"Well, what then?" he said to himself; " what am I afraid 
+of? What is there in all that for me to think about? I am 
+safe; all is over. I had but one partly open door through 
+which my past might invade my life, and behold that door is 
+walled up forever! That Javert, who has been annoying me 
+so long ; that terrible instinct which seemed to have divined me, 
+which had divined me — good God ! and which followed me 
+everywhere ; that frightful hunting-dog, always making a point 
+at me, is thrown off the scent, engaged elsewhere, absolutely 
+turned from the trail : henceforth he is satisfied ; he will leave 
+me in peace ; he has his Jean Valjean. Who knows ? it is even 
+probable that he will wish to leave town ! And all this has been 
+brought about without any aid from me, and I count for noth- 
+ing in it ! Ah ! but where is the misfortune in this ? Upon my 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+214 . LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+honor, people would think, to see me, that some catastrophe 
+had happened to mo ! After all, if it does bring harm to some 
+one, tliat is not my fault in the least : it is Providence which 
+has done it all ; it is because it wishes it so to be, evidently. 
+Have I the right to disarrange what it has arranged? What do 
+I ask now ? Why should I meddle ? It does not concern me ; 
+what ! I am not satisfied : but what more do I want? The goal 
+to which I have aspired for so many years, the dream of my 
+nights, the object of my prayers to Heaven, — security, — I have 
+now attained ; it is God who wills it ; I can do nothing against 
+the will of God, and wh}' does God will it? In order that 1 
+may continue what I have begun, that I may do good, that I 
+may one day be a grand and encouraging example, that it may 
+be said at last, that a little happiness has been attached to the 
+penance which I have undergone, and to that virtue to which I 
+have returned. Really, I do not understand why I was afraid, 
+a little while ago, to enter the house of that good curé, and to 
+ask his advice ; this is evident!}' what he would have said to 
+me : It is settled ; let things take their course ; let the good 
+God do as he likes ! " 
+
+Thus did he address himself in the depths of his own con- 
+science, bending ov^r what may be called his own abyss; he 
+rose from his chair, and began to pace the room : '*Corae,'* said 
+he, " let us think no more about it ; my resolve is taken !" but 
+he felt no joy. 
+
+Quite the reverse. 
+
+One can no more prevent thought from recurring to an idea 
+than one can the sea from returning to the shore : the sailor 
+calls it the tide ; the guilty man calls it remorse ; God upheaves 
+the soul as he does the ocean. 
+
+After the expiration of a few moments, do what he would, 
+he resumed the gloomy dialogue in which it was he who spoke 
+and he who listened, saying that which he would have prefeired 
+to ignore, and listening to that which he would have preferred 
+aot to hear, yielding to that mysterious power which said to hini : 
+' Think ! " as it said to another condemned man, two thousand 
+years ago, "March on !" 
+
+Before proceeding further, and in order to make ourselves 
+fully understood, let us insist upon one necessary observation. 
+
+It is certain that people do talk to themselves ; there is no 
+living being who has not done it. It may even be said that the 
+word is never a more magnificent mystery than when it goes 
+from thought to conscience within a man, and when it returns 
+from conscience to thought ; it is in this sense only that the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 215 
+
+irords bo often employed in this chapter, he saidy he exclaimed, 
+must be uuderstood ; one speaks to ouc's self, talks to one's self, 
+exclaims to one's self without breaking the external silence ; there 
+is a great tumult ; everything about us talks exce[)t the mouth. 
+The realities of the soul are none the less realities because they 
+are not visible and palpable. 
+
+So he asked himself where he stood. He interrogated himself 
+upon that '' settled resolve." He confessed to himself tliat all 
+that he had just arranged in his mind was monstrous, that ^^ to 
+let things take their course, to let the good God do as he liked," 
+was simply hoiTible ; to allow this error of fate and of men to 
+be carried out, not to hinder it, to lend himself to it througli 
+his silence, to do nothing, in short, was to do everything ! that 
+this was hypocritical baseness in the last degree ! that it was a 
+base, cowardly, sneaking, abject, hideous crime ! 
+
+For the first time in eight years, the wretched man had just 
+tasted the bitter savor of an evil thought and of an evil action. 
+He spit it out with disgust. 
+
+He continued to question himself. He asked himself severely 
+what he had meant by this, " My object is attained ! " He de- 
+clared to himself that his life really had an object ; but what 
+object? To conceal his name ? To deceive the police? Was 
+it for so petty a thing that he had done all that he had done ? 
+Had he not another and a grand object, which was the true one 
+— to save, not his pef'son, but his soul ; to become honest and 
+gooil once more ; to be a just man?. Was it not that above all, 
+that alone, which he had always desired, which the Rishop had 
+enjoine<l upon him — to shut the door on his past? But he was 
+not shutting it ! great God ! he was re-opcuing it by conmiitting 
+an ÎDfamous action ! He was becoming a thief once more, and 
+the most odious of thieves ! He was robbing another of his 
+existence, his life, his peace, his place in the sunshine. He was 
+becoming an assassin. He was murdering, morally murdering, 
+a wretched man. He was inflicting on him that frightful living 
+death, that death beneath the open sky, which is called the gal- 
+leys. On the other hand, to surrender himself to save that man, 
+struck down with so melancholy an error, to resume his own 
+name, to become once more, out of duty, the convict Jean Val- 
+jean, that was, in truth, to achieve his resurrection, and to close 
+forever that hell whence he had just emerged ; to fall back there 
+in api)earance was to escape from it in reality. This must be 
+done ! He had done nothing if he did not do all this ; his whole 
+life was useless ; all his penitence was wasted. There was no 
+longer any need of saying, '* What is the use?" He felt that 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+216 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+the Bishop was there, that the Bishop was present all the moi« 
+because he was dead, that the Bishop was gaziug fixedly at him, 
+that henceforth Mayor Madeleine, with all his virtues, would be 
+abominable to him, and that the convict Jean Valjean would be 
+pure and admirable in his sight ; that men beheld his mask, but 
+that the Bishop saw his face; that men saw his life, but that 
+the Bishop beheld his conscience. So he must go to Arras, 
+deliver the false Jean Valjean, and denounce the reid one. Alas Î 
+that was the greatest of sacrifices, the most poignant of victo- . 
+ries, the last step to take ; but it must be done. Sad fate ! he 
+would enter into sanctity only in the eyes of Grod when he re- 
+turned to infamy in the eyes of men. 
+
+"Well," said he, ''let us decide upon this; let us do our 
+duty ; let us save this man." He uttered these words aloud, 
+without perceiving that he was speaking aloud. 
+
+He took his books, verified them, and put them in order. He 
+flung in the fire a bundle of bills which he had against petty and 
+embarrassed tradesmen. He wrote and sealed a letter, and on 
+the envelope it might have been read, had there been any one 
+in his chamber at the moment. To Monsieur Laffltte^ Banker ^ 
+Rue d* Artois^ Paris, He drew from his secretary a pocket-book 
+which contained several bank-notes and the passix)rt of which he 
+had made use that same year when he went to the elections. 
+
+Any one who had seen him during the execution of these vari- 
+ous acts, into which there entered such grave thought, would 
+have had no suspicion of what was going on within him. Only 
+occasionally did his lips move ; at other times he raised his head 
+and fixed his gaze upon some point of the wall, as though there 
+existed at that point something which he wished to elucidate or 
+interrogate. 
+
+When he had finished the letter to M. LafiStte, he put it into 
+his pocket, together with the pocket-book, and began his walk 
+3nce more. 
+
+His re very had not swerved from its course. He continued 
+to see his duty clearly, written in luminous letters, which flamed 
+before his eyes and changed its place as he altered the direction 
+of his glance : — 
+
+" Go! Tell your name ! Denounce yourself! " 
+
+In the same way he beheld, as though they had passed before 
+him in visible forms, the two ideas which had, up to that time, 
+formed the double rule of his soul, — the concealment of his name, 
+the sanctification of his life. For the first time they appeared 
+to him as absolutely distinct, and he perceived the distance 
+which separated them. He recognized the fact that one of these 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+rANTINE. 217 
+
+ideas was, necessarily, good, while the other might become bad ; 
+tliat the first was self-devotion, and that the other was person- 
+ality ; that the one said, my neighbor^ and that the other said, 
+myself; that one emanated from the light, and the other from 
+darkness. 
+
+•They were antagonistic. He saw them in conflict. In pro- 
+portion as he meditated, they grew before the eyes of his spirit. 
+They had now attained colossal statures, and it seemed to him 
+that he beheld within himself, in that infinity of which we were 
+recently s{)eaking, in the midst of the darkness and the lights, a 
+goddess and a giant contending. 
+
+He was filled with terror ; bnt it seemed to him that the good 
+thought was getting the upper hand. 
+
+He felt that he was on the brink of the second decisive crisis 
+of his conscience and of his destin}* ; that the Bisliop had marked 
+the first phase of his new life, and that Champmnthieu marked 
+the second. After the grand crisis, the grand test. 
+
+But the fever, allayed for an instant, gradually resumed pos- 
+session of him. A thousand thoughts traversed his mind, but 
+they continued to fortify him in his resolution. 
+
+One moment he said to himself that he was, perhaps, taking 
+the matter too keenly ; that, after all, this Champmathieu was 
+not interesting, and that he had actually been guilty of theft. 
+
+He answered himself : ^^ If this man has, indeed, stolen a few 
+apples, that means a month in prison. It is a long way from 
+that to the galleys. And who knows ? Did he steal ? Has it 
+been proved? The name of Jean Valjean overwhelms him, an<l 
+seems to dispense with proofs. Do not the attorncN s for the 
+Crown alwa3's proceed in this manner ? He is supposed to be a 
+thief because he is known to be a convict." 
+
+In another instant the thought had occurred to him that, when 
+he denounced himself, the heroism of his deed might, perhaps, 
+be taken into consideration, and his honest life for the last seven 
+years, and what he had done for the district, and that they would 
+have mercy on him. 
+
+But this 8upi)osition vanished very quickly, and he smiled 
+bitterly as he remembered that the theft of the forty sous from 
+little Gervais put him in the position of a man guilty of a second 
+offence after conviction, that this affair would certainly come up, 
+and, according to the precise terms of the law, would render him 
+liable to penal servitude for life. 
+
+He turned aside from all illusions, detached himself more and 
+more from earth, and sought strength and con sol m ti on el se where. 
+He told himself that he must do his duty ; that perhaps lie should 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+218 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Dot be more nnhappj after doing his duty than after havû^ 
+avoided it ; that if he allowed things to take their own courae^ if 
+he remained at M. 8ur M., his consideration, his good name, hid 
+good works, the deference and veneration paid to him, his char- 
+ity, his wealth, his popularity, his virtue, would be seasoned 
+with a crime. And what would be the taste of all these holy 
+things when bound up with this hideous thing? while, if he 
+accomplished his sacrifice, a celestial idea would be mingled 
+with the galleys, the post, the iron necklet, the green cap, un- 
+ceasing toil, and pitiless shame. 
+
+At length he told himself that it must be so, that his destiny 
+was thus allotted, that he had not authority to alter the arrange- 
+ments made on high, that, in any case, he must make his choice : 
+virtue without and abomination within, or holiness within and 
+înfamy without. 
+
+The stirring up of these lugubrious ideas did not cause bis 
+courage to fail, but his brain grew weary. He began to think 
+of other things, of indiffèrent matters, in spite of himself. 
+
+The veins in his temples throbbed violently ; he still paced to 
+and fro ; midnight sounded first from the parish cluu'ch, then 
+from the town-hall ; he counted the twelve strokes of tlie two 
+clocks, and compared the sounds of the two bells ; he recalled 
+in this connection the fact that, a few days previously, he had 
+seen in an ironmonger's shop an ancient clock for sale, upon 
+which was written the name, Antohie-Albin de RoinainviUe, 
+
+He was cold ; he lighted a small fire ; it did not occur to bin 
+to close the window. 
+
+In the meantime he had relapsed into his stupor ; be was 
+obliged to make a tolerably vigorous effort to recall what had 
+been the subject of his thoughts before midnight had struck ; 
+he finally succeeded in doing this. 
+
+'* Ah! yes," he said to himself, ''I had resolved to inform 
+against myself." 
+
+And then, all of a sudden, he thought of Fan tine. 
+
+*' Hold ! " said he, '* and what about that poor woman? " 
+
+Here a fresh crisis declared itself. 
+
+Fantine, by appearing thus abruptly in his re very, produced 
+the effect of an unexpected ray of light ; it seemed to him as 
+though everything about him were undergoing a change ot 
+aspect : he exclaimed : — 
+
+" Ah 1 but I have hitherto considered no one but myself; it 
+is proper for me to hold my tongue or to denounce myself, to 
+conceal my peraon or to save my soul, to be a despicable and 
+respected magistrate, or an infamous and venerable convict ; \% 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. tiff 
+
+kl I, it Ib oiwayB I and nothing but I : but, good God ! all thia 
+h egotism ; these ai*e diverae forms of egotism, but it is co- 
+tisai all the same. What if I were to think a little about 
+others? The highest holiness is to think of others ; come, let 
+OS examine the matter. The / excepted, the / effaced, the 1 
+forgotten, what would be the result of all this? What if I de* 
+Qonnoe myself? I am arrested; this Champmathieu is re- 
+leased; I am put back in the galleys ; that is well — and what 
+then? What is going on here? Ah ! here is a country, a townr 
+here are factories, an industr}', workers, both men and women, 
+Aged grandsires, children, poor people ! All this I have cre- 
+ated ; all these I provide with their living ; everywhere where 
+there is a smoking chimney, it is I who have placed the brand 
+on the hearth and meat in the pot ; I have created ease, circu- 
+lation, credit ; before me there was nothing ; I have elevated, 
+vivifieid, informed with life, fecundated, stimulated, enriched the 
+whole country-side ; lacking me, the soul is lacking ; I take my* 
+self off, everything dies : and this woman, who has suffered so 
+much, who possesses so many merits in spite of her fall ; the 
+cause of all whose misery I have unwittingly been I And that 
+child whom I meant to go in search of, whom I have promised 
+to her mother ; do I not also owe something to this woman ^ ir 
+reparation for the evil which I have done her ? If I disappear- 
+what happens ? The mother dies ; the child becomes what it 
+can ; that is what will take place, if I denounce myself. If 1 
+do not denounce myself? come, let us see how it will be if I do 
+not denounce myself." 
+
+After putting this question to himself, he paused ; he seemed 
+to andei^o a momentary hesitation and trepidation ; but it did 
+not last long, and he answered himself calmly : — 
+
+^^ Well, this man is going to the galleys ; it is true, but what 
+the deuce I he has stolen ! There is no use in my saying that 
+he has not been guilty of theft, for he has ! I remain here ; 1 
+go on : in ten years I shall have made ten millions ; I scatter 
+them over the country ; I have nothing of m^- own ; what is 
+that to me? It is not for myself that I am doing it ; the pros- 
+perity of all goes on augmenting ; industries are aroused and 
+animated ; factories and shops are multiplied ; families, a hun- 
+dred famÛies, a thousand families, are happy ; the district be- 
+comes populated ; villages spring up where there were only farms 
+before ; farms rise where there was nothing ; wretchedness dis- 
+appears, and with wretchedness debauchery, prostitution, theft, 
+murder ; all vices disappear, all crimes : and this poor mother 
+rears her child ; and behold a whole country rich and honest ! 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+no LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Ah ! 1 was a fool I I was absurd ! what was that I was sajiog 
+about denounchig myself? I really must pay attention and dg< 
+be precipitate about anything What ! because it would hava 
+pleased me to play the grand and generous ; this is melodramac 
+after all ; because I should have thought of no one but myself, 
+the idea ! for the sake of saving from a punishment, a trilQe ex- 
+f^gcrated, perhaps, but just at bottom, no one knows whom, a 
+thief, a good-for-nothing, evidently, a whole country-side most 
+perish ! a poor woman must die in the hospital ! a poor little 
+girl must die in the street! like dogs; ah, this is abominable! 
+And without the mother even having seen her child once more, 
+almost witliout the child*s having known her mother ; and all that 
+for the sake of an old wretch of an apple-Uiief who, most 
+assuredly, has deserved the galleys for something else, if not 
+for that ; fine scruples, indeed, which save a guilty man and 
+sacrifice the innocent, which save an old vagabond who has only 
+a few years to live at most, and who will not be more unhappy 
+in the galleys than in his hovel, and which sacrifice a whole pop- 
+ulation, motliera, wives, children. This \yx>r little Cosette who 
+has no one in the wo^td but me, and who is, no doubt, blue 
+with cold at this moment in the den of those Thénardiers ; those 
+peoples are rascals ; and I was going to neglect my duty 
+towards all these i>o()r creatm-es ; and I was going off to de- 
+nounce myself ; and I was about ^o commit that unspeakable 
+folly ! Let us put it at the wv^rst : supiK)se that there is a 
+wrong action on my part in this, and that my conscience will 
+reproach me for it sonje day, to accept, for the good of others, 
+these reproaches which weigh only on myself ; this evil action 
+which compromises my soul alone ; in that lies self-bacrifioe ; in 
+that alone there is virtue." 
+
+He rose and resumed his march ; this time, he seemed to ba 
+content. 
+
+Diamonds are found only in the dark places of the earth; 
+wHiths are found only in the depths of thought. It seemed to 
+him, that, after having descended into these depths, after having 
+long groped among the darkest of these shadows, he had at last 
+found one of these diamonds, one of these truths, and that he now 
+held it in his hand, and he was dazzled as he gazed upon it. 
+
+" Yes," he thought, '' this is right; I am on the right road ; 
+I have the solution ; I must end by holding fast to something ; 
+my resolve is taken ; let things take their course ; Jet us no 
+longer vacillate ; let us no longer hang back ; tbis is for 
+the interest of all, not for my own ; I am Madeleine, and 
+Madeleine I remain. Woe to the man who is Jean Val j 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 221 
+
+jeao ! I am no longer he ; I do not know that man ; I no longei 
+know anything ; it turns out that some one is Jean Val jean at 
+the present moment; let him look out for himself; that doea 
+not ooncem me ; it is a fatal name which was floating abroad in 
+the night; if it halts and descends on a head, so much the 
+worse for that head." 
+
+He looked into the little mirror which hung above his chim* 
+ue3'-piece, and said : — 
+
+^^ Hold ! it has relieved me to come to a decision ; I am quite 
+another man now.** 
+
+He proceeded a few paces further, then he stopped short 
+
+** Come I " he said, '* I must not flinch before any of the con- 
+lequenoes of the resolution which I have once adopted ; tliere 
+are still threads which attach me to that Jean Valjean ; they 
+must be broken ; in this very room there are objects which 
+would betray me, dumb things whicli would bear witness against 
+me ; it is settled ; all these things must disappear." 
+
+He fumbled in his pocket, drew out his purse, opened it, and 
+took out a small key ; he inserted the key in a lock whose 
+i^rture could hardly be seen, so hidden was it in the most 
+sombre tones of the design which coverod the wall-papcr ; a se- 
+cret receptacle opened, a sort of false cnpl)oard constructed in 
+the angle between the wall ana the chinniey-piece ; in this hid- 
+ing-place there were some rags — a blue linen blouse, an old pair 
+of trousers, an old knapsack, and a huge thorn cudgel shod 
+with iron at both ends. Those who had seen Jean Vaijean at 
+the epoch when he passed through D. in October, 1815, could 
+easily have recognized all tlie pieces of. this miserable outfit. 
+
+He had preserved them as he had preserved the silver candle- 
+sticks, in oixler to remind himself continually of his starting- 
+point, but he had concealed all that came from the galleys, and 
+he had allowed the candlesticks which came from the Bishop to 
+be seen» 
+
+He cast a furtive glance towards the door, as thougli he 
+feared that it would open in spite of the bolt which fastened it ; 
+then, with a quick and abrupt movement, he took the whole in 
+his arms at once, without bestowing so much as a glance on the 
+things which he had so religiously and so perilously preserved 
+for so many years, and flung them all, rags,, cudgel, knapsack, 
+into the fire. 
+
+He closed the false cupboard again, and with redoubled pre- 
+cautions, henceforth unnecessary, since it was now empty, he 
+concealed the door behind a heavy piece of furniture, which he 
+poshed in front of it. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+123 IBS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+After the lapse of a few seconds, the room and the opposite 
+
+wall were liglited up with a fierce, red, tremulous glow. Every- 
+thing was on fire; the thorn cudgel snapped and threw out 
+sparks to the middle of the chamber. 
+
+As the knapsack was consumed, together with the hideous 
+rags which it contained, it revealed something which sparkled 
+in the ashes. By bending over, one could have readily recog- 
+nized a coin, — no doubt the forty-sou piece stolen from the 
+U^Ue Savoyard. 
+
+He did not look at the fire, but paced back and forth with the 
+same step. 
+
+All at once his e^e fell on the two silver candlesticks, which 
+shone vaguely on the chimney-piece, through tiie glow. 
+
+" Hold ! " he thought ; "the whole of Jean Val jean is still hi 
+them. They must be destroyed also." 
+
+He seized the two candlesticks. 
+
+There was still fire enough to allow of their being put out 
+of shape, and converted into a sort of unrecognizable bar of 
+metal. 
+
+He bent over the hearth and warmed himself for a moment. 
+He felt a sense of i*eal comfort. " How good warmth is ! " said 
+he. 
+
+He stirred the live coals with one of the candlesticks. 
+
+A minute more, and they were both in the fire. 
+
+At that moment it seemed to him that he heard a voice within 
+him shouting : " Jean Val jean ! Jean Valjean ! " 
+
+His hair rose upright : he became like a man who is listening 
+to some terrible thing. 
+
+"Yes, that's it! finish! " said tlic voice. "Complete what 
+3'ou are about! Destroy these candlesticks! Auuihilate this 
+souvenir! Forget the Bishop! Forget everything! Destroy 
+this Champmathieu, do ! That is right ! Applaud yourself! 80 
+t is settled, resolved, fixed, agreed: here is an old man who 
+loes not know what is wanted of him, who has, perhaps, done 
+aothing, an innocent man, whose whole misfortune lies in your 
+name, upon whom your name weighs like a crime, who is about 
+to be taken for you, who will be condemned, who will finish his 
+days in abjectness and hoiTor. That is good ! Be an honest 
+man yourself; remain Monsieur le Maire ; remain honorable and 
+honored ; enrich the town ; nourish the indigent ; rear the or- 
+phan ; live happy, virtuous, and admired ; and, during this time, 
+while yon are here in the midst of joy and light, there will be a 
+man who will wear your red blouse, who will bear your name in 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+PANTINS. 223 
+
+Ignominy, and who will drag your chain in the galleys. Tes, it 
+
+is well arranged thus. Ah, wretch I " 
+
+The perspiration streamed from his brow. He fixed a haggara 
+eye on the candlesticks. But that witliiu him which had spoken 
+bad not finished. The voice continued : — 
+
+'* Jean Valjean, there will be around you many voices, which 
+will make a great noise, which will talk very loud, and which 
+will bless you, and only one which no one will hear, and which 
+will curse you in the dark. Well ! listen, infamous man ! All 
+those benedictions will fall back before they reach heaven, and 
+only the malediction will ascend to God.'* 
+
+This voice, feeble at first, and which had proceeded from the 
+most obscure depths of his conscience, had gradually become 
+startling and formidable, and he now heard it in his very 
+ear. It seemed to him that it had detached itself from him, and 
+that it was now speaking outside of him. He thought that he 
+heard the last words so distinctly, that he glanced aronnd the 
+room in a sort of terror. 
+
+^^ Is there any one here? " he demanded aloud, In utter bewil- 
+derment. 
+
+Then he resumed, with a laugh which resembled that of an 
+Idiot : — 
+
+" How stupid I am ! There can be no one ! " 
+
+There was some one ; but the person who was there was of 
+those whom the human eye cannot see. 
+
+He placed the candlesticks on the chimney-piece. 
+
+Then he resumed his monotonous and lugubrious tramp, which 
+troubled the dreams of the sleeping man beneath him, and awoke 
+bim with a start. 
+
+This tramping to and fro soothed and at the same time intox- 
+icated him. It sometimes seems, on supreme occasions, as 
+though people moved about for the purpose of asking advice of 
+everything that they may encounter b}' change of place. After 
+the la|)se of a few minutes he no longer knew his position. 
+
+He now recoiled in equal terror before both the resolutions at 
+which he had arrived in turn. The two ideas which counselled 
+him appeared to him equally fatal. What a fatality ! What con- 
+junction that that Champmathieu should have been taken for 
+him ; to be overwhelmed by precisely' the means which Providence 
+seemed to have employed, at first, to strengthen his position I 
+
+There was a moment when he reflected on the future. De- 
+nounce himself, great God ! Deliver himself up ! With immense 
+despair he faced all that he should be obliged to leave, all that 
+he should be obliged to take up once more. He should have to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+224 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+bid farewell to that existence which was so good, so pare, so nidl« 
+
+ant, to the respect of all, to honor, to liberty. He should never 
+more stroll in the fields ; he should never more hear the birds sing 
+m the month of May ; he should never more bestow alms on the 
+little children ; he should never more experience tlie sweetness of 
+having glances of gratitude and love fiied upon him ; he should 
+quit that house which he had built, that little chamber ! Every- 
+thing seemed charming to him at that moment. Never again 
+should he read those books ; never more should he write on that 
+little table of white wood ; his old portress, the only servant 
+whom he kept, would never more bring him his coffee in the morn- 
+ing. Great God ! instead of that, the convict gang, the iron neck- 
+let, the red waistcoat, the chain on his ankle, fatigue, the cell, the 
+camp bed, all those horrors which he knew so well ! At his age, 
+after having been what he was ! If he were only young again ! 
+but to be addressed in his old age as " thou " by any one who 
+pleased ; to be searched by the convict guard ; to receive the 
+galley-sergeant's cudgellings ; to wear iron-bound shoes on his 
+bare feet ; to have to stretch out his leg night and morning to 
+the hammer of the roundsman who visits the gang ; to submit 
+to the curiosity of strangers, who would be told : *' That man 
+yonder is the famous Jean Valjean, who was mayor of M. sur 
+M."; and at night, dripping with perspiration, overwhelmed 
+with lassitude, their green caps drawn over their e^^es, to remount, 
+two by two, the ladder staircase of the galleys beneath the sei- 
+geant's whip. Oh, what misery ! Can destiny, then, be as mali- 
+cious as an intelligent being, and become as monstrous as the 
+human heart? 
+
+And do what he would, he always fell back upon the heart- 
+rending dilemma which lay at the foundation of his revery : 
+" Should he remain in paradise and become a demon? Should 
+he return to hell and become an angel ? " 
+
+What was to be done? Great God ! what was to be done? 
+
+The torment fi*om which he had escaped with so much diffi- 
+culty was unchained afresh within him. His ideas began to 
+grow confused once more ; they assumed a kind of stupefied 
+and mechanical quality which is peculiar to despair. The name 
+of Romainville recurred incessantly to his mind, with the two 
+verses of a song which he had heard in the past. He thought 
+that Romainville was a little grove near Paris, where young 
+lovers go to pluck lilacs in the month of April. 
+
+He wavered outwardly as well as inwardly. He walked like 
+a little child who is permitted to toddle alone. 
+
+At intervals, as he combated his lassitude, he made an effort 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 225 
+
+to recover the mastery of his mind. He tried to put to himself t 
+for the last time, and definitively, the problem over which hi 
+bad, iD £i manner, fallen prostrate with fatigue : Ought he to 
+denounce himself ? Ought he to hold his peace ? Ile could not 
+manage to see anything distinctly. The vague aspects of all 
+die courses of reasoning which had been sketched out by his 
+meditations quivered and vanished, one after the other, into 
+smoke. He only felt that, to whatever course of action he made 
+Dp his mind, something in him must die, and that of necessity, 
+and without his being able to escape the fact ; that he was en- 
+tering a sepulchre on the right hand as much as on the left ; 
+that he was passing through a death agony, — the agony of his 
+happiness, or the agony of his virtue. 
+
+Alas ! all his in'esolution had again taken possession of him. 
+He was no further advanced than at the beginning. 
+
+Thus did this unhappy sonl struggle in its anguish. Eighteen 
+hundred years before this unfortunate man, the mysterious 
+Being in whom are summed up all the sanctities and all the 
+Bufferings of humanity had also long thrust aside with his hand, 
+while the olive-trees quivered in the wild wind of the infinite, 
+the terrible cup which appeared to Him dripping with darkness 
+and overflowing with shadows in the depths all studded with 
+itars. 
+
+rV. — Forms assttmed by Sufferino during Sleep. 
+
+Three o'clock in the morning had just struck, and he had 
+heen walking thus for five hours, almost uninterruptedly, when 
+he at length allowed himself to drop into his chair. 
+
+There he fell asleep and had a dream. 
+
+This dream, like the majority of dreams, bore no relation to 
+the situation, except by its painful and heart-rending character, 
+but it made an impression on him. This nightmare struck him 
+80 forcibly that he wrote it down later on. It is one of tlie 
+papers in his own handwriting which he has bequeathed to us. 
+We think that we have here reproduced the thing in strict ac- 
+cordance with the text. 
+
+Of whatever nature this dream may be, the history of this 
+night would be incomplete if we were to omit it : it is the gloomy 
+Adventure of an ailing soul. 
+
+Here it is. On the envelope we find this line inscribed, 
+**The Dream I had that Night." 
+
+^^ I was in a plain ; a vast, gloomy plain, where there was 
+no grass. It did not seem to me to be daylight nor yet night. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+126 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+^* I was walking with my brother, the brother of my cbildisb 
+years, the brother of whom, I must say, I never think, and 
+whom I now hardly remember. 
+
+' ' We were coDversing and we met some passers-by* We were 
+talking of a neighbor of ours in former days, who had always 
+worked with her window open from the time when she came to 
+tive on the street. As we talked we felt cold because of that 
+open window. 
+
+''*' There were no trees in the plain. We saw a man passing 
+close to us. He was entirely nude, of the hue of ashes, and 
+mounted on a horse which was earth color. The man had no 
+hair ; we could see his skull and the veins on it. In his hand 
+he held a switch which was as supple as a vine-shoot and as 
+heavy as iron. This horseman passed and said nothing to us. 
+
+" My brother said to me, ' Let us take to the hollow road.' 
+
+^^ There existed a hollow way wherein one saw neither a 
+single shrub nor a spear of moss. Everything was dirt- 
+colored, even the sky. After proceeding a few paces, I 
+received no reply when I spoke : I perceived that my brother 
+was no longer with me. 
+
+^^ I entered a village which I espied. I reflected that it must 
+be Romainville. (Why Romainville ?) * 
+
+"The first street that I entered was deserted. I entered a 
+second street. Behind the angle formed by tiie two streets, 
+a man was standing erect against the wall* I said to this 
+man : — 
+
+"* What country is this? Where am I?* The man made 
+no reply. I saw the door of a house open, and I entered. 
+
+' ^ The fii st chamber was deserted. I entered the second . Be- 
+hind the door of this chamber a man was standing erect against 
+the wall. I inquired of this man, ^ Whose house is this ? 
+Where am I?' The man replied not. 
+
+" The house had a garden. I quitted the house and entered 
+the garden. The garden was deserted. Behind the first tree 
+I found a man standing upright. I said to this man, ^ What 
+garden is this ? Where am I ? ' The man did not answer. 
+
+" I strolled into the village, and perceived that it was a town. 
+All the streets were deserted, all the doors were open. Not a 
+single living being was passing in the streets, walking throngh 
+the chambers, or strolling in the gardens. But behind each 
+angle of the walls, behind each door, behind each tree, stood a 
+silent man. Only one was to be seen at a time. These men 
+watched me pass. 
+
+1 This parenthesis is due to Jean ValjeaiL 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. f21 
+
+*^I left the town and began to ramble about the fields. 
+
+*^ After the lapse of some time I turned back and saw a great 
+crowd coming up behind me. I recognized all the men whom I 
+bad seen in that town. They had strange heads. They did 
+not seem to be in a hurry, yet they walked faster than I did 
+They made no noise as they walked. In an instant this crowd 
+had overtaken and surrounded , me. The faces of these men 
+were earthen in hue. 
+
+^^ Then the first one whom I had seen and questioned on en 
+tering the town said to me : — 
+
+^^ ^ Whither are you going 1 Do you not know that you have 
+been dead this long time?' 
+
+^^ I opened my mouth to reply, and I perceived that there was 
+no one near me." 
+
+He woke. He was icy cold. A wind which was chill like 
+the breeze of dawn was rattling the leaves of the window, 
+which had been left open on their hinges. The fire was out. 
+The candle was uearing its end. It was still black night. 
+
+He rose, he went to the window. There were no stars in the 
+sky even yet. 
+
+From his window the yard of the house and the street were 
+visible. A sharp, harsh noise, which made him drop his eyes, 
+resounded from aie eaiih. 
+
+Below him he perceived two red stars, whose rays lengthened 
+and shortened in a singular manner through the dai'kness. 
+
+As his thoughts were still half immersed in the mists of sleep, 
+^^ Hold ! " said he, ^' there are no stars in the sky. They are 
+on earth now." 
+
+Bat this confusion vanished ; a second sound similar to the 
+first roused him thoroughly ; he looked and recognized the fact 
+that these two stare were the lanterns of a carriage. By the 
+light which they cast he was able to distinguish the form of 
+this vehicle. It was a tilbury harnessed to a small white horse. 
+The noise which he had heard was the trampling of the horse's 
+hoofs on the pavement. 
+
+" What vehicle is tliis? " he said to himself. '' Who is com- 
+ing here so early in the morning?" 
+
+At that moment there came a light tap on the door of hii 
+chamber. 
+
+He shuddered from head to foot, and cried in a terrible voice : -^ 
+
+" Who is there?" 
+
+^ocne one said : — 
+
+^^ 1« Monsieur le Maire." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+228 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+He recognized the voice of the old woman who was h:^ 
+
+portress. 
+
+" Well ! " he replied, '* what is it? " 
+
+'^ Monsieur le Maire, it is just five o'clock in the momiDg." 
+
+''Wliat is thattome?" 
+
+** The cabriolet is here, Monsieur le Maire." 
+
+*'Whatcr.briolet?" 
+
+'*The tilburv." 
+
+*' What tilbury?" 
+
+** Did not Monsieur le Maire order a tilbury?*' 
+
+'' No," said he. 
+
+'^Tlie coachman says that he has come for Mousieoi le 
+Maire." 
+
+*' What coachman?" 
+
+*'M, Scaufflaire's coachman." 
+
+"M. Scaufflaire?" 
+
+That name sent a shudder over him, as though a flash of 
+lightning had passed in front of his face. 
+
+*' Ah ! yes," he resumed ; " M. Scaufliaire ! " 
+
+If the old woman could have seen him at that moment, s'nc 
+would have been frightened. 
+
+A tolerably long silence ensued. He examined the flaaie of 
+the candle with a stupid air, and from around the wick he took 
+some of the burning wax, which he rolled between his fingers. 
+The old woman waited for him. iShe even ventured to uplift 
+her voice once more : — 
+
+*' What am I to say, Monsieur le Maire?" 
+
+^^ Say that it is well, and that I am coming down/* 
+
+
+
+V. — Hlin>RAMCES. 
+
+The posting service from Arras to M. sur M. was still operatcv^ 
+at this period by small mail- wagons of the time of the Empire. 
+These mail-wagons were two-wheeled cabriolets, upholstered 
+inside with fawn-colored leather, hung on springs, and having 
+but two sccitc;, one for the postboy, the other for the traveller. 
+The wheeb were armed with those long, offensive axles which 
+keep other vehicles at a distance, and which may still be seen 
+on the road in Germany. The despatch box, an immense oblong 
+coffer, was placed behind the vehicle and formed a part of it. 
+This coffer was painted black, and the cabriolet yellow. 
+
+These vehicles, which have no counterimrts nowadays, had 
+something distorted and hunchbacked about them ; and wheo 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 229 
+
+ime 8aw them passiDg in the distance, and climbing up some 
+road to the horizon, they resembled the insects which are called, 
+I think, termites, and wliich, though with but little corselet, 
+drag a great train behind them. But they travelled at a very 
+rapid rate. The post-wagon which set out from Arras at one 
+o'clock every night, after the mail from Paris had passed, ar- 
+nved at M. sur M. a little before five o'clock in the morning. 
+
+That night the wagon which was descending to M. sur M. 
+bv the Hesdin road, collided at the corner of a street, just as it 
+iras entering the town, with a little tilbury harnessed to a white 
+horse, which was going in the opposite direction , and in which 
+there was but one person, a man enveloped in a mantle. The 
+wheel of the tilbury received quite a violent shock. The post- 
+man shouted to the man to stop, but the traveller paid no heed 
+and pursued his road at full gallop. 
+
+^^ That man is in a devilish huiTy I " said the postman. 
+
+The man thus hastening on was the one whom we have just 
+seen struggling in convulsions which are certainly deserving of 
+pity. 
+
+Whither was he going? He could not have told. Why was 
+he hastening? He did not know. He was driving at random, 
+straight ahead. Whither? To Arras, no doubt ; but he might 
+have been going elsewhere as well. At times he was conscious 
+of it, and he shuddered. He plunged into the night as into a gulf. 
+Something urged him forward; something drew him on. No 
+one oould have told what was taking place Within him ; every one 
+will understand it. What man is chere who has not entered, at 
+least once in his life, into that obscure cavern of the unknown? 
+
+However, he had resolved on nothing, decided nothing, 
+formed no plan, done nothing. None of the actions of his 
+conscience had been decisive. He was, more than ever, as he 
+had been at the first moment. 
+
+Why was he going to Arras? 
+
+He repeated what he had already said to himself when he 
+had hired Scaufïiaire's cabriolet : that, whatever the result was 
+to be, there was no reason why he should not see with his own 
+eyes, and judge of matters for himself; that this was even 
+prudent ; that he must know what took place ; that no decision 
+could be arrived at without having observed and scrutinized ; 
+that one made mountains out of everything from a distance ; 
+that, at any rate, when, he should have seen thatCiianipmathieu, 
+some wretch, his conscience would probably be greatly relieved 
+to allow him to go the galleys in his stead ; that Javert would 
+indeed be there ; and that Brevet, that Chenildieu, that Coche* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+230 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+paille, old convicts who had known him ; but they certainU 
+would not recognize him; — bah! what an idea! that Javef 
+was a hundred leagues from suspecting the truth ; that all con- 
+Jectures and all supi)osition8 were fixed on Champmathieu, and 
+that there is nothing so headstrong as suppositions and con 
+jectures ; that accordingly tliere was no danger. 
+
+That it was, no doubt, a dark moment, but that he should 
+emerge from it; that, after all, he held his destiny, however 
+bad it might be, in his own hand ; that he was master of it. 
+He clung to this thought. 
+
+At bottom, to tell the whole truth, he would have preferred 
+not to go to Arras. 
+
+Nevertheless, he was going thither. 
+
+As he meditated, he whipped up his horse, which was pro- 
+ceeding at that fine, regular, and even trot which accomplishes 
+two leagues and a half an hour. 
+
+In proportion as the cabriolet advanced, he felt something 
+within him draw back. 
+
+At daybreak he was in the open country ; the town of M. sur 
+M. lay far behind him. He watched the horizon gi'ow white ; 
+he stared at all the chilly figures of a winter's dawn as they 
+passed before his eves, but without seeing them. The morning 
+has its spectres as well as the evening. He did not see them ; 
+but without his being aware of it, and by means of a sort of 
+penetration which was almost physical, these black silhouettes 
+of trees and of hills added some gloomy and sinister quality to 
+the violent state of his soul. 
+
+Each time that he passed one of those isolated dwellings 
+which sometimes border on the highway, he said to himself, 
+*' And yet there are people there within who are sleeping ! " 
+
+The trot of the horse, the bells on the harness, the wheels od 
+the road, produced a gentle, monotonous noise. These things 
+are charming when one is joyous, and lugubrious when one 
+is sad. 
+
+It was broad daylight when he arrived at Hesdin. He halted 
+in front of the inn, to allow the horse a breathing spell, and to 
+have him given some oats. 
+
+The horse belonged, as Scaufflaire had said, to that small race 
+of the Boulonnais, which has too much head, too much belly, 
+and not enough neck and shoulders, but which has a broad 
+chest, a large crupper, thin, fine legs, and solid hoofs — a homely, 
+but a robust and healthy race. Tiie excellent beast had trav* 
+elled five leagues in two hours, and had not a drop of sweat ov 
+his loins. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. 
+
+
+
+231 
+
+
+
+He did not get ont of the tilbury. The stableman wh« 
+brought the oats suddenly bent down and examined the lefl 
+wheel. 
+
+^' Are you going far in this condition ? " said the man. 
+
+He replied, with an air of not having roused himself from hia 
+fevery : — 
+
+"Why?" 
+
+*^ Have you come from a great distance? ** went on the man. 
+
+" Five leagues/' 
+
+"Ah!*' 
+
+" Why do yon say, * Ah?'" 
+
+The man bent down once more, was silent for a moment, 
+lith his eyes fixed on the wheel ; then he rose erect and said :— 
+
+^^ Because, though this wheel has travelled five leagues, it 
+«ertainly will not travel another quarter of a league." 
+
+He sprang out of the tilbury. 
+
+"What is that you say, my friend?" 
+
+^^ I say that it is a miracle that you should have travelled 
+he leagues without you and your horse rolling into some ditch 
+00 the highway. Just see here ! " 
+
+The wheel really had suffered serious damage. The shock 
+administered by the mail-wagon had split two spokes and 
+strained the hub, so that the nut no longer held firm. 
+
+"My friend," he said to the stableman, ^^ is there a wheel- 
+wright here?" 
+
+"Certainly, sir." 
+
+" Do me the service to go and fetch him." 
+
+" He is only a step from here. Hey ! Master Bourgaillard I " 
+
+Master BonrgaiUard, the wheelwright, was standing on his 
+own threshold. He came, examined the wheel, and made a 
+grimace like a surgeon when the latter thinks a limb is broken. 
+
+"Can yon repair this wheel immediately?" 
+
+*• Yes, sir." 
+
+'-^ When can I set out again?" 
+
+"To-morrow." 
+
+* To-morrow!." 
+
+" There is a long day's work on it. Are you in a hurry, sir ? *• 
+
+" In a very great hurry. I must set out again in an hour a| 
+
+e hitest." 
+
+" Impossible, sir." 
+
+*• I will pay whatever you ask** 
+
+" Impossible." 
+
+** Well, in two hours, then." 
+
+<< Impossible to-day. Two new spokes and a hub must be 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+182 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+made. Monsieur will not be able to start before to-mono^ 
+morning." 
+
+*'Tbe matter cannot wait until to-morrow. What if jjk 
+were to replace this wheel instead of repairing it?** 
+
+"How so?'* 
+
+** You are a wheelwright?** 
+
+*' Certainly, sir.** 
+
+^* Have you not a wheel that yon can seU me? Then 1 ocvk 
+start again at once.** 
+
+'*A spare wheel?'* 
+
+'' Yes.** 
+
+^^ I have no wheel on hand that would fit your cabriolet. 
+Two wheels make a pair. Two wheels cannot be put together 
+hap-hazard.'* 
+
+" In that case, sell me a pair of wheels.** 
+
+" Not all wheels fit all axles, sir.** 
+
+"Try, nevertheless." 
+
+"It is useless, sir. I have nothing to sell but cart*wheeli« 
+We are but a poor country here." 
+
+*' Have you a cabriolet that you can let me have?** 
+
+The wheelwright had seen at the first glance that the tilbory 
+was a hired vehicle. He shrugged his shoulders. 
+
+" You treat the cabriolets that people let you so welll If I 
+bad one, I would not let it to you I ** 
+
+" Well, sell it to me, then." 
+
+** I have none." 
+
+"What! not even a spring-cart? I am not hard to please* 
+as you see.** 
+
+" We live in a poor country. There is, in truth,*' added the 
+wheelwright, "an old calash under the shed yonder, which be- 
+longs to a bourgeois of the town, who gave it to me to take 
+care of, and who only uses it on the t!iirty-sixth of the month 
+— never, that is to say. I might let that to you, for what 
+matters it to me? But the bourgeois must not see it pass-' 
+and then, it is a calash ; it would require two horsea.** 
+
+" I will take two post-horses." 
+
+♦' Where is Monsieur going?** 
+
+" To Arras." 
+
+*' And Monsieur wishes to reach there to-day?* 
+
+•• Yes, of course." 
+
+*♦ By taking two post-horses ? '' 
+
+"Why not?" 
+
+" Does it make any différence whether Monsieur 
+«t four o'clock to-morrow morning?" 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 283 
+
+*• Certainly not." 
+
+^^ There is one thing to be said abont that, yoa see, by taking 
+post-horses — Monsieur has his passport? " 
+
+"Yes.'* 
+
+" Well, by taking post-horses, Monsieur cannot reach Arras 
+before ta morrow. We are on a cross-road. Tlie relays are 
+badly served, the horses are in the fields. The season for 
+ploughing is just beginufng; heavy teams are required, and 
+horses are seized upon everywhere, from the post as well as 
+elsewhere. Monsieur will have to wait three or four hours at 
+the least at every rela}*. And, then, they drive at a walk 
+There are many hills to ascend." 
+
+" Come then, I will go on horseback. Unharness the cabrio- 
+lec. Some one can surely sell me a saddle in the neighborhood." 
+
+'* Without doubt. But will this horse bear the saddle ? " 
+
+" That is true ; you remind me of that ; he will not bear it.'' 
+
+"Then — " 
+
+" But I can surely hire a horse in the village?** 
+
+"A horse to travel to Arras at one stretch?'* 
+
+"Yes.'* 
+
+" That would require such a horse as does not exist in these 
+parts. You would have to buy it to begin with, because no 
+one knows you. But you will not find one for sale nor to let, 
+for five hundred francs, or for a thousand." 
+
+"What am I to do?" 
+
+" The best thing is to let me repair the wheel like an honest 
+man, and set out on your journey to-morrow." 
+
+" To-morrow will be too late." 
+
+"The deuce!" 
+
+" la there not a mail«wagon which runs to An*as ? When 
+will it pass?** 
+
+"To-night. Both the posts pass at night; the one going 
+as well as the one coming." 
+
+" What ! It will take you a day to mend this wheel?'* 
+
+" A day, and a good long one." 
+
+" If you set two men to work?" 
+
+" If I set ten men to work." 
+
+"What if the spokes were to be tied together with ropes? " 
+
+" That could be done with the spokes, not with the hub ; and 
+the felly is in a bad state, too." 
+
+•*Is there any one in this village who lets out teams? ** 
+
+"No." 
+
+"Is there another wheelwright? " 
+
+The stableman and the wheelwright replied in concert, witii a 
+toss of the head : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+234 LES MÏSKRAJiL . 
+
+«* Nor 
+
+He felt an immeiiBe Joy. 
+
+[t was evident that Providence was intervening. *rhat it y 
+il n\\o liad broken the wheel of tlie tilbury and who was stop* 
+p\/ig him on the road. He had not yielded to this sort of first 
+summons ; he had just made every possible effort to continue 
+the journey ; he had loyally and scrupulously exhausted all 
+means ; he had been deterred neither by the season, nor fatigue, 
+nor by the expense ; he had nothing with which to reproach 
+himself. If he went no further, that was no fault of his. It 
+did not concern him further. It was no longer his fault. It 
+was not the act of his own conscience, but the act of ProvidenoBc 
+
+He breathed again. He breathed freely and to the full ex* 
+tent of his lungs for the first time since Javert's visit. It 
+seemed to him that the hand of iron which had held his heart in 
+its grasp for the last twenty hours had just released him. 
+
+It seemed to him that God was for him now, and was mani- 
+festing Himself. 
+
+He said himself that he had done all he could, and that now 
+he had nothing to do but retrace his steps quietly. 
+
+If his conversation with the wheelwright had taken place in a 
+chamber of the inn, it would have had no witnesses, no one 
+would have heard him, things would have rested there, and it la 
+probable that we should not have had to relate any of the occur- 
+rences which the reader is about to peruse ; but this conver- 
+sation had taken place in the street. Any colloquy in the 
+street inevitably attracts a crowd. There are always people 
+who ask nothing better than to become spectators. While he 
+was questioning the wheelwright, some people who were passing 
+back and forth halted around them. After listening for a few 
+minutes, a young lad, to whom no one had paid any heed, de- 
+tached himself from the gi'oup and ran off. 
+
+At the moment when the traveller, after the inward délibéra 
+tion which we have just described, resolved to retrace his steps 
+this child returned. He was accompanied by an old woman. 
+
+'^Monsieur," said the woman, ^^ my boj^ tells me that yon 
+wish to hire a cabriolet." 
+
+These simple words uttered by an old woman led by a child 
+made the perspiration trickle down his limbs. He thought Hiat 
+he beheld the hand which liad relaxed its grasp reappear ixs 
+the darkness behind him, ready to seize him once more. 
+
+He answered : — 
+
+" Yes. my good woman ; I am m search of a cabiiolet which 
+I can hire." 
+
+And he hastened to add t --^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINR. 235 
+
+'« Bat there is none in the place.** 
+
+** Certainly there is," said the old womaiL 
+
+•* Where ? " interpolated the wheelwright* 
+
+** At my house," replied the old woman. 
+
+He shuddered. The fatal hand had grasped him again. 
+
+The old woman really had in her shed a sort of basket springs 
+.3irt. The wheelwright and the stable-man, in despair at the 
+prospect of the traveller escaping their clutches, interfered. 
+
+^^ It was a frightful old trap ; it rests flat on the axle ; i^ 
+iS an actual fact that the seats were suspended inside it by 
+leather thongs ; the rain came into it; the wheels were lusted 
+and eaten with moisture ; it would not go much further than th^ 
+tilbury- ; a regular ramshackle old stage- wagon ; the gentleman 
+would make a great mistake if he trusted himself to it," etc., etc. 
+
+All this was true ; but this trap, this ramshackle old vehicle, 
+this thing, whatever ît was, ran on its two wheels and could go 
+to Arras. 
+
+He paid what was asked, left the tilbury with the wheelwright 
+to be repaired, intending to reclaim it on his return, had the 
+white horse put to the cart, climbed into it, and resumed the 
+road which he had been ti-avelling since morning. 
+
+At the moment when the cart moved off, he admitted that he 
+had felt, a moment previously, a certain joy iu the thought that 
+be should not go whither he was now proceeding. He ex- 
+amined this joy with a sort of wrath, and found it absurd. Why 
+should he feel joy at turuiug back? After all, he was taking 
+this trip of his own free will. No one was forcing him to it. 
+
+And assuredly nothing would happen except what he should 
+choose. 
+
+As he left Hesdin, he heard a voice shouting to him : '^ Stop ! 
+Stop ! " He halted the cart with a vigorous movement which 
+contained a feverish and convulsive element resembling hope. 
+
+It was the old woman's little boy. 
+
+*^ Monsieur," said the latter, ^^ it was I who got the cart fo? 
+/ou." 
+"Well?" 
+" You have not given me anything.'* 
+
+fie who gave to all so readily thought this demand exorbi- 
+tant and almost odious. 
+
+'*Ah! it's vou, you scamp?'* said he; "you shall have noth 
+ing." 
+
+He whipped np his horse and set off at full speed. 
+
+He had lost a great deal of time at Hesdin. He wanted to 
+make it ^ood. The little norse was courageous, and pulled ioi 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+^38 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+two ; but it was the month of February, there bad been rain 
+the roads were bad. And then, it was no longer the tilbury. The 
+cart was very lieuvy, and in addition, there were many ascents. 
+
+He took nearly four hours to go from Ilesdin to Saint-Pol , 
+four hours for five leagues. 
+
+At 8aint-Pol he had the horse unharnessed at the first Inn he 
+oame to and led to the stable ; as he had promised ScaufiQaire, 
+he stood beside the manger while the horse was eating; he 
+tihought of sad and confusing things. 
+
+The inn-keeper's wife came to the stable. 
+
+*' Does not Monsieur wish to breakfast?" 
+. *'Come, that is true ; I even have a good appetite." 
+
+He followed the woman, who had a rosy, cheerful face ; she 
+led him to the public room where there were tables covered 
+with waxed cloth. 
+
+'^Make haste!" said he; ^'I must start again; I am in a 
+hurry." 
+
+A big Flemish servant-maid placed his knife and fork in all 
+haste ; he looked at the girl with a sensation of comfort. 
+
+'^That is what ailed me," he thought; ^^I had not break- 
+fasted." 
+
+His breakfast was served; he seized the bread, took a 
+mouthful, and then slowly replaced it otî the table, and did not 
+touch it again. 
+
+A carter was eating at another table ; he said to this man : -* 
+
+*' Why is their bread so bitter here?" 
+
+The carter was a German and did not understand him. 
+
+He returned to the stable and remained near the horse. 
+
+An hour later he had quitted Saint-Pol and was directing 
+his course towards Tinques, which is only five leagues from 
+Arras. 
+
+What did he do during this journey ? Of what was he think- 
+ing? As in the morning, he watched the trees, the thatched 
+roofs, the tilled fields pass by, and the way in which the land- 
+scape, broken at every turn of the road, vanislicd ; this is a 
+sort of contemplation which sometimes suffices to the soul, and 
+almost relieves it from thought. What is more melancholy and 
+more profound than to see a thousand objects for the first and 
+tlie last time? To travel is to be born and to die at everj- in- 
+stant ; perhaps, in the vaguest region of his mind, he did make 
+comparisons between the shifting horizon and our human exist- 
+ence : all the things of life are perpetually fleeing before as , 
+tho dark and bright intervals are intermingled ; after a dazzling 
+moment, an eclipse; we look, we hasten^ we stretch oat our 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+PANTINE. Wl 
+
+mods to grasp what is passing ; each event is a turn in the 
+road, and, all at once, we arc old ; we feci a shock ; all is black , 
+we distinguish an obscure door ; the gloomy horse of life, which 
+has been drawing iis halts, and we see a veiled and unknown 
+person unharnessing amid the shadows. 
+
+Twilight was falling when the children who were coming out 
+of school beheld this traveller enter Tinques ; it is true that 
+the days were still short ; he did not halt at Tinques ; as he 
+emerged from the village, a laborer, who 'vas mending the road 
+with stones, raised his head and said to him : — 
+
+" That horse is very much fatigued." 
+
+The poor beast was, in fact, going at a walk. 
+
+*' Are you going to Arras?" added the road-mender. 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+" If you go on at that rate, you will not arrive very early.'* 
+
+He stoppa his horse, and asked the laborer : — 
+
+** How far is it from here to Arras ? " 
+
+*' Nearly seven good leagues." 
+
+^' How is that? the posting guide only says five leagues and 
+a quarter." 
+
+'* Ah ! " returned the road-mender, " so you don't know that 
+the road is under repair ? You will find it barred a quarter of an 
+hour further on ; there is no way to proceed further." 
+
+*' Really?" 
+
+*' You will take the road on the left, leading to Carency ; you 
+will cross the river; when you reach Camblin, you will turn to 
+the right ; that is the road to Mont-SainVÉloy which leads to 
+Arras." 
+
+" But it is night, and I shall lose my way." 
+
+** You do not belong in these parts ? " 
+
+**No." 
+
+*^ And, besides, it is all cross-roads ; stop ! sir," resumed the 
+road-mender ; " shall I give you a piece of advice? your horse 
+is tired ; return to Tinques ; there is a good inn there ; sleep 
+there; you can reach Arras to-morrow." 
+
+** I must be there this evening." 
+
+**That is different; but go to the inn all the same, and get 
+an extra horse ; the stable-boy will guide 3'ou through the cross- 
+roads." 
+
+He followed the road-mender's advice, retraced his steps, 
+and, balf an hour later, he passed the same s|)ot again, but this 
+time at full speed, with a good horse to aid ; a stable-boy, who 
+called himself a ix>stiUon, was seated on the shaft of the cariole. 
+
+Still, he felt that he had lost time. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+838 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Night had fully come. 
+
+They turned into tlie cross-road ; the wa}* became frightf oil) 
+bad ; the cart lurched from one rut to the other ; he said to the 
+postilion : — 
+
+" Keep at a trot, and you shall have a double fee." 
+
+In one of the jolts, the whiffle-tree broke. 
+
+"There's the whiffle-tree broken, sir,** said the postilion; 
+■ ' I don't know how to harness my horse now ; this road is very 
+oad at night ; if you wish to return and sleep at Tiuques, we 
+could be hi Arras early to-morrow morning." 
+
+He replied, " Have you a bit of rope and a knife?" 
+
+''Yes, sir." 
+
+He cut a branch from a tree and made a whiffletree of it. 
+
+This caused another loss of twenty minutes ; but they set out 
+again at a gallop. 
+
+The plain was gloomy ; low-hanging, black, crisp fogs crept 
+over the hills and wrenched themselves away like smoke : there 
+were whitish gleams in the clouds ; a strong breeze which blew 
+m from the sea pro<luced a sound in all quarters of the horizon, 
+as of some one moving furniture ; everything that could be seen 
+assumed attitudes of terror. How many tilings shiver beneath 
+these vast breaths of the night ! 
+
+He was stiff with cold ; he had eaten nothing since the night 
+before ; he vaguely recîalled his other ncx^turnal trip in the vast 
+plain in the neighborhood of D., eigiit years previously, and it 
+seemed but yesterday. 
+
+The hour struck from a distant tower ; he asked the boy : — 
+
+"What time is it?" 
+
+"Seven o'clock, sir; we shall reach Arras at eight; we have 
+but three leagues still to go." 
+
+At that moment, he for the first time indulged in this re- 
+flection, thinking it odd the while that it had not occurred to 
+him sooner: that all this trouble which he was taking was, 
+perhaps, useless ; that he did not know so much as the hour of 
+the trial; that he should, at least, have informed himself of 
+that; that he was foolish to go thus straight ahead without 
+knowing whether he would be of any service or not ; then he 
+sketched out some calculations in his mind : that, ordinarily, 
+the sittings of the Court of Assizes began at nine o'clock in 
+the morning ; that it could not be a long affair ; that the theft 
+of the apples would be very brief ; that there would then re- 
+main only a question of identity, four or five depositions, and 
+very little for the lawyers to say ; that he should arrive after aU 
+was over. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FAN TINE. 239 
+
+The postilion whipped up the horses ; they had crossed the 
+river and left Mont-Sain t-Éloy behind them. 
+The night grew more profound. 
+
+
+
+VI. — Sister Simplice put to the Proof. 
+
+BoT at that moment Fantine was jojous. 
+
+8he had passed a very bad night; her cough was frightful; 
+her fever had doubled in intensity ; she had had dreams : in the 
+morning, when the doctor paid his visit, she was delirious ; he 
+assumed an alarmed look, and ordered that he should be in- 
+formed as soon as M. Madeleine arrived. 
+
+AU the morning she was melancholy, said but little, and laid 
+plaits in her sheets, murmuring the while, in a low voice, calcu- 
+lations which seemed to be calculations of distances. Her eyes 
+were hollow and staring. They seemed almost extinguished at 
+intervals, then lighted up again and shone like stars. It seems 
+as thoc^h, at the approach of a certain dark hour, the iight of 
+heaven fills those who are quitting the light of earth. 
+
+Each time that Sister Simplice asked her how she felt, she 
+replied invariably, '* Well. I should like to see M. Madeleine." 
+
+Some months before this, at the moment when Fantine had 
+jast lost her last modesty, her last shame, and her last joy, she 
+was the shadow of herself ; now she was the spectre of herself. 
+Physical suffering had completed the work of moral suffering 
+This creature of five and twenty had a wrinkled brow, flabbv 
+cheeks, pinched nostrils, teeth from which the gums had re- 
+ceded, a leaden complexion, a bony neck, prominent shoulder- 
+blades, frail limbs, a clayey skin, and her golden hair wa» 
+growing out sprinkled with gray. Alas ! how illness impro- 
+vises old age! 
+
+At mid-day the physician returned, gave some directions, in- 
+qfuired whether the mayor had made his appearance at the 
+infirmary, and shook his head. 
+
+M. Madeleine usually came to see the invalid at three o'clock. 
+As exactness is kindness, he was exact. 
+
+About half-past two, Fantine began to be restless. In the 
+course of twenty minutes, she asked the nun more than ten 
+times, "What time is it, sister?" 
+
+Three o'clock struck. At the third stroke, Fantine sat up in 
+bed; she who could, in general, hardly turn over, joined her 
+yellow, fleshless hands in a sort of convulsive clasp, and the 
+nun heard her utter one of those profound sighs which seem 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+240 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+to throw off dejection. Then Fantiue turned and looked at the 
+door. 
+
+No one entered ; the door di(i not open. 
+
+She reinaiued tlius for a quarter of an hour, her eyes riveted 
+on the door, motionless and apparently holding her breath. 
+The sister dared not speak to her. The clock struck a quarter 
+past three. Fantine fell back on her pillow. 
+
+She said nothing, but began to plait the sheets once more. 
+
+Half an hour passed, then an hour, no one came ; every time 
+the clock struck, Fantine started up and looked towards the 
+door, then fell back again. 
+
+Her thought was clearly perceptible, but she uttered no name, 
+she made no complaint, she blamed no one. But she coughed 
+in a melancholy way. One would have said that something 
+dark was descending upon her. She was livid and her lips 
+were blue. She smiled now and then. 
+
+Five o'clock struck. Then the sister heard her say, very low 
+and gently, ^^ He is wrong not to come to-day, since I am going 
+away to-moiTow." 
+
+Sister Simplice herself was surprised at M. Madeleine's delay. 
+
+In the meantime, Fantine was staring at the tester of her 
+bed. S lie seemed to be endeavoring to recall something. All 
+at once she began to sing in a voice as feeble as a breath. The 
+nun listened. This is what Fantine was singing : — 
+
+" Lovely things we will buy 
+As we stroll the faubourgs through. 
+Roses are pink, corn-flowers are blue, 
+I love my love, corn-flowers are blue. 
+
+'' Yestere'en the Virgin Mary came near my stove, in abroid- 
+erod mantle clad, and said to me, ^ Here, hide *neath my veil 
+the child whom you one day begged from me. Haste to the 
+city, buy linen, buy a needle, buy thread.* 
+
+" Lovely things we will buy 
+As we stroll the faubourgs through. 
+
+"Dear Holy Virgin, beside my stove I have set a cradle with 
+anbhons decked. God may give me his loveliest star ; I prefer 
+the child thou hast granted me. ' Madame, what shall I do 
+with this linen fine?' — ' Make of it clothes for thy new-born 
+babe.' 
+
+" Hoses are pink and corn-flowers are blue, 
+I love my love, and corn-flowers are blue. 
+
+" * Wash this linen.' — ' Where ? ' — 'In the stream. Make 
+of it, soiling not, spoiling not, a petticoat fair with its bodies 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTrNK 241 
+
+fine, which I will embroider and fill with flowers.' — ^Madame, 
+the child is no longer hero; what is to be done?' — ^Then make 
+of it a winding-sheet in which to bury me.' 
+
+■" Lovely things we will buy 
+As we stroll the faubourgs through, 
+Roses are pink, coni-flowers are blue, 
+I love my love, coni-flowers are blue." 
+
+This song was an old cradle romance with which she had, in 
+/orraer days, lulled her little Cosette to sleep, and which bad 
+never recurred to her mind in all the five years during which 
+she luid l)een parted from her cUild. She sang it in so sad a 
+voice, and to so sweet an air, tliat it was enough to make any 
+one. even a nun, weep. The sister, accustomed as she was to 
+austerities, felt a tear spring to her eyes. 
+
+The clock struck six. Fantine did not seem to hear it. She 
+Qo longer seemed to pay attention to anything about her. 
+
+Sister Simplice sent a serving-maid to inquire of the portress 
+ot the factory, whether the mayor had returned, and if he 
+would not come to the infirmary soon. The girl returned in a 
+few minutes. 
+
+Fantine was still motionless and seemed absorbed in her own 
+thoughts. 
+
+The servant informed Sister Simplice in a very low tone, that 
+the mayor had set out that morning before six o'clock, in a 
+little tilbury harnessed to a white horse, cold as the weather 
+was ; that he had gone alone, without even a driver ; that no one 
+knew what road he had taken ; that people said he had been 
+seen to turn into tlie road to Arras ; that others asserted that 
+they had met him on the road to Paris. That when he went 
+away he had been very gentle, as usual, and tliat he had merel}' 
+told the portress not to expect him that night. 
+
+While the two women were whispering together, with their 
+^aeks turned to Fantine's bed, the sister interrogating, the ser- 
+vant conjecturing, Fantine, with the feverish vivacity of certain 
+Jigaiiic maladies, which unite the free niovonients of health 
+with the frightful emaciation of death, had raised luuself to her 
+^nees in bed, with her shrivelled hands resting on the bolster, 
+and her head thrust through the opening of the curtains, and 
+was listening. All at once she cried : — 
+
+" You are speaking of M. Madeline ! Why are you talking 
+50 low? What is he doing? Wliy does he not come ? " 
+
+Her voice was so abrupt and hoarse that the two women 
+thought thcj heard the voice of a man ; thej' wheeled round in 
+affright. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+842 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+" Answer me ! " cried Fantînç. 
+
+The servant stammered : — 
+
+" The portress told me that he could not come to-day/* 
+
+*' Be calm, my child," said the sister ; *Mie down again." 
+
+Fantine, without changii^ her attitude, continued in a lone 
+voice, and with an accent that was both imperious and heart 
+rending : — 
+
+" He cannot come? Whs^ not? You know the reason. You 
+are whispering it to each other there. I want to know it." 
+
+The servant-maid hastened to say in the nun's ear, *' Say that 
+he is busy with the city couneil." 
+
+Sister Simplice bhished faintly, for it was a lie that the maid 
+had proposed to her. 
+
+On the other hand, it seemed to her that the mere com muni- 
+cation of the truth to the invalid would, without doubt, deal her 
+a terrible blow, and that this was a serious matter in Fantine'a 
+present state. Her flush did not last long ; the sister raised her 
+calm, sad eyes to Fantine, and said, ^^ Monster le Maire hai» 
+gone away." 
+
+Fantine raised herself and crouched on her heels in the bed ; 
+her eyes sparkled ; indescribable joy beamed from that melan* 
+*.holy face. 
+
+*' Gone ! " she cried ; ''he has gone to get Cosette.** 
+
+Then she raised her arms to heaven, and her white face be* 
+rame ineffable ; her lips moved ; she was praying in a low 
+roice- 
+
+When her prayer was finished, " Sister," she said, ** I am 
+willing to lie down again ; I will do anything you wish ; I was 
+naughty just now ; I beg your pardon for having spoken so 
+loud ; it is very wrong to talk loudly ; I know that well, my 
+good sister, but, you see, I am very happy : the good Go<l is 
+good ; M. Madeleine is good ; just think ! he has gone to Mont- 
+fermeil to get my little Cosette." 
+
+She lay down again, with the nun's assistance, helped the 
+nun to arrange her pillow, and kissed the little silver cross 
+which she wore on her neck, and which Sister Simplice had 
+given her. 
+
+" My child," said the sister, '* try to rest now, and do not talk 
+any more." 
+
+Fantine took the sister's hand in her moist bands, and the 
+latter was pained to feel that perspiration. 
+
+" He set out this morning for Paris ; in fact, he need not 
+even go through Paris ; Montfermeil is a little to the left as you 
+come thence. Do you remember how he said to me yesterday. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+PANTINS. 243 
+
+when I spoke to him of Ck>sette, 8oon^ soonf He wants to 
+give me a suiprise, 3'ou know ! be made me siga a letter so thai 
+she coald be taken from the Thénardîers ; they cannot say any- 
+thing, can they? they will give back Cosette, for they have 
+been paid ; the authorities will not allow them to keep the child 
+since they have received their pay. Do not make signs to me 
+that I must not talk, sister ! I am extremely happy ; I am doing 
+well ; I am not ill at all any more ; I am going to see Cosette 
+again ; I am even quite hungry ; it is nearly five yeare since I 
+8aw her last ; you cannot imagine how much attached one gets 
+to children, and then, she will be so pretty ; you will see I If 
+you only knew what pretty little rosy fingers she had! In 
+the first place, she will have very beautiful hands; she had 
+ridiculous hands when she was only a year old ; like this ! she 
+mast be a big girl now ; she is seven years old ; she is quite a 
+youDg lady ; I call her Cosette, but her name is really Euphrasie. 
+Stop ! this morning I was looking at the dust on the chimney- 
+piece, and I had a sort of idea come across me, like that, that 
+I should see Cosette fCgain soon. Mon Dieu ! how wrong it is 
+not to see one's children for years ! One ought to reflect that 
+life is not eternal. Oh, how good M. le Maire is to go ! it is 
+very cold ! it is true ; he had on his cloak, at least? he will be 
+here to-moiTOw, will he not? to-morrow will be a festival day; 
+to-morrow morning, sister, you must remind me to put on my 
+little cap that has lace on it. What a place that Montf ermeil is ! 
+I took that journey on foot once ; it was very long for me, but 
+the diligences go very quickly ! he will be here to-morrow with 
+Cosette : how far is it from here to Montf ermeil ? " 
+
+The sister, who had no idea of distances, replied, '' Oh, J 
+think that he will be here to-morrow." 
+
+" To-morrow ! to-morrow ! " said Fantine, " I shall see Co* 
+«ette to-morrow ! you see, good sister of the good God, that I 
+im no longer ill ; I am mad ; I could dance if any one wished it." 
+
+A person who had seen her a quarter of an hour previously 
+would not have understood the change ; she was all rosy now : 
+she spoke in a lively and natural voice ; her whole face was one 
+smile; now and then she talked, she laughed softly; the joy 
+of a mother is almost infantile. 
+
+"Well," resumed the nun, " now that you are happy, mind 
+me, and do not talk any more." 
+
+Fantine laid her head on her pillow and said in a low voice : 
+'* Yes, lie down again ; be good, for you are going to have youf 
+c-hild; Sister Simplice is right; every otie here is right." 
+
+And then, without stirring, without even moving her headi 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+
+244 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Bhe began to stare all about her with wide-open eyes and a Joy 
+ous air, and she said nothing more. 
+
+The sister drew the curtains together again, hoping that she 
+would fall into a doze. Between seven and eight o'clock the 
+doctor came ; not hearing any sound, he thought Fantine was 
+asleep, entered softly, and approached the bed on tiptoe; he 
+opened the curtains a little, and, by the light of the taper, he 
+saw Fantine's big eyes gazing at him. 
+
+She said to him, '' She will be allowed to sleep beside me it 
+a little bed, will she not, sir?" 
+
+The doctor thought that she was delirious. She added : — 
+
+" See ! there is just room.** 
+
+The doctor took Sister Simplice aside, and she explained 
+matters to him ; that M. Madeleine was absent for a day or 
+two, and that in their doubt they had not thought it well to 
+undeceive the invalid, who believed that the mayor had gone 
+to Montfermeil ; that it was possible, after all, that her guess 
+was correct : the doctor approved. 
+
+He returned to Fantine's bed, and she went on : — 
+
+" You see, when she wakes up in the morning, I shall be able 
+to say good morning to her, poor kitten, and when I cannot 
+sleep at night, I can hear her asleep ; her little gentle breathing 
+will do me good." 
+
+"Give me youi* hand," said the doctor. 
+
+She stretched out her arm, and exclaimed with a laugh: — 
+
+"Ah, hold! in truth, 3 ou did not know it; I am cured; 
+Cosette will arrive to-morrow." 
+
+The doctor was surprised; she was better; the pressure on 
+her chest had decreased ; her pulse had regained its strength ; 
+a sort of life had suddenly supervened and reanimated this 
+poor, worn-out creature. 
+
+" Doctor," she went on, "did the sister tell you that M. k 
+Maire has gone to get that mite of a child?" 
+
+The doctor recommended silence, and that all painful emo 
+tions should be avoided ; he prescribed an infusion of pure chin 
+chona, and, in case the fever should increase again during the 
+night, a calming potion. As he took his departure, he said to 
+the sister : — 
+
+"She is doing better; if good luck willed that the mayor 
+should actually arrive to-morrow with the child, who knows? 
+there are crises so astounding ; great joy has been known to 
+arrest maladies ; I know well that this is an organic disease, 
+and in an advanced state, but all those things are such mya 
+ieries : we may be able to save her.** 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+CANTINE. 245 
+
+
+
+fU^ — Tte Tbatbixer on his Arrival takes Frbcao- 
+noNs FOR Departure. 
+
+It waA nearly eight o'clock in the evening when the cart. 
+which we left on the road, entered the porte-coclièrc of ttie 
+Hotel de la Poste in Arras ; the man whom we have been fol- 
+lowing ap to this moment alighted from it, responded with an 
+abstracted air to the attentions of the people of tlie inn, sent 
+back the extra horse, and with his own hands led the little 
+white horse to the stable ; then he opened the door of a billiard- 
+room which was situated on the ground floor, sat down there, 
+and leaned his elbows on a table ; he had taken fourteen hours 
+for the journey which he had counted on making in six ; he did 
+himself the justice to acknowledge that it was not his fault, but 
+at bottom, he was not sorry. 
+
+The landlady of the hotel entered. 
+
+**Doe8 Monsieur wish a bed? Does Monsieur require sup- 
+per?- 
+
+He made a sign of the head in the negative. 
+
+*^The stableman says that Monsieur's horse is extremely 
+fatigued.'' 
+
+Here he broke his silence. 
+
+** Will not the horse be in a condition to set out i^ain to 
+morrow morning?" 
+
+^^Ohy Monsieur ! he must rest for two days at least*" 
+
+He inquired: — 
+
+**I8 not the posting-station located here?" 
+
+"Yes, sir." 
+
+The hostess conducted him to the office ; he showed his pass- 
+port, and inquired whether there was any way of returning that 
+same night to M. sur M. by the mail-wagon ; the scat beside 
+the post-boy chanced to be vacant ; he engaged it and paid foi 
+it. ** Monsieur," said the clerk, '' do not fail to be here ready 
+t€ start H precisely one o'clock in the morning." 
+
+This done, he left the hotel and began to wander about the 
+town. 
+
+He was not acquainted with Arras ; the streets were dark, and 
+he walked on at random ; but he seemed bent upon not asking 
+Ifae way of the passers-by. He crossed the little river Crinchon, 
+and found himself in a labyrinth of narrow alleys where he lost 
+his way. A citizen was passing: along with a lantern. Aftef 
+tome hesitation, he decided to apply to this man, not without 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+246 I^S MISÉRABLES, 
+
+having first glanced behind and in firont of him, as thoi^b he 
+feared lest some one should hear the qncstion which he was 
+about to put. 
+
+'•Monsieur/* said he, "where is the court-liouse, if yoa 
+please?" 
+
+*'You do not belong in town, sir?" replied the bourgeois, 
+who was an oldish man; ''well, follow me. I happen to be 
+going in the direction of the court-house, that is to say, in the 
+direction of the hotel of the prefecture ; for the court-house is 
+undergoing repairs just at this moment, and the courts are hold- 
+ing tlieir sittings provisionally in the prefecture." 
+
+" Is it there that the Assizes are held? " he asked. 
+
+"Certainly, sir; you see, the prefecture of to-day was the 
+bishop's palace before the Revolution. M. de Conzié, who 
+was bishop in '82, built a grand hall there. It is in this grand 
+ball that the court is held.*' 
+
+On the way, the bourgeois said to him : — 
+
+" If Monsieur desires to witness a case, it is rather late. 
+The sittings generally close at six o'clock." 
+
+When they arrived on the grand square, however, the man 
+pointed out to him four long windows all lighted up, in the 
+front of a vast and gloomy building. 
+
+" Upon my word, sir, you are in luck ; you have arrived in 
+season. Do you see those four windows? That is the Court 
+of Assizes. There is light there, so they are not through. The 
+matter must have been greatly protracted, and they are holding 
+an evening session. Do you take an interest in this affair? Is 
+it a criminal case? Are you a witness?" 
+
+He replied : — 
+
+" I have not come on any business ; I only wish to speak to 
+one of the law3*ers." 
+
+" That is different," said the bourgeois. " Stop, sir; here is 
+the door wliere the sentry stands. You have only to ascend 
+the grand staircase." 
+
+He conformed to the bourgeois's directions, and a few minutes 
+later he was in a hall containing many people, and wlicre groups, 
+intermingled with lawyers in their gowns, were whispering to- 
+gether here and there. 
+
+It is always a heart-breaking thing to see these congregations 
+of men robed in black, murmuring t<^ether in low voices, on 
+the threshold of the halls of justice. It is rare that charity and 
+pity are the outcome of these words. Condemnations* pro- 
+nounced in advance are more likely to be the result. All these 
+groups seem to the passing and thoughtful observer so manj 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 247 
+
+lombre bives where buzzing spirits construct in concert aS 
+Borts of dark edifices. 
+
+This spacious hall, illuminated by a single lamp, was the old 
+hall of the episcopal palace, and served as the lai^e hall of the 
+palace of justice. A double-leaved door, which was closed at 
+that moment, separated it from the large apartment where the 
+court was sitting. 
+
+The obscurity was such that he did not fear to accost the 
+first lawyer whom he met. 
+
+*^ What stage have they reached, sir?*' he asked. 
+
+^^ It is finished," said tibe lawver. 
+
+"Finished!'' 
+
+This word was repeated in such accents that the lawyer tamed 
+round. 
+
+" Excuse me, sir ; perhaps you are a relative? " 
+
+"No; I know no one here. Has judgment b^n pro- 
+nounced?" 
+
+" Of coarse. Nothing else was possible.'' 
+
+** To penal servitude ? " 
+
+"For life." 
+
+He continued, in a voice so weak that it wag barely audi- 
+ble; - 
+
+" Then his identity was established? " 
+
+"What identity?" replied the lawyer. ** There was no 
+identity to be established. The matter was very simple. The 
+woman had murdered her child ; the infanticide was proved ; the 
+jury threw out the question of premeditation, and she was con- 
+demned for life." 
+
+" So it was a woman? " said he. 
+
+" Why, certainly. The limosin woman. Of what are yon 
+speaking?" 
+
+"Notiiing. But since it is all over, how comes it that the 
+baU is still lighted?" 
+
+" For another case, which was begun about two hours ago." 
+
+"What other case?" 
+
+" Oh ! this one is a clear case also. It is about a sort of 
+blackguard ; a man arrested for a second ofifencc ; a convict 
+who has been guilty of theft. I don't know his name exactly. 
+There's a bandit* s phiz for you ! I'd send him to the galleys 
+on the strength of his face alone." 
+
+"Is there any way of getting into the court-room, sir?" 
+Baid he. 
+
+" I reality think that there is not. There is a great crowd. 
+However, the hearing has been suspended. Some people hav^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+148 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+gone out, and when the hearing is resumed, you might mak« 
+
+an effort." 
+
+'* Where is the entrance?" 
+
+" Through yonder large door." 
+
+The lawyer left him. In the course of a few moments he 
+had experienced, almost simultaneously, almost intermingled 
+with each other, all possible emotions. The words of this in- 
+different spectator had, in turn, pierced his heart like needles of 
+ice and liko blades of fire. When he saw that nothing was 
+settled, he breathed freely once more ; but he could not ha?e 
+told whether what he felt was pain or pleasure. 
+
+He drew near to many groups and listened to what they were 
+saying. The docket of the session was very heavy ; the presi- 
+dent had appointed for tlie same day two short and simple cases. 
+They had begun with the infanticide, and now they had reached 
+the coqvict, the old offender, the " return horse." This man 
+had stolen apples, but that did not appear to be entirely proved ; 
+what had been proved was, that he had already been in the 
+galleys at Toulon. It was that which lent a bad aspect to his 
+case. However, the man's examination and the de[X>sitions of 
+the witnesses had been completed, but the lawyer's plea, and 
+the speech of the public prosecutor were still to come ; it could 
+not be finished before midnight. The man would probably be 
+condemned ; the attorney- general was very clever, and never 
+missed tiis culprits ; he was a brilliant fellow who wrote verses. 
+
+An usher stood at the door communicating with the ball of 
+the Assizes. He inquired of this usher : — 
+
+" Will the door be opened soon, sir? " 
+
+" It will not be opened at all," replied the usher. 
+
+" What I It will not be opened when the hearing is resumed? 
+Is not the hearing suspended ? " 
+
+'* The hearing has just been begun again," replied the usher, 
+*' but the door will not be opened again." 
+
+'*Why?" 
+
+" Because the hall is full." 
+
+*' What ! There is not room for one more? " 
+
+*^ Not another one. The door is closed. No one can enter 
+now." 
+
+The usher added after a pause: "There are, to tell the 
+truth, two or three extra places behind Monsieur le Président, 
+but Monsieur le Président only admits public functionaries to 
+them." 
+
+So saying, the usher turned his back. 
+
+He retired with bowed head, traversed the antechamber, and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+JtfANTlNE 249 
+
+slowly descended the stairs, as though hesitating at every step. 
+It is probable that he was holding counsel with himself. The 
+violent conflict which had been going on within him since the 
+preceding evening was not yet ended ; and every moment he 
+«Dcoantered some new phase of it. On reaching the landing- 
+place, he leaned his back against the balusters and folded his 
+arms. All at once he opened his coat, drew out his pocket* 
+book, took from it a pencil, tore out a leaf, and upon that leaf 
+he wrote rapidly, by the light of the street lantern this line : 
+M, Madeleine^ Mayor of M. sur M,; then he ascended the 
+stairs once more with great strides, made his way through the 
+erowd, walked straight up to the usher, handed him the paper, 
+and said in an authoritative manner : — 
+
+" Take this to Monsieur le Président.** 
+
+The usher took the paper, cast a glance upon it, and obeyed. 
+
+
+
+Vni. — An Entrance by Favor. 
+
+Although he did not suspect the fact, the mayor of M. sur 
+M. enjoyed a sort of celebrity. For the space of seven years 
+his reputation for virtue had filled the whole of Bas Boulonnais ; 
+it had eventually passed the confines of a small district and had 
+been spread abroad through two or three neighboring depart- 
+ments. Besides the service which he had rendered to the chief 
+town b}' resuscitating the black jet industry, there was not one 
+out of the hundred and forty communes of the arrondissenient 
+of M. sur M. which was not indebted to him for some benefit. 
+Ho had even at need contrived to aid and multiply the indus- 
+tries of other arrondissements. It was thus that he had, when 
+occasion offered, supported with his credit and his funds the 
+Unen factory at Boulogne, the flax-spinning industry at Fré- 
+vent, and the hydraulic manufacture of cloth at Boubers-sur- 
+Canche. Everywhere the name of M. Madeleine was pro- 
+nounced with veneration. Arras and Douai envied the happy 
+little town of M. sur M. its mayor. 
+
+The Councillor of the Royal Court of Douai, who was presid 
+log over this session of the Assizes at Arras, was acquainted . 
+in c*ommon with the rest of the world, with this name which waj 
+so profoundly and universally honored. When the usher, dis- 
+creetly opening the door which connected the council-chamber 
+with the court-room, bent over the back of the .Pi-esident's arm- 
+chair and handed him the paper on which was inscribed the line 
+which we have just perased, adding : ^' The genUeman desires to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+250 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+be present at the trioU^'* the PreBident, with a quick and defer 
+ential movemeDt, seized a pen and wrote a few words at th« 
+bottom of the paper and returned it to the usher, saying, ^^Ad- 
+mit him." 
+
+The unhappy man whose history we are relating had re- 
+mained near the door of the hall, in the same place and the 
+same attitude in which the usher had left him. In the midst of 
+his revery he heard some one saying to him, "Will Monsieur 
+do me the honor to follow me?" It was the same usher who had 
+turned his back upon him but a moment previousU', and who 
+was now bowing to the earth before him. At the same time, 
+the usher handed him the paper. He unfolded it, and as he 
+chanced to be near the light, he could read it. 
+
+'' The President of the Court of Assizes presents his respects 
+to M. Madeleine." 
+
+He crushed the paper in his hand as though those words con* 
+tained for him a strange and bitter aftertaste. 
+
+He followed the usher. 
+
+A few minutes later he found himself alone in a sort of wain* 
+Bcoted cabinet of severe aspect, lighted by two wax candles, 
+placed upon -a table with a green cloth. The last words of the 
+usher who had just quitted him still rang in his ears: ^^ Mon- 
+sieur, you are now in the council -chamber ; you have only to 
+turn the copper handle of yonder door, and you will find your- 
+self in the court-room, behind the President's chair." These 
+words were mingled in his thoughts witli a vague memory of 
+naiTOw corridors and dark staircases which he had recently 
+traversed. 
+
+The usher had left him alone. The supreme moment had 
+arrived. He sought to collect his faculties, but could not. It 
+is chiefly at the moment when there is the greatest need for at- 
+taching them to the painful realities of life, that the threads of 
+thought snap within the brain. He was in the very place where 
+the judges deliberated and condemned. With stupid tranquillitv 
+he surveyed this peaceful and terrible apartment, where bo 
+many lives had been broken, which was soon to nng with hia 
+name, and which his fate was at that moment traversing. He 
+stared at the wall, then he looked at himself, wondering that it 
+ohould be that chamber and that it should be he. 
+
+He had eaten nothing for four and twenty hours; he whs 
+worn out by the jolts of the cart, but he was not conscious of it. 
+It seemed to him that he felt nothing. 
+
+He at)proached a black frame which was suspended on the 
+wall, and which contained, under glass, an ancient autogrmpli 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 261 
+
+letter of Jean Nicolas Pache, maj-or of Paris and minister, and 
+dated, through an error, no doubt, the dth of June^ of the year 
+II., and in which Pache forwarded to the commune the list of 
+ministers and deputies held in arrest by them. Any spectator 
+who had chanced to see him at that moment, and who had 
+watched him, would have imagined, doubtless, that this letter 
+âtruck him as vei'y curious, for he did not take his eyes from it, 
+and he read it two or three times. He read it without paying 
+^y attention to it, and unconsciously. He was thinking of 
+Fantine and Cosette. 
+
+As he dreamed, he turned round, and his eyes fell upon the 
+brass knob of the door which separated him from the Court of 
+Assizes. He had almost forgotten that door. His glance, 
+calm at first, paused there, remained fixed on that brass handle, 
+then grew terrified, and little by little became impregnated with 
+fear. Beads of perspiration burst forth among his hair and 
+trickled down upon his temples. 
+
+At a certain moment he made that indescribable gesture of a 
+sort of authority mingled with rebellion, which is intended to 
+convey, and which does so well convey, " Fardieu! who com- 
+pels we to this?** Then he wheeled briskly round, caught sight 
+of the door through which he had entered in front of him, went 
+to it, opened it, and passed out. He was no longer in that 
+chamber ; he was outside in a corridor, a long, narrow corridor, 
+broken by steps and gratings, making all sorts of angles, lighted 
+here and there by lanterns similar to the niglit taper of invalids, 
+the corridor through which he had approached. He breathed, 
+he listened ; not a sound in front, not a sound behind him, and 
+he fled as though pursued. 
+
+When he had turned many angles in this corridor, he still 
+listened. The same silence reigned, and there was the same 
+darkness around him. He was out of breath ; he staggered ; 
+be leaned against the wall. The stone was cold ; the perspira- 
+tion lay ice-cold on his brow ; he straightened himself up with a 
+«hiver. 
+
+Then, there alone in the darkness, trembling with cold and 
+with something else, too, perchance, he meditated. 
+
+He had meditated all night long ; he had meditated all the 
+day: he heai*d within him but one voice, which said, *' Alas ! " 
+
+A quarter of an hour passed thus. At length he bowed his 
+head, sighed with agony, dropped his arms, and retraced his 
+steps. He walked slowly, and as though crushed. It seemed 
+as though some one had overtaken him in his flight and was 
+leading him back. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+252 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+He re-entered the council-chamber. The first thing h« 
+caught sight of was the knob of the door. Tliis knob, whidi 
+was round and of polished brass, shone like a terrible star for 
+him. He gazed at it as a lamb might gaze into the eye of a 
+tiger. 
+
+He could not take his eyes from it. From time to time he 
+advanced a step and approached the door. 
+
+Had he listened, he would have heard the sound of the adjoin- 
+ing hall like a sort of confused murmur \ but he did not listen, 
+and he did not hear. 
+
+Suddenly, without himself knowing how it happened, ha 
+found himself near the door ; he grasped the knob convulsively ; 
+the door opened. 
+
+He was in the court-room. 
+
+
+
+IX. — A Place where Contictions abe in Pbocess op For- 
+mation. 
+
+He advanced a pace, closed the door mechanically l)ehind 
+him, and remained standing, contemplating what he saw. 
+
+It was a vast and badly lighted apartment, now full of up- 
+roar, now full of silence, where all the apparatus of a criminal 
+case, with its petty and mournful gravity in the midst of the 
+throng, was in process of development. 
+
+At the one end of the hall, the one where he was, were 
+judges, with abstracted air, in threadbare robes, who were gnaw- 
+ing their nails or closing their eyelids; at the other end, a 
+ragged crowd ; lawyers in all sorts of attitudes ; soldiers with 
+hard but honest faces ; ancient, spotted woodwork, a dirty ceil- 
+ing, tables covered with serge that was yellow rather than green ; 
+doors blackened by handmarks ; tap-room lamps which emitted 
+more smoke than light, suspended from nails in the wainscot ; 
+on the tables candles in brass candlesticks ; darkness, ugliness, 
+sadness ; and from all this there was disengaged an austere 
+and august impression, for one there felt that grand hnisan 
+thing which is called the law, and that grand divine thing which 
+is called justice. 
+
+No one in all that throng paid any attention to him ; all 
+glances were directed towards a single point, a wooden bench 
+placed against a small door, in the stretch of wall on the Presi- 
+dent's left ; on this bench, illuminated by several candles, sat r 
+man between two gendarmes. 
+
+This man was the man. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+FANTINE. 258 
+
+He did not seek bim ; he saw him ; his eyes went thither 
+latHrally, as though they had known beforehand where that fig- 
+ure was. 
+
+He thought he was looking at himself, grown old ; not abso- 
+Ijtely the same in face, of course, but exactly similar in atti- 
+tude and aspect, with his bristling hair, with that wild and un- 
+easy eye, with that blouse, just as it was on the 'day when he 
+entered £>., full of hatred, concealing his soul in that hideous 
+mass of frightful thoughts which he had spent nineteen years 
+in collecting on the floor of the prison. 
+
+He said to himself with a shudder, *' Good God ! shall I be- 
+come like that again ? " 
+
+This creature seemed to be at least sixty ; there was some- 
+thing indescribably coarse, stupid, and frightened about him. 
+
+At the sound made by the opening door, people had drawn 
+t^ide to make way for him ; the President had turned his head, 
+i.nd, understanding that the personage who had just entered 
+was the mayor of M. sur M., he had bowed to him ; the attor- 
+ney-general, who had seen M. Madeleine at M. sur M., whither 
+the duties of his office had called him more tlian once, recog- 
+nized him and saluted him also : he had hardly perceived it ; he 
+was the victim of a sort of hallucination ; he was watching. 
+
+Judges, clerks, gendarmes, a throng of cruelly curious heads, 
+ull these he had already beheld once, in days gone by, twenty- 
+i«ven years before ; he had encountered those fatal things once 
+more ; there thej' were ; they moved ; they existed ; it was no 
+longer an effort of his memory, a mirage of his thought ; they 
+were real gendarmes and real judges, a real crowd, and reai 
+men of flesh and blood : it was all over ; he beheld the mon- 
+strous aspects of his past reappear and live once more around 
+him, with all that there is formidable in reality. 
+
+All this was yawning before him. 
+
+He was hon-ified by it ; he shut his eyes, and exclaimed in 
+he deepest recesses of his soul, " Never ! " 
+
+And by a tragic play of destiny which made all his ideas 
+tremble, and rendered him nearly mad, it was another self of 
+his that was there ! all called that man who was being tried 
+Jean Valjean. 
+
+Under his very eyes, unheard-of vision, he had a sort of rep- 
+ipsentation of the most horrible moment of his life, enacted by 
+his spectre. 
+
+Everything was there ; the apparatus was the same, the hour 
+of the night, the faces of the judges, of soldiers, and of spec- 
+tators ; all were the same, only above the President's head there 
+
+
+
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+
+254 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+hung a crucifix, something which the courts had lacked at th^ 
+time of his condemnation : God had been absent when he had 
+been judged. 
+
+There was a chair behind him ; he dropped into it, terrified 
+at the thought that he might be seen ; when he was seated, he 
+took advantage of a pile of cardboaid boxes, which stood on 
+the judge's desk, to conceal his face from the whole room ; he 
+could now see without being seen ; he had fully regained con- 
+sciousness of the reality of things ; gradually he recovered ; he 
+attained that phase of composure where it is possible to listen. 
+
+M. Bamatabois was one of the jurors. 
+
+He looked for Javert, but did not see him ; the seat of the 
+witnesses was hidden from him by the clerk's table, and then, 
+as we have just said, the hall was sparely lighted. 
+
+At the moment of this entrance, the defendant's lawyer had 
+just finished his plea. 
+
+The attention of all was excited to the highest pitch ; the 
+affair had lasted for three hours : for three hours that crowd 
+had been watching a strange man, a miserable specimen of 
+humanity, either profoundly stupid or profoundly subtle, grad- 
+ually bending beneath the weiglit of a terrible likeness. This 
+man, as the reader already knows, was a vagal)ond who had 
+been found in a field carrying a branch laden with ripe apples, 
+broken in the orchard of a neighbor, called the Pierron orchard. 
+Who was this man ? an examination had been made ; witnesses 
+had been heard, and they were unanimous ; light had abounded 
+throughout the entire debate ; the accusation said : " We have 
+in our grasp not only a marauder, a stealer of fruit ; we have 
+here, in our hands, a bandit, an old offender who has broken 
+his ban, an ex-convict, a miscreant of the most dangerous de- 
+scription, a malefactor named Jean Val jean, whom justice has 
+long been in search of, and who, eight yeara ago, on emerging 
+from the galleys at Toulon, committed a highway robbery, ac- 
+companied by violence, on the person of a child, a Savoy ai-d 
+named Little Gervais ; a crime provided for by article 383 of 
+the Penal Code, the right to try him for which we reserve here- 
+after, when his identity shall have been judicially established. 
+He has just committed a fresli theft ; it is a case of a second 
+offence ; condemn him for the fresh deed ; later on he will be 
+judged for the old crime." In the face of this accusation, in 
+the face of the unanimity of the witnesses, the accused appeared 
+to be astonished more than anything else ; he made signs ami 
+gestures which were meant to convey No, or else he stai'^d at 
+Uie ceiling : he spoke with difificulty, replied with embarrassment. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+FA NT I NE. 25a 
+
+0ut his whole person, from head to foot, was a denial ; he was an 
+idiot in the presence of all these minds ranged in order of bat- 
+tle around him, and like a stranger in the midst of this societj^ 
+which was seizing fast upon him ; nevertheless, it was a ques- 
+tion of the most menacing future for him ; the likeness increased 
+every moment, and the entire crowd surveyed, with more anx- 
+iety than he did himself, that sentence freighted with calamity, 
+which descended ever closer over his head ; there was even a 
+glimpse of a possibility afforded ; besides the galleys, a possi- 
+ble death penal t}', in case his identity were established, and the 
+affair of Little Gervais were to end thereafter in condemnation. 
+Who was this man? what was the nature of his apathy? was 
+it imbecility or craft? Did he understand too well, or did he 
+not anderstand at all? these were questions which divided. the 
+crowd, and seemed to divide the jury ; there was something 
+both terrible and puzzling in this case : the drama was not only 
+melancholy ; it was also ol)scure. 
+
+The counsel for the defence had spoken tolerably well, in that 
+provincial tongue which has long constituted the eloquence of 
+the bar, and which was formerly employed by all advocates, at 
+Paris as well as at Romorantin or at Montbrison, and which to- 
+day, having become classic, is no longer spoken except by the 
+official orators of magistracy, to whom it is suited on account 
+of its grave sonorousness and its majestic stride ; a tongue in 
+which a husband is called a consort^ and a woman a spouse; 
+Paris, t?ie centre of art and civllizaJtion; the king, the monarch; 
+Monseigneur the Bishop, a sainted pontiff; the district-attorney, 
+the eloquent interpreter of public prosecution; the arguments, 
+thje accents which we have just listened to; the age of Louis 
+XIV., t?ie grand age ; a theatre, the temple of Melpomeiie ; the 
+reigning family, the august blood of our kings; a concert, a 
+musical solemnity; the General Commandant of the province, 
+the illustrious warrior^ who, etc.; the pupils in the seminary, 
+these tender lévites; errors imputed to newspapers, the impos 
+ture which distills its venom through the columns of those organs; 
+etc. The lawyer had, accordingly, begun with an explanation 
+as to the theft of the apples, — an awkward matter couched in 
+fine style ; but Bénigne Bossuct himself was obliged to allude 
+to a chicken in the midst of a funeral oration, and he extricated 
+himself from the situation in stately fashion. The lawyer es- 
+tablished the fact that the theft of the apples had not been cir- 
+cumstantially proved. His client, whom he, in his character of 
+counsel, persisted in calling Champmathieu, had not been seen 
+sealing that wall nor breaking that branch by any one. He 
+
+
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+256 t.ES AflSERABLES. 
+
+bad been taken with that branch (whioh the lawyer preferred ta 
+call a bough) in his possession ; but he said that he had found 
+it broken off and lying on the ground, and had picked it up. 
+Where was there any proof to the contrary ? No doubt that 
+branch had been broken off and concealed after the scaling of the 
+wall, then thrown away by the alarmed marauder; there was 
+SÏO doubt that there had been a thief in the case. But what 
+«oroof was there that that thief had been Champmathieu ? Ono. 
+thing only. His character as an ex-convict. Tlie lawyer did 
+not deny that that character appeared to be, nnhappily, well 
+attested; the accused had resided at Faverolles; the accused 
+Sad exercised the calling of a tree-pruner there ; the name of 
+Champmathieu might well have had its origin in Jean Mathieu ; 
+*ll that was true, — in short, four witnesses recognize Champ* 
+raathieu, positively and without hesitation, as that convict, 
+Jean Val jean ; to these signs, to this testimony, the counsel 
+could oppose nothing but the denial of his client, the denial of 
+an interested party; but supposing that he was the convict 
+Jean Valjean, did that prove that he was the thief of the apples ; 
+that was a presumption at the most, not a proof. The prisoner, 
+it was true, and his counsel, ''in good faith," was obliged tf 
+admit it, had adopted '' a bad system of defence." He obsti 
+nately denied everything, the theft and his character of con- 
+vict. An admission upon this last [X)int would certainly havo 
+been better, and would have won for him the indulgence of his 
+judges ; the counsel had advised him to do this ; but the accused 
+had obstinately refused, thinking, no doubt, that he would save 
+everything by admitting nothing. It was an error ; but ought 
+not the paucity of this intelligence to be taken into considera- 
+tion ? This man was visibly stupid. Long-continued wretched- 
+ness in the galleys, long misery outside the galleys, had brutalized 
+him, etc. He defended himself badly ; was that a reason for 
+condemning him? As for the affair with Little Gervais, the 
+counsel need not discuss it; it did not enter into the ease. 
+The lawyer wound up by beseeching the jury and the court, if 
+the identity of Jean Valjean appeared to them to be evident, 
+to apply to him the police penalties which are provided for a 
+criminal who has broken his ban, and not the frightful chastise- 
+ment which descends upon the convict guilty of a second offence. 
+
+The district-attorney answered tlie counsel for the defence. 
+He was violent and florid, as district-attorneys usually are. 
+
+He congratulated the counsel for the defence on his " loyalty, *• 
+and skilfully took advantage of this loyalty. He reached th« 
+•ceased through all the concessions made by his lawyer. The 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+FANTTNB. «57 
+
+advocate had Beemod t<> admit that the prisoner was Jean Val 
+jean. He took note of this. So this man ^as Jean Vaijean. 
+This point had been conceded to the accusation and could no 
+.oiiger be disputed. Here, by means of a clever autcmoraasia 
+which went bacic to the sources and causes of crime, the dis- 
+trict-attorney thundered against the immorality of the romantic 
+school, then dawning under the name of the Satanic school^ 
+which had been bestowed upon it by the critics of the Quotidienne 
+and the Oriflamme; he attributed, not without some probability, 
+to the influence of this perverse literature the crime of Champ- 
+mathieu, or rather, to speak more correctly, of Jean Vaijean. 
+Having exhausted these considerations, he passed on to Jean Vai- 
+jean himself. Who was this Jean Vaijean ? Description of Jean 
+Vaijean : a monster spewed forth, etc. The model for this sort 
+of description is contained in the tale of Théramène, which is not 
+useful to tragedy, but which every day renders great services to 
+judicial eloquence. The audience and the jury '' shuddered." 
+The description finished, the district-attorney resumed with an 
+aratorical turn calculated to raise the enthusiasm of the journal 
+of the prefecture to the highest pitch on the following day : And it 
+is such a man, etc., etc., etc., vagabond, beggar, without means 
+of existence, etc., etc., inured by his past life to culpable deeds, 
+and but little reformed by his sojourn in the galleys, as was 
+proved by the crime committed against Little Ger\'ais, etc., etc. ; 
+it is such a man, caught upon the highway in the very act of 
+theft, a few paces from a wall that had been scaled, still 
+holding in his hand the object stolen, who denies the crime, the 
+theft, the climbing the wall ; denies everything ; denies even his 
+own identity ! In addition to a hundred other proofs, to which 
+we will not recur, four witnesses recognize him — Javeit, the 
+upright inspector of police ; Javert, and' three of his former 
+companions in infamy, the convicts Brevet, Chenildieu, and 
+Cochepaille. What does he offer in opposition to this over- 
+whelming unanimit}* ? His denial. What obduracy ! You 
+will do justice, gentlemen of the jurj-, etc., etc. While the 
+district-attorney was speaking, the accused listened to him 
+open-mouthed, with a sort of amazement in which some admira- 
+tion was assuredly blended. He was evidently surprised that a 
+man could talk like that. From time to time, at those ^^ ener- 
+getic" moments of the prosecutor's speech, when eloquence 
+which cannot contain itself overflows in a flood of withering 
+epithets and envelops the accused like a storm, he moved his 
+head slowly from right to left and from left to right in the sort 
+of mute and melancholy protest with which he had contented 
+
+
+
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+258 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+himself since the beginning of the argument. Two or three 
+times the spectators who were nearest to him heard him say iu 
+a low voice, '' That is what comes of not having asked M. 
+Baloup." The district- attorney directed the attention of the 
+jury .to this stupid attitude, evidently deliberate, which denoted 
+not imbecility, but craft, skill, a habit of deceiving justice, and 
+which set fortli in all its nakedness the " profound perversity" 
+of this man. He ended by making his reserves on the afifair of 
+Little Gervais and demanding a severe sentence. 
+
+At that timc^ as the reader will remember, it was penal servi- 
+tude for life. 
+
+The counsel for the defence rose, began b}^ complimenting 
+Monsieur TAvocat-General on his " admirable speech," then 
+replied as best he could ; but he weakened ; the ground was 
+evidently slipping away from under his feet. 
+
+
+
+X. — The System of Denials. 
+
+The moment for closing the debate had arrived. The Presi- 
+dent had the accused stand up, and addressed to him the cus- 
+tomary question, '' Have you anytbing to add to 3'our defence?" 
+
+The man did not appear to understand, as he stood there, 
+twisting in his hands a temble cap which he had. 
+
+The President repeated the question. 
+
+This time the man heard it. He seemed to understand. He 
+made a motion like a man who is just waking up, cast his eyes 
+about him, stared at the audience, the gendarmes, his counsel, 
+the jur}', the court, laid his monstrous fist on the rim of wood- 
+work in front of his bench, took another look, and all at once, 
+fixing his glance uix)ii the district-attorney, he began to speak. 
+It was like an eruption. It seemed, from the manner in which 
+the words escaped from his mouth, — incoherent, impetuous, 
+pell-mell, tumbling over each other, — as though they were al! 
+pressing forward to issue forth at once. He said : — 
+
+''This is what I have to say. That I have been a wheel- 
+wright in Paris, and that it was with Monsieur Baloup. It is 
+a hard trade. In the wheelwright's trade one works always in 
+the open air, in courtyards, under sheds when the masters are 
+good, never in closed workshops, because space is i-equired, you 
+Bee. In winter one gets so cold that one beats one's anna 
+together to warm one's self; but the masters don't like it ; they 
+say it wastes time. Handling iron when there is ice between 
+the paving-stones is hard work. That wears a man out quickly 
+
+
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+FANTINE, 259 
+
+One is old while he is still quite young in that trade. At forty 
+a man is done for. I was fifty -three. I was in a bad state. And 
+then, workmen are so mean ! When a man is no longer young, 
+they call him nothing but old bird, old beast ! I was not earning 
+more than thirty sous a day. The}* paid me as little as possi- 
+ble. The masters took advantage of my age — and then I had 
+my daughter, who was a laundress at the river. She earned a 
+little, also. It sufficed for us two. She had trouble, also ; all 
+day long up to her waist in a tub, in rain, in snow. When the 
+wind cuts your face, when it freezes, it is all the same ; you must 
+Btill wash. There are people who have not much linen, and 
+wait until late ; if j'ou do not wash, you lose your custom. Tii« 
+planks are badly joined, and water drops on you from every* 
+where; you have your petticoats all damp above and below. 
+That penetrates. She has also worked at the laundry of the 
+Eu fan ts- Rouges, where the water comes through faucets. You 
+are not in the tub there ; you wash at the faucet in front of 
+you, and rinse in a basin behind you. As it is enclosed, you 
+are not so cold ; but there is that hot steam, which is terrible, 
+and which ruins your eyes. She came houie at seven o'clock in 
+the evening, and went to bed at once, she was so tired. Her 
+husband beat her. She is dead. We have not been very happy. 
+She was a good girl, who did not go to the ball, and who was 
+very peaceable. I remember one Shrove-Tuesday when she 
+went to bed at eight o'clock. There, I am telling the truth ; 
+yoii have only to ask. Ah, yes ! how stupid I am ! Paris is a 
+gulf. Who knows Father Champmathieu there ? But M. Baloup 
+does, I tell yow. Go see at M. Baloup's ; and after all, I don't 
+know what is wanted of me." 
+
+The man ceased speaking, and remained standing. He had 
+said these things in a loud, rapid, hoarse voice, with a sort of 
+irritated and savage ingenuousness. Once he paused to s«lule 
+some one in the crowd. The sort of affirmations which he 
+%emed to fling out before him at random came like hiccoughs, 
+ind to each he added the gesture of a wood-cutter who is split- 
+ting wood. When he had finished, the audience burst into c 
+laugh. He stared at the public, and, perceiving that they were 
+laughing, and not understanding why, he began to laugh himself. 
+
+It was inauspicious. 
+
+The President, an attentive and benevolent man, raised his 
+v'oice. 
+
+He reminded "the gentlemen of the jury" that "the sieur 
+Baloap, formerly a master- wheelwright, with whom the accused 
+stated that he had served, had been summoned in vain. He 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+260 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+/lad become bankrupt, and was not to be foand." Then tarn 
+iiig to the accused, he enjoined him to listen to what he was 
+about to say, and added : ^^ You are in a position where reflec- 
+tion is necessary. The gravest presumptions rest upon vou, and 
+may induce vital results. Prisoner, in your own interests, I 
+summon you for the last time to explain yourself clearly on two 
+points. In the first place, did you or did you not climb the wall 
+of the Pierron orchard, break the branch, and steal the a])ples ; 
+that is to say, commit the crime of breaking in and theft? In 
+the second place, are you the discharged convict, Jean Valjean 
+— yes or no?" 
+
+The prisoner shook his head with a capable air, like a man 
+who has thoroughly understood, and who knows what answer 
+he is going to make. He opened his mouth, turned towards 
+the President, and said : — 
+
+'*In the first place — " 
+
+Then he stared at his cap, stared at the ceiling, and held hm 
+peace. 
+
+" Prisoner," said the district-attorney, in a severe voice, 
+^' pay attention. You are not answering anything that ha 4 
+been asked of you. Your embarrassment condemns you. It 
+is evident that your name is not Champmathieu ; that you ai<% 
+the convict, Jean Valjean, concealed firet under the name cf 
+Jean Mathieu, which was the name of his mother; that yon 
+went to Auvergne ; that you were born at Faverolles, where you 
+were a pruner of trees. It is evident that 30U have been guilty 
+of entering, and of the theft of ripe apples from the Pierrou 
+orchard. The gentlemen of tlie jury will form their ow\i 
+opinion." 
+
+The prisoner had finally resumed his seat ; he arose abruptly 
+when the district-attorney had finished, and exclaimed ; — 
+
+*' You are very wicked ; that you are ! This is what I wanted 
+to say ; I could not find words for it at first. I have stolen 
+nothing. I am a man who does not have something to eat 
+every day. I was coming from Ailly ; I was walking through 
+ihe country after a shower, which had made the whole country 
+yellow : even the ponds were overfiowed, and nothing sprang 
+from the sand any more but the little blades of grass at the 
+wayside. I found a broken branch with apples on the ground ; 
+I picked up the branch without knowing that it would get me 
+into trouble. I have been in prison, and they have been drag- 
+ging me about for the last three months ; more than that I can- 
+not say; people talk against me, they tell me, * Answer !' 
+The gendarme, who is a good fellow, nudges my elbow, and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+FANTINB. f61 
+
+iays to me in a low voice, * Come, answer I ' I don't know how 
+to ejsplain ; I have no education ; I am a poor man ; that is 
+where thej wrong me, because they do not see this. I have not 
+stolen; I picked up from the ground things that were lying 
+there. You say, Jean Valjean, Jean Mathieu ! I don't know 
+those persons ; they are villagers. I worked for M. Baloup, 
+Boulevard de l'Hôpital ; my name is Champmathieu. You are 
+very clever to tell me where I was born ; I don't know myself : 
+it's not everybody who has a house in which to come into the 
+world ; that would be too convenient. I think that my father 
+and mother were people who strolled along the highways ; I 
+know nothing different. When I was a child, they called me 
+young fellow; now they call me oldfeHow; those are my bap- 
+tismal names ; take that as you like. I have been in Auvergne ; 
+I have been at FaveroUes. Fardi. Well ! can't a man have 
+been in Auvergne, or at Faverolles, without having been in the 
+galleys? I tell you that I have not stolen, and that I am Father 
+Champmathieu ; I have been with M. Baloup ; I have had a 
+settled residence. You worry me with your nonsense, there I 
+Why is everybody pursuing me so furiously ? " 
+
+The district-attorney had remained standing; he addressed 
+the President : — 
+
+" Monsieur le Président, in view of the confused but exceed- 
+ingly clever denials of the prisoner, who would like to pass 
+himself off as an idiot, but who will not succeed in so doing, — 
+we shall attend to that, — we demand that it shall please you 
+and that it shall please the court to summon once more into this 
+place the convicts Brevet, Cochepaille, and Chenildieu, and 
+Police-Inspector Javeit, and question them for the last time as 
+to the identity of the prisoner with the convict Jean Valjean." 
+
+'' I would remind the district-attorney," said the President, 
+*that Police-Inspector Javert, recalled by his duties to the 
+*>apital of a neighboring arrondissement, left the court-room 
+md the town as soon as he had made his deposition ; we have 
+uxorded him permission, with the consent of the district 
+ittomey and of the counsel for the prisoner." 
+
+'*That is true, Mr. President," responded the district- 
+attorney. *' In the absence of sieur Javert, I think it my duty 
+to remind the gentlemen of the jury of what he said here a few 
+hours ago. Javert is an estimable man, who does honor by hia 
+rigorous and strict probity to inferior but important functions. 
+These are the terms of his deposition : ^ I do not even stand in 
+need of circumstantial proofs and moral presumptions to give 
+^e lie to the prisoner's denial. I recognize him perfectly 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+262 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The name of this man is not Champmathieu ; he is an ex-con- 
+vict named Jean Val jean, and is very vicious and much to be 
+feared. It was only with extreme regret that he was released 
+at the expiration of his term. He underwent nineteen years of 
+penal servitude for theft He made five or six attempts to 
+escape. Besides the theft from Little Gervais, and from the 
+Pierron orchard, I suspect him of a theft committed in the 
+house of His Grace the late Bishop of D — . I often saw 
+him at the time when I was adjutant of the galley-guard at the 
+prison in Toulon. I repeat that I recognize him perfectly.' " 
+
+This extremely precise statement appeared to produce a vivid 
+impression on the public and on the jury. The district- 
+attorney concluded by insisting, that in default of Javert, the 
+three witnesses Brevet, Chenildieu, and Cochepaille should be 
+heard once more and solemnly interrogated. 
+
+The President transmitted the order to an usher, and, a 
+moment later, the door of the witnesses' room opened. The 
+usher, accompanied by a gendarme ready to lend him anned 
+assistance, introduced the convict Brevet. The audience was 
+in suspense ; and all breasts heaved as though they had con- 
+tained but one soul. 
+
+The ex-convict Brevet wore the black and gray waistcoat of 
+the central prisons. Brevet was a person sixty years of age, 
+who had a sort of business man's face, and the air of a rascal. 
+The two sometimes go togetlier. In prison, whither fresh mis- 
+deeds had led him, he had become something in the nature of a 
+turnkey. He was a man of whom his superiors said, "He 
+tries to make himself of use." The chaplains bore good testi- 
+mony as to his religious habits. It must not be forgotten that 
+this passed under the Restoration. 
+
+" Brevet," said the President, "you have undergone an igno- 
+minious sentence, and you cannot take an oath." 
+
+Brevet dropped his eyes. 
+
+" Nevertheless," continued the President, *' even in the man 
+whom the law has degraded, there may remain, when the divine 
+mercy permits it, a sentiment of honor and of equity. It is to 
+this sentiment that I appeal at this decisive hour. If it still 
+exists in you, — and I hope it does, — reflect before replying 
+to me : consider on the one hand, this man, whom a word from 
+you may ruin ; on the other hand, justice, which a word from you 
+may enlighten. The instant is solemn ; there is still time to 
+retract if you think you have been mistaken. Rise, prisoner. 
+Brevet, take a good look at the accused, recall your souvenirs, 
+and tell us on your soul and conscience, if you persist in recog- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+
+FANTINE. 263 
+
+lizing this man as your former companion in the galleys, Jean 
+Valjean?" 
+
+Brevet looked at the prisoner, then turned towards the 
+ooort. 
+
+" Yes, Mr. President, I was the first to recognize him, and I 
+stick to it ; that man is Jean Valjean, who entered at Toulon in 
+1796, and left in 1815. I left a year later. He has the air of a 
+brute now ; but it must be because age has brutalized him ; he 
+was sly at the galleys : I recognize him positively." 
+
+*'ïake your seat, " said the President. "Prisoner, remain 
+stan<Ung." 
+
+Chenildieu was brought in, a prisoner for life, as was indi- 
+cated by his red cassock and his green cap. He was serving 
+out his sentence at the galleys of Toulon, whence he had been 
+brought for this case. He was a small man of about fifty, brisk, 
+wrinkled, frail, yellow, brazen-faced, feverish, who had a sort 
+of sickly feebleness about all his limbs and his whole person, 
+and an immense force in his glance. His companions in the 
+galleys had nicknamed him I-deny-God {Je-nie Dieu^ Chenil- 
+dieu). 
+
+The President addressed him in nearly the same words which 
+he had used to Brevet. At the moment when he reminded him 
+of \m infam}' which deprived hir of the right to take an oath, 
+Chenildieu raised his head and looked the crowd in the face. 
+The President invited him to reflection, and asked liim as he 
+had asked Brevet, iC he persisted in recognition of the prisoner. 
+
+Chenildieu burst out laughing. 
+
+" Pardieu, as if I didn't recognize him 1 We were attached 
+to the same chain for five years. So you are sulking, old 
+fellow?" 
+
+" Go take your seat," said the President. 
+
+The usher brought in Cochepaille. He was another convict for 
+life, who had come from the galleys, and was dressed in red, 
+like Chenildieu, was a peasant from Lourdes, and a half- bear of 
+the Pyrenees. He had guarded the flocks among the mountains, 
+and from a shepherd he had slipped into a brigand. Coche- 
+^)aille was no less savage and seemed even more stupid than the 
+prisoner. He was one X)f those wretched men whom nature has 
+sketched out for wild beasts, and on whom society puts the 
+finishing touches as convicts in the galleys. 
+
+The President tried to touch him with some grave and pathetic 
+words, and asked him, as he had asked the other two, if he 
+persisted, without iiesitation or trouble, in recognizing the man 
+who was standing before him. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+264 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+'* He Î8 Jean Valjean," said Cochepaille. " He was eren 
+called Jean-the-Serew, because he was so strong." 
+
+Each of these affirmations from these three men, evidently 
+sincere and in good faith, had raised in the audience a murmur 
+of bad augury for the prisoner, — a murmur which increased and 
+lasted longer each time that a fresh declaration was added to 
+the preceding. 
+
+The prisoner had listened to them, with that astounded face 
+which was, according to the accusation, his principal means of 
+defence ; at the first, the gendarmes, his neighbors, had heard 
+him mutter between his teeth: "Ah well, he's a nice one!" 
+after the second, he said, a little louder, with an air that was 
+almost that of satisfaction, *' Good ! " at the third, he cried» 
+"Famous!" 
+
+The President addressed him : — 
+
+" Have you heard, prisoner? what have you to say?*' 
+
+He replied : — 
+
+"I say, 'Famous!'" 
+
+An uproar broke out among the audience, and was commaDÎ- 
+cated to the jury ; it was evident that the man was lost. 
+
+" Ushers," said the President, "enforce silence ! I am going 
+to sum up the arguments." 
+
+At that moment tiiere was a movement just beside the Presi- 
+dent ; a voice was heard crying : — 
+
+" Brevet ! Chenildieu ! Cochepaille ! look here ! " 
+
+All who heard that voice were chilled, so lamentable and ter- 
+rible was it ; all eyes were turned to the point whence it had 
+proceeded. A man, placed among the privileged spectators who 
+were seated behind the court, had just risen, had pushed open 
+the half-door which separated the tribunal from the audience, 
+and was standing in the middle of the hall ; the President, the 
+district-attorney, M. Bamatabois, twenty persons, recognized 
+aim, and exclaimed in concert : — 
+
+"M. Madeleine!" 
+
+XI. — Champmathieu more and more astonished. 
+
+It was he, in fact. The clerk's lamp illumined his countenance. 
+He held his hat in his hand ; there was no disorder m his cloth- 
+ing ; his coat was carefully buttoned ; he was very pale, and he 
+trembled slightly ; his hair, which had still been gra}' on his 
+arrival in Arras, was now entirely white : it had turned whit« 
+during the hour he had sat there. 
+
+All heads were raised : the sensation was indescribable ; there 
+
+
+
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+
+FANTINE. 260 
+
+iras a momentary hesitation in the audience, the voice had 
+been so heart-rending ; the man who stood there appeared a; 
+calm that they did not understand at first. They asked them- 
+selves whether he had indeed uttered that cry ; they could not 
+believe that that tranquil man had been the one to give that ter- 
+rible outcry. 
+
+This indecision only lasted a few seconds. Even before the 
+President and the district-attorney could utter a word, before 
+the ushers and the gendarmes could make a gesture, the man 
+whom all still called, at that moment. M. Madeleine, had ad- 
+vanced towards the witnesses Cochepaille, Brevet, and Chenil 
+dien. 
+
+" Do you not recognize me?" said he. 
+
+All three remained speechless, and indicated by a sign of the 
+head that they did not know him. Cochepaille, who was intim- 
+idated, made a military salute. M. Madeleine turned towards 
+the jury and the court, and said in a gentle voice : — 
+
+*' Gentlemen of the jury, order the prisoner to be released 5 
+Mr. President, have me arrested. He is not the man whom you 
+are in search of ; it is I : I am Jean Val jean." 
+
+Not a mouth breathed ; the first commotion of astonishment 
+had been followed by a silence like that of the grave ; those 
+within the hall experienced that sort of religious teiTor which 
+seizes the masses when something grand has been done. 
+
+In the meantime, the face of the President was stamped with 
+sympathy and sadness ; he had exchanged a rapid sign with the 
+district^attorney and a few low-toned words with the assistant 
+jndges ; he addressed the public, and asked in accents which all 
+understood : — 
+
+'* Is there a physician present?" 
+
+The district-attorney took the word : — 
+
+''Gentlemen of the jury, the very strange and unexpected 
+incident which disturbs the audience inspires us, like your- 
+selves, only with a sentiment which it is" unnecessary for us to 
+express. You all know, by reputation at least, the honorable 
+M. Madeleine, mayor of M. sur M. ; if there is a physician in 
+the audience, we join the President in requesting him to attend 
+to M. Madeleine, and to conduct him to his home." 
+
+M. Madeleine did not allow the district- attorney to finish ; he 
+interrupted him in accents full of suavity and authority. These 
+are the words which he uttered ; here they are literally, as they 
+were written down, immediately after the trial, by one of the 
+witnesses to this scene, and as they now ring in the ears of 
+those who heard them nearly forty, years ago ; — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+266 I-ES MISERABLES, 
+
+" I thank you, Mr. District- Attorney, but I am not mad ; yo» 
+shall see; you were on the point of committing a great error, 
+release this man ! I am fulfilling a duty ; I am that miserable 
+criminal. I am the only one here who sees the matter clearly, 
+and I am telling you the truth. God, who is on high, looks 
+down on what I am doing at this moment, and that suffices. 
+You can take me, for here I am : but I have done my best ; I 
+concoaled myself under another name ; I have become rich ; 1 
+have become a mayor ; I have tried to re-enter the ranks of the 
+honest. It seems that that is not to be done. In short, there are 
+many things which I cannot tell. I will not narrate the story of 
+my life to you ; you will hear it one of these days. I robbed 
+Monseigneur the Bishop, it is true ; it is true that I robbed Little 
+Gervais ; they were right in telling you that Jean Valjean was a 
+very vicious wretch. Perhaps it was not altogether his fault. 
+Listen, honorable judges ! a man who has been so gieatly hum- 
+bled as I have has neither any remonstrances to make to Provi- 
+dence, nor any advice to give to society ; but, you see, the in- 
+famy from which I have tried to escape is an injurious thing ; 
+the galleys make the convict what he is ; reflect upon that, if 
+you please. Before. going to the galleys, I was a poor peasant, 
+with very little intelligence, a sort of idiot ; the galleys wrought 
+a change in me. I was stupid ; I became vicious : I was a block 
+of wood ; I became a firebrand. Later on, indulgence and kind- 
+ness saved me, as severity had ruined me. But, pardon me, you 
+cannot understand what I am saying. You will find at my 
+house, among the ashes in the fireplace, the forty-sous piece 
+which I stole, seven 3'ears ago, from Little Gervais. I have 
+nothing further to add ; take me. Good God ! the district- 
+attorney shakes his head ; you say, * M. Madeleine has gone 
+mad ! ' you do not believe me ! that is distressing. Do not, at 
+least, condemn this man ! What ! these men do not recognize 
+me ! I wish Javert were here ; he would recognize me.** 
+
+Nothing can reproduce the sombre and kindly melancholy of 
+■x)ne which accompanied these woixis. 
+He turned to the three convicts, and said : — 
+'* Well, I recognize you ; do you remember. Brevet?— •* 
+He paused, hesitated for an instant, and said : — 
+*' Do you remember the knitted suspenders with a checked 
+pattern which you wore in the galleys ? '* 
+
+Brevet gave a start of surprise, and surveyed him from head 
+to foot with a frightened air. He continued : — 
+
+'' Chenildieu, you who conferred on yourself the name of * Je- 
+nie-Dieu,' your whole right shoulder bears a deep bum, because 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+FANTINE. 267 
+
+yoa one day laid jour shoulder against the chafing-dish full of 
+coals, in order to efface the three letters T. F. P., which ar« 
+iltill visible, nevertheless ; answer, is this true ? " 
+
+" It is true," said Chenildieu. 
+
+He addressed himself to CochepaiUe : — 
+
+" Cochepaille, you have, near the bend in your left arm, a 
+date stamped in blue letters witli burnt powder ; the date is 
+^.batof the landing of the Emperor at Cannes, March 1, 1815 ; 
+pull up your sleeve!" 
+
+CochepaiUe pushed up his sleeve ; all eyes were focussed on 
+Mm and on his bare arm. 
+
+A gendarme held a light close to it ; there was the date. 
+
+The unhappy man turned to the spectators and the judges 
+trith a smile which still rends the hearts of all who saw it when- 
+ever they think of it. It was a smile of triumph ; it was also a 
+smile of despair. 
+
+" You see plainly," he said, '' that I am Jean Val jean," 
+
+In that chamber thpre were no longer either judges, accusers, 
+nor gendarmes ; there was nothing but staring eyes and sympa- 
+thizing hearts. No one recalled any longer the part that each 
+might be called upon to play ; the district-attorney forgot he 
+was there for the purpose of prosecuting, the President that he 
+was there to preside, the counsel for the defence that he was 
+there to defend. It was a striking circumstance that no ques- 
+ûon was put, that no authority intervened. The peculiarity of 
+«nblime spectacles is, that they capture all souls and turn wit- 
+nesses into spectators. No one, probably, could have explained 
+what be felt; no one, probably, said to himself that he was wit« 
+nessing the splendid outburst of a grand light : all felt them* 
+selves inwardly dazzled. 
+
+It was evident that they had Jean Val jean before their eyes. 
+That was clear. The appearance of this man had sufficed to 
+suffuse with light that matter which had been so obscure but a 
+moment previously, without any further explanation ; the whole 
+crowd, as by a sort of electric revelation, understood instantly 
+ind at a single glance the simple and magnificent history of 
+a man who was delivering himself up so that another man 
+might not be condemned in his stead. Tiie details, the hésita* 
+tioûs, little possible oppositions, were swallowed up in that vast 
+Mid luminous fact. 
+
+It was an impression which vanished speedily, but which was 
+inresistible at the moment. 
+
+*' I do not wish to disturb the court further," resumed Jean 
+faljeau, *' I shall withdraw, since you do not arrest me 1 
+
+
+
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+
+268 LES MISERABLE». 
+
+have many things to do. The district-attorney knowB who I 
+am ; he knows whither I am going ; he can have me arrester! 
+when ho likes." 
+
+He directed his steps towards the door. Not a voice was 
+raised, not an arm extended to hinder him. All stood aside. 
+At that moment there was about him that divine something 
+which causes multitudes to stand aside and make way for a man. 
+He traversed the crowd slowly. It was never known who opene<] 
+the door, but it is certain that he found the door open when hf 
+reached it. On arriving there he turned round and said : — 
+
+" I am at your command, Mr. District-Attorney." 
+
+Then he addressed the audience : — 
+
+*' All of you, all who are present — consider me worthy ot 
+pity, do 3'ou not? Good God 1 When I think of what I was on 
+the point of doing, I consider that I am to be envied. Never- 
+theless, I should have preferred not to have had this occur." 
+
+Ho withdrew, and the door closed behind him as it had 
+opened, for those who do certain sovereign things are always 
+sure of being served by some one in the crowd. 
+
+Less than an hour after this, the verdict of the jury freed tht 
+said Champmathieu from all accusations ; and Champmathien, 
+being at once released, went off in a state of stupefaction, 
+thinking that all men were fools, and comprehending nothicg 
+of this viBion. 
+
+
+
+BOOK EIGHTH.— A COUNTER-BLOW. 
+I. — In what Mirror M. Madeleine contemplates his Hair 
+
+The day had begun to dawn. Fantine had passed a sleep 
+less and feverish night, filled with happy visions ; at daybroak 
+she fell asleep. Sister Simplice, who had been watching with 
+her, availed herself of this slumber to go and prepare a new 
+potion of chinchona. The worthy sister had been in the labora- 
+tory of the infirmary but a few moments, bending over her drug? 
+and phials, and scrutinizing things very closely, on account of 
+the dimness which the half-light of dawn spreads over all oh 
+jects. Suddenly she raised her head and uttered a faint shriek 
+M. Madeleine stood before her ; he had just entered Bilenti; 
+
+*' Is it you, Mr. Mayor?" she exclaimed. 
+
+He replied in a low voice : — 
+
+'' How is that poor woman ? " 
+
+
+
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+FANTINE. 269 
+
+*' Not so bad just now ; but we have been very uneasy/* 
+
+She explained to him what had passed : that Fantiue had 
+been very ill the day before, and that she was better now, be- 
+cause she thought that the mayor had gone to Montfermeil to 
+get her child. The sister dared not question the mayor; but 
+she perceived plainly from his air that he had not come from 
+there. 
+
+*' All that is good," said he ; '* you were right not to unde- 
+ceive her." 
+
+"Yes," responded the sister; "but now, Mr. Mayor, she 
+will see you and will not see her child. What shall we say to 
+her?" 
+
+He reflected for a moment. 
+
+'* God will inspire us," said he. 
+
+*' But we cannot tell a lie," murmured the sister, half aloud. 
+
+It was broad daylight in the room. The light fell full on M. 
+Madeleine's face. The sister chanced to mise her eyes to it. 
+
+'* Good God, sir ! " she exclaimed ; " what has happened to 
+vou? Your hair is perfectly white ! " 
+
+" White ! " said he. 
+
+Sister Simplice had no mirror. She rummaged in a drawer, 
+and pulled out the little glass which the doctor of the infirmary 
+used to see whether a patient was dead and whether he no longer 
+breathed. M. Madeleine took the mirror, looked at his hair, 
+and said : — 
+
+" Well ! " 
+
+He nttered the word indifferently, and as though his mind 
+were on something else. 
+
+The sister felt chilled by something strange of which she 
+caught a glimpse in all this. 
+
+He inquired : — 
+
+"Can I see her?" 
+
+" Is not Monsieur le Maire going to have her child brought 
+hack to her? " said the sister, hardly venturing to put the ques- 
+tion. 
+
+** Of course ; but it will take two or three days at least." 
+
+" If she were not to see Monsieur le Maire until that time," 
+went on the sister, timidly, " she would not know that Monsieur 
+le Maire had returned, and it would be easy to inspire her with 
+patience ; and when the child arrived, she would natt; rally think 
+Monsieur le Maire had just come with the child. We should not 
+have to < nact a lie." 
+
+M. Madeleine seemed to reflect for a few moments ; then he 
+said with his calm gravity : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+
+
+270 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+" No, bister, I must see her. I may, perhaps, be in haste *" 
+
+The nun did not appear to notice this word '' perhaps," which 
+communicated an obscure and singular sense to the words of 
+the mayor's speech. She replied, lowering her eyes and her 
+voice respectfully : — 
+
+^^ In that case, she is asleep; but Monsieur le Maire may 
+enter." 
+
+He made some remarks about a door which shut badly, and the 
+noise of which might awaken the sick woman ; then he entered 
+Fantinc's chamber, approached the bed, and drew aside the cur- 
+tains. She was asleep. Her breath issued f ram her breast with 
+that tragic sound which is peculiar to those maladies, and which 
+breaks the hearts of mothers when they are watching through the 
+niglit beside their sleeping child who is condemned to death. But 
+this painful respiration hardly troubled a sort of ineffable serenity 
+which overspread her countenance, and which transfigured her 
+in her sleep. Her pallor had become whiteness; her cheeks 
+were crimson ; her long golden lashes, the only beauty of her 
+youth and her virginity which remained to her, palpitated, 
+though they remained closed and drooping. Her whole i)er8on was 
+trembling with an indescribable unfolding of wings, all read3' to 
+open wide and bear her away, which could be f Jt as they rus- 
+tled, though they could not be seen. To see her thus, one would 
+never have dreamed that she was an invalid whose life was 
+almost despaired of. Slie resembled rather something on the 
+point of soaring away than something on the point of dying. 
+
+The branch trembles when a hand approaches it to pluck a 
+flower, and seems to both withdraw and to offer itself at one 
+and the same time. The human body has something of this 
+tremor when the instant arrives in which the mysterious fingers 
+of Death are about to pluck the soul. 
+
+M. Madeleine remained for some time motionless beside that 
+bed, gazing in turn upon the sick woman and the crucifix, as he 
+had done two montiis before, on the day when hb had come for 
+the first time to see her in that asylum. They were both still 
+there in the same attitude — she sleeping, he praying; onl3- 
+now, after thç lapse of two months, her hair was gray and his 
+was white. 
+
+The sister had not entered with him. He stood beside the 
+bed, with his finger on his lips, as though there were some one 
+in the chamber whom he must enjoin to silence. 
+
+She opened her eyes, saw him, and said quietly, with 9 
+smile : — 
+
+*'AndCo8ette?" 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINB. 2îl 
+
+
+
+n. — Fantine Happy. 
+
+
+
+Sh2 made no movement of eitiier surprise or of joy ; she was 
+|oy itself. That simple question, "And Cosette?" was pu* 
+with so profound a faith, with so much certainty, with sucli a 
+complete absence of disquiet and of doubt, that he fouud not a 
+word of reply. She continued : — 
+
+" I knew that you were there. I was asleep, but I saw you. 
+I have seen you for a long, long time. I have been following 
+you with my eyes all night long. You were in a glory, and 
+you had around you all sorts of celestial forms." 
+
+He raised his glance to the cinicifix. 
+
+"But," she resumed, "tell me where Cosette is. Why did 
+not you place her on my bed against the moment of my waking ? *' 
+
+He made some mechanical reply which he was never after- 
+wards able to recall. 
+
+Fortunately, the doctor had been warned, and he now made 
+his appearance. He came to the aid of M. Madeleine. 
+
+"Calm yourself, my child," said the doctor ; " your child is 
+here." 
+
+Fantine's eyes beamed and filled her whole face with light. 
+She clasped her hands with an expression which contained all 
+that is possible to prayer in the way of violence and tenderness. 
+
+" Oh ! " she exclaimed, " bring her to me ! " 
+
+Touching illusion of a mother! Cosette was, for her, still 
+the little child who is carried. 
+
+" Not yet," said the doctor, " not just now. You still have 
+some fever. The sight of your -child would agitate you and do 
+you harm. You must be cured first." 
+
+She interrupted him impetuously : — 
+
+" But I am cured ! Oh, I tell you that I am cured ! What 
+an asB that doctor is ! The idea ! I want to see my child ! " 
+
+" You see," said the doctor, " how excited you become. So 
+long as you are in this state I shall oppose your having your 
+child. It is not enough to see her ; it is necessary that you 
+should live for her. When you are reasonable, I will bring her 
+to you myself." 
+
+The poor mother bowed her head. 
+
+'*I beg your pardon, doctor, I really beg your pardon. 
+Formerly I should never have spoken as I have just done ; so 
+many misfortunes have happened to me, that I sometimes do 
+not know what I am saying. I understand you ; you fear the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+
+
+X72 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+emotion. I will wait as long as you like, but I swear to yoi 
+that it would not have harmed me to see my daughter. I have 
+l>ecn seeing her; I have not taken my eyes from her since 3'es- 
+terday evening. Do you know? If she were brought to me 
+now, I should talk to her very gently. That is all. Is it not 
+quite natural that I should desire to see my daughter, who has 
+been brought to me expressly from Montfermeil? I am not 
+angry. I know well that I am about to be happy. All night 
+long I have seen wliite things, and persons who smiled at me. 
+When Monsieur le Docteur pleases, he shall bring me Cosetto. 
+I have no longer any fever ; I am well. I am perfectly con- 
+scious that there is nothing the matter with me any more ; but 
+I am going to behave as though I were ill, and not Btir, to 
+please these ladies here. When it is seen that I am very calm, 
+they will say, ' She must have her child.' " 
+
+M. Madeleine was sitting on a chair beside the bed. 8b« 
+turned towards him ; she was making a visible effort to be calm 
+and " very good," as she expressed it in the feebleness of ill- 
+ness which resembles infancy, in order that, seeing her so 
+peaceable, they might make no difficulty about bringing Coeette 
+to her. But while she controlled herself she could not refrain 
+from questioning M. Madeleine. 
+
+*' Did you have a pleasant trip. Monsieur le Maire? Oh ! how 
+good you were to go and get her for me ! Only tell me how 
+she is. Did she stand the journey well? Alas! she will nol; 
+recognize me. S lie must have forgotten me by this time, pcx>y 
+darling! Children have no memories. They are like birds. 
+A child sees one thing to-day and another tiling to-morrow, and 
+thinks of nothing any longer. And did she have white linen ? 
+Did those Thénardiers keep her clean? How have they fod 
+her? Oh ! if you only knew how I have suffered, putting such 
+questions as that to myself during all the time of my wretclied- 
+ness. Now, it is all past. I am hap{)y. Oh, how I should 
+like to see her ! Do you think her pretty, Monsieur le Maire ? 
+Is not my daughter beautiful? You must have been very cold 
+in that diligence ! Could she not be brought for just one little 
+instant? She might be taken away directly afterwards. Tell 
+me ; you are the master ; it could be so if you chose ! " 
+
+He took her hand. " Cosette is beautifuU" he said, " Cos» 
+ette is well. You shall see her soon ; but calm yourself ; you 
+are talking with too much vivacity, and you are throwing your 
+arms out from under the clothes, and that makes you a)ugh." 
+
+In fact, tits of coughing interrupted Fantine at nearly every 
+word. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 2n 
+
+Fantine did not murmur ; she feared that she had injured bv 
+âer too passionate lamentations the confidence which she was 
+desirous of inspiring, and she began to talk of indifferent 
+ihings. 
+
+*' Montfermeil is quite prett}', is it not? People go there on 
+pleasure parties in summer. Are the Thénardiers prosperous? 
+There are not many travellers in their parts. That inn of theirs 
+*i» a sort of a cook-shop." 
+
+M. Madeleine was still holding her hand, and gazing at her 
+ffith anxiety ; it was evident that he had come to tell her things 
+before which his mind now hesitated. The doctor, having fin- 
+ished his visit, retired. Sister Simplice remained alone with 
+them. 
+
+But in the midst of this pause Fantine exclaimed : — 
+
+" I hear her ! mon Dieu, I hear her ! " 
+
+She stretched out her arm to enjoin silence about her, held 
+ker breath, and began to listen with rapture. 
+
+There was a child playing in the yard — the child of the por- 
+tress or of some work- woman. It was one of those accidents 
+which are always occurring, and which seem to form a part of 
+the mysterious stage-setting of mournful scenes. The child — 
+a little girl — was going and coming, running to warm herself, 
+laughing, singing at the top of her voice. Alas ! in what are 
+the plays of children not intermingled. It was this little girl 
+whom Fantine heard singing. 
+
+"Oh!" she resumed, 'Mt is my Cosette} I recognize her 
+loice." 
+
+The child retreated as it had come ; the voice died awa}*. 
+Fantine listened for a while longer, then her face clouded over, 
+and M. Madeleine heard her say, in a low voice : " How wicked 
+that doctor is not to allow me to see my daughter ! That man 
+has an evil countenance, that he has." 
+
+But the smiling background of her thoughts came to the front 
+again. She continued to talk to herself, with her head resting 
+:)u the pillow : " How happy we are going to be ! "VVe shall 
+bave a little garden the very first thing; M. Madeleine has 
+promised it to me. My daughter will play in the garden. She 
+uust know her letters bj' this time. I will make her spell. 
+She will run over the grass after butterflies. I will watch her. 
+Then she will take her first communion. Ah ! when will she 
+take ber first communion ? " 
+
+She began to reckon on her fingers. 
+
+"One, two, three, four — she is seven years old. In five 
+jears she will have a white veil, and openwork stockings ; she 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+i74 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+will look like a little woman. O my good sister, you do noi 
+know how foolish I become when I Uiiuk of my daughter*s first 
+communion ! " 
+
+8 he began to laugh. 
+
+He had released Fantine's hand. He listened to her words as 
+one listens to the sighing of the breeze, with his eyes on Uie 
+ground, his mind absorbed in reflection which had no bottom. 
+All at once she ceased speaking, and this caused him to raist 
+his head mechanically. Fantine had become terrible. 
+
+She no longer spolie, she no longer breathed ; she had raised 
+herself to a sitting posture, her thin shoulder emerged from lier 
+chemise ; her face, which had been radiant but a mom<*nt before, 
+was ghastl}*, and she seemed to have fixed her eyes, rendered 
+larger with terror, on something alarming at the other extremity 
+of the room. 
+
+" Good God ! " he exclaimed ; " what ails you, Fantine?" 
+
+She made no reply ; she did not remove her eyes from tlie 
+object which she seemed to see. She removed one hand from 
+his arm, and with the other made him a sign to look behind 
+him.' 
+
+He turned, and beheld Javert. 
+
+
+
+m. — Javert Satisfisd. 
+
+This is what had taken place. 
+
+The half-hour after miduight had just struck when M. Made- 
+leine quitted the Hall of Assizes in Arras. He regained his inu 
+just in time to set out again by the mail- wagon, in which he bad 
+engaged his place. A little before six o'clock in the morning 
+he had arrived at M. sur M., and his first care had been to post 
+a letter to M. Lafiittc, then to enter the infirmary and see Fan- 
+tine. 
+
+However, he had hardly quitted the audience hall of the Court 
+of Assizes, when the district-attorney, recovering from his first 
+shock, had taken the word to dejilore the mad deed of the hon- 
+orable mayor of M. sur M., to declare that his convictions liad 
+not been in the least modified by that curious incident, which 
+would be explained thereafter, and to demand, in the meantime, 
+the condemnation of that Champmathicu, who was evidently the 
+real Jean Val jean. The district-attorney's persistence was vis- 
+ibly at variance with the sentiments of every one, of the pubiic, 
+of the court, and of tlie jury. The counsel for the defence had 
+some difficulty in refuting this harangue and in establishing that, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 275 
+
+ID consequence of the revelations of M. Madeleine, that is to 
+»ay, of the real Jean Val jean, tlie aspect of the matter had beeu 
+tnoi-ooghly altered, aud that the jury liad before their eyes now 
+only an innocent man. Thence the lawyer had drawn some 
+epiphonemas, not very fresh, unfortunately, upon judicial errors, 
+etc., etc. ; the President, in his summing up, had joined the 
+counsel for the defence, and in a few minutes the jury had 
+thrown Champmathieu out of the case. 
+
+Nevertheless, the district-attorney was bent on having a Jean 
+Val jean; and as he had no longer Champmathieu, he took 
+Madeleine. 
+
+Immediately after Champmathieu had been set at liberty, 
+the district-attorney shut himself up with the President. They 
+conferred *'as to the necessity of seizing the person of M. le 
+Maire of M. sur M." This phrase, in which there was a great 
+deal of o/, is the district-attorney's, written with his own hand, 
+on the minutes of his report to the attorney-general. His lirst 
+emotion having passed off, the President did not offer many 
+objections. Justice must, after all, take its course. . And then, 
+when all was said, although the President was a kindly and a 
+tolerably intelligent man, he was, at the same time, a devoted 
+and almost an ardent royalist, and he had been shocked to hear 
+the Mayor of M. sur M. say the Emperor^ and not Bonaparte^ 
+when alluding to the landing at Cannes. 
+
+The order for his arrest was accordingly despatched. The 
+district-attorney forwarded it to M. sur M. by a special mes- 
+senger, at full speed, and entrusted its execution to Police 
+Inspector Javert. 
+
+The reader knows that Javert had returned to M. sur M. 
+immediately after having given his deposition. 
+
+Javert was just getting out of bed when the messenger handed 
+him the order of arrest and the command to produce the pris- 
+oner. 
+
+The messenger himself was a very clever member of the 
+police, who, in two words, informed Javert of what had taken 
+place at Arras. The order of aiTest, signed by the district- 
+attorney was couched in these words : '* Inspector Javert will 
+apprehend the body of the Sieur Madeleine, mayor of M. sur 
+M., who, in this day's session of the court, was recognized as 
+the liberated convict, Jean Val jean." 
+
+Any one who did not know Javert, and who had chanced to 
+see him at the moment when he penetrated the antechamber of 
+the infirmary, could have divined nothing of what had taken 
+place, and would have thought his air the most ordinary in the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+
+276 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+world. He was cool, calm, grave, his gray hair was perfectly 
+smooth upon his temples, and he had just mounted the staii t 
+with his habitual deliberation. Any one who was thoroughl r 
+acquainted with him, and who had examined him attentively î I 
+the moment, would have shuddered. The buckle of his leaihc ! 
+stock was under his left ear instead of at the nape of his necl« . 
+This betrayed unwonted agitation. 
+
+Javert was a complete character, who never had a wrinkle in 
+his duty or in his uniform ; methodical with malefactors, ri^d 
+with the buttons of his coat. 
+
+That he should have set the buckle of his stock awry, it wa» 
+indispensable that there should have taken place in him one cf 
+those emotions which may be designated as internal oarthquakef . 
+
+He had come in a simple way, had made a requisition on the 
+neighl)oring post for a corporal and four soldiera, had left tht 
+soldiers in the courtyard, had had Fan tine's room pointed out 
+to him by the portress, who was utterly unsuspicious, accuf • 
+tomed as she was to seeing armed men inquiring for the mayoi. 
+
+On arriving in Fantine's chamber, Javert turned the handle , 
+pushed the door open with the gentleness of a sick-nurse or i 
+police spy, and entered. 
+
+Properly speaking, he did not enter. He stood erect in thi 
+half-open door, his hat on his head and his left hand thrust int > 
+his coat, which was buttoned up to the chin. In the bend of hit 
+elbow the leaden head of his enormous cane, which was bidde t 
+behind him, could be seen. 
+
+Thus he remained for nearl}' a minute, without his presence 
+being perceived. All at once Fan tine raised her eyes, saw him, 
+and made M. Madeleine turn round. 
+
+The instant that Madeleine's glance encountered Javert's 
+glance, Javert, without stirring, without moving from his post, 
+without approaching, became terrible. No human sentiment 
+can be as terrible as joy. 
+
+It was the visage of a demon who has Just found his damned 
+soul. 
+
+The satisfaction of at last getting hold of Jean Valjean cause<l 
+all that was in his soul to appear in his countenance. The depth « 
+having been stirred up, mounted to the surface. The humilia- 
+tion of having, in some slight degree, lost the scent, and of 
+having indulged, for a few moments, in an error with regard to 
+Champmathieu, was effaced b}- pride at having so well anti 
+accurately divined in the first place, and of having for so lon$L 
+cherished a just instinct. Javert's content shone forth in hi» 
+sovereign attitude. The deformity of triumph overspread thai 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 277 
+
+Darrow brow. All the démonstrations of horror which a satis- 
+Ged face can afford were there. 
+
+Javert was in heaven at that moment. Without putting the 
+thing clearly to himself, but with a confused intuition of tlic 
+necessit}' of his presence and of his success, he, Javert, personi- 
+fied justice, light, and truth in their celestial function of crushing 
+oat evil. Behind him and around him, at an infinite distance, 
+he had authority, reason, the case judged, the legal conscience, 
+the public prosecution, all the stars ; he was protecting order, he 
+was causing the law to yield up its thunders, he was avenging 
+society, he was lending a helping hand to the absolute, he was 
+etanding erect in the midst of a glory. There existed in his vic- 
+tory a remnant of defiance and of combat. Erect, haughty, bril- 
+liant, he flaunted abroad in open day the superhuman bestiality 
+of a ferocious archangel. The terrible shadow of the action 
+which he was accomplishing caused the vague flash of the social 
+sword to be visible in his clenched fist; happy and indignant, 
+he held his heel upon crime, vice, rebellion, perdition, hell ; he 
+was radiant, he exterminated, he smiled, and there was an 
+incontestible grandeur in this monstrous Saint Michael. 
+
+Javert, though frightful, had nothing ignoble about him. 
+
+Probity, sincerity, candor, conviction, the sense of duty, are 
+things which may become hideous when wrongl}^ directed ; but 
+which, even when hideous, remain grand : their majesty, the 
+majesty peculiar to the human conscience, clings to them in the 
+midst of horror ; they are virtues which have one vice, — error. 
+The honest, pitiless joy of a fanatic in the full flood of his 
+atrocity preserves a certain lugubriously venerable radiance. 
+Without himself suspecting the fact, Javert in his formidable 
+happiness was to be pitied, as is every ignorant man who tri- 
+umphs. Nothing could be so poignant and so terrible as this 
+face, wherein was displayed all that may be designated as the 
+evil of the good. 
+
+
+
+IV. — AuTHORrnr reasserts ns Rights. 
+
+Faktine had not seen Javert since the day on which the 
+mayor had torn her from the man. Her ailing brain compre- 
+hended nothing, but the only thing which she. did not doubt 
+was that he had come to get her. She could not endure that 
+terrible face ; she felt her life quitting her ; she hid her face in 
+both hands, and shrieked in her anguish : — 
+
+'^ Monsienr Madeleine, save me ' " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+278 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Jean Valjean — we shall henceforth not speak of him other 
+wise — had risen. He said to Fan tine in the gentlest and 
+calmest of voices : — 
+
+" Be at ease ; it is not for you that he is come.** 
+
+Then he addressed Javert, and said : — 
+
+" I know what you want." 
+
+Javert replied : ^ 
+
+«*Be quick about it I" 
+
+There lay in the inflection of voice which accompanied these 
+words something indescribably fierce and frenzied. Javert did 
+not say, *' Be quick about it ! " he said, '' Bequiabouit." 
+
+No orthography can do justice to the accent with which it 
+was uttered : it was no longer a human word ; it was a roar. 
+
+He did not proceed according to his custom, he did not enter 
+into the matter, he exhibited no warrant of arrest. In his eyes, 
+Jean Valjean was a sort of mysterious combatant, who was 
+not to be laid hands upon, a wrestler in the dark whom he had 
+had in his grasp for the last five years, without being able to 
+throw him. This arrest was not a beginning, but an end. He 
+confined himself to saying, " Be quick about it ! " 
+
+As he spoke thus, he did not advance a single step ; he hurled 
+at Jean Valjean a glance which he threw out like a grappling- 
+hook, and with which he was accustomed to draw wretches vic^ 
+lentl}- to him. 
+
+It was this glance which Fantine had felt penetrating to the 
+very marrow of her bones two months previously. 
+
+At Javert's exclamation, Fantine opened her eyes once more. 
+But the mayor was there ; what had she to fear? 
+
+Javert advanced to the middle of the room, and cried : — 
+
+" See here now ! Art thou coming? " 
+
+The unhappy woman glanced about her. No one was present 
+excepting the nun and the ma3'or. To whom could that abjcc« 
+use of " thou *' be addressed? To her only. She shuddered. 
+
+Then she beheld a most unprecedented thing, a thing so 
+jnprecedented that nothing equal to it had appeared to her 
+3ven in the blackest deliriums of fever. 
+
+She beheld Javert, the police spy, seize the mayor by the 
+collar ; she saw the mayor bow his head. It seemed to her thai 
+the world was coming to an end. 
+
+Javert had, in fact, grasped Jean Valjean by the collar. 
+
+'' Monsieur le Maire ! " shrieked Fantine. 
+
+Javert burst out laughing with that frightful laugh whicb 
+displayed all his gums. 
+
+*' There is no longer any Monsieur le Maire here I '* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 27S 
+
+Jean Yaljean made no attempt to disengage the hand which 
+grasped the collar of his coat. He said : — 
+
+"Javert — " 
+
+Javert interrupted him : " Call me Mr. Inspector/* 
+
+*' Monsieur," said Jean Val jean, " I should like to say a word 
+to you in private." 
+
+"Aloud! Say it aloud!" replied Javert; "people are in 
+the habit of talking aloud to me." 
+
+Jean Valjean went on in a lower tone : — 
+
+" I have a request to make of you — '* 
+
+** I tell you to speak loud." 
+
+** But you alone should hear it — " 
+
+** What difference does that make to me? I shall not listen." 
+
+Jean Valjean turned towards him and said very rapidly and 
+in a very low voice : ~ 
+
+** Grant me three days' grace ! three days in which to go and 
+fetch the child of this unhappy woman. I will pay whatever is 
+necessar}'. You shall accompany me if you choose." 
+
+**You are making sport of me!" cried Javert. "Come 
+now, I did not think you such a fool ! You ask me to give you 
+three days in which to run away ! You say that it is for the 
+purpose of fetching that creature's child ! Ah ! Ah ! That's 
+good ! That's really capital ! " 
+
+Fantine was seized with a fit of trembling. 
+
+" My child ! " she cried, " to go and fetch my child ! She is 
+not here, then ! Answer me, sister ; where is Cosette? I want 
+my child ! Monsieur Madeleine ! Monsieur le Maire ! " 
+
+Javert stamped his foot. 
+
+" And now there's the other one ! Will you hold your tongue, 
+you huBS}'? It's a pretty sort of a place where convicts are 
+magistrates, and where women of the town are cared for like 
+countesses ! Ah ! But we are going to change all that ; it is 
+high time ! " 
+
+He stared intently at Fantine, and added, once more taking 
+into his grasp Jean Valjean's cravat, shirt and collar : — 
+
+"I tell 3'ou that there is no Monsieur Madeleine and that 
+there is no Monsieur le Maire. There is a thief, a brigand, a 
+convict named Jean Valjean ! And I have him in my grasp Î 
+That's what there is ! " 
+
+Fantine raised herself in bed with a bound, supporting her- 
+self on her sti^ened arms and on both hands : she gazed at 
+Jean Valjean, she gazed at Javert, she gazed at the nun, she 
+opened her month as though to speak ; a rattle proceeded from 
+the depths of her throat, her teeth chattered; she stretched 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+290 LES MISERABLES 
+
+out her anus in Iict agony, opening her hands convuiBtvely, and 
+fumbling about her like a drowning person ; then suddenly feU 
+back on her pillow. 
+
+Her head struck the head-board of the bed and fell forwards 
+on ber breast, with gaping mouth and staring, sightless eyes. 
+
+She was dead. 
+
+Jean Valjean laid his hand uix>n the detaining hand of Javert, 
+ind opened it as he would have opened the hand of a baby, 
+then he said to J avert : — 
+
+'* You have murdered that woman." 
+
+'' Let's have an end of this ! " shoute^l Javert, in a fury ; '* ) 
+am not here to listen to argument. Ixît us economize all Uiat , 
+the guard is below ; march on instantly, or you'll get tbe thumb- 
+
+
+
+screws 
+
+
+
+In the corner of the room stood an old iron bedstead, which 
+was in a decidedly decrepit state*, and which served the sisters as 
+a camp-bed when they were watching with the sick. Jean Val- 
+jean stepped up to this bed, in a twinkling wrenched off the head- 
+piece, which was already in a dilapidati'd condition, an easy 
+matter to muscles like his, grasped the principal rod like a 
+bludgeon, and glanced at Javert. Javert retreated towards the 
+door. Jean Valjean, armed with his bar of iron, walked slowly 
+up to Fantine's couch. When he arrived there he turned and 
+said to Javert, in a voice that was barely audible : — 
+
+'' I advise you not to disturb me at this moment." 
+
+One thing is certain, and that is, that Javert ti'embled. 
+
+It did occur to him to summon the guard, but Jean Valjean 
+might avail himself of that moment to effect his escape ; so bo 
+remained, grasped his cane b}' the small end, and leaned against 
+the door-post, without removing his eyes from Jean Valjean. 
+
+Jean Valjean rested his elbow on the knob at the head of the 
+bed, and his brow on his hand, and began to contemplate the 
+motionless body of Fantine, which lay extended there. He 
+remained thus, mute, absorbed, evidently with no farther 
+thought of anything connected with this life. Uix)n his face 
+and in his attitude there was nothing but inexpressible pity. 
+After a few moments of this meditation he bent towards Fan- 
+tine, and spoke to her in a low voice. 
+
+What did he say to her? What could this man, who was 
+reproved, say to that woman, who was dead? AVhat words 
+were those? No one on earth heard them. Did the dead 
+woman hear them? There are some touching illusions wliicb 
+are, perhaps, sublime realities. The point as to which there 
+exists no doubt is, that Sister Simplice, the sole witness of the 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+FA NT I NE. 281 
+
+incident, often said that at the moment that Jean Valjean whis 
+pered in Fan tine's ear, she distinctly beheld an ineffable smile 
+dawn on those pale lips, and in those dim eyes, filled with the 
+amazement of the tomb. 
+
+Jean Valjean took Fan tine's head in both his bauds, and 
+arranged it on the pillow as a mother might have done for her 
+child ; then he tied the string of her chemise, and smoothed her 
+hair back under her cap. That done, he closed her eyes. 
+
+Fantine's face seemed strangely illuminated at that moment. 
+
+Death, that signifies entrance into the great light. 
+
+Fautine's hand was hanging over the side of the bed. Jean 
+V^aljean knelt down before that hand, lifted it gently, and 
+kissed it. 
+
+Then he rose, and turned to Javert. 
+
+" Now." said he, *' I am at your disposaJL** 
+
+
+
+V.^A Suitable Tobib. 
+
+Javkbt deposited Jean Valjean in the city prison. 
+
+The arrest of M. Madeleine occasioned a sensation, or rather, 
+an extraordinary commotion in M. sur M. We are sorry that 
+we cannot conceal the fact, that at the single word, '^ He was 
+a convict," nearly every one deserted him. In less than two 
+hours all the good that he had done had been forgotten, and he 
+was nothing but a " convict from the galleys." It is just to 
+add that the details of what had taken place at Arras were not 
+yet known. All day long conversations like the following were 
+to be heard in all quartera of the town : — 
+
+*' You don't know ? He was a liberated convict !" '' Who? " 
+"The mayor." ''Bah! M.Madeleine?" "Yes." "Really?" 
+" His name was not Madeleine at all; he had a frightful name, 
+Béjean, Bojean, Boujean." "Ah! Good God!" "He has 
+l>een arrested." " Arrested !" "In prison, in the city prison, 
+while waiting to be transferred." " Until he is transferred ! " 
+* He is to be transferred !" " Where is he to be taken ?" "He 
+will be tried at the Assizes for a highway robbery which he com- 
+mitted long ago." "Well! I suspected as much. That man 
+was too good, too perfect, too affected. He refused the cross ; 
+he bestowed sous on all the little scamps he came across. I 
+always thought there was some evil history back of all that." 
+
+The *' drawing-rooms" particularly abounded in remarks of 
+this nature. 
+
+One old lady, a subscriber to the Drapeau EtanCy made tSi€ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+t82 i^ES MISERABLES. 
+
+following remark, the depth of which it is impossible \m 
+fathom : — 
+
+'' I am not sorry. It will be a lesson to the Bonapart- 
+ists!" 
+
+It was thus that the phantom wliich had been called M. Made- 
+:cine vanished from M. sur M. Only three or four persons in 
+all the town remained faithful to his memory. The old por- 
+tress who had served him was among the number. 
+
+On the evening of that day the worthy old woman was sit- 
+ting in her lodge, still in a thorough fright, and absorbed in 
+sad reflections. The factory had been closed all day, the car- 
+riage gate was bolted, the street was deserted. There was no 
+one in the house but the two nuns. Sister Perpétue and Sister 
+Simplice, who were watching beside the body of Fantiue. 
+
+Towards the hour when M. Madeleine was accustomed to 
+return home, the good portress rose mechanically, took horn a 
+drawer the key of M. Madeleine's chamber, and the flat candle- 
+stick which he used every evening to go up to his quarters; 
+then she hung the key on the nail whence he was accustomed 
+to take it, and set the candlestick on one side, as though she 
+was expecting hira. Then she sat down again on her chair, 
+and became al)sorbed in thought once more. The poor, good 
+old woman had done all this without being conscious of it. 
+
+It was only at the expiration of two hours that she roused 
+herself from her revery, and exclaimed, *'Hold! My good 
+God Jesus ! And I hung his key on the nail ! " 
+
+At that moment the small window in the lodge opened, a 
+hand passed through, seized the key and the candlestick, and 
+lighted the taper at the candle which was burning there. 
+
+The portress raised her eyes, and stood there with gaping 
+mouth, and a shriek which she confined to her throat. 
+
+She knew that hand, that arm, the sleeve of that coat. 
+
+It was M. Madeleine. 
+* It was several seconds before she could speak ; she had a 
+fetzare, as she said herself, when she related the adventure 
+afterwards. 
+
+*'Good God, Monsieur le Maire," she cried at last, "I 
+thought you were — " 
+
+She stopped ; the conclusion of her sentence would have been 
+lacking in respect towards the beginning. Jean Valjean was 
+still Monsieur le Maire to her. 
+
+He finished her thought. 
+
+' In prison," said he. ^^I was there ; I broke a bar of one 
+of the windows ; I let myself drop from the top of a roof, and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+FANTINE. 288 
+
+tkere I am. I am going up to my room ; go and find Sister 
+Sifflplice for me. She is with that poor woman, no doubt.*' 
+
+The old woman obeyed in all haste. 
+
+He gave her no orders ; he was quite sure that she would 
+guard him better than he should guard himself. 
+
+No one ever found out how he had managed to get into the 
+coortjard without opening the big gates. He had, and always 
+carried about him, a pass-key which opened a little side-door ; 
+bat he must have been searched, and his latch-key must have 
+been taken from him. This point was never explained. 
+
+He ascended the stabrcase leading to his chamber. On arriv- 
+ing at the top, he left his candle on the top step of his stairs, 
+opened his door with very little noise, went and closed his win- 
+dow and his shutters by feeling, then returned for his candle 
+and re-entered his room. 
+
+It was a useful precaution ; it will be recollected that his 
+window could be seen from the street. 
+
+He cast a glance about him, at his table, at his chair, at his 
+bed which had not been disturbed for three days. No trace of 
+the disorder of the night before last remained. The portress 
+bad *' done up " his room ; only she had picked out of the ashes 
+and placed neatly on the table the two iron ends of the cudgel 
+and the forty-sou piece which had been blackened by the fire. 
+
+He took a sheet of paper, on which he wrote: *^ These are 
+the two tips of my iron-shod cudgel and the forty-sou piece 
+stolen from Little Gervais, which I mentioned at the Court of 
+Assizes," and he arranged this piece of paper, the bits of iron, 
+tnd the coin in such a way that they were the first things to be 
+seen on entering the room. From a cupboard he pulled out 
+one of bis old shirts, which he tore in pieces. In the strips 
+of linen thus prepared he wrapped the two silver candlesticks. 
+He betrayed neither haste nor agitation ; and while he was 
+wrapping up the Bishop's candlesticks, he nibbled at a piece 
+of black bread. It was probably the prison-bread which he had 
+carried with him in his flight. 
+
+This was pi'oved by the crumbs which were found on the floor 
+of the room when the authorities made an examination later on. 
+
+There came two taps at the door. 
+
+"Come in," said he. 
+
+It was Sister Simplice. 
+
+She was pale ; her eyes were red ; the candle which she carried 
+trembled in her hand. The peculiar feature of the violences of 
+destiny is, that however polished or cool we may be, they wring 
+bamau nature from our very bowels, and force it to reappear on 
+
+
+
+uigiiized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+284 LES MISEUABLES. 
+
+the surface. The emotionB of that day had tamed the nu^ 
+into a woman once more. She had wept, and she was trem 
+bling. 
+
+Jean Val jean had just finished writing a few lines on a paper, 
+which he handed to the nun, saying, ^^ Sister, you will give this 
+*o Monsieur le Cui-é." 
+
+The paper was not folded. She cast a glance upor it 
+
+'' You can read it," said he. 
+
+She read : — 
+
+'^I beg Monsieur le Curé to keep an eye on all that I leave 
+oehiud nie. He will be so good as to pay out of it the ex\mv 
+ses of my trial, and of the funeral of the woman who died ves 
+terdîiy. The rest is for the poor.*' 
+
+The sister tried to S|)eak, bn^ she only managed to stammer s 
+few inarticulate sounds. She succeeded in saying, however: - 
+
+*'^ Does not Monsieur le Maire desire to take a last look at 
+that poor, unhappy woman?" 
+
+*' No," said he ; ^' I am pursued ; it would only end in their 
+arresting me in that room, and that would disturb her." 
+
+He had hardly finished when a loud noise became audible on 
+the staircase. They heard a tumult of ascending footstepd. 
+and the old portress saying in her loudest and most piercioii; 
+tones : — 
+
+*' My good sir, I swear to you by the good God, that not a 
+soul has entered this house all day, nor all the evening, and 
+that I have not even left the door." 
+
+A man resi)onded : — 
+
+*• But there is a light in that room, nevertheless." 
+
+They recognized Javert's voice. 
+
+The chamber was so arranged that the door in oi)ening 
+masked the corner of the wall on the right. Jeun Val jean bk» 
+out the light and placed himself in this angle. 
+
+Sister Siinplice fell on her knees near the table. 
+
+The d(X)r o[)ened. 
+
+J avert entered. 
+
+The whispers of many mon and the protestations of tbe 
+portress were audible in the corridor. 
+
+Tlie nun did not raise her eyes. She was praying. 
+
+The caudle was on the chimney-piece, and gave but ven* litfip 
+light. 
+
+Javert canght sight of the nun and halted in amazement 
+
+Tt will be remembered that the fuudamoutal point in Javert. 
+nis element, the very air he bn^athed, was veneration for al^ 
+ftuthority. Thss was impregnable, and admitted of neither ' b 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+jTANTINK 285 
+
+JectîoD nor restriction. In his eyes, of course, the ecciesiastica 
+authority was the chiet of all ; he was religious, superficial and 
+correct on this point as on all others. In his C3'es, a priest was 
+a mind, who never makes a mistake; a nun was a creature 
+who never sius ; they were souls walled in from this world, witb 
+a single door which never opened except to allow the truth tc 
+pass through. 
+
+On perceiving the sister, his first movement was to retire 
+
+But there was also another duty which bound him an.l im 
+peiled him imperiousl}' in the opposite direction. His seconc 
+movement was to remain and to ventuix) on at least one question 
+
+This was Sister Slmplice, who had never told a lie in her life 
+Javert knew it, and held her in special veneration in conse 
+quence. 
+
+" Sister,** said he, " are you alone in this room ? " 
+
+A terrible moment ensued, during which the poor portreai 
+felt as though she should faint. 
+
+The sister raised her eyes and answered : — 
+
+'^Yes.** 
+
+**Then," resumed Javert, **you will excuse me if I persist, 
+it is my duty; you have not seen a certain person — a man - 
+this evening? He has escaped; we are in search of him — tiMrt 
+Jean Valjean ; you have not seen him ? *' 
+
+The sister replied : — 
+
+"No." 
+
+She lied. She had lied twice in succession, one after the 
+other, without hesitation, promptly, as a person does when sao 
+rificing herself. 
+
+" Pardon me,** said Javert, and he retired with a deep bow. 
+
+sainted maid ! you left this world many years ago i you 
+have rejoined your sisters, the virgins, and your brothers, the 
+auj^els, in the light ; may this lie be counted to your credit ic 
+paradise I 
+
+The sister's afidrmation was for Javert so decisive a thing 
+tijut he did not even observe the singularity of that candle 
+which had but just been extinguished, and which was still 
+smoking on the table. 
+
+An hour later, a man, marching amid trees and mists, wa« 
+rapidly departing from M. sur M. in the direction of Paris. 
+That man was Jean Valjean. It has been established by the 
+tentimony of two or three caii;ers who met him, that he was 
+carrying a bundle ; that he was dressed in a blouse. Whers 
+bad he obtained that blouse ? No one ever found out. But ao 
+3ged workman had died in the infirmary of the factory a lew 
+
+
+
+286 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+days before, leaving behind liim nothing but his blouse. Pe> 
+haps that was the one. 
+
+One last word about Fantine. 
+
+We all have a mother, — the earth. Fantine was given back 
+to that mother. 
+
+The curé thought that he was doing right, and perhaps be 
+really was, in reserving as much money as possible from what 
+.lean Valjean had left for the poor. Who was concerned, after 
+all ? A convict and a woman of the town. That is why he had 
+a very simple funeral for Fantine, and reduced it to that strictly 
+necessary form known as the pauper's grave. 
+
+So Fantine was buried in the free corner of the cemetery 
+which belongs to anybody and everybody, and where the |)oor 
+are lost. Fortunately, God knows where to find the soul again. 
+Fantine was laid in the shade, among the first bones that came 
+to hand ; she was subjected to the promiscuousness of ashes. 
+She was thrown into the public grave. Her grave resembled 
+her bed 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+
+THE MAN SEIZED THE HANDLE OF THE BUCKET WHICH SHE 
+WAS CARRYING. 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+LES MISERABLES. 
+Coscttc* 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIRST. — WATERLOO. 
+1. —What is met wrm on the Way from Nivelle». 
+
+Last year (1861), on a beautiful May morning, a traveller, 
+the person who is telling this storv, was coining from Nivelles, 
+and directing his course towards La Hulpe. He was on foot. 
+He was pursuing a broad paved road, which undulated between 
+two rows of trees, over the hills which succeed each other, raise 
+the road and let it fall again, and produce something in the 
+nature of enormous waves. 
+
+He bad passed Lillois and Bois-Seigneur-Isaac. In the wesfc 
+he perceived the slate- roofed tower of Braine-rAlleud, which 
+has the form of a reversed vase. He had just left behind a 
+wood upon an eminence ; and at the angle of the cross-road, by 
+the side of a sort of mouldy gibbet bearing the inscription 
+Ancient Btirrier No. 4, a public house, bearing on^its front this 
+sign : At tJie Four Winds (Aux Quatre Vents). Echabeau^ Pri- 
+vate Café. 
+
+A quarter of a league further on, he arrived at the bottom of 
+a little valley, where there is water which passes beneath au 
+arch made through the embankment of the road. The clump 
+of sparsely t>lft"ted but very green trees, which fills the valley 
+on one side of the road, is dispersed over the meadows on the 
+other, and disappears gracefully and as in disorder in the direc- 
+tion of BrRine-l'AUeud. 
+
+On the right, close to the road, was an inn, with a four-wheeled 
+cart at the door, a large bundle of hop- poles, a plough, a heap 
+of dried brushwood near a flourishing hedge, lime smoking in 
+a square hole, and a ladder suspended along an old penthouse 
+with straw partitions. A young girl was weoding in a field, 
+where a huge yellow poster, probably of some outside spectacle, 
+sach a« a parish festival, was flntterins; in the wind. At oniB 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+2 LES MISÉRABLES. ' 
+
+corner of the inn, beside a pool in which a flotilla of ducks waa 
+navigating, a badly paved path phmgcd into the bushes. The 
+wayfarer struck into tliis. 
+
+After traversing a hundred paces, skirting a wall of the fif- 
+teenth century, surmounted by a pointed gable, with bricks set 
+in contrast, he found himself before a large door of arched stone, 
+with a rectilinear impost, in the sombre style of Louis XIV., 
+flanked by two flat medallions. A severe façade rose above 
+this door ; a wall, perpendicular to the facade, almost touched 
+the door, and flanked it with an abrupt right angle. In tlie 
+meadow before the door lay three harrows, through which, in 
+disorder, grew all the flowers of May. The door was closed. 
+The two decrepit leaves which barred it were ornamented with 
+an old rusty knocker. 
+
+The sun was charming ; the branches had that soft shivering 
+of May, which seems to proceed rather from the nests than from 
+the wind. A brave little binl, probably a lover, was carolling 
+in a distracted manner in a large tree. 
+
+The wayfarer bent over and examined a rather large circular 
+excavation, resembling the hollow of a sphere, in the stone on 
+the left, at the foot of the pier of the door. 
+
+At this moment the leaves of the door paited, and a peasant 
+woman emerged. 
+
+She saw the wayfarer, and perceived what he was looking at. 
+
+'* It was a French cannon-ball which made that," she said to 
+him. And she added : — 
+
+" That which you see there, higher up in the door, near a 
+nail, is the hole of a big iron bullet as large as an egg. The 
+bullet did not pierce the wood." 
+
+" What is the name of this place?" inquired the wayfarer. 
+
+*' Hougomont," said the peasant woman. 
+
+The traveller straightened himself up. He walked on a few 
+paces, and went off to look over the tops of the hedges. On the 
+horizon, through the trees, he perceived a sort oflibkle elevation, 
+and on this elevation something which at that distance resembled 
+\ lion. 
+
+He was on the battle-field of Waterloo. 
+
+n. — Hougomont. 
+
+Hougomont, — this was a funereal spot, the beginning of the 
+obstacle, the first resistance, which that great wood-cutter of 
+Europe, called Napoleon, encountered at Waterloo, the first 
+knot under the blows of his axe. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 3 
+
+It was a châteaa ; it is no longer anything but a farm. Fof 
+the antiquary, Hougomont is Ilugomons. Tiiis manor was 
+built by Ilugo, Sire of Somorel, the same wlio endowed the sixth 
+chaplaincy of the Abbey of Villiers. 
+
+The traveller pushed open the door, elbowed an ancient calash 
+ander the porch, and entered the courtyard. 
+
+The first thing which struck him in this paddock was a dooi 
+af the sixteenth century, which here simulates an arcade, every^ 
+thing else having fallen prostrate around it. A monumental 
+aspect often has its birth in ruin. Tn a wall near the arcade 
+opens another arched door, of the time of Henry IV., permitting 
+a glimpse of the trees of an orchard ; beside this door, a manure- 
+hole, some pickaxes, some shovels, some carts, an old well, 
+with its flagstone and its iron reel, a chicken jumping, and a 
+turkey spreading its tail, a chapel surmounted by a small bell- 
+tower, a blossoming pear-tree trained in espalier against the 
+wall of the chapel — behold the court, tfie conquest of which 
+was one of Napoleon's dreams. This corner of earth, could he 
+but have seized it, would, perhaps, have given him the world 
+likewise. Chickens are scattering its dust abroad with their 
+beaks. A growl is audible ; it is a huge dog, who shows his 
+teeth and replaces the English. 
+
+The English behaved admirably there. Cooke's four com- 
+panies of guards there held out for seven hours against the 
+fury of an arm^'. 
+
+Hougomont viewed on the map, as a geometrical plan, com- 
+prising buildings and enclosures, presents a sort of irregular 
+rectangle, one angle of which is nicked out. It is this angle 
+which contains the southern door, guarded by this wall, which 
+commands it only a gun's length away. Hougomont has two 
+doors, — the southern door, that of the château ; and the north- 
+em door, belonging to the farm. Napoleon sent his brother 
+Jérôme against Hougomont; the divisions of Foy, Guillcminot, 
+And Bachelu hurled themselves against it; nearly the entire 
+corps of Reille was employed against it, and miscarried ; 
+Kellermann's balls were exhausted on this heroic section of 
+wall. Bauduin's brigade was not strong enough to force Hougo- 
+mont on the north, and the brigade of Soye could not do more 
+than effect the beginning of a breach on the south, but without 
+taking it. 
+
+The farm buildings border the courtyard on the south. A 
+bit of the north door, broken by the French, hangs suspeiTdecl 
+to the wall. It consists of four planks nailed to two cross 
+beams, on which the scars of the attack arc visible. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+4 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+The northern door, which was beaten in by the French, and 
+whicii lias had a piece applied to it to replace the panel sus- 
+pended on the wall stands half-open at the bottom of the pad- 
+dock ; it is cut squarely in the wall, built of stone below, of 
+brick above, which closes in the courtyard on the north. It is 
+a simple door for carts, such as exist in all farms, with the two 
+large leaves made of rustic planks : beyond lie the meadows. 
+The dispute over this entrance was furious. For a long time, 
+all sorts of imprints of bloody hands were visible on the door- 
+posts. It was there that Bauduin was killed. 
+
+The storm of the combat still lingers in this courtyard ; its hor- 
+ror is visible there ; the confusion of the fray was petrified there ; 
+it lives and it dies there ; it was only yesteixlay. The walls are 
+in the death agony, the stones fall ; the breaches cry aloud ; the 
+holes are wounds; the drooping, quivering trees seem to be 
+making an effort to flpe. 
+
+This courtyard was more built up in 1815 than it is to-day. 
+Buildings which have since been pulled down, then formed 
+redans and angles. 
+
+The English barricaded themselves there ; the French made 
+their way in, but could not stand their ground. Beside the 
+chapel, one wing of the château, the only ruin now remaining 
+of the manor of Ilougomont, rises in a crumbling state, — disem- 
+bowelled, one might say. The château served for a dnngeon, 
+the chapel for a block-house. There men exterminated each 
+other. The French, fired on from every point, — from behind 
+the walls, from the summits of the garrets, from the depths of 
+the cellars, through all the casements, through all the air-holes, 
+through every crack in the stones, — fetched fagots and set fire 
+to walls and men ; the reply to the grape-shot was a conflagration. 
+
+In the ruined wing, through windows garnished with bars of 
+iron, the dismantled chambers ot the main building of brick are 
+visible ; the English guards were in ambush in these rooms ; 
+the spiral of the staircase, cracked from the ground floor to the 
+very i-oof, appears like the inside of a broken shell. The stair- 
+case has two stories ; the English, besieged on the staircase, 
+and massed on its upper steps, had cut off the lower steps. 
+These consisted of large slabs of blue stone, which form a heap 
+among tlie nettles. Half a score of steps still cling to the 
+wall ; on the first is cut the figure of a trident. These inacces- 
+sible steps are solid in their niches. All the rest resembles a 
+Jaw* which has been denuded of its teeth. There are two old 
+trees there : one is dead ; the other is wounded at its base, and 
+Is clothed with verdure in April. Since 1815 it has taken to 
+growing through the staireafl^ 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 6 
+
+A massacre took place in the chapel. The interior, which has 
+recovered its calm, is singular. The mass has not been said there 
+since the carnage. Nevertheless, the altar has been left there — 
+an altar of unpolished wood, placed against a background of 
+roughhewn stone. Four whitewashed walls, a door opposite the 
+altar, two small arched windows ; over the door a large wooden 
+crucifix, below the crucifix a square air-hole stopped up with a 
+bundle of hay ; on the ground, in one corner, an old window- 
+frame with the glass all broken to pieces — such is the chapel. 
+Near the altar there is nailed up a wooden statue of Saint Anne, 
+of the fifteenth century ; the head of the infant Jesus has been 
+carried off by a large ball. The French, who were masters of 
+the chapel for a moment, and were then dislodged, set fire to it. 
+The flames filled this building ; it was a perfect furnace ; the 
+door was burned, the floor was burned, the wooden Christ wa« 
+not burned. The fire preyed upon his feet, of which only tht» 
+blackened stumps are now to be seen ; then it stopped, — u 
+miracle, according to the assertion of the people of the neigh- 
+)K>rl)ood. The infant Jesus, decapitated, was less fortunate 
+than the Christ. 
+
+The walls are covered with inscriptions. Near the feet of 
+Christ this name is to be read : Henquinez. Then these others : 
+Conde de Rio Maior Marques y Marquesa de Almagro {Hor- 
+bana) . There are French names with exclamation points, — a 
+sign of wrath. The wall was freshly whitewashed in 1849. 
+The nations insulted each other there. 
+
+It was at the door of this chapel that the corpse was picked 
+up which held an axe in its hand ; this corpse was Sub-Lieuten- 
+ant Legros. 
+
+On emerging from the chapel, a well is visible on the left. 
+There are two in this courtyard. One inquires, Why is there 
+no bucket and pulley to this? It is because water is no longer 
+:lrawn there. Why is water not drawn there? Because it is 
+lull of skeletons. 
+
+The last person who drew water from the well was named 
+Guillaume van Kylsom. He was a peasant who lived at Hougo- 
+mont, and was gardener there. On the 18th of June, 1815, his 
+family fled and concealed themselves in the woods. 
+
+The forest surrounding the Abbey of Villiers sheltered these 
+unfortunate people who had been scattered abroad, for many 
+days and nights. There are at this day certain traces recog- 
+nizable, such as old boles of burned trees, which mark the 
+site of these poor bivouacs trembling in the depths of the 
+tbicketB. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+6 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Guillaume van Kylsom remained at Hougomont, '*to gnafâ 
+the château," and concealed himself in the cellar. The English 
+discovered him there. They tore him from his hiding-place, and 
+the combatants forced this frightened man to serve them, b; 
+administrating blows with the flats of their swords. The}- were 
+thirsty ; this Guillaume brought them water. It was from this 
+well that he drew it. Many drank there their last draught. 
+Tliis well where drank so many of the dead was destined tc 
+die itself. 
+
+After the engagement, they were in haste to bury the dead 
+bodies. Death has a fashion of harassing victor}', and she 
+causes the pest to follow glory. The typhus is a concomitant 
+of triumph. This well was deep, and it was turned into a 
+sepulchre. Three hundred dead bodies were cast into it 
+With too much haste perhaps. Were they all dead? Legend 
+says they wore not. It seems that on the night succeeding the 
+interment, feeble voices were heard calling from the well. 
+
+This well is isolated in the middle of the courtyard. Three 
+walls, part stone, part brick, and simulating a small, square 
+tower, and folded like the leaves of a screen, surround it on ftll 
+sides. The fourth side is open. It is there that the water was 
+drawn. The wall at the bottom has a sort of shapeless loop- 
+hole, possibly the hole made by a shell. This little tower had 
+a platform, of which only the beams remain. The iron supix>rts 
+of the well on the right form a cross. On leaning over, the eye 
+is lost in a deep cylinder of brick which is filled with a heaped- 
+np mass of shadows. The base of the walls all about the well 
+is concealed in a growth of nettles. 
+
+This well has not in front of it that large blue slab which 
+forms the table for all wells in Belgium. The slab has here 
+been replaced by a cross-beam, against which lean five or 
+six shapeless fragments of knotty and petrified wood which 
+resemble huge bones. There is no longer either pail, chain, 
+or pulley ; but there is still the stone basin which served the 
+overflow. The rain-water collects there, and from time to time 
+a bird of the neighboring forests comes thither to drink, and 
+then flies away. One house in this ruin, the farmhouse, is 
+still inhabited. The door of this house opens on the courtyard. 
+Upon this door, beside a pretty gothic lock-plate, there is an 
+iron handle with trefoils placed slanting. At the moment when 
+the Hanoverian lieutenant, Wilda, grasped this handle in order 
+to take refuge in the farm, a French sa]>per hewed off his hand 
+with an axe. 
+
+The family who occupy the house had for their grandfathei 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 7 
+
+Guillaume van Kjlsoin, the old gardener, dead long since. A 
+woman with gray hair said to us : "I was there. I was three 
+years old. My sister, who was older, was terrified and wept, 
+riiey carried us off to the woods. I went there in my mother's 
+arms. We glued our ears to the earth to hear. I imitated the 
+cannon, and went bouin ! bourn ! *' 
+
+A door opening from the courtyard on the left led into the 
+irchard, so we were told. The orchaixl is terrible. 
+
+It is in three parts; one might almost say, in three acts. 
+The fiiTst part is a gai-den, the second is an orchard, the third is 
+4 wood. These three parts have a common enclosure : on the 
+side of the entrance, the buildings of the château and the farm ; 
+on the left, a hedge; on the right, a wall; and at the end, a 
+wall. The wall on the right is of brick, the wall at the bottom 
+is of stone. One enters the garden first. It slopes downwards, 
+is planted with goosebeiTy bushes, choked with a wild growth 
+of vegetation, and terminated by a monumental terrace of cut 
+stone, with balustrade with a double cur\'e. 
+
+It was a seignorial garden in the first French style which 
+preceded Le Nôtre ; to-da}' it is ruins and briars. The pilasters 
+are surmounted by globes which resemble cannon-balls of stone. 
+Fprty-three balusters can still be counted on their sockets ; the 
+rest lie prostrate in the gi-ass. Almost all bear scratches of 
+bullets. One broken baluster is placed on the pediment like a 
+fractured leg. 
+
+It was in this garden, further down than the orchard, that 
+six light-infantry men of the 1st, having made their way thither, 
+and being unable to escape, hunted down and caught like bears 
+in their dens, accepted the combat with two Hanoverian com- 
+panies, one of which was armed with carbines. Tlie Hanove- 
+rians lined this balustrade and fired from above. The infantry 
+men, rei)lying from below, six against two hundred, intrepid 
+and with uo shelter save the currant-bushes, took a quarter of 
+in hour to die. 
+
+One mounts a few steps and passes from the garden into the 
+jrchard, properly speaking. There, within the limits of those few 
+aqnare fathoms, fifteen hundred men fell in less than an hour» 
+The wall seems ready to renew the combat. Thirty-eight loop- 
+holes, pierced by the English at irregular heights, are there 
+still. In front of the sixth are placed two English tombs of 
+granite. There are loopholes only in the south wall, as the 
+|)rincipal attack came from that quarter. The wall is hidden 
+on the outside by a tall hedge ; the French came up, thinking 
+that they had to deal only with a hedge, crossed it, and found 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+8 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Ilie wall both an obstacle and an ambuscade, with the English 
+Guards belùrul it, the thirty-eight loopholes firing at once a 
+shower of grape-shot and balls, and Soye's brigade wa^ broken 
+against it. Thus Waterloo began. 
+
+Nevertheless, the orchard was taken. As they had no lad- 
+ders, the French scaled it with their nails. They fought hand 
+to hand amid the trees. All this grass has been soaked in 
+blood. A battalion of Nassau, seven hundred strong, was 
+overwhelmed there. The outside of the wall, against which 
+Kellermann's two batteries were trained, is gnawed by grape 
+shot. 
+
+This orchard is sentient, like others, in the month of May. 
+It lias its buttercups and its daisies ; the grass is tall there ; 
+the cart-horses browse there ; cords of hair, on which linen is 
+drying, traverse the spaces between the trees and force the 
+passer-by to bend his head ; one walks over this uncultivated 
+land, and one's foot dives into mole-holes. In the middle of 
+the grass one observes an uprooted tree-bole which lies there 
+all verdant. Major Blackmann leaned against it to die. Be- 
+neath a great tree in the neighborhood fell the German general, 
+Duplat, descended from a French family which fled on the 
+revocation of the Edict of Nantes. An aged and falling apple- 
+tree leans far over to one side, its wound dressed with a band- 
+age of straw and of clayey loam. Nearly all the apple-trees 
+are falling with age. There is not one which has not had its 
+bullet or its biscayan.^ The skeletons of dead trees abound in 
+this orchai-d. Crows fly through their branches, and at the end 
+of it is a wood full of violets. 
+
+Bauduin killed, Foy wounded, conflagration, massacre, car- 
+nage, a rivulet formed of English blood, French blood, German 
+blood mingled in fury, a well crammed with corpses, the regi- 
+ment of Nassau and the regiment of Brunswick destroyeil, 
+Duplat killed, Blackmann killed, the English Guards mi\tiiated, 
+twenty French battalions, besides the forty from Reille's corjxs, 
+decimated, three thousand men in that hovel of Hougomont 
+alone cut down, slashed to pieces, shot, burned, with their 
+throats cut, — and all this so that a peasant can say to-day to the 
+traveller: Monsieur^ give me three franchi ^ and if you like^ IwiU 
+wplain to you the affair of Waterloo ! 
+
+^ A ballet as larj^e as an «g|p 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 
+
+
+
+III. — The Eighteenth op June, 1815. 
+
+Let us turn back, — that is one of the story-teller's rights,— 
+md put ourselves once more in the year 181Ô, and even a little 
+aarlier than the epoch when the action narrated in the first part 
+)f this book took place. 
+
+If it had not rained in the night between the 17th and the 18th 
+>f June, 1815, the fate of Europe would have been different. A 
+few drops of water, more or less, decided the downfall of Napo- 
+leon. All that Providence required in order to make Waterloo 
+the end of Austerlitz was a little more rain, and a clond travers- 
+ing the sky out of season sufficed to make a world crumble. 
+
+The battle of Waterloo could not be begun until half-past- 
+eleven o'clock, and that gave Blticher time to come up. Why? 
+Because the gi-ound was wet. The artillery bad to wait until it 
+became a little firmer before they could manœuvre. 
+
+Napoleon was an artillery officer, and felt the effects of this. 
+The foundation of this wouderftil captain was the man who, 
+in the report to the Directory on Aboukir, said: Such a 
+one of our balls killed six men. All his plans of battle were 
+arranged for projectiles. The key to his victory was to make 
+the artillery converge on one point. He treated the strat- 
+egy of the hostile general like a citadel, and made a breach 
+in it. He overwhelmed the weak point with grape-shot ; he joined 
+and dissolved battles with cannon. There was something of 
+the sharpshooter in his genius. To beat in squares, to pulver- 
+ize regiments, to break lines, to crush and disperse masses, — 
+for him everything lay in this, to strike, strike, strike inces- 
+santly, — and he intrusted this task to the cannon-ball. A 
+redoubtable method, and one which, united with genius, ren- 
+dered this gloomy athlete of the pugilism of war invincible for 
+die space of fifteen years. 
+
+On the 18th of June, 1815, he relied all the more on his 
+artillery, because he had numbers on his side. Wellington had 
+only one hundred and fifty-nine months of fire ; Napoleon had 
+two hundred and forty. 
+
+Snppose the soil dry, and the artillery capable of moving, 
+the action would have begun at six o^clock in the morning. 
+The battle would have been won and ended at two o'clock, 
+three hours before the change of fortune in favor of the Prns* 
+Bian8. Wliat amount of blame attaches to Napoleon for the 
+loes of this battle? Is the shipwreck due to the pilot? 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+10 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Was it the evident physical decline of Napoleon that com 
+plicated this epoch by au inward diminution of force? Had 
+the twenty years of war worn out the blade as it had worn the 
+scabbard, the soul as wc4l as the b(xly? Did the veteran 
+make himself disastrously felt in the leader? In a woi*d, was 
+this genius, as many historians of note have thought, suffering 
+fi-om an eclipse? Did he go into a frenzy in order to disguise 
+his weakened powers from himself ? Did he begin to waver undei 
+tlie delusion of a breath of adventure? Had he become — s 
+grave matter in a general — unconscious of peril? Is there an 
+age, in this class of material great men, who may be called 
+the giants of action, when genius grows short-sighted? Old age 
+has no hold on the geniuses of the ideal ; for the Dantes and 
+Michael Angolos to grow old is to grow in greatness ; is it to 
+grow less for the Hannibals and the Bonapartes? Had Napo- 
+leon lost the direct sense of victory? Had he reached the point 
+where he could no longer recognize the reef, could no longer 
+divine tlie snare, no longer discern the crumbling brink of 
+abysses? Had he lost his power of scenting out catastrophes? 
+He who had in former days known all the roads to triumph, 
+and who, from the summit of his chariot of lightning, pointed 
+them out with a sovereign finger, had he now reached that state 
+of sinister amazement when he could lead his tumultous legions 
+harnessed to it, to the precipice? Was he seized at the age of 
+forty-six with a supreme madness? Was that titanic charioteer 
+of destiny no longer anything more than an immense dare-devil? 
+
+We do not think so. 
+
+His plan of battle was, by the confession of all, a master* 
+piece. To go straight to the centre of the Allies' line, to make 
+a breach in the enemy, to cut them in two, to drive the British 
+iialf back on Hal, and the Prussian half on Tongres, to make 
+two shattered fragments of Wellington and Bliicher, to carry 
+Mont-Saint-Jean, to seize Brussels, to hurl the German into the 
+Rhine, and the Englisliman into the sea. All this was con- 
+tained in that battle, according to Napoleon. Afterward» 
+people would see. 
+
+Of course, we do not here pretend to furnish a history of the 
+battle of Waterloo ; one of the scenes of tiie foundation of the 
+story which we are relating is connected with this battle, but 
+this history is not our subject ; this history, moreover, has been 
+finished, and finished in a masterly- manner, from one point of 
+view by Na|X)leon, and from another point of view by a wh<de 
+pleiad of historians. ^ 
+
+1 Walter Scott, Lamartine, Vaulabelle, Cbarras, Qoinet, Thien. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 11 
+
+As for as, we leave the historians at loggerheads ; we ai-e but 
+A distant witness, a passer-by on the plain, a seeker beiidin| 
+over that soil all made of human flesh, taking appearances for 
+realities, perchance ; we have no right to oppose, in the name 
+of science, a collection of facts which contain illusions, no 
+doubt ; we possess neither military practice nor strategic ability 
+which authorize a system; in our opinion, a chain of accidents 
+lominated the two leaders at Waterloo ; and when it becomes a 
+question of destiny, that mysterious culprit, we judge like that 
+ngenious judge, the populace. 
+
+
+
+IV. — A. 
+
+Those persons who wish to gain a clear idea of the battle of 
+Waterloo have only to place, mentally, on the ground, a capital 
+A. The left limb of the A is the road to Nivelles, the right 
+limb is the road to Genappe, the tie of the A is the hollow road 
+to Ohain from Braine I'Alleud. The top of the A is Mont- 
+Saint-Jean, where Wellington is ; the lower left tip is Hougo- 
+mont, where Reille is stationed with Jérôme Bonaparte ; the 
+right tip is the Belle- Alliance, where Napoleon was. At the 
+centre of this chord is the precise point where the final word of 
+.the battle was pronounced. It was there that the lion has been 
+placed, the involuntary symbol of the supreme heroism of the 
+Imperial Guard. 
+
+The triangle included in the top of the A, between the two 
+limbs and the tie, is the plateau of Mont-Saint- Jean. The 
+dispute over this plateau constituted the whole battle. The 
+wings of the two armies extended to the right and left of the 
+two roads to Genappe and Nivelles ; d'Erlon facing Picton, 
+Reille facing Hill. 
+
+Behind the tip of the A, behind the plateau of Mont-Saint- 
+Jean, is the forest of Soignes. 
+
+As for the plain itself, let the reader picture to himself a vast 
+undulating sweep of ground ; each rise commands the next rise, 
+and all the undulations mount towards Mont- Saint- Jean, and 
+there end in the forest. 
+
+Two hostile troops on a field of battle are two wrestlers. It 
+is a question of seizing the opponent round the waist. The one 
+seeks to trip up the other. They clutch at everything; a bush 
+ts a point of support ; an angle of the wall offers them a rest t^ 
+the shoulder ; for the lack of a hovel under whose cover they 
+ean draw op, a regiment yields its ground ; an uneyennoss in tb^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+12 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+ground, a chance turn in the landscape, a ci*oss-path encoan 
+tered at tlie right moment, a grove, a ravine, can stay the heel 
+of that colossus whicli is called an army, and prevent its retreat. 
+He who quits the field is beaten ; hence the necessity devolving 
+on the responsible loader, of examining the most insignificant 
+clump of trees, and of studying deeply the slightest relief in the 
+ground. 
+
+The two generals had attentively studied the plain of Mont- 
+Saint-Jean, now called the plain of Waterloo. In the preceding 
+year, Wellington, with the sagacity of foresight, had examinee* 
+it as the possible seat of a great battle. Upon this spot, and 
+for this duel, on the 18th of June, Wellington had the good 
+post. Napoleon the bad post. The English army was stationed 
+above, the French army below. 
+
+It is almost superfluous here to sketch the appearance of 
+Napoleon on horseback, glass in hand, upon the heights of Ros- 
+somme, at daybreak, on June 18, 1815. All the world has 
+seen him before we can show him. That calm profile nnder the 
+little three-cornered hat of the school of Brienne, that green 
+uniform, the white revers concealing the star of the Legion of 
+Honor, his great coat hiding his epaulets, the corner of red 
+ribbon peeping from beneath his vest, his leather trousers, the 
+white horse with the saddle-cloth of purple velvet bearing on 
+the corners crowned N's and eagles, Hessian boots over silk 
+stockings, silver spurs, the sword of Marengo, — that whole 
+figure of the last of the Cfleaars is present to all imaginations, 
+saluted with acclamations by some, severely regarded by others. 
+
+That figure stood for a long time wholly in the light; this 
+arose from a certain legendary dimness evolved by the majority 
+of heroes, and which always veils the truth for a longer or 
+shorter time ; but to-day history and daylight have arrived. 
+
+That light called history is pitiless ; it iKJSsesaes this peenliar 
+and divine quality, that, pure light as it is, and precisely be- 
+cause it is wholly light, it often casts a shadow in places where 
+people had hitherto beheld rays ; from the same man it con- 
+Btructs two différent phantoms, and the one attacks the other 
+and executes justice on it, and the shadows of the despot con- 
+tend with the brilliancy of the leader. Hence arises a truer 
+measure in the definitive judgments of nations. Babylon vio- 
+lated lessens Alexander, Rome enchained lessens Caesar, Jeru- 
+salem murdered lessens Titus, tyranny follows the tyrant. II 
+is a misforttme for a man to leave behind him the night which 
+bears his form. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTB. 13 
+
+
+
+V. — The Quid Obscurum op Battles. 
+
+Evert one is acquainted with the first phase of this battle ; a 
+beginning which was troubled, uncertain, hesitating, menacing 
+to both armies; but still more so for the English than for the 
+French. 
+
+It had rained all night, the earth had been cut up by the 
+down-iX)ur, the water had accumulated here and there in the 
+hollows of the plain as if in casks ;* at some points the gear of 
+the artillery carriages was buried up to the axles, the circingles 
+of the horses were dripping with liquid mud. If the wheat and 
+rye trampled down by this cohort of transports on the march 
+had not filled in the ruts and strewn a litter beneath the wheels, 
+all movement, particularly in the valleys, in the direction of 
+Papelotte would have been imi)08sible. 
+
+The affair began late. Napoleon, as we have already ex- 
+plained, was in the habit of keeping all his artillery well in 
+hand, like a pistol, aiming it now at one point, now at another, 
+of the battle ; and it had been his wish to wait until the horse 
+batteries could move and gallop freely. In order to do that it 
+was necessary that the sun should come out and dry the soil. 
+But the sun did not make its appearance. It was no longer 
+the rendezvous of Austerlitz. When the first cannon was fired, 
+the English general. Col ville, looked at his watch, and noted 
+that it was thirty -five minutes past eleven. 
+
+The action was begun furiously, with more fury, perhaps, 
+than the Emperor would have wished, by the left wing of the 
+French resting on Hougomont. At the same time Napoleon 
+attacked the centre by hurling Quiot's brigade on La Haie-Sainte, 
+and Ney pushed forward the right wing of the French against 
+the left wing of the English, which rested on Pai)elotte. 
+
+The attack on Hougomont was something of a feint ; the plan 
+was to draw Wellington thither, and to make him swerve to the 
+left. This plan would have succeeded if the four companies 
+of the English guards and the brave Belgians of Perponcher's 
+division had not held the position solidly, and Wellington, 
+instead of massing his troops there, could confine himself to 
+despatching thither, as reinforcements, only four more companies 
+of guards and one battalion from Brunswick. 
+
+The attack of the right wing of the French on Papelotte was 
+calculated, in fact, to overthrow the Enj^lish left, to cut off the 
+road to Brussels, to bar the passage against possible Prussians, 
+(O force Mont-Saint-Jean, to turn Wellington back on Houga 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+14 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+mont, thencc on Braîue-rAlleud, thencc on liai ; nothing easiee 
+With the exception of a few incidents tliis attack succeeded 
+Pape lotte was taken ; La Ilaie-Sîiinte was earned. 
+
+X detail to be noted. TUeic was in the English iufantrv, 
+particularly in Kemi)t's brigade, a great many raw recruits. 
+These young soldiers were valiant in the presence of our re- 
+loubtable infantry ; their inexperience extricated them intrepidly 
+Tom the dilemma ; they performed particularly excellent ser 
+/ice as skirmishers : the soldier skinnisher, left somewhat to 
+limself, becomes, so to speak, his own general. These recruits 
+lisplayed some of the Freiîch ingenuity and fury. This novice 
+of an infantry- had dash. This displeased Wellington. 
+
+After the taking of La Haie-Sainte the battle wavered. 
+
+There is in this day an obscure interval, from mid-day to 
+four o*clock ; the middle portion of this battle is almost indis- 
+tinct, and participates in the sombreness of the hand-to-hand 
+conflict. Twilight reigns over it. We perceive vast fluctaa-» 
+tions in that fog, a dizzy mirage, paraphernalia of war almost 
+unknown to-day, pendant colbacks, floating sabre-taches, cross- 
+belts, cartridge-boxes for grenades, hussar dolmans, red boots 
+with a thousand wrinkles, heavy shakos garlanded with tor- 
+sades, the almost black infantry of Brunswick mingled with 
+ihe scarlet infantry of England, the English soldiers with great, 
+white circular pads on the slopes of their shoulders for epaulets* 
+the Hanoverian light-horse with their oblong casques of leather, 
+with brass hands and red horse-tails, the Scotch with their bare 
+knees and plaids, the great white gaiters of our grenadiers; 
+pictures, not strategic lines — what Salvator Rosa requires, not 
+what is suited to the needs of Gribeauval. 
+
+A certain amount of tempest is always minglod with a battle. 
+Quid obsciwum^ quid divinum. Each historian traces, to some 
+extent, the particular feature which pleases-him amid this pell- 
+mell. Whatever may be the combinations of the generals, the 
+shock of armed masses has an incalculable ebb. During the 
+iction the plans of the two leaders enter into each other and be- 
+come mutuall}' thrown out of shape. Such a point of the field 
+of battle devours more combatants than such another, just as 
+more or less spongy soils soak up more or less quickly the 
+water which is poured on them. It becomes necessary to pour 
+out more soldiers than one would like ; a scries of expenditures 
+which are the unforeseen. The line of battle waves and undn- 
+lates like a thread, the trails of blood gush illogically, the fronta 
+of the armies waver, the regiments form capes and gulfs as 
+Uiey enter and withdraw ; all these reefs are continuallj moving 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 15 
+
+tu front of each other. Where the infantry stood the artillery 
+arrives, the cavaky rushes in where the artillery was, the battal- 
+ions are like smoke. There was something there ; seek it. It 
+has disappeared ; the open spots change place, the sombre folds 
+advance and retreat, a sort of wind from the sepulchre pushes 
+forward, hurls back, distends, and disperses these tragic multi- 
+tudes. What is a fray? an oscillation? The immobility of a 
+mathematical plan expresses a minute, not a day. In order to 
+depict a battle, there is required one of those powerful painters 
+who have chaos in their brushes. Rembrandt is better than 
+Vandermeulen ; Vandermeulen, exact at noon, lies at three 
+o'clock. Geometry is deceptive ; the hurricane alone is trust- 
+worthy. That is what confers on Folard the right to contra- 
+dict Polybius. Let us add, that there is a certain instant when 
+the battle degenerates into a combat, becomes specialized, and 
+disi:)erscs into innumerable detailed feats, which, to boiTOw the 
+expression of Napoleon himself, ^^ belong rather to the biog- 
+raphy of the regiments than to the history of the army." The 
+historian has, in this case, the evident right to sum up the whole. 
+He cannot do more than seize the principal outlines of the strug- 
+gle, and it is not given to any one narrator, however conscien- 
+tious he may be, to fix, absolutely, the form of that horrible 
+cloud which is called a battle. 
+
+This, which is true of all great armed encounters, is par* 
+ticularl3' applicable to Waterloo. 
+
+Nevertheless, at a certain moment in the afternoon the battle 
+came to a point. 
+
+
+
+VI. — Four o'clock in the Afternoon. 
+
+Towards four o'clock the condition of the English army was 
+serious. The Prince of Orange was in Qommand of the centre. 
+Hill of the right wing, Picton of the left wing. The Prince of 
+Orange, desperate and intrepid, shouted to the HoUando-Bel- 
+gians: "Nassau! Brunswick! Never retreat ! " Hill, having 
+been weakened, had come up to the support of Wellington : 
+Picton was dead. At the very moment when the English had 
+captured from the French the flag of the 105th of the line, the 
+Fi-ench had killed the English general, Picton, with a bullet 
+through the head. The battle had, for Wellington, two bases 
+of action, Hougomont and La Haie-Sainte ; Hougomont still 
+held out, but was on fire; La Haie-Sainte was taken. Of the 
+German battalion which defended it, only forty-two men sur' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+16 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+vived ; ail the officers, except five, were either dead or captnred 
+riiree thousand combatants had been massacred in tliat barn. 
+A sergeant of the Knglish Guards, the foremost boxer in Eng- 
+land, reputed invulnerable by his companions, had been killed 
+there by a little French drummer- boy. Baring had been dis- 
+lodged, Alten put to the sword. Many flags had been lost, one 
+from Alten*s division, atïd one from the battalion of Lunenburg, 
+carried b}* a prince of the house of Deux-Ponts. The Scotch 
+(îrays no longer existed ; Ponsonby's great dragoons had been 
+hacked to pieces. That valiant cavalry had bent beneath the 
+lancers of Bro and beneath the cuirassiers of Travers ; out of 
+twelve hundred horses, six hundred remained ; out of three 
+lieutenant-colonels, two hi}* on the earth, — Hamilton wounded. 
+Mater slain. Ponsonby had fallen, riddled by seven lance- 
+thrusts. Gordon was dead. Marsh was dead. Two divisions, 
+the fifth andtUie sixth, had been annihilated. 
+
+Hougomont injured, La Haie-Saint taken, there now existed 
+but one rallying-point, the centre. That point still held firm. 
+Wellington reinforced it. He summoned thither Hill, who was at 
+Merle-Braine ; he summoned Chassé, who was at Braine-rAlleud. 
+
+The centre of the English army, rather concave, very dense, 
+and very compact, was strongly posted. It occupied the plateau 
+of Mont-Saint-Jean, having behind it the village, and in front 
+of it the s.ope, which was tolerably steep tlien. It rested on 
+that stout stone dwelling which at that time belonged to the 
+domain of Nivelles, and which marks the intersection of the 
+roads — a pile of the sixteenth century, and so robust that 
+the cannon-balls rebounded from it without injuring it. All 
+about tlie plateau the English had cut the hedges here and 
+there, made embrasures in the hawthorn-trees, thrust the throat 
+of a cannot! between two branches, embattled the shrubs. 
+There artillery was ambushed in the brushwood. This 
+punie labor, incontestably authorized by war, which permits 
+iraps, was so well done, that Haxo, who had been despatched 
+by the Emperor at nine o'clock in the morning to reconnoitre 
+the enemy's batteries, had discovered nothing of it, and had 
+returned and reported to Napoleon that there were no obstacles 
+except the two fjarricades which barred the road to Nivelles and 
+to (rcnapiie. It was at the season when the grain is tall ; on the 
+edji:e of the plateau a battalion of Kempt*s brigade, the 95th, 
+armed with carabines, was concealed in the tall wheat. 
+
+Thus assured and bnttrcssjcd, the centre of the Anglo-Dutch 
+army was well posted. The peril of this position lay in the 
+forest of Soignes, then adjoining the field of battle, and inter 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. n 
+
+fiectcd by the ponds of Groenendael and Boitsfort. An army 
+could not retreat thither without dissolving ; the regiments would 
+have broken up immediately there. The artillery would have 
+been lost among the morasses. The retreat, aecoixling to many 
+a man versed in the art, — though it is disputed by others, — 
+would have been a disorganized Eight. 
+
+To this centre, Wellington added one of Chassé's brigades 
+taken from the right wing, and one of Wincke's brigades taken 
+from the left wing, plus Clinton's division. To his English, to 
+the regiments of Halkett, to the brigades of Mitchell, to the 
+guards of Maitland, he gave as reinforcements and aids, the in- 
+fantry of Brunswick, Nassau's contingent, Kielmansegg's Han- 
+overians, and Ompteda's Germans. This placed twenty-six 
+battalions under his hand. The riglU wing^ as Charras says, woa 
+thrown back on the centre. An enormous battery was masked by 
+sacks of eailh at the spot where there now stands what is called 
+the '' Museum of Waterloo." Besides this, Wellington had, be- 
+hind a rise in the ground, Somerset's Dragoon Guards, fourteen 
+hundred horse strong. It was the remaining half of the justly cele« 
+brated English cavalry. Ponsonby destroyed, Somerset remained. 
+
+The battery, which, if completed, would have been almost a 
+redoubt, was ranged behind a very low garden wall, backed up 
+with a coating of bags of sand and a large slope of earth. This 
+work was not finished ; there had been no time to make a pali- 
+sade for it. 
+
+Wellington, uneasy but impassive, was on hoi*seback, and 
+there remained the whole day in tlic same attitude, a little in 
+advance of the old mill of Mont-Saint- Jean, which is still in 
+existence, beneath an elm, which an Englishman, an enthusias* 
+tic vandal, purchased later on for two hundred francs, cut down, 
+and carried off. Wellington was coldly heroic. The bullets 
+rained about him. His aide-de-camp, Gordon, fell at his side. 
+Lord Hill, pointing to a shell which had burst, said to him : 
+*'My lord, what are your orders in case you are killed?" 
+**To do like me," replied Wellington. To Clinton he said 
+laconically, ^^To hold this spot to the last man." The day 
+vas evidentl}' turning out ill. Wellington shouted to his old 
+companions of Talavera, of Vittoria, of Salamanca: "Boys, 
+can retreat be thought of ? Think of old f^ngland ! " 
+
+Towards four o'clock, the English line drew back. Suddenl]^ 
+nothing was visible on the crest of the plateau except the artil- 
+lery and the sharpshooters ; the rest had disappeared : the regi- 
+ments, dislodged by the shells and the French bullets, retreated 
+into the bottom, now intersected by the back road of the farm oi 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+18 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Mont-Saiut-Jean ; a retrograde movement took place, the Ëng 
+Hsb front hid itself, Wellington drew back. ^'The begÎDning 
+of retreat ! " cried Napoleon. 
+
+
+
+VII. — Napoleon in a Good Humor. 
+
+The ËTnperor, though ill and discommoded on horseback b;^ 
+A local trouble, iiad never been in a better humor than on thai 
+day. His impenetrabilit}' had been smiling ever since the morn 
+ing. On the 18th of June, that profound soul masked by mar- 
+ble beamed blindly. The man who had been gloomy at Aus- 
+terlitz was gay at Waterloo. The greatest favorites of destiny 
+make mistakes. Our joys are composed of shadow. The su- 
+preme smile is God's alone. 
+
+Ridet Cœsar^ Pompeius Jlebit, said the legionaries of the Ful- 
+minatrix Legion. Pompey was not destined to weep on that 
+occasion, but it is certain that Cœsar laughed. While explor- 
+ing on horseback at one o'clock on the preceding night, in storm 
+and rain, in company with Bertrand, the communes in the neigh- 
+borhood of Rossomme, satisfied at the sight of the long line of 
+the English camp-fires illuminating the whole horizon from 
+Frischemont to Braiue-rAllcud, it had seemed to him that fate, 
+to whom he had assigned a day on the field of Waterloo, was 
+exact to the appointment ; he stopped his horse, and remained 
+for some time motionless, gazing at the lightning and listening 
+to the tiiundcr ; and this fatalist was heard to cast into the 
+darkness this mysterious saving, *' We are in accord." Napo- 
+leon was mistaken. They were no longer in accord. 
+
+He took not a moment for sleep ; every instant of that night 
+was marked by a joy for him. He travei-sed the line of the 
+principal outposts, halting here and there to talk to the senti- 
+nels. At half-past two, near the wood of Hougomont, he heard 
+the tread of a column on the march ; he thought at the moment 
+that it was a retreat on the part of Wellington. He said : *' It 
+is the rear-guard of the English getting under way for the pur- 
+IK>se of decamping. I will take prisoners the six thousand 
+English who have just arrived at Ostend.' He conversed 
+expansively ; he regained the animation which he had shown at 
+his landing on the first of March, when he pointed out to 
+the Grand-Marshal the enthusiastic peasant of the Gulf Jnan, 
+and cried, "• Well, Bertrand, here is a reinforcement already ! '" 
+On the nii^lit of the 17th to the IHtli of June he rallied WelHng- 
+ton. ^^ That little Englishman needs a lesson," said Napoleon 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 19 
+
+The rain redoubled in violence ; the thunder rolled while the 
+Emperor was speakiug. 
+
+At half -past three o'clock in the morning, he lost one illusion; 
+offlcera who had been despatclied to reconnoitre announced to 
+him that the enemy was not making any movement. Nothing 
+was stuTing ; not a bivouac-fire had been extinguished ; tlie 
+Kiiglisii army was asleep. The silence on earth was ;nofound ; 
+the only noise was in the heavens. At four o'clock, a peasant 
+was brought in to him by the scouts ; this peasant had served 
+as guide to a brigade of English cavalry, probably Vivian's bri- 
+gade, which was on its way to take up a position in the village 
+of Chain, at the extreme left. At five o'clock, two Belgian 
+deserters reported to him that they had just quitted their regi- 
+ment, and that the English army was ready for battle. '* So 
+much the better ! " exclaimed Napoleon. ''I prefer to overthrow 
+them rather than to drive them back." 
+
+In the morning he dismounted in the mud on the slope which 
+forms an angle with the Plancenoit road, had a kitchen table 
+and a i)easant's chair brought to him from the farm of Ros- 
+8omme, seated himself, with a truss of straw for a carpet, and 
+Bpread out on the table the chart of tlie battle-field, saying to 
+Soult as he did so, " A pretty checker-board." 
+
+In consequence of the rains during the night, the transports 
+of provisions, embedded in the soft roads, had not been able 
+to arrive by morning ; the soldiera had had no sleep ; they 
+W3re wet and fasting. This did not prevent Napoleon from ex- 
+claiming cheerfully to Ne^*, ** We have ninety chances out of a 
+hundred." At eight o'clock the timperor's breakfast was brought 
+to him. He invited many generals to it. During breakfast, it 
+was said that Wellington had been to a ball two nights before, in 
+Brussels, at the Duchess of Richmond's ; and Soult, a rough 
+man of war, with the face of an archbishop, said, ''The ball 
+takes place to-day." The Emperor jested with Ney, who said, 
+" Wellington will not be so simple as to wait for Your Majesty." 
+That was his way, however. '' He was fond of jesting," says 
+Fleory de Chaboulon. " A merry humor was at the foundation 
+of his character," says Gourgaud. *' He abounded in pleasan- 
+tries, which were more peculiar than witty," says Benjamin 
+Constant. These gayeties of a giant are worthy of insistance. 
+It was he who called his grenadiers " his grumblers " ; he 
+pinched their ears ; he pulled their mustaches. '' The Emperor 
+did nothing but play pranks on us," is the remark of one of 
+them. During the mysterious trip trom the îcland of Elba to 
+France, on the 27th of February, on the open sia, the Frencb 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+20 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+brig of war, Le Zéphyr^ having encountered the brig Ulncon 
+
+slant ^ on whicli Napoleon was eoucealud, and having asked the 
+news of Napoleon from U Inconstant ^^ the Emperor, who still 
+wore in his hat the white and amaranthine cockade so.vn with 
+bees, which he had adopted at the isle of Elba, laughingly 
+seized tlie speaking-trumpet, and answered for himself , *'Thc 
+Emperor is well." A man who laughs like that is on familiar 
+terms with events. Napoleon indulged in many fits of thi£ 
+laughter during the breakfast at Waterloo. After breakfast he 
+meditated for a quarter of an hour ; then two generals seated 
+themselves on the tiuss of straw, pen in hand and their pa|)er 
+on their knees, and the Emperor dictated to them tlie order of 
+battle. 
+
+At nine o* clock, at the instant when the French army, ranged 
+in echelons and set in motion in five columns, had deployed — 
+the divisions in two lines, the artillery between the brigades, the 
+music at their head ; as they beat the march, with rolls on tlie 
+drums and the blasts of trumpets, mighty, vast, joyous, a sea of 
+casques, of sabres, and of bayonets on the horizon, the Empe- 
+ror was touched, and twice exclaimed, '* Magnificent I Magnifi- 
+cent ! " 
+
+Between nine o'clock and half-past ten the whole army, in- 
+credible as it may appear, had taken up its position and ranged 
+itself in six lines, forming, to repeat the Emperor's expression, 
+*' the figure of six Vs." A few moments after the formation of 
+the battle-array, in the midst of that profound silence, like that 
+which heralds the beginning of a storm, which precedes engage- 
+ments, the îiraperor tapped llaxo on the shoulder, as he beheld 
+the three batteries of twelve-pounders, detached by his ordera 
+from the corps of P>lon, R(;ille, and rx)bau, and destined to 
+begin the action by taking Mont-Saiut-Jean, which was situated 
+at the intersection of the Nivelles and the Genappe roads, and 
+Wid to him, ''There are four and twentj' handsome maids, 
+"îeneral." 
+
+Sure of the issue, he encouraged with a smile, as they passed 
+before him, the company of sappers of the first corps, which he 
+had appointed to barricade Mont-Saint- Jean as soon as the vil- 
+lage should be carried. All this serenity had been traversed by 
+but a single word of haughty pity ; perceiving on his left, at a 
+Apot where thc^re now stands a large tomb, tliose admirable 
+Scotch Grays, with their superb horses, massing themselves, he 
+aaid, " It is a pity." 
+
+Then he mounted his horse, advanced beyond Rossomme, and 
+selected for his post of observation a contracted élévation of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. Ti 
+
+tarf to the right of the road from Genappe to Brussels, which 
+was his second station during tlie battle. The third station, tht 
+one adopted at seven o'clock in the evening, between La Belle- 
+Alliance and La Haie-Sainte, is formidable ; it is a rather ele* 
+vated knoll, which still exists, and behind which the guard was 
+massed on a slope of the plain. Around this knoll the balls re- 
+bounded from the pavements of the road, up to Napoleon him- 
+self. As at Brienne, he had over his head the shriek of the 
+bullets and of thé heavy artillery. Mouldy cannon-balls, old 
+sword-blades, and shapeless projectiles, eaten up with rust, 
+were picked up at the spot where his horse's feet stood. Scabra 
+nibigine. A few years ago, a shell of sixty pounds, still charged, 
+and with its fuse broken off level with the bomb, was un- 
+earthed. It was at this last post that the Emperor said to his 
+gnide, Lacoste, a hostile and tcnificd peasant, who was attached 
+to the saddle of a hussar, and who turned round at every dis- 
+charge of canister and tried to hide behind Napoleon: " Fool, 
+it is shameful ! You'll get yourself killed with a ball in the 
+back." He who writes these lines has himself found, in the fri- 
+able soil of this knoll, on turning over the sand, the remains of 
+the neck of a bomb, disintegrated by the oxidization of six and 
+forty 3'ears, and old fragments of iron which parted like elder- 
+twigs between the fingers. 
+
+Everj' one is aware that the variously inclined undulations 
+of the plains, where the engagement between Napoleon and 
+Wellington took place, are no longer what they were on June 
+18, 1815. By taking from this mournful field the wherewithal 
+to make a monument to it, its real relief has been taken away, 
+and history, disconcerted, no longer finds her bearings there. 
+It has been disfigured for the sake of glorifying it. Wellington, 
+when he beheld Waterloo once more, two years later, exclaimed, 
+'* They have altered my field of battle ! " Where the great 
+pyramid of earth, surmounted b}* the lion, rises to-day, there 
+was a hillock which descended in an easy^ slope towards the 
+Nivelles road, but which was almost an escarpment on the side 
+of the highway to Genappe. The elevation of this escarpment 
+can still be measured by the height of the two knolls of the two 
+great sepulchres which enclose the road from Genappe to Brus- 
+sels : one, the English tomb, is on the left ; the other, the 
+German tomb, is on the right. There is no French tomb. The 
+whole of that plain is a sepulchre for France. Thanks to the 
+thousands upon thousands of cartloads of earth employed in 
+the hillock one hundred and fifty feet in height and half a mile 
+in circumference, the plateau of Mont-Saint- Jean is now acces' 
+
+
+
+uigiiized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+tS LES MISERABLES. 
+
+«ible by an easy slope. On the day of battle, particularly on 
+the side of La Ilaic-Saiiite, it was abrupt aud dilHcult of ap- 
+proiich. The slope there is so steep tiiat the English cannon 
+eon Id not see the farm, situated in the !)ottom of the valley, 
+wiiich was the centre of the combat. On tlie 18th of June, 1815, 
+the rains had still further increased this acclivity, the mud com- 
+plicated the problem of the ascent, and the men not only slipped 
+back, but stuck fast in tlie mire. Along the crest of the plateau 
+ran a sort of trench whose presence it was impossible for the 
+distant observer to divine. 
+
+What was this trench ? Let us explain. Braine-rAUeud is 
+a Belgian village ; Chain is another. These villages, both of 
+them concealed in curves of the landscape, are connected by a 
+road about a league and a half in length, which traverses the 
+plain along its undulating level, and often enters and buries itself 
+in the hills like a furrow, which makes a ravine of this road in 
+some places. In 1815, as at the present day, this road cut the 
+crest of the plateau of Mont-Saint-Jean between the two high- 
+ways from Genappe and Nivelles ; only, it is now on a level with 
+the plain ; it was then a hollow way. Its two slopes have been 
+appropriated for the monumental hillock. This road was, and 
+still is, a trench throughout the greater portion of its course ; a 
+hollow trench, sometimes a dozen feet in depth, and whose 
+banks, being too steep, crumbled away here and there, particu- 
+larly in winter, under (iriving rains. Accidents happened here. 
+The road was so narrow at the Hraine-rAlleud entrance that a 
+p*isser-by was crushed by a cart, as is proved by a stone cross 
+which stands near the cemetery, and which gives the name of 
+the dead, Monsieur Bernard Debrye, Merchant of Brussels^ and 
+the date of the accident, Fehniary^ 1637} It was so deep on 
+the table-land of >Mont-Saint-Jean that a peasant, Mathieu 
+Nicaise, was crushed there, in 178,'^, by a slide from the slope, 
+as is stated on another stone cross, the top of which has disap 
+peared in the process of clearing the ground, but whose over 
+turned pedestal is still visible on the grassy slope to the left o) 
+the highway between La Haie-Sainte and the farm of Mon^ 
+Saint- Jean. 
+
+^This ifl the iiucription : — 
+
+D. O. M. 
+
+GY A ETE :ÊCRASÂ 
+PAR MAI.IIKI'R 
+
+SOirS ITN CHARIOT, 
+MONSIEUR BKRNABD 
+DB IIRYR MARCIIAHD 
+
+A BRirxKLLR LK [illegible] 
+rcvKiER 16372— 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 23 
+
+Od the day of battle, this hollow road whose existence was 
+n no way indicated, bordering the crest of Mont-Saint- Jean, a 
+Ireuch at the summit of the escarpment, a rut concealed in the 
+joil, was invisible ; that is to say, terrible. 
+
+
+
+nil. - -The Emperor puts a Question to the Guide Lacoste 
+
+So, on the morning of Waterloo, Napoleon was content. 
+
+He was right ; the plan of battle conceived by him was, as 
+we have seen, really admirable. 
+
+The battle once begun, its very various changes, — the resist- 
+ance of Hougomont; the tenacity of La Haie-Sair.te; the killing 
+of Baiiduin ; the disabling of Foy ; the unexpected wall against 
+which Soye's brigade was shattered ; Gnilleminot's fatal heedless- 
+ness when he had neither petard nor powder sacks ; the miring 
+of the batteries ; the fifteen unescorted pieces overwhelmed in a 
+hollow way by Uxbridge ; the small effect of the bombs falling 
+in the English lines, and there embedding themselves in the 
+rain-soaked soil, and only succeeding in producing volcanoes of 
+mod, so that the canister was turned into a splash ; the nseless- 
+ness of Fire's demonstration on Braine-rAUeud ; all that cavalry, 
+fifteen squadrons almost exterminated ; the right wing of the 
+English badly alarmed, the left wing badly cut into; Ney's 
+strange mistake in massing, instead of echelon ning the four 
+divisions of the first corps ; men delivered over to grape-shot, 
+arranged in ranks twenty-seven deep and with a frontage of 
+two hundred ; the frightful holes made in these masses by the 
+cannon-balls ; attacking columns disorganized ; the side-battery 
+suddenl^^ unmasked on their flank ; Bourgeois, Donzelot, and 
+Dunitte compromised ; Quiot repulsed ; Lieutenant Vieux, that 
+Hercules graduated at the Polytechnic School, wounded at the 
+.noment when he was beating in with an axe the door of La 
+(laie-Satnte under the downright fire of the English barricade 
+irhich barred the angle of the road from Genappe to Brussels; 
+Marcognet's division caught between the infantry and the cav- 
+alry, shot down at the very muzzle of the guns amid the forain 
+by Best and Pack, put to the sword by Ponsonby ; his battery 
+of seven pieces spiked ; the Prince of Saxe-Weimar holding and 
+guarding, in spite of the Comte d'Erlon, both Frischemont and 
+Smohain ; the flag of the 105th taken, tlie flag of the 45th cap- 
+tured ; that black Prussian hussar stopi)ed l)y runners of the 
+flying column of three hundred liuht cavalry on the scout be- 
+tween Wavre and PlancenoU,' the alarming things that bad heel 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+$4 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+said by prisoners ; Grouchv's delay ; fifteen hundred men killed 
+in the orchard of Ilougoiiiont in less tlian an hour ; eighteen 
+hundred men overthrown in a slill shorter time? about La Huic- 
+Sahite, — all these stormy incidents passing like the clouds of 
+battle before Napoleon, had hardly troubled his gaze and had 
+not overshadowed that face of imperial certainty. Napoleon 
+was accustomed to gaze steadily at war ; he never added up the 
+heart-rending details, cipher by cipher ; ciphers mattered little to 
+him, provided that they furnished the total, victor}- ; he was 
+not alarmed if the beginnings did go astray, since he thought 
+himself the master and the possessor at the end ; he knew how 
+to wait, supposing himself to be out of the question, and he 
+treated destiny as his equal : he seemed to say to fate, Thou 
+wilt not dare. 
+
+Composed half of light and half of shadow, Napoleon thought 
+himself protected in good and tolerated in evil. lie had, or 
+thought that he had, a connivance, one might almost say a com- 
+plicity, of events in his favor, which was equivalent to tlie invul- 
+nerability of antiquity. 
+
+Nevertheless, when one has B^*résina, Leipzig, and Fontaine- 
+bleau behind one, it seems as though one miglit distrust Water- 
+loo. A mysterious frown becomes perceptible in the depths of 
+the heavens. 
+
+At the moment when Wellington retreated. Napoleon shud- 
+dered. He suddenly beheld the tal)le-laiid of Mont-Saint-Jean 
+cleared, and the van of the English army disappear. It was 
+rallying, out hiding itself. The P^mperor half rose in his stir- 
+rups. Tlic lightning of victory flashed from his eyes. 
+
+Wellington, driven into a corner at the forest of Soignes and 
+destroyed — tliat was the definitive conquest of England by 
+France ; it was Crécy, Poitiers, Mal|)laquet, and Ramillies 
+avenged. The man of Mnrotigo was wipitig out Azincourt. 
+
+So the Emperor, meditating on this terrible turn of fortune, 
+«wept his glass for the last time over all the points of the field 
+of battle. His guard, standing behind him with grounded 
+arms, watched him from below with a sort of religion. He 
+pondered ; he examined the sh)pes, noted the declivities, scru- 
+tinized the chimps of trees, the square of rye, the path ; he 
+seemed to be counting each bush. He gazed with some intent- 
+ness at the English barricades of the two highways, — two large, 
+abatis of trees, that on the road to Genappe above La Haie- 
+Sainte, armed with two cannon, the only ones out of all the 
+English artillery wliieh commnnded the extremity' of the field of 
+battle, and that on the road to Nivelles where gleamed the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 2è 
+
+Dutch bayonets of Chassé's brigade. Near this barricade he 
+observed the old chapel of Saint Nicholas, painted white, which 
+stands at the angle of the cross-road near Braine-rAlleud ; he 
+bent down and spoke in a low voice to the guide Lacoste. The 
+guide made a negative sign with his head, which was probablj 
+perfidious. 
+
+The Emperor straightened himself up and fell to thinking. 
+
+Wellington had drawn back. 
+
+All that remained to do was to complete this retreat by crush 
+ing him. 
+
+Napoleon turning round abruptly, despatched an express at 
+full speed to Paris to announce that the battle was won. 
+
+Napoleon was one of those geniuses from whom thunder 
+darts. 
+
+He had just found his clap of thunder. 
+
+He gave orders to Milhaud's cuirassiers to carry the table- 
+land of Mont-Saint-Jean. 
+
+
+
+IX. — The Unsxpected. 
+
+Thebb were three thousand five hundred of them. They formed 
+a front a quarter of a league in extent. They were giant men, 
+on colossal horses. There were six and twenty squadrons of 
+them ; and they had behind them to support them Lefebvre- 
+Desnouettes's division, — the one hundred and six picked gen- 
+darmes, the light cavalry of the Guard, eleven hundred and 
+ninety-seventy men, and the lancers of the guard of eiglit hun- 
+dred and eiglity lances. They wore casques without horse-tails, 
+and cuirasses of beaten iron, with horse-pistols in their holsters, 
+and long sabre-swords. That morning the whole army had 
+admired them, when, at nine o'clock, with braying of trumpets 
+and all the music playing ^^ Let us watch o'er the Safety of the 
+Empire,*' they had come in a solid column, with one of their 
+batteries on their flank, another in their centre, and deployed 
+in two ranks between the roads to Genappe and Frischemont, 
+and taken up their position for battle in that powerful second 
+line, so cleverly arranged by Napoleon, which, having on its 
+extreme left Kellermann's cuirassiers and on its extreme, right 
+Milhaad's cuirassiers, had, so to speak, two wings of iron. 
+
+Aide-de-camp Bernard carried them the Emperor's orders. 
+Ney drew his sword and placed himself at their head. The 
+enormous squadrons were set in motion. 
+
+Then a formidable spectacle was seen. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+16 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+AU their cavalry, with upraised Bwords, standards and trum* 
+pets flung to tiie breeze, formed in columns by divisions, de- 
+scended, by a simultaneous movement and like one man, with 
+the precision of a brazen battering-ram which is affecting a 
+breach, the hill of La Belle Alliance, plunged into the terrible 
+depths in which so many men had already fallen, disappeared 
+there in the smoke, then emeqjiug from that shadow, reappeared 
+on the other side of the valley, still compact and in close ranks, 
+mounting at a full trot, through a storm of grape-shot which 
+burst upon them, the terrible muddy slope of the table>land of 
+Mont-Saint- Jean. They ascended, grave, threatening, imper- 
+turbable ; in the intervals between the musketry and the artil- 
+lery, their colossal trampling was audible. Being two divisions, 
+there were two columns of them ; Wathier's division held the 
+right, Delort's division was on the left. It seemed as though two 
+immense adders of steel were to be seen crawling towards the 
+crest of the table-land. It ti'aversed the battle like a prodigy. 
+
+Nothing like it had been seen since the taking of the great 
+redoubt of the Moskowa by the heavy cavalry ; Murât was 
+lacking here, but Ney was again present. It seemed as though 
+that mass had become a monster and had but one soul. Each 
+column undulated and swelled like the ring of a polyp. They 
+could be seen through a vast cloud of smoke wlîich was rent 
+here and there. A confusion of helmets, of cries, of sabres, a 
+stormy heaving of the cruppers of horses amid the canons and 
+the flourish of trumpets, a terrible and disciplined tumult ; over 
+all, the cuirasses like the scales on the hydra. 
+
+These narrations seemed to belong to another age. Some- 
+thing parallel to this vision appeared, no doubt, in tlie ancient 
+Orpliic epics, which told of the centaurs, the old hippanthropcs, 
+those Titans with human heads and equestrian chests who scaled 
+Olympus at a gallop, horrible, invulnerable, sublime — gods and 
+beasts. 
+
+Odd numerical coincidence, — twenty-six battalions rode to 
+meet twenty-six battalions. Behind the crest of the plateau, 
+in the shadow of the masked battery, the English infantry, 
+formed into thirteen squares, two battalions to the square, in 
+two lines, with seven in the first line, six in the second, th* 
+stocks of their guns to their shoulders, taking aim at that which 
+was on the point of appearing, waited, calm, mute, motionless. 
+They did not see the cuirassiers, and tlie cuirassiers did not see 
+them. They listened to the rise of this flood of men. They 
+heard the swelling noise of three thousand horse, the alternate 
+and symmetrical tramp of their l>oa^9 at full trot, the jingling of 
+
+
+
+uigiiized 
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+by Google 
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+
+
+COSETTE. 27 
+
+Aie cuirassés, the clang of the sabres, and a sort of grand and 
+savage breathing. There ensued a most terrible silence ; then, 
+all at once, a long file of uplifted arms, brandishing sabres, ap- 
+peared above the crest, and casques, trumpets, and standards, 
+and three thousand heads with gray mustaches, shouting, 
+** Vive TEmpereur ! " All this cavalry debouched on the pla* 
+teau, and it was like the appearance of an earthquake. 
+
+All at once, a tragic incident ; on the English left, on our 
+right, the head of the column of cuirassiers reared up with s 
+frightful clamor. On arriving at the culminating point of the 
+crest, ungovernable, utterly given over to fury and their course 
+of extermination of tlie squai*es and cannon, the cuirassiers had 
+just caught sight of a trench, — a trench between them and the 
+English. It was the hollow road of Ohain. 
+
+It was a terrible moment. The ravine was there, unexpected, 
+yawning, directly under the horses' feet, two fathoms deep 
+between its double slopes ; the second file pushed the first into 
+it, and the third pushed on the second ; the horses reared and 
+fell backward, landed on their haunches, slid down, all four 
+feet in the air, crashing and overwhelming the riders ; and there 
+being no means of retreat, — the whole column being no longer 
+anything more than a projectile, — the force which had been 
+acquired to crush the English crushed the French ; the inexora- 
+ble ravine could only 3'ield when filled ; horses and riders. rolled 
+there pell-mell, grinding each other, forming but one mass of 
+flesh in this gulf : when this trench was full of living men, the 
+rest marched over them and passed on. Almost a third of 
+Dubois's brigade fell into that abyss. 
+
+This began the loss of the battle. 
+
+A local tradition, which evidently exaggerates matters, says 
+that two thousand horses and fiHeen hundred men were buried 
+in the hollow road of Ohain. This figure probably comprises 
+all the other corpses which were flung into this ravine the day 
+after the combat. 
+
+Let us note in passing that it was Dubois's sorely tried bri- 
+gade which, an hour previously, making a charge to one side, 
+bad captured the flag of the Lunenl)urg battalion. 
+
+NaiK)leon, before giving the order for this charge of Milhaud's 
+cuirassiers, had scrutinized the gmnnd, but had not been able 
+to see that hollow road, whicli did not even form a wrinkle on 
+the surface of the plateau. Warned, nevertheless, and put on 
+the alert by the little white chapel which marks its angle of junc- 
+ture with the Nivelles highway, he had probably i)nt a question 
+%B to the possibility of an obstacle, to tiie guide Lacoste. Tho 
+
+
+
+uigiiized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+28 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+guide had answered No. We might almost affirm that Napo 
+leon's catastrophe originated in that sign of a peasant's head. 
+
+Other fatalities were destined to arise. 
+
+Was it possible tliat Napoleon should have won that battle! 
+We answer No. Why? Because of Wellington? Because o( 
+Bluclier? No. Because of God. 
+
+Bonaparte victor at Waterloo ; that does not come within the 
+law of the nineteenth century. Another series of facts was in 
+preparation, in wliich there was no longer any room for Napo- 
+leon. The ill will of events had declared itself long before. 
+
+It was time that this vast man should fall. 
+
+The excessive weight of this man in human destiny disturbed 
+the balance. This individual alone counted for more than a 
+universal group. These plethoras of all human vitality concen- 
+trated in a single head ; the world mounting to the brain of one 
+man, — this would be mortal to civilization were it to last. The 
+moment had arrived for the incorruptible and supreme equitj' to 
+alter its plan. Probably the principles and the elemeuts, on which 
+the regular gravitations of the moral, as of the material, world 
+depend, had complained. Smoking blood, over-filled ceme- 
+teries, mothers in tears, — these are formidable pleaders. When 
+the earth is suffering from too heavy a burden, there are myste- 
+rious groanings of the shades, to which the abyss lends an ear. 
+
+Napoleon had been denounced in the infinite, and his fall had 
+been decided on. 
+
+lie embarrassed God. 
+
+Waterloo is not a battle ; it ia a change of front oo the part 
+of the Universe. 
+
+
+
+X. — The Plateau op Mont-Saint-Jean. 
+
+The battery was unmasked at the same moment with the 
+lavine. 
+
+Sixty cannons and the thirteen squares darted lightning point - 
+blank on the cuirassiers. The intrepid General Delort made the 
+military salute to the English battery. 
+
+The whole of the flying artillery of the English had re-en 
+tered the squares at a gallop. The cuirassiers had not had 
+even the time for a halt. The disaster of the hollow road had 
+decimated, but not discouraged them. The}' belonged to that 
+class of men who, when diminished in number, increase in 
+courage. 
+
+Wathier'a column alone had suffered in the disaster ; Delort'fl 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 29 
+
+folomii, which Ney had deflected to the left, as though he had a 
+presenUment of an ambush, had arrived whole. 
+
+The cuirassiers hurled themselves on the P^nglish squares. 
+
+At full speed, with bridles loose, swords in their teeth 
+pistols in fist, — such was the attack. 
+
+There are moments in battles in which the soul hardens the 
+man until the soldier is changed into a statue, and when all this 
+desh turns into granite. The English battalions, desperately 
+assaulted, did not stir. 
+
+Then it was terrible. 
+
+All the faces of the English squares were attacked at once. 
+A frenzied whirl enveloped them. That cold infantry remained 
+impassive. The first rank knelt and received the cuirassiers on 
+their bayonets, the second ranks shot them down ; behind the 
+second rank the cannoneers charged their guns, the front of the 
+square parted, permitted the passage of an erupK^ion of grape- 
+shot, and closed again. The cuirassiers replied by crushing 
+them. Their great horses reared, strode across the ranks, 
+leaped over the bayonets and fell, gigantic, in the midst of these 
+four living wells. The cannon-balls ploughed furrows in these 
+cuirassiers; the cuirassiers made breaches in the squares. 
+Files of men disappeared, ground to dust under the horses. 
+The bayonets plunged into the bellies of these centaurs ; hence 
+a hideousness of wounds which has probably never been seen 
+anywhere else. The squares, wasted by this mad cavalry, closed 
+np their ranks without flinching. Inexhaustible in the matter 
+of gi-ape-shot, they created explosions in their assailants' midst. 
+The form of this combat was monstrous. These squares were 
+no longer battalions, they were craters ; those cuirassiers were 
+no longer cavalry, they were a tempest. Each square was a 
+volcano attacked b}' a cloud ; lava contended with lightning. 
+
+The square on the extreme right, the most exposed of all, 
+being in the air, was almost annihilated at the very first shock. 
+ft was formed of the 75th regiment of Highlanders. The bag' 
+pipe player iil the centre dropped his melancholy eyes, filled 
+«rith the reflections of the forests and the lakes, in profound in- 
+attention, while men were being exterminated around him, and 
+seated on a drum, with his pibroch under his arm, played the 
+Highland airs. Tliese Scotchmen died thinking of Ben Lothian, 
+as did the Greeks recalling Argos. The sword of a cuirassier, 
+which hewed down the bagpipes and the arm which bore it, 
+pat an end to the song by killing the singer. 
+
+The cuirassiers, relatively few in number, and still furthei 
+diminished by the catastrophe of the ravine, had almost \h» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
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+
+M LES MISERABLES. 
+
+whole English army against them, but thej multiplied them 
+selves so that each man of them was equal to ten. Neverthe 
+less, some llano verian battalions yielded. Wellington perceived 
+it, and thouglit of his cavalry. Had Ifapoleon at that same 
+momenc thouglit of his infantry, he would have won the battle. 
+This forgetfulness was his great and fatal mistake. 
+
+All at once, the cuirassiers, who had been the assailauts, 
+found themselves assailed. The English cavalry was at their 
+back. Before them two squares, behind them Somerset ; Somer- 
+set meant fourteen hundred dragoons of the guard. On the 
+right, Somerset had Dornberg with the German light-horse, and 
+on his left, Trip with the Belgian carabineers ; the cuirassiei-s 
+attacked on the flank and in front, before and in the rear, by 
+infantry and cavalry, had to face all sides. What mattered it 
+to them? They were a whirlwind. Their valor was something 
+indescribable. 
+
+In addition to this, they had behind them the battery, which 
+was still thundering. It was necessary that it should be so, or 
+they could never have been wounded in the back. One of their 
+cuirasses, pierced on the shoulder by a ball from a biscayan,^ is 
+in the collection of the Waterloo Museum. 
+
+For such Frenchmen nothing less than such Englishmen was 
+needed. It was no longer a hand-to-hand conflict; it was a 
+shadow, a fury, a dizzy transport of souls and courage, a hurri- 
+cane of lightning swords. In an instant the fourteen hundred 
+dragoon guards numbered only eight hundred. Fuller, their 
+lieutenant-colonel, fell dead. Ney rushed up with the lancers 
+and Ixîfebvrc-Desnouettes's light-horse. The plateau of Mont- 
+Saint- Jean was captured, recaptured, captured again. The 
+cuirassiers quitted the cavalry to return to the infantry ; or, to 
+put it more exactly, the whole of that formidable rout collared 
+each other without releasing the other. The squares still held 
+]3rm. 
+
+There were a dozen assaults. Ney had four horaes killed 
+ander him. Half the cuirassiers remained on the plateau. This 
+conflict lasted two hours. 
+
+The English army was profoundly shaken. There is no doubt 
+that, had they not been enfeebled in their flrst shock by the dis- 
+aster of the hollow road, the cuirassiers would have overwhelmed 
+the centre and decided the victory. This extraordinary cavalry 
+petrified Clinton, who had seen Talavera and Badajoz. Wel- 
+liniïton, three-quarters vanquished, admired heroically. H« 
+said m an undertone, '^ Sublime!" 
+
+^ A heavy rifled gati. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE, 81 
+
+The cuirassiers annihilated seven squares out of thirteen, 
+kKjk or spiked sixty pieces of ordnance, and captured from the 
+English regiments six flags, which three cuirassiers and three 
+chasseurs of the Guard bore to the Emperor, in front of the 
+farm of La Belle Alliance. 
+
+Wellington's situation had grown worse. This strange battle 
+was like a duel between two raging, wounded men, each of whom, 
+still fighting and still resisting, is expending all his blood. 
+
+Which of the two will be the first to fall? 
+
+The conflict on the plateau continued. 
+
+What had become of the cuirassiers? No one could have 
+told. One thing is certain, that on the day after the battle, a 
+cuirassier and his horse were found dead among the woodwork 
+(f the scales for vehicles at Mont-Saint- Jean, at the very point 
+uhere the four roads from Nivelles, Genappe, La Hulpe, and 
+Hrussels meet and intersect each other. This horseman had 
+pierced the English lines. One of the men who picked up the 
+iKxly still lives at Mont-Saint- Jean. His name is Dehaze. He 
+iras eighteen years old at that time. 
+
+Wellington felt that he was yielding. The crisis was at hand. 
+
+The cuirassiers bad not succeeded, since the centre was not 
+iToken through. As every one was in possession of the plateau, 
+no one held it, and in fact it remained, to a great extent, with 
+the English. Wellington held the v .lage and the culminating 
+plain ; Ney had only the crest and the slope. They seemed 
+tooted in that fatal soil on both sides. 
+
+Bat the weakening of the English seemed irremediable. The 
+Heeding of that army was horrible. Kempt, on the left wing, 
+demanded reinforcements. " There are none," replied Welling- 
+ton ; ^^he must let himself be killed!'* Almost at that same 
+moment, a singular coincidence which paints the exhaustion of 
+the two armies, Ney demanded infantry from Napoleon, and 
+Napoleon exclaimed, ''Infantry! Where does he expect me 
+to get it? Does he think I can make it?" 
+
+N3vertheless, the English army was in the worse case of the 
+:wo. The furious onsets of those great squadrons with cui- 
+rasses of iron and breasts of steel had ground the infantry to 
+ftothing. A few men clustered round a flag marked the post 
+of a regiment; such and such a battalion was commanded 
+only by a captain or a lieutenant; Alten's division, already so 
+ronghly handled at La Haie-Sainte, was almost destroyed ; the 
+intrepid Belgians of Van Kluze's brigade strewed the rye- fields 
+all along the Nivelles road ; hardly anything was left of those 
+Dutch grenadiers, who, intermingled with Spaniards in our 
+
+
+
+uigiiized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+32 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+«-anks in 1811, fought against Wellington; and who, in 1815. 
+rallied to the Eugli^li standard, fought against Napoleon. The 
+loss in otficers was considerable. Lord Uxbridge, who had his leg 
+'buried on the following day, had his knee shattered. If, on the 
+French side, in that tussle of the cuirassiers, Delort, THéritier, 
+Colbert, Dnop, Travers, and Blancard were disabled, on the 
+side of the English there was Alteu wounded, Barne wounded. 
+Delanccy killed. Van Meeren killed, Ompteda killed, the whole 
+of >yellington's staff decimated, and England had the worse of 
+it in that bloody scale. The second regiment of foot-guards had 
+lost five lieutenant-colonels, four captains, and three ensigns ; the 
+first battalion of the 30th infantry had lost 24 officers and 1200 
+soldiers ; the 79th Highlanders had lost 24 officers wounded, 
+18 officers killed, 450 soldiers killed. The Hanoverian hus- 
+sars of Cumberland, a whole regiment, with Colonel Hacke at 
+its head, who was destined to be tried later on and cashiered, 
+had turned bridle in the presence of the fray, and had fled to 
+the forest of Soignes, sowing defeat all the way to Brussels. 
+The transports, ammunition-wagons, the baggage- wagons, the 
+wagons filled with wounded, on perceiving that the French were 
+gaining groun(J and approaching the forest, rushed headlong 
+thither. The Dutch, mowed down by the French cavalry, cried, 
+*' Alarm ! " From Vert-Coucou to Groentendael, for a dis- 
+tance of nearly two leagues in the direction of Brussels, accord- 
+ing to the testimony of eye-witnesses who are still alive, the 
+roads were encumbered with fugitives. This panic was such 
+that it attacked the Prince de Condé at Mechlin, and Louis 
+XVIll. at Ghent. With the exception of the feeble reserve 
+echelonned behind the ambulance established at tlie farm of 
+Mont-Saint- Jean, and of Vivian's and Vandeleur's brigades, 
+which flanked the left wing, Wellington had no cavalry left. 
+A number of batteries lay unhorsed. These facts are attested 
+by Si borne ; and Pr ingle, exaggerating the disaster, goes so fai 
+as to say that the Anglo-Dutch army was reduced to thirt3'-four 
+thousand men. The Iron Duke remained calm, but his lip^ 
+blanched. Vincent, the Austrian commissioner, Alava, the 
+Spanish commissioner, who were present at the battle in the 
+English staff, thought the Duke lost. At five o'clock Welling- 
+ton drew out his watch^ and he was heard to murmur these sin- 
+ister words, '' Blucher, or night ! " 
+
+It was at about that moment that a distant line of bayonets 
+gleamed on the heights In the direction of Frischemont. 
+
+Here comes the change of face in this giant drama. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE- 8â 
+
+
+
+XI. — A Bad Guide to Napoleon ; a Good Guide to Bulow. 
+
+The painful surprise of Napoleon is well known. Grouchy 
+hoped for, Bliicher arriving. Death instead of life. 
+
+Fate has these turns ; the throne of the world was expected ; 
+it was Saint Helena that was seen. 
+
+If the little shepherd who served as guide to Billow, Blûcher's 
+lieutenant, had advised him to debouch from the forest above 
+F rischemont, instead of below Plancenoit, the form of the 
+nineteenth century might, perhaps, have been different. Na- 
+poleon would have won tlie battle of Waterloo. By any other 
+route than that below Plancenoit, the Prussian army would have 
+come out upon a ravine impassable for artillery, and Billow 
+would not have arrived. 
+
+Now the Prussian general. Muffling, declares that one hour's 
+delay, and Bliicher would not have found Wellington on his 
+feet " The battle was lost." 
+
+It was time that Biilow should arrive, as will be seen. He 
+had, moreover, been very much delayed. He had bivouacked 
+at Dion-le-Mont, and had set out at daybreak ; but the roads 
+were impassable, and his divisions stuck fast in the mire. The 
+ruts were up to the hubs of the cannons. Moreover, he had 
+been obliged to pass the Dyle on the narrow bridge of Wavre ; 
+the street leading to the bridge had been fired by the French, so 
+the caissons and ammunition-wagons could not pass between 
+two rows of burning houses, and had been obliged to wait until 
+the conflagration was extinguished. It was mid-day before 
+Bulow's vanguard had been able to reach Chapelle-Saint- Lam- 
+bert. 
+
+Had the action been begun two hours earlier, it would have 
+fecen over at four o'clock, and Bliicher would have fallen on the 
+battle won by Napoleon. Such are these immense risks propor- 
+tioned to an infinite which we cannot comprehend. 
+
+The Emperor had been the first, as early as mid-day, to de- 
+3cry with his field-glass, on the extreme horizon, something 
+which had attracted his attention. He had said, " I see yonder 
+a cloud, which seems to me to be troops." Then he asked the 
+Due de Dalniatie, " Soult, what do you see in the direction of 
+Chapelle-Saint- Lambert?" The marshal, levelling his glass, 
+answered, "Four or five thousand men, Sire; evidently Grou- 
+chy." But it remained motionless in the mist. All the glasses of 
+the staff bad studied " the cloud" pointed out bv the Emperor. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+34 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Some said : '^ It is trees." The truth is, that the cloud did not 
+move. The Emperor detached Domon's division of light cav- 
+alry to reconnoitre in that quarter. 
+
+Billow had not moved, in fact. His vanguard was verj 
+feeble, and could accomplish nothing. He was obliged to wait 
+for the body of the army corps, and he had received orders to 
+concentrate his forces before entering into line ; bat at five 
+o'clock, perceiving Wellington's peril, Bliicher ordered Bulow 
+to attack, and uttered these remarkable words : " We must give 
+air to the English army." 
+
+A little later, the divisions of Losthin, Hiller, Hacke, and 
+Ryssel deployed before Lobau's corps, the cavalry of Prince 
+William of Prussia debouched from the forest of Paris, Plance- 
+noit was in flames, and the Prussian cannon-balls began to rain 
+even upon the ranks of the guard in reserve behind Napoleon. 
+
+
+
+Xn. — The Guakd. 
+
+EvicRT one knows the rest, — the irruption of a third army : 
+the battle broken to pieces ; eighty-six mouths of fire thunder- 
+ing simultaneously ; Pirch the first coming up with Bulow ; Zie- 
+teu's cavalry led by Bliicher in person, the French driven back ; 
+Marcognet swept from the plateau of Ohain ; Durutte disloilgeti 
+from Papelotte ; Donzelot and Quiot retreating ; Lobau caught 
+on the flank ; a fresh battle precipitating itself on our dismantled 
+regiments at nightfall ; the whole English line resuming the of* 
+fensive and thrust forward ; the gigantic breach made in tb< 
+French arm}* ; the English grape-shot and the Prussian grape- 
+shot aiding each other ; the extermination ; disaster in front ; 
+disaster on the flank ; the Guard entering the line in the midst 
+of this teiTible crumbling of all things. 
+
+Conscious that they were about to die, thej' shouted, " Vive 
+TEmpereur!" History records nothing more touching than 
+that agony bursting forth in acclamations. 
+
+The sky had been overcast all day long. All of a sudden, 
+at that very moment, — it was eight o'clock in the evening — the 
+clouds on the horizon parted, and allowed the grand and sinister 
+glow of the setting sun to pass through, athwart the elms or 
+the Nivelles road. They had seen it rise at Austerlitz. 
+
+Each battalion of the Guard was commanded by a general for 
+this final catastrophe. Priant, Michel, Roguet, Harlet, Mallet- 
+Poret de Morvan, were there. When the tall caps of the gren 
+adiers of the Guard, with their large plaques bearing the eagU 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. as 
+
+appeared, symmetrical, in line, tranquil, in the midst of that 
+(j'jiDbat, the enemy felt a respect for France ; they thought they 
+Ireheld twenty victories entering the field of battle, with wings 
+rutspread, and those who were the conquerors, believing them- 
+selves to be vanquished, retreated ; but Wellington shouted, 
+" Up, Guards, and aim straight ! " The red regiment of P^nglish 
+guards, lying flat behind the hedges, sprang up, a cloud of 
+grape-shot riddled the tricolored flag and whistled round our 
+eagles; all hurled themselves forwards, and the final carnage 
+f3egan. In the darkness, the Imperial Guard felt the army 
+losing ground around it, and in the vast shock of the rout it 
+beard the desperate flight which had taken the place of the 
+*' Vive TEmpereur!'* and, with flight behind it, it continued to 
+advance, more crushed, losing more men at every step that it 
+took. There were none who hesitated, no timid men in its 
+ranks. The soldier in that troop was as much of a hero as the 
+general. Not a man was missing in that suicide. 
+
+Ney, bewildered, great with all the grandeur of accepted 
+death, offered himself to all blows in that tempest. He had his 
+fifth horae killed under him there. Perspiring, his eyes aflame, 
+foaming at the mouth, with uniform unbuttoned, one of his 
+epaulets half cut off by a sword-stroke from a horse-guard, his 
+plaque with the great eagle dented by a bullet ; bleeding, be- 
+mired, magnificent, a broken sword in his hand, he said, 
+" Come and see how a Marshal of France dies on the field of 
+battle ! " But in vain ; he did not die. He was haggard and 
+angry. At Drouet d'Erlon he hurled this question, " Are you 
+not going to get yourself killed ? " In the midst of all that 
+artiller3' engaged in crushing a handful of men, he shouted : 
+" So there is nothing for me ! Oh ! I should like to have all 
+these English bullets enter my bowels ! " Unhappy man, thou 
+wtrt reserved for French bullets ! 
+
+
+
+Xm. — The Catastrophe. 
+
+The rout behind the Guard was melancholy. 
+
+The army yielded suddenly on all sides at once, — Hou- 
+gomont, La Haie-Sainte, Papelotte, Plancenoit. The cry, 
+*' Treachery ! " was- followed by a cry of " Save yourselves who 
+can ! " An army which is disbanding is like a thaw. All yields, 
+splits, cracks, floats, rolls, falls, jostles, hastens, is precipitated. 
+The disintegration is unprecedented. Ney borrows a horse, 
+leaps apoo it, and without hat, cravat, or sword, places himéclf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
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+
+86 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+across the Bruseels road, stoppiDg both English and French 
+He strives to detain the army, lie recalls it to its duty, he insults 
+it, he clings to the rout. He is overwhehned. The soldiers fly 
+from iiiui, shouting, '* Long live Marshal Ney ! " Two of Du- 
+rutte's ri'giments go and come in affright as though tossed back 
+and forth between the swords of the Uhlans and the fusillade 
+of the brigades of Kempt, Best, Pack, and Rylandt; the woret 
+of hand-to-hand conflicts is the defeat ; friends kill each other 
+in order to escape ; squadrons and battalions break and dis- 
+perse against each other, like the tremendous foam of battle. 
+Lobau at one extremity, and Reille at the other, are drawn into 
+the tide. In vain docs Nai>oleon erect walls from what is left 
+to him of his Guard ; in vain does he expend in a last effort his 
+last serviceable squadrons. Quiot retreats before Vivian, Kel- 
+lermann before Vandcleur, Lobau before Billow, Morand before 
+Pirch, Domon and Subervic before Prince William of Prussia ; 
+Guyot, who led the Emperor's squadrons to the charge, falls 
+beneath the feet of the English dragoons. Napoleon gallops 
+past the line of fugitives, harangues, urges, threatens, entreats 
+them. All the mouths which in the morning had shouted, ^^ Long 
+live the lîmperor ! " remain gaping ; they hardly recognize him. 
+The Prussian cavalry, newly arrived, dashes forwards, flies, 
+hews, slashes, kills, exterminates. Horses lash out, the 
+cannons flee ; the soldiers of the artlller3'-train unharness the 
+caissons and use the horses to make their escape ; transports 
+overturned, with all four wheels in the air, clog the road and 
+occasion massacres. Men are crushed, trampled down, others 
+walk over the dead and the living. Arms are lost. A dizzy 
+multitude fills the roads, the paths, the bridges, the plains, the 
+hills, the valleys, the woods, encumbered by this invasion of 
+forty thousand men. Shouts, despair, knapsacks and guns 
+flung among the rye, passages forced at the point of the sword, 
+no more comrades, no more officers, no more generals, an inex- 
+pressible terror. Zioten putting France to the sword at its 
+leisure. Lions converted into goats. Such was the flight. 
+
+At Genappe, an effort was made to wheel about, to present 
+a battle front, to draw up in line. Lobau rallied three hundred 
+men. The entrance to the village was barricaded, but at the 
+first volley of Prussian canister, all took to flight again, and 
+Lobau was taken. That volley of grape-shot can be seen 
+to-day imprinted on the ancient gable of a brick building on 
+the right of the road at a few minutes* distance before you 
+enter Genappe. The Prussians threw themselves into Genappe, 
+furious, no doubt, that they were not more entirely the oon* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 37 
+
+querors. The pursuit was stupendous. Bldcher ordered ex ter 
+uiination. Rc^uet bad set the lugubrious example of tlireateuing 
+with death any French grenadier who should bring him a Prus- 
+sian prisoner. Blucher outdid Roguet. Duhesme, the general 
+of the Young Guard, hemmed in at the doorway of an inn at 
+Genappe, suirendered his sword to a huzzar of death, who took 
+the sword and slew the prisoner. The victory was completed 
+by the assassination of the vanquished. Let us iuflict punish- 
+*Eent, since we are history : old Blucher disgraced himself. This 
+ferocity put the finishing touch to the disaster. The desperate 
+rout traversed Genappe, traversed Quatre-Bras, travei-sed Gos- 
+selies, traversed Frasnes, traversed Charleroi, traversed Thuin, 
+and only halted at the frontier. Alas ! and who, then, was 
+fleeing in that manner? The Grand Army. 
+
+This vertigo, this terror, this downfall into ruin of the loftiest 
+bravery which ever astounded history, — is that causeless ? No. 
+The shadow of an enormous right is projected athwart Water- 
+loo. It is the day of destiny. The force which is mightier 
+than man produced that day. Hence the terrified wrinkle of 
+those brows ; hence all those great souls surrendering their 
+swords. Those who had conquered Europe have fallen prone 
+on the earth, with nothing left to say nor to do, feeling the 
+present shadow of a terrible presence. Hoc erat in fatis. That 
+daj- the perspective of the human race underwent a change. 
+Waterloo is the hinge of the nineteenth century. The disap- 
+jiearance of the great man was necessary to the advent of the 
+great century. Some one, a person to whom one replies not, 
+took the responsibility on himself. The panic of heroes can be 
+explained. In the battle of Waterloo there is something more 
+than a cloud, there is something of the meteor. God has 
+passed by. 
+
+At nightfall, in a meadow near Genappe, Bernard and Ber- 
+trand seized by the skirt of his coat and detained a man, hag- 
+gard, pensive, sinister, gloomy, who, dragged to that point by 
+the current of the rout, had just dismounted, had passed the 
+bridle of his horse over his arm, and with wild eye was return- 
+ing alone to Waterloo. It was Napoleon, the immense som- 
+nambulist of this dream which had crumbled, essaying ono« 
+more to advance. 
+
+XIV. — The Last Square. 
+
+Several squares of the Guard, motionless amid this stream 
+of the defeat, as rocks in running water, held their own until 
+night. Night came, death also; they awaited that double 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+38 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Bhadow, and, invincible, allowed themselves to be envelope I 
+therein. Each regiment, isolated from the rest, and having ni 
+bond with the army, now shattered in every part, died alone. 
+They had taken up position for this final action, some on the 
+heights of Rossomme, others on the plain of Mont-Saint-JeaD. 
+There, abandoned, vanquished, terrible, those gloomy squares 
+endured their death-throes in formidable fashion. Ulm, Wag- 
+ram, Jena. Friedland, died with them. 
+
+At twilight, towards nine o'clock in the evening, one of them 
+was left at the foot of the plateau of Mont-Saint- Jean. In that 
+fatal valley, at the foot of that declivity which the cuirassiers 
+had ascended, now inundated by the masses of the English, under 
+the converging fires of the victorious hostile cavalrN^ under a 
+frightful density of projectiles, this square fought on. It was 
+commanded by an obscure officer named Cambronne. At each 
+discharge, the square diminished and replied. It replied to the 
+grape-shot with a fusillade, continually contracting its four 
+walls. The fugitives pausing breathless for a moment in the 
+distance, listened in the darkness to that gloomy and ever* 
+decreasing thunder. 
+
+When this legion had been reduced to a handful, when noth- 
+ing was left of their flag but a rag, when their guns, the bullets 
+all gone, were no longer anything but clubs, when the heap of 
+corpses was larger than the group of survivors, there reigned 
+among the conquerors, around those men dying so sublimely, 
+a sort of sacred terror, and the English artillery, taking breath, 
+became silent. This furnished a sort of respite. These com- 
+batants had around them something in the nature of a swarm 
+of spectres, silhouettes of men on horseback, the black profiles 
+of cannon, the white sky viewed through wheels and gnu* 
+carriages, the colossal death's-head, which tlie heroes saw con 
+stantly through the smoke, in the depths of the battle, advanced 
+apon them and gazed at them. Through the slifides of twilight 
+they could hear the pieces being loaded ; the matches all lighted, 
+like the eyes of tigers at night, formed a circle round their 
+heads; all the lintstocks of the English batteries approached 
+the cannons, and then, with emotion, holding the supreme 
+moment suspended above these men, an English general. Col- 
+ville according to some, Maitland according to others, shouted 
+to them, ' ' Surrender, brave Frenchmen 1 " Cambronne rt - 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+CAMBRONNB. 88a 
+
+
+
+XV. — Cambron»b. 
+
+If any French reader object to having his susceptibilities 
+offended, one would have to refrain from repeating in his 
+presence what is perhaps the finest reply that a Frenchman 
+erer made." This would enjoin us from consigning something 
+sublime to History. 
+
+At our own risk and peril, let us violate this injunction. 
+
+Kow, then, among those giants there was one Titan, — Cam- 
+bronne. 
+
+To make that reply and then perish, what could be grander ? 
+For being willing to die is the same as to die ; and it was not 
+this man's fault if he survived after he was shot. 
+
+The winner of the battle of Waterloo was not Napoleon, 
+who was put to flight ; nor Wellington, giving way at four 
+o'clock, in despair at five ; nor Blucher, who took no part in 
+the engagement. The winner of Waterloo was Canibroune. 
+
+To thunder forth such a reply at the lightning-flash that 
+kills you is to conquer ! 
+
+Thus to answer the Catastrophe, thus to speak to Fate, to 
+give this pedestal to the future lion, to hurl such a challenge 
+to the midnight rainstorm, to the treacherous wall of Hougo- 
+mont, to the sunken road of Ohain, to Grouchy's delay, to 
+Blucher^s arrival, to be Irony itself in the tomb, to act so as 
+to stand upright though fallen, to drown in two syllables the 
+European coalition, to oifer kings privies which the Caesars 
+once knew, to make the lowest of words the most lofty by 
+entwining with it the glory of France, insolently to end Water- 
+loo with Mardigras, to finish Leonidas with Rabelais, to set 
+the crown on this victory by a word impossible to speak, to 
+k)se the field and preserve history, to have the laugli on yout 
+^ide after such a carnage, — this is immense I 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+866 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+It was an insult such as a thunder-cloud might hurl ! It 
+reaches the grandeur of iEschylus ! 
+
+Cambronne's reply produces the effect of a violent break. 
+'Tis like the breaking of a heart under a weight of scorn. 
+'Tis the overflow of agony bursting forth. Who conquered ? 
+Wellington ? No ! Had it not been for Blucher, he was lost. 
+Was it Blucher ? No ! If Wellington had not begun, Blucher 
+could not have finished. This Cambronne, this man spending 
+his last hour, this unknown soldier, this infinitesimal of war, 
+realizes that here is a falsehood, a falsehood in a catastrophe, 
+and so doubly agonizing ; and at the moment when his rage is 
+bursting forth because of it, he is offered this mockery, — life ! 
+How could he restrain himself ? Yonder are all the kings of 
+Europe, the generals flushed with victory, the Jupiters dart- 
+ing thunderbolts ; they have a hundred thousand victorious 
+soldiers, and back of the hundred thousand a million ; their 
+cannon stand with yawning mouths, the match is liglited ; 
+they grind down under their heels the Imperial guards 
+and the grand army ; they have just crushed Napoleon, and 
+only Cambronne remains, — only this earthworm is left to 
+protest. He will protest. Then he seeks for the appro- 
+priate word as one seeks for a sword. His mouth froths, 
+and the froth is the word. In face of this mean and mighty 
+victory, in face of this victory which counts none victori- 
+ous, this desperate soldier stands erect. He grants its over- 
+whelming immensity, but he establishes its triviality ; and 
+he does more than spit upon it. Borne down by numbers, 
+by superior force, by brute matter, he finds in his soul au 
+expression : " Excrement ! " We repeat it, — to use that 
+word, to do thus, to invent such an expression, is to be the 
+conqueror ! 
+
+The spirit of mighty days at that portentous moment made 
+its descent on that unknown man. Cambronne invents tlie 
+word for Waterloo, as Rouget invents the " Marseillaise," under 
+the visitation of a breath from on high. An emanation from 
+the divine whirlwind leaps forth and comes sweeping over 
+these men, and they shake, and one of them sings the song 
+supreme, and the other utters the frightful cry. 
+
+This challenge of titanic scorn Cambronne hurls not only at 
+Europe in the name of the Empire, — that would be a trifle : 
+he hurls it at the past in the name of the Revolution. It is 
+heard, and Cambronne is recognized as possessed by the an- 
+cient spirit of the Titans. Danton seems to be speakingi 
+Kléber seems to be bellowing ! 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 39 
+
+At that word from Cambronne, the English voice responded, 
+* Fire ! " The batteries flamed, the hill trembled, from all 
+those brazen mouths belched a last terrible gush of grape-shot ; 
+a vast volume of smoke, vaguely white in the light of the rising 
+moon, rolled out, and when the smoke dispersed, there was no 
+longer anything there. That formidable remnant had been 
+annihilated ; the Guard was dead. The four walls of the living 
+redoubt lay prone, and hardly was there discernible, here and 
+there, even a quiver in the bodies : it was thus that the French 
+tegions, greater than the Roman legions, expired on Mont 
+Saint-Jean, on the soil watered with rain and blood, amid the 
+gloomy gi*ain, on the spot where nowadays Joseph, who drives 
+the post-wagon from Nivelles, passes whistling, and cheerfully 
+whipping up his horse at four o'clock in the morning. 
+
+
+
+XV. — QUOT LIBRAS IN DuCE? 
+
+The battle of Waterloo is an enigma. It is as obscure to 
+those who won it as to those who lost it. For Napoleon it was 
+a panic ; **Blûcher sees nothing in it but fire ; Wellington un- 
+derstands nothing in regard to it. Look at the reports. 1'he 
+bulletins are confused, the commentaries involved. Some 
+stammer, others lisp. Jomini divides the battle of Waterloo 
+into four moments ; Mufiling cuts it up into three changes ; 
+Charras alone, though we hold another judgment than his on 
+some i)oints, seized with his haughty glance the characteristic 
+outlines of that catastrophe of human genius in conflict with 
+divine chance. All the other historians suffer from being 
+somewhat dazzled, and in this dazzled state they fumble about. 
+It was a day of lightning brilliancy ; in fact, a crumbling of ths 
+military monarchy which, to the vast stupefaction cf kings, 
+drew all the kingdoms after it — the fall of force, the defeat ol 
+war. 
+
+In this event, stamped with superhuman necessity, the part 
+ilayed by men amounts to nothing. 
+
+If we toke Waterloo from Wellington and Bliicher, do we there- 
+by deprive England and Germany of anything? No. Neither 
+that illustrious England nor that august Germany enter into the 
+problem of Waterloo. Thank Heaven, nations are great, inde- 
+pendently of the lugubrious feats of the sword. Neither Eng- 
+
+i**A battle tenninated, a day finishod, false measures repaired, greatej 
+BQiv^esses assnred for the morrow. — all was lost by a moment «f panU 
+lemr." — Napoleon, Dictées de Sainte Hélène, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+«0 ' l^S MISÉRABLES. 
+
+land, nor Germany, nor France is contained in a scabbard. At 
+tliis epoch when Waterloo is only a clashing of swords, above 
+BlCicher, Germany has Schiller; above Wellin^j^ton, England 
+has Byron. A vast dawn of ideas is tlie peculiarity of our cen- 
+tury, and in that aurora England and Germany have a magnifi- 
+cent radiance. They are majestic because they think. The 
+elevation of level which they contribute to civilization is in- 
+trinsic with them ; it proceeds from themselves and not from an 
+accident. The aggrandizement which they have brouglit to the 
+nineteenth century has not Waterloo as its source. It is only 
+barbarous peoples who undergo rapid growth after a victory. 
+That is the temporary vanity of torrents swelled by a storm. 
+Civilized people, especially in our day, are neither elevated nor 
+abased by the good or bad fortune of a captain. Their specific 
+gravity in the human species results from something more than 
+a combat. Their honor, thank God ! their dignit}', their intelli* 
+gence, their genius, are not numbers which those gamblers, 
+heroes and conquerors, can put in the lottery of battles. Often 
+a battle is lost and progress is conquered. There is less glory 
+and more liberty. The drum holds its peace ; reason takes the 
+word. It is a game in which he who loses wins. Let us, there- 
+fore, speak of Waterloo coldly from lioth sides. Let us render 
+to chance that which is due to chance, and to God that which is 
+due to God. What is Waterloo? A victory? No. The win- 
+ning number in the lottery. 
+
+The quine ' won by Europe, paid by France. 
+
+It was not worth while to place a lion there. 
+
+Waterloo, moreover, is the strangest encounter in history. 
+Napoleou and Wellington. They are not enemies ; they are 
+opposites. Never did God, who is fond of antitheses, make a 
+more striking contrast, a more extraordinary comparison. On 
+one side, precision, foresight, geometry, prudence, an assured 
+retreat, reserves spared, with an obstinate coolness, an imper- 
+turbable method, strategy, which takes advantage of the ground, 
+tactics, which preserve the equilibrium of battalions, carnage, 
+executed according to rule, war regulated, watch in hand, noth 
+ing voluntarilj' left to chance, the ancient classic courage, abso^ 
+lute regularity; on the other, intuition, divination, military 
+oddity, superhuman instinct, a flaming glance, an indescribable 
+something which gazes like an eagle, and which strikes like the 
+lightning, a prodigious art in disdainful impetuosity, all the 
+mysterSes of a profound soul, association with destiny; the 
+
+^ Five winning numbers in a lottacj» 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+VOSETTE. 41 
+
+stream, the plain, the forest, the hill, summoned, and in a man 
+Der, forced to obey, the despot going even so far as to tyran- 
+nize over the field of battle ; faith in a star mingled with strate, 
+gic science, elevating but perturbing it. Wellington was the 
+Barème of war ; Napoleon was its Michael Angelo ; and on this 
+occasion, genius was vanquished by calculation. On both sides 
+some one was awaited. It was the exact calculator who sue 
+ceeded. Napoleon was waiting for Grouchy ; he did not come 
+Wellington expected Blucher ; he came. 
+
+Wellington is classic war taking its revenge. Bonaparte, at 
+his dawning, had encountered him in Italy, and beaten him 
+8ui)erbly. The old owl had fled before the young vulture. The 
+old tactics had been not only struck as by lightning, but disgraced. 
+Who was that Corsican of six and twenty ? What signified that 
+splendid ignoramus, who, with everything against him, nothing in 
+his favor, without provisions, without ammunition, without can- 
+non, without shoes, almost without an army, with a mere handful 
+of men against masses, hurled himself on Europe combined, and 
+absurdly won victories in the impossible? Whence had issued 
+that fulminating convict, who almost without taking breath, 
+and with the same set of combatants in hand, pulverized, one 
+after the other, the five armies of the emperor of Germany, 
+upsetting Beaulieu on Alvinzi, Wurmser on Beanlieu^ Mêlas on 
+Wurmser, Mack on Mêlas? Who was this novice in war with 
+the efifrontery of a luminary? The çicademical military school 
+excommunicated him, and as it lost its footing; hence, the 
+implac^able rancor of the old Caesarism against the new ; of the 
+regular sword against the fl<aming sword ; and of the exchcHiuer 
+against genius. On the 18th of June, 1815, that rancor had 
+tiie last word, and beneath Lodi, Montebello, Montenotte, Man- 
+tua, Areola, it wrote : Waterloo. A triumph of the médiocres 
+which is sweet to the majority. Destiny consented to tins 
+irony. In his decline. Napoleon found Wurmser, the younger, 
+again in front of him. 
+
+In fact, to get Wurmser, it suflSced to blanch the hair of 
+Wellington. 
+
+Waterloo is a battle of the first oi'der, won by a captain of 
+ihe second. * 
+
+That which must be admired in the battle of Waterloo, i» 
+FUngland ; the English firmness, the English resolution, the 
+English blood ; the superb thing about England there, no ofi'ence 
+to her, was herself. It was not her captain ; it was her army. 
+
+Wellington, oddly ungrateful, declares in a letter to Lord 
+Bathursty that bis army, the army which fought on the 18 bh d 
+
+
+
+uigiiized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+42 LES miserable:^. 
+
+June, 1815, was a '^ detestable army/* What does that 8om.3F& 
+iutermingliug of bones buried beneath the furrows of Waterloo 
+think of that? 
+
+England has been too modest in the matter of Wellington. 
+To make Wellington so great is to belittle England. Wellington 
+is nothing but a hero like ïiiany another. Those Scotch Gra^vs, 
+those Horse Guards, those regiments of Maitland and of Mitchell, 
+that infantry of Pack and Kempt, that cavalry of Ponsorl.y 
+and Somerset, those Highlanders playing the pibix)ch under the 
+ihower of grape-shot, those battalions of Rylandt, those utterly 
+caw recruits, who hardly knew how to handle a musket holding 
+their own against Essling's and Rivoli's old troops, — that is what 
+was grand. Wellington was tenacious ; in that lay his merit, 
+and we are not seeking to lessen it : but the least of his foot- 
+soldiers and of his cavalry would have been as solid as he. 
+The iron soldier is worth as much as the Iron Duke. As 
+for us, all our glorification goes to the English soldier, to the 
+English arm^', to the English people. If trophy there be, it is 
+to England that the trophy is due. The column of Waterloo 
+would be more just, if, instead of the figure of a roan, it bore 
+on high the stitiie of a people. 
+
+But this great England will be angry at what we are saying 
+here. She still cherishes, after her own 1688 and our 1789, the 
+feudal illusion. She believes in heredity and hierarchy. This 
+people, surpassed by none in power and glory, regards itself as 
+a nation, and not as a people. And as a people, it wiUingly 
+subordinates itself and takes a lord for its head. As a work- 
+man, it allows itself to be disdained ; as a soldier, it allows itself 
+to be flogged. 
+
+It will be remembered, that at the battle of Innkermann a 
+sergeant who had, it appears, saved the arm}*, could not be men- 
+tioned by Ix)rd Raglan, as the iLnglish military hierarchy does 
+not permit any hero below the grade of an oflScer to be men- 
+tioned in the reports. 
+
+That which we admire above all, in an encounter of the 
+nature of Waterloo, is the marvellous cleverness of chance. 
+A nocturnal rain, the wall of Hougomont, the hollow road of 
+Ohain, Grouchy deaf to the cannon. Napoleon's guide deceiving 
+him, Billow's guide enlightening him, — the whole of this cata- 
+clysm is wonderfully conducted. 
+
+On the whole, let us say it plainly, it was more of a massacre 
+than of a battle at Waterloo, 
+
+Of all pitched battles, Waterloo is the one which has the 
+Smallest front for such a number of combatants. Napoleon 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 4d 
+
+three-quarters of a league ; Wellington, half a league ; Beveuty 
+two thousand combatants on each side. From this denseness 
+the carnage arose. 
+
+The following calculation has been made, and the following 
+proportion established : Loss of men ; at AusteHitz. French, 
+fourteen per cent ; Russians, thirty per cent ; Austrians, forty- 
+four per cent. At Wagram, French thirteen per cent ; Aus- 
+trians, fourteen. At the Moskowa, French, tliirty-seveii pei 
+3ent ; Russians, forty-four. At Hautzcn, French, thirteen peï 
+cent ; Russians and Prussians, fourteen. At Waterloo, French, 
+fifty -six per cent ; the Allies, thirty -one. Total for Waterloo, 
+forty-one per cent ; one hundred and forty-four thousand com • 
+bâtants ; sixty thousand dead. 
+
+To-da}', the field of Waterloo has the calm which belongs to 
+the earth, the impassive support of man, and it resembles all 
+plains. 
+
+At night, moreover, a sort of visionary mist arises from it ; 
+and if a traveller strolls there, if he listens, if he watches, if 
+he dreams like Virgil in the fatal plains of Philippi, the halluci- 
+nation of the catastrophe takes possession of him. TJie fright- 
+ful 18th of June lives again ; the false monumeutal hillock 
+disappears, the lion vanishes in air, the battle-field resumes its 
+reality, lines of infantry undulate over the plain, furious gallops 
+traverse the horizon ; the irightened dreamer beholds the flash 
+of sabres, the gleam of bayonets, the flare of bombs^ the 
+tremendous interchange of thunders ; he hears, as it were, the 
+death rattle in the depths of a tomb, the vague clamor of the 
+battle phantom ; those shadows are grenadiers, those lights are 
+cuirassiers; that skeleton Napoleon, that other skeleton is 
+Wellington ; all this no longer exists, and yet it clashes together 
+and combats stiU ; and the ravines are empurpled, and the trees 
+quiver, and there is fury even in the clouds and in the shadows ; 
+fdl those terrible heights, Hougomont, Mont-Saint- Jean, Frische- 
+mont, Papelotte, Plancenoit, appear confusedly crowned with 
+whirlwinds of spectres engaged in exterminating each other. 
+
+XVI. — Is Waterloo to be considered Good? 
+
+There exists a very respectable liberal school which does not 
+hate Waterloo. We do not belong to it. To us, Wiiterl(M> ia 
+but the stupefied date of liberty. That such ^n eagle slioiild 
+emeige from such an eg<r is certainly unexpected. 
+
+If one places one's self at ttie culminating point of view of the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+44 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+question, Waterloo is intentionally a counter-revolutionarj 
+victory. It is Kuropc against Fraiiee ; it is Petersburg, Berlin, 
+and Vienna a<',ainst Paris ; it is the statu quo ajçainst the initiative : 
+it is the Util of July, 1789, attacked through the 20th of March. 
+1815; it is the monarchies clearing the decks in opix>sition to 
+the iudoinitable French rioting. The final extinction of that 
+vast people which had been in eruption for twenty-six years — 
+such was the dream. The solidarity of the Brunswick», the 
+Nassaus, the IlomauoflPs, the Hohenzollerns, the Hapshur^ 
+with the Bourbons. Waterloo bears divine right on its crupper 
+It is true, that the Empire having been despotic, the kingdom 
+by the natural reaction of things, was forced to be liberal, and 
+that a constitutional order was the unwilling result of Waterloo, 
+to the great regret of the conquerors. It is because revolution 
+cannot be really conquered, and that being providential and 
+absolutely fatal, it is always cropping up afresh: before Water- 
+loo, in Bonaparte overthrowing the old thrones ; after Waterloo, 
+in Louis XVIII. granting and conforming to the charter. Bona- 
+parte places a postilion on the throne of Naples, and a sergeant 
+on the throne of Sweden, employing inequality to demonstrate 
+equality ; Louis XVllI. at Saint-Ouen countersigns the declara- 
+tion of tiie rights of man. If you wish to gain an idea of what 
+revolution is, call it Progress ; and if you wish to acquire an idea 
+of the nature of progress, call it To-morrow. To-morrow falûls 
+its work iiTCsistibly , and it is already fulfilling it to-day. It always 
+reaches its goal strangely. It employs Wellington to make of 
+Foy, who was only a soldier, an orator. Foy falls at Uougo- 
+mont and rises again in the tribune. Thus does progress pra 
+cecd. There is no such thing as a bad tool for that workman. 
+It does not become disconcerted, but adjusts to its divine work 
+the man who has bestridden the Alps, and the good old totter- 
+ing invalid of Father Elysée. It makes use of the gouty man 
+as well as of the conqueror ; of the conqueror without, of the 
+gouty man within. Waterloo, by cutting short the demolition 
+of P^uropean thrones by the sword, had no other effect than tc 
+cause the revolutionary work to be continued in another direction 
+The slashers have finished ; it was the turn of the thinkers. The 
+century that Waterloo was intended to arrest has pursued its 
+march. That sinister victory was vanquished by liberty. 
+
+In sliort, and incontestably , that which triumphed at Waterloo ; 
+that which smiled in Wellington's rear ; that which brought him all 
+the marshals' staffs of Europe, including, it is said, the staff of a 
+marshal of France ; that which joyously trundled the barrowp foB 
+of bones to erect the knoll of the lion ; that which triumphantlj 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 45 
+
+inscribed on that pedestal the date ^^^ June 18, 1815"; that 
+which encouraged Bliicher, as he put the flying army to the 
+sword ; that which, from the heights of the plateau of Mont- 
+Saiut-Jean, hovered over France as over its prey, was the 
+counter-revolution. It was the counter-revolution which mur* 
+mured that infamous word '* dismemberment." On arriving in 
+Paris, it beheld the crater close at hand ; it felt those ashes 
+which scorched its feet, and it changed its mind ; it returned to 
+the stammer of a charter. 
+
+Let us behold in Waterloo only that which is in Waterloo. 
+Of intentional liberty there is none. The counter-revolution 
+was invohintarily liberal, in the same manner as, by a corre- 
+sponding phenomenon. Napoleon was involuntarily revolution- 
+ary. On the 18th of June, 1815, the mounted Robespierre was 
+hurled from his saddle. 
+
+XVII. — À Recrudescence op Divine Right. 
+
+End of the dictatorship. A whole European system crumbled 
+away. 
+
+The Empire sank into a gloom which resembled that of the 
+Roman world as it expired. Again we behold the abyss, as in 
+the days of the barbarians ; only the barbarism of 1815, which 
+must be called by its pet name of the counter-revolution, was not 
+long breathed, soon fell to panting, and halted short. The Em- 
+pire was bewept, — let us acknowledge the fact, — and bewept 
+by heroic eyes. If glory lies in the sword converted into a 
+sceptre, the Empire had been glory in person. It had diflfused 
+over the earth all the light which tyranny can give — a sombre 
+light. We will say more ; an obscure light. Compared to the 
+true daylight, it is night. This disappearance of night produces 
+the effect of an eclipse. 
+
+Louis XVIII. re-entered Paris. The circling dances of the 8th 
+of July effaced the enthusiasms of the 20th of March. The 
+Corsican became the antithesis of the Bearnese. The flag on the 
+dome of the Tuileries was white. The exile reigned. Hartwell's 
+pine table took its place in front of the fleur-de-lys-strewn throne 
+of Louis XIV. Bou\ânes and Fontenoy were mentioned as 
+though they had taken place on the preceding day, Austerlitz 
+having become antiquated. The altar and the throne frater- 
+nized majestically. One of the most undisputed forms of the 
+health of society in the nineteenth century was established 
+over France, and over the continent. Europe adopted the 
+white cockade. Trestaillon was celebrated. The device 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQIC 
+
+
+
+46 LES Misérables. 
+
+non pluribus impar re-appeared on the stone rays representing 
+a sun upon the front of the barriicks on the Quai d'Orsay. 
+Where there had been an Imperuil Guard, there was now a red 
+house. The Are du Carrousel, all laden with badly borne vic- 
+tories, thrown out of its element among these novelties, a little 
+ashamed, it .may be, of Marengo and Areola, extricated itself 
+from its predicament with the statue of the Due d'Angoulêrae. 
+The cemetery of the Madeleine, a terrible pauper's grave in 
+1793, was covered with jasper and marble, since the bones of 
+Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette lay in that dust. 
+
+In the moat of Vincennes a sepulchral shaft sprang from the 
+earth, recalling the fact that the Due d*Enghien had iJerished 
+in the very month when Napoleon was crowned. Pope Pius 
+VII., who had performed the coronation very near this death, 
+tranquilly bestowed his blessing on the fall as he had bestowed 
+it on the elevation. At Schoenbrunn there wjis a little shadow, 
+aged four, whom it was seditious to call th ; King of Rome. 
+And these things took plut-e, and the kings resumed their 
+thrones, and the master of Europe was put in a cage, and the 
+old regime became the new regime, and all the shadows and all 
+the light of the earth changed place, because, on the afternoon 
+of a certain summer's day, a shepherd said to a Prussian in the 
+forest, " Go this way, and not that ! " 
+
+This 1815 was a sort of lugubrious April. Ancient unhealthy 
+and poisonous realities were covered with new appearances. A 
+lie wedded 1789 ; the right divine was masked under a charter ; 
+fictions became constitutional ; prejudices, superstitions, and 
+mental reservations, with Article 14 in the heart, were var- 
+nished over with liberalism. It was the serpent's change of 
+skin. 
+
+Man had been rendered both greater and smaller by Napo- 
+leon. Under this reign of splendid matter, the ideal had received 
+the strange name of ideology ! It is a grave imprudence in a 
+great man to turn the future into derision. The populace, how- 
+ever, that food for cannon which is so fond of the cannoneer, 
+sought him with its glance. Where is he? What is he doing V 
+*' Napoleon is dead," said a passer-by to a veteran of Marengo 
+and Waterloo. '^He dead!" cried the soldier; "you don't 
+know him." Imagination distrusted this man, even when over- 
+thrown. The depths of Europe were full of darkness after 
+Waterloo. Something enormous remained long empt}' through 
+Napoleon's disai)i)oarance. 
+
+The kings placed themselves in this void. Ancient Europe 
+profited by it to undertake reforms. There was a H0I3' Alliance ; 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 47 
+
+Betie-Alliance^ Beautiful Alliance, the fatal field of Waterloo 
+had said in advance. 
+
+In pr<isence and in face of that antique Europe reconstructed, 
+the features of a new France were sketched out. The future, 
+which the îimperor h:id rallied, made its entry. On its brow it 
+bore the star. Liberty. The glowing eyes of all young genera- 
+tions were turned on it. Singular fact! people were, at one 
+and the same time, in love with the future, Liberty, and the 
+past, Natx>leon. Defeat had rendered the vanquished greater. 
+Bouaparte fallçn seemed more lofty than Napoleon erect. Those 
+who had triumphed were alarmed. England had him guarded 
+by Hudson Lowe, and France had him watched by Montchenu 
+His folded arms became a source of uneasiness to thrones. 
+Alexander called him "my sleeplessness." This terror was 
+the result of tbe quantity of revolution wbich was contained in 
+him. That is what explains and excuses Bonapartist liberalism. 
+This phantom caused the old world to tremble. The kings 
+reigned, but ill at their ease, witti the rock of Saint Helena on 
+the horizon. * 
+
+While Napoleon was passing through the death struggle at 
+Longwood, the sixty thousand men who had fallen on the field 
+of Waterloo were quietly rotting, and something of their peace 
+was shed abroad over the world. The Congress of Vienna 
+made the treaties in 1815, and Europe called this the Restora- 
+tion. 
+
+This is what Waterloo was. 
+
+But wliat matters it to the Infinite? all that tempest, all that 
+cloud, that war, then that peace? All that darkness did not 
+trouble for a moment the light of that immense Eye before 
+which a gnib skipping from one blade of grass to another equals 
+the eagle soaring from belfry to belfry on the towers of Nôtre 
+'^ame. 
+
+XVIII. — The Battle-Field at Night. 
+
+Let as retnrn — it is a necessity in this book — to that fatal 
+Imttle-field. 
+
+On the 18th of June the moon was full. Its light favored 
+Blûcher's ferocious pursuit, betrayed the traces of the fugitives, 
+delivered up that disastrous mass to the eager Prussian cavalr\-, 
+and aided the massacre. Such tragic fiivors of the night do 
+oecnr sometimes during catastrophes. 
+
+After the last cannon-shot had been fired, the plain of Mont 
+Saint-Jean remained deserted. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+é^ LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The English occupied the encampment of the French ; it '4 
+the usual sign of victory to sleep in the bed of the vanquished. 
+They established their bivouac beyond Rossomme. The Prus- 
+sians, let loose on the retreating rout, pushed forward. Wel- 
+lington went to the village of Waterloo to draw up his report to 
+Lord Bathurst. 
+
+If ever the sic vos non vobis was applicable, it certainly is to 
+that village of Waterloo. Waterloo took no part, aud lay half 
+a league from the scene of action. Mont-Saint- J can was can- 
+nonaded, Hougumont was burned, La Haie-Sainte was taken 
+by assault, Papelottc was burned, Plancenoit was burned, La 
+Belle- Alliance beheld the embrace of the two conquerors ; these 
+names are hardly known, and Waterloo, which worked not iu 
+the battle, bears off all tlie honor. 
+
+We are not of the number of those who flatter war ; when 
+the occasion presents itself, we tell the truth about it. War 
+has frightful beauties which we have not concealed ; it has also, 
+we acknowledge, some hideous features. One of the most sur- 
+prising is the prompt stripping of the bodies of the dead after 
+the victory. The dawn which follows a battle always rises o\ 
+naked corpses. 
+
+Who does this? Who thus soils the triumph? What hideous, 
+furtive hand is that which is slipped into the pocket of victory ? 
+What picki)ockets are they who ply their trade in the rear elf 
+glory ? Some pliilosophers — Voltaire among the number — af • 
+firm that it is precisely those persons have made the glorj*. It 
+is the same men, they say ; there is no relief corps ; those who 
+are erect pillage those who are prone on the earth. The hero 
+of the day is the vampire of the night. One has assuredly the 
+right, after all, to strip a corpse a bit when one is the author of 
+that corpse. For our own part, we do not think so ; it seems 
+to us impossible that the same hand should pluck laurels and 
+purloin the shoes from a dead man. 
+
+One thing is certain, which is, that generall}* after conquerors 
+follow thieves. But let us leave the soldier, especially the con- 
+temporary soldier, out of the question. 
+
+Every army has a rear -guard, and it is that which must b« 
+blamed. Bat-like creatures, half brigands and lackeys ; all th*i 
+sorts of vespertillos that that twilight called war engenders; 
+wearers of uniforms, who tîike no part in the fighting ; pretended 
+invalids ; formidable limpers ; interloping sutlers, trotting alon^^ 
+in little carts, sometimes accompanied by their wives, and steal* 
+ing tilings which they sell again ; beggars offering themselvei 
+as guides to ofiScers ; soldiers' servants ; marauders ; armies cm 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+VOSETTB. 49 
+
+t.be inarch in days gone by, — we are not speaking of the près 
+cnt, — dragged all this behind them, so that in the special Ian 
+guage they are called '' stragglera." No army, no nation, was 
+responsible for those beings ; they spoke Italian and followed 
+the Germans, then spoke French and followed the English. It 
+was by one of these wretches, a Spanish straggler who spoke 
+French, that the Marquis of Fervacques, deceived b}' his Picard 
+jargon, and taking him for one of our own men, was traitor- 
+jMsiy slaiu and robbed on the battle-field itself, in the course of 
+:hc night which followed the victory of Cerisoles. The rascal 
+sprang from this marauding. The detestable maxim. Live on 
+the enemy! produced this leprosy, which a strict discipline alone 
+could heal. There are reputations which ai-e deceptive ; one 
+docs not always know why certain generals, grea^ in other 
+directions, have been so popular. Turenne was adored by his 
+rtoldiers because he tolerated pillage ; evil permitted constitutes 
+part of goodness. Turenne was so good that lie allowed the 
+Palatinate to be delivered over to fire and blood. The ma- 
+."auders in the train of an army were more or less in number, 
+according as the chief was more or less severe. Hoche and 
+Marceau had no stragglers; Wellington had few, and we do 
+him the justice to mention it. 
+
+Nevertheless, on the night from the 18th to the 19th of June, 
+the dead were robbed. Wellington was rigid ; he gave orders 
+that any one caught in the act should be shot ; but rapine is 
+tenacious. The marauders stole in one corner of the battle- 
+Held while others were being shot in another. 
+
+The moon was sinister over this plain. 
+
+Towards midnight, a man was prowling about, or rather, 
+climbing in the direction of the hollow road of Chain. To all 
+appearance he was one of those whom we have just described, 
+— neither English nor French, neither peasant nor soldier, less 
+a man than a ghoul attracted by the scent of the dead bodies, 
+having theft for his victory, and come to rifle Waterloo. He 
+was clad in a blouse that was something like a great coat ; he 
+was uneasy and audacious ; he walked forwards and gazed be« 
+hind him. Who was this man? The night probably knew more 
+of him than the day. He had no sack, but evidently he had large 
+lK>ckets under his coat. From time to time he halted, scruti- 
+nized the plain around him as though to see whether he were 
+observed, bent over abruptly, disturbed something silent and 
+Kiotionless on the ground, then rose and fled. His sliding mo- 
+lion, his attitudes, his mysterious and rapid gestures, caused 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+50 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Jim to resemble those twilight larvae which haant rains, ^nA 
+whieii aiieient Norman legends call tlie AUeure. 
+
+Certain nocturnal wading birds produce these silhouettée 
+among the marHhcs. 
+
+A glance capable of piercing all that mist deeply would have 
+perceived at some distance a sort of little sutler's wagon witl 
+a fluted wicker hood, harnessed to a famisiied nag which wai 
+cropping the grass across its bit as it halted, hidden, as it were 
+behind the hovel which adjoins the highway to Nivelles, at tlu 
+angle of the road from Mont-Saint-Jean to Braiiie TAlleud : 
+and in the wagon, a sort of woman seated on coffers and pack- 
+ages. Perhaps there was some connection between that wagon 
+and that prowler. 
+
+The darkness was serene. Not a cloud in the zenith. What 
+matters it if the earth be red ! the moon remains white ; 
+these are the indifferences of the sky. In the fields, branches of 
+trees broken by grape-shot, but not fallen, upheld by their bark, 
+swayed gently in the breeze of night. A breath, almost a 
+respiration, moved the shrubbery. Quivers which resembled 
+the departure of souls ran through the grass. 
+
+In the distance the coming and going of patrols and the geor 
+eral rounds of the English camp were audible. 
+
+Hougomont and La Ilaie-Sainte continued to burn, forming, 
+one in the west, the other in the east, two great flames which 
+were joined by the cordon of bivouac fires of the English, like 
+a necklace of rubies with two carbuncles at the extremities, aa 
+they extended in an immense semicircle over the hills along the 
+horizon. 
+
+We have described the catastrophe of the road of Ohi»io. 
+The heart is terrified at the thought of what that death must 
+have been to so many brave men. 
+
+If there is anything terrible, if there exists a reality whicl 
+surpasses dreams, it is this : to live, to see the sun ; to be ic 
+full possession of virile force ; to possess health and joy ; tc 
+laugh valiantly ; to rush towards a glory which one sees dazzling 
+in front of one ; to feel in one's breast lungs which breathe, a 
+heart which beats, a will which reasons ; to speak, think, hope, 
+love ; to have a mother, to have a wife, to have children ; to 
+have the light — and all at once, in the space of a shout, in less 
+than a minute, to sink into an abyss ; to fall, to roll, to crush, 
+to be crushed ; to see ears of wheat, flowers, leaves, branches ; 
+not to be able to catch hold of anything ; to feel one's sword 
+useless, men beneath one, horses on top of one ; to struggle in 
+vain, since one's bones have been broken hy some kick in the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. SI 
+
+darkneflB ; to feel a heel which makes one's eyes start from theii 
+sockets ; to bite horses* shoes in one's rage ; to stifle, to yell, to 
+writhe; to be beneath, and to say to one's self, "But just a 
+little while ago I was a living man ! " 
+
+There, where that lamentable disaster had uttered its death-- 
+rattle, all was silence now. The edges of the hollow road 
+were encumbered with horses and riders, inextricably heaped 
+up. Terrible entanglement ! There was no longer any slope, 
+for the corpses had levelled the road with the plain, and reached 
+the brim like a well-filled bushel of barley. A heap of dead 
+bodies in the upper part, a river of blood in the lower part— « 
+such was that road on the evening of the 18th of June, 1815. 
+The blood ran even to the Nivelles highway, and there over- 
+flowed in a large pool in front of the abatis of trees which barred 
+the way, at a spot which is still pointed out. 
+
+It will be remembered that it was at the opposite point, 
+in the direction of the Genappe road, that the destruction of the 
+cuirassiers had taken place. The thickness of the layer of 
+bodies was proportioned to the depth of the hollow road. 
+Towards the middle, at the point where it became level, where 
+Delort's division had passed, the layer of corpses was thinner. 
+
+The nocturnal prowler whom we have just shown to the 
+reader was going in that direction. He was seartîhing that vast 
+tomb. He gazed about. He passed the dead in some sort of 
+hideous review. He walked with his feet in the blood. 
+
+All at once he paused. 
+
+A few paces in front of him, in the hollow road, at the point 
+where the pile of dead came to an end, an open hand, illumined 
+by the moon, projected from beneath that heap of men. Tliai 
+hand had on its finger something sparkling, which was a ring ol 
+gold. 
+
+The man bent over, remained in a crouchmg attituile for f 
+moment, and when he rose there was no longer a ring on the hand 
+
+He did not precisely rise ; he remained in a stooping ana 
+frightened attitude, with his back turned to the heap of dead» 
+icanning the horizon on his knees, with the whole upper portiot. 
+of his body supported on his two forefingers, which rested on tli« 
+earth, and his head peering above the edge of the hollow road. 
+The jackal's four paws suit some actions. 
+
+Then coming to a decision, he rose to his feet. 
+
+At that moment, he gave a terrible start. He felt some one 
+clutch him from behind. 
+
+He wheeled roimd ; it was the open hand, which had closed^ 
+«nd had seized the skirt of his coat. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+It LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+An bouest man would have been terrified ; this man bur^i 
+into a laugh. 
+
+'* Come," said he, " it's only a dead body. I prefer a spot^H 
+to a goiularme." 
+
+Hut the hand weakened and released him. Effort is quickly 
+exhausted in the grave. 
+
+*' Well now," said the prowler, " is that dead fellow alive? 
+Let's see." 
+
+He bent down again, fumbled among the heap, pushed aside 
+everything that was in his way, seized the hand, grasped the 
+arm, freed the head, pulled out the body, and a few momenta 
+later he was dragging the lifeless, or at least the uneouscioug, 
+man, through the shadows of hollow road. He was a cuirassiei, 
+an offlcer, and even an officer of considerable rank; a largi 
+gold epauli'tte peeped from beneath the cuirass ; this officer m 
+longer possessed a helmet. A furious sword-cut had 8carre»i 
+his face, where nothing was discernible but blood. 
+
+However, he did not appear to have any broken limbs, and, 
+by some happy chance, if that word is permissible here, th? 
+dead had been vaulted above him in such a uiauner as to pre- 
+serve him from being crushed. His eyes were still closed. 
+
+On his cuirass he wore the silver cross of the Legion o( 
+Honor. 
+
+The prowler tore off this cross, which disappeared into oni 
+of the gulfs which he had l)eneath his great coat. 
+
+Then he felt of the officer's fob, discovered a watch there, 
+and took possession of it. Next he searched his waistcoa% 
+found a purse and pocketed it. 
+
+When he had arrived at this sts^e of succor which he wa4 
+administering to this dying man, the officer opened his eyes. 
+
+"Thanks," he said feebly. 
+
+The abruptness of the movements of the man who was manip 
+alating him, the freshness of the night, the air which he couM 
+nhule freely, had roused him from his lethargy. 
+
+The prowler made no reply. He raised his head. A sourJ 
+of footsteps was audible in the plain; some patrol was probably 
+approaching. 
+
+The officer murmured, for the death agony was still in hU 
+voice : — 
+
+'* Who won the battle?" 
+
+**The English," answered the prowler. 
+
+The officer went on : — 
+
+" I.<ook In my pockets; you will find a watch and a put8# 
+Take them," 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 53 
+
+It was already done. 
+
+The prowler executed the required feint, and said : — 
+
+" There is nothing there." 
+
+"I have been robbed," said the officer; "I am sorry foi 
+that. You should have had them." 
+
+The steps of the patrol became more and more distinct. 
+
+" Some one is coming," said the prowler, with the movement 
+of a man who is taking his departure. 
+
+The officer raised his arm feebly, and detained him. 
+
+" You have saved my life. Who are you ? " 
+
+The prowler answered rapidly, and in a low voice : — 
+
+" Like yourself, I belonged to the French army. I must 
+leave you. If they were to catch me, they would shoot me. I 
+have saved your life. Now get out of the scrape yourself." 
+
+" What is your rank ? " 
+
+«Sergeant." 
+
+" What is your name ? ^ 
+
+"Thënardier." 
+
+"I shall not forget that name," said the officer; **and do 
+you remember mine. My name is Pontmercy." 
+
+
+
+BOOK SECOND. — THE SHIP O^ION. 
+L — Number 24,601 becomes Number 9,430. 
+
+Jean Valjban had been recaptured. 
+
+The reader will be grateful to us if we pass rapidly over the 
+sad details. We will confine ourselves to transcribing two 
+paragi-aphs published by the journals of that day, a few months 
+after the surprising events which had taken place at M. sur M. 
+
+These articles are rather summary. It must be remembered, 
+that at that epoch the Gazette des Tribunaux was not yet iu 
+existence. 
+
+We borrow the first from the Drapeau Blano, It bears the 
+date of July 25, 1823. 
+
+An arrondissement of the Pas de Calais has just heen the theatre of an 
+event qaite oat of the ordinary course. A man, >vho was a stranger in tlie 
+Department, and who bore the name of M. Madeleine, had, thanks to new 
+methods, resuscitated some years ago an ancient local industry, tlie manu* 
+facture of jet and of black glass trinkets. He had made his fortune in 
+the business, and that of the arrondissement as well, we will admit. H« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+54 LJiâ MISERABLES, 
+
+htid been appointed mayor, in recognition of hU aenrlcet. The police 4li 
+
+coTered that M. Madeleine wa« no other than an ex-convict who had 
+broken his ban, condemned in 1790 for theft, and named Jean Valjean 
+Jean Valjean has been recommitted to prison. It appears that previoui 
+to Iiis arrest he had sacceeded in withdrawing from the hands of M. Laf- 
+fitte, a sum of over Iialf a million wliicli he Iiad lodged tliere, and which 
+he had, moreover, and by perfectly legitimate means, acquired in his busi 
+ness. No one has been able to discover where Jean Valjean has concealed 
+tliis money since his return to prison at Tonlon. 
+
+The second article, which enters a little more into detail, is 
+aa extract from the Journal de Paris^ of the same date. 
+
+A former convict, who had been liberated, named Jean Valjean, has just 
+appeared before the Court of Assizes of the Var, under circumstances cal- 
+culated to attract attention. This wretcli had succeeded in escaping the 
+vigilance of the police, he had changed his name, and had succ«eded in 
+getting himself appointed mayor of one of our small northern towns ; in 
+this town he had established a considerable commerce. He has at last 
+been unmasked and arrested, thanks to the indefatigable zeal of the public 
+prosecutor. He had for his concubine a woman of the town, who died of a 
+shock at the moment of liis arrest. This scoundrel, who is endowed with 
+Herculean strength, fountl means to escape; but three or four days after 
+his flight the police laid their hands on him once more, in Paris itself, at 
+the very moment when he was entering one of those little vehicles which 
+run between the capital and the village of Montfermeil (Seine-et-Oise). He 
+is said to have profited by this interval of three or four days of lil>erty, to 
+withdraw a considerable sum deposited by him with one of our leading 
+bankers. This sum has been estimated at six or seven hundred thousand 
+francs. U the indictment is to be trusted, he has hidden it in some place 
+known to himself alone, and it has not been possible to lay hands on iL 
+However that may Ikî, the said Jean Valjean has just been brought before 
+the Assizes of the Department of the Var as accused of highway robbery 
+accompanied with violence, about eight years ago, on the person of one of 
+those honest children who, as the patriarch of Ferney lias said, in immortal 
+verse, 
+
+•• . . . Arrive from Savoy every year, 
+Aad who, with gentle bands, do clear 
+Those long canals choked up with sooft.** 
+
+This bandit refused to defend himself. It was proved by the akilfiil 
+%nd eloquent representative of the public prosecutor, that the theft waa 
+committed in complicity with others, and that Jean Valjean was a member 
+9f a band of robbers in the south. Jean Valjean was pronounced guilty 
+\m\ was condemned to the death penalty in consequence. This criminal 
+refused to lodge an appeal. The king, in his inexhaustible clemency, haa 
+deigned to commute his penalty to that of penal servitude for life. Jeaa 
+Valjean was immediately taken to the prison at Toulon. 
+
+The reader has not forgotten that Jean Valjean had relig^iom 
+habits at M. snr M. Sorae papers, amon^ others the CoTistitu 
+tional^ presented this commutation as a triumph of tbe piiesUj 
+party. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 5d 
+
+JeaD Yaljean changed his number in the galleys. He was 
+called 9,430. 
+
+However, and we will mention it at once in order that we may 
+not be obliged to recur to the subject, the prosperity of M. sur 
+M. vanished with M. Madeleine ; all that he had foreseen during 
+his night of fever and hesitation was realized ; lacking him, 
+there actually was a soul lacking. After this fall, there took 
+place at M. sur M. that egotistical division of great existences 
+which have fallen, that fatal dismemberment of flourishing things 
+which is accomplished every day, obscurely, in the human com- 
+mnnity, and which history has noted only once, because it 
+occurred after the death of Alexander. Lieutenants are 
+crowned kings ; superintendents improvise manufacturers out 
+of tliemselves. Envious rivalries arose. M. Madeleine's vast 
+workshops were shut ; his buildings fell to ruin, his workmen 
+were scattered. Some of them quitted the country, others 
+abandoned the trade. Thenceforth, everything was done on a 
+small scale, instead of on a grand scale ; for lucre instead of 
+the general good. There was no longer a centre ; everywhere 
+there was competition and animosity. M. Madeleine had 
+reigned over all and directed all. No sooner had he fallen, 
+than each pulled things to himself ; the spirit of combat suc- 
+ceeded to the spirit of organization, bitterness to cordialit}', 
+hatred of one another to the benevolence of the founder towards 
+all ; the threads which M. Madeleine had set were tangled and 
+broken, the methods were adulterated, the products were debased, 
+confidence was killed ; the market dimiuished, for lack of orders ; 
+salaries were reduced, the workshops stood still, bankrupty ar- 
+rived. And then there was nothing more for the poor. Ail 
+had vanished. 
+
+The state itself perceived that some one had been crushed 
+somewhere. Less than four years after the judgment of the 
+Conrt of Assizes establishing the identity of Jean Val jean and 
+M. Madeleine, for the benelit of the galleys, the cost of collect- 
+ing taxes had doubled in the an-ondissement of M. sur M. ; and 
+M. de Villèlc called attention to the fact in the rostrum, in the 
+month of February, 1827. 
+
+II. — In which the Reader will peruse Two Verses, which 
+
+ARE OF THE DeVIL'S COMPOSITION, POSSIBLY. 
+
+Before proceeding further, it will be to the purpose to nar- 
+rate in some detail, a singular occurrence which took place at 
+about the same epoch, in Montfermeil, and which is not lacking 
+ia coincidence with certain conjectures of the indictment. 
+
+
+
+ioogle 
+
+
+
+56 i^ES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+There exists in the region of Montfcrmeil a very ancient 
+superstition, which is all the more curious and all the more 
+precious, because a popular superstition in the vicinity of Paris 
+is like an aloe in Siberia. We are among those who respect 
+everything which is in the nature of a rare plant. Here, then, 
+is the superstition of Montfermeil : it is thought that the devil, 
+from time immemorial, has selected the forest as a hiding-plac« 
+for his treasures. Good wives alKrm that it is no rarity to en- 
+counter at nightfall, in sechided nooks of the forest, a black 
+man with the air of a carter or a wood-chopper, wearing wooden 
+shoes, clad in trousers and a blouse of linen, and recognizable 
+by the fact, that, instead of a cap or hat, he has two immense 
+horns on his head. This ought, in fact, to render him recog* 
+nizable. This man is habitually engaged in digging a hole. 
+There are three ways of proGting by such an encounter. The 
+first is to approach the man and speak to him. Then it is seen 
+that the man is simply a peasant, that he appears black because 
+it is nightfall ; that he is not digging any hole whatever, but is 
+cutting grass for his cows, and that what had been taken for 
+horns is nothing but a dung-fork which he is carrying on his 
+back, and whose teeth, thanks to the perspective of evening, 
+seemed to spring from his head. The man returns home and 
+dies within the week. The second way is to watch him, to wait 
+until he has dug his hole, until he has filled it and has gone 
+away ; then to run with great speed to the trench, to open it 
+once more, and to seize the "treasure" which the black man 
+has necessarily placed there. In this case one dies within the 
+month. Finally, the last method is not to speak to the black 
+man, not to look at him, and to flee at the best speed of one's 
+legs. One then dies within the year. 
+
+As all three methods are attended with their special incon- 
+veniences, the second, which at all events, presents some advan- 
+tages, among others that of possessing a treasure, if only for a 
+month, is the one most generally adopted. So bold men, who 
+are tempted by every chance, have quite frequentlj*, as we 
+are assured, opened the holes excavated by the black man, 
+and tried to rob the devil. The success of the operation appeai-s 
+to be but moderate. At least, if the tradition is to be believed, 
+and in particular the two enigmatical lines in barbarous 
+Latin, which an evil Norman monk, a bit of a sorcerer, naratd 
+Tryphon has loft on this subject. This Tryphon is buried at tlic 
+Abbey of Saint-Georges de Bocherville, near Rouen, and tends ' 
+spawn on his grave. 
+
+Accordingly, enormous efforts are made. Such trenches are 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 57 
+
+crdinarily extremely deep ; a man sweats, digs, toils all night 
+— for it must be done at night ; he wets his shirt, burns out his 
+candle, breaks his mattock, and when he arrives at the bottom 
+of the hole, when he lays his hand on the "treasure," what does 
+he find? What is the devil's ti'easure? A sou, sometimes a 
+crown-piece, a stone, a skeleton, a bleeding body, sometimes a 
+spectre folded in four like a sheet of paper in a portfolio, some- 
+times nothing. This is what Tryphon's verses seem to announce 
+to the indiscreet and curious : — 
+
+" Fodit, et in fossa thesauros condit opaca, 
+As, nummas, lapides, cadaver, simulacra, nihilque." 
+
+It seems that in our day there is sometimes found a powder- 
+horn with bullets, sometimes an old pack of cards greasy and 
+worn, which has evidently served the devil. Tryphon does not 
+record these two finds, since Tryphon lived in the twelfth 
+century, and since the devil does not appear to have had the 
+wit to invent powder before Roger Bacon's time, and cards 
+before the time of Charles VI. 
+
+Moreover, if one plays at cards, one is sure to lose all that 
+one possesses ! and as for the powder in the horn, it possesses 
+the property of making your gun burst in your face. 
+
+Now, a very short time after the epoch when it seemed to 
+the prosecuting attorney that the liberated convict Jean Val- 
+jean during his flight of several days had been prowling around 
+Montfermeil, it was remarked in that village that a certain old 
+road-laborer, named Boulatruelle, had " peculiar ways" in the 
+forest. People thereabouts thought they knew that this Boula- 
+truelle had been in the galleys. He was subjected to. certain 
+police supervision, and, as he could find work nowhere, the 
+administration employed him at reduced rates as a road-mender 
+on the cross-road from Gagny to Lagny. 
+
+This Boulatruelle was a -man who was viewed with disfavor 
+by the inhabitants of the district as too respectful, too humble, 
+too prompt in removing his cap to every one, and trembling and 
+smiling in the presence of the gendarmes, — probably aflili- 
+ated to robber bands, they said; suspected of lying in am- 
+bush at verge of copses at nightfall. The only thing in his 
+favor was that he was a drunkard. 
+
+This is what people thought they had noticed : — 
+
+Of late, Boulatruelle had taken to quitting his task of stone 
+breaking and care of the road at a very eaiiy hour, and to be- 
+taking himself to the forest with his pickaxe. He was encoun- 
+tered towards evening in the most deserted clearings, in the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+M LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+wildest thickens ; aud he had the api>earaDce of being in searcl 
+of sjiucthiug, aud boiuetiines he was digging lioles. The good- 
+wive» who passed took him at first for Beelzebub : then thej 
+recognized Boiilatruelle, aud were not in the least reassured 
+thereby. These encountera seemed to cause Boulatruelle a 
+lively displeasure. It was evident that he sought to hide, and 
+that there was some mystery in what he was doing. 
+
+It was said in the village: '^It is clear that the devil had 
+appeared. Boulatruelle has seen him, and is on the search 
+lu sooth, he is cuuuiug enough to pocket Lucifer's lioanl." 
+
+The Voltairians added, '* Will Boulatruelle catch the devil, or 
+will the devil catch Boulatruelle?" The old women made a 
+great many signs of the cross. 
+
+In the meantime, Boulatruelle's manœuvres in the forest 
+ceased ; and he resumed his regular occupation of road- 
+mending; and people gossiped of something else. 
+
+Some persons, however, were still curious, suimising that in 
+all this there was probably no fabulous treasure of tlie legends, 
+but some fine windfall of a more serious and palpable sort than 
+the devil's bank-bills, and that the road-mender had half discov- 
+ered the secret. The most ^^ puzzled '* were the schoolmaster and 
+Thénardier, the proprietor of the tavern, who was everybody's 
+friend, and had not disdained to ally himself with Boulatruelle. 
+
+'*He has been in the galleys," said Thénardier. ''Eh! 
+Good God ! uo one knows who has been there or will be there." 
+
+One evening the schoolmaster aflirmed that in former times 
+the law would have instituted au inquiry as to what Boulatruelle 
+did in the forest, and that the latter would have been forced to 
+speak, and that he would have been put to the torture in case 
+of need, and that Boulatruelle would not have resisted the 
+water test, for example. ^' Let us put him to the wine test." 
+3aîd Thénardier. 
+
+They made an effort, and got the old road-mender to drink- 
+ing. Boulatruelle drank an enormous amount, but said very 
+little. He combined with admirable art, and in masterly pro- 
+portioua, the thirst of a gormandizer with the discretion of a 
+judge. Nevertheless, by diut of returning to the charge and 
+of comparing and putting together the few obscarc words which 
+he did allow to escape him, this is what Thénardier and the 
+schoolmaster imagined that they had made out: — 
+
+One morning, when Boulatruelle was on his way to his work, 
+at daybreak, he had been surprised to see, at a nook of the 
+forest, in the underbrush, a shovel and a pickaxe, cancecdedf m 
+Urne might say. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 53 
+
+However, ne might have supposed that they were probably 
+the shovel and pick of Father Six-Fours, the water-carrier, aud 
+would have thought no more about it. But, on the evening of 
+that day, he saw, without being seen himself, as he was hidden 
+by a large tree, "a person who did not belong in those parts, 
+aud whom he, Boulatruelle, knew well," directing his steps 
+towards the densest part of the wood. Translation by Thénar- 
+dier: A comrade of the galleys. Boulatruelle obstinately refuseil 
+to reveal his name. This person carried a package — something 
+square, like a large box or a small trunk. Surprise on the part 
+ol Boulatruelle. However, it was only after the expiration of 
+seven or eight minutes that the idea of following that *' person " 
+had occurred to him. But it was too late ; the person was already 
+in the thicket, night had descended, and Boulatruelle had not been 
+able to catch up with him. Then he had adopted the course of 
+watching for liiiii at the edge of the woods. ** It was moonlight." 
+Two or three hours later, Boulatruelle had seen this person 
+emerge from the brushwood, carrying no longer the coffer, but 
+a shovel and pick. Boulatruelle had allowed the |)erson to pass, 
+and had not dreamed of accosting him, because he said to himself 
+that the other man was three times as strong as he was, and armed 
+with a pickaxe, and that he would probably knock him over the 
+heail on recognizing him, and on perceiving that he was rec- 
+ognized. Touching effusion of two old comrades on meeting 
+again. But the shovel and pick had served as a ray of light to 
+Boulatruelle ; he had hastened to the thicket in the morning, and 
+had found neither shovel nor pick. From this he had drawn the 
+inference that this person, once in the forest, had dug a hole with 
+his pick, burit'd the coffer, and reclosed the hole witli his shovel, 
+^ow, the coffer was too small to contain a bo<ly ; therefore it con- 
+tained money. Hence his researches. Boulatruelle had explored, 
+sounded, searched the entire forest and the thicket, and had dug 
+wherever the earth appeared to him to have been rect-ntly turned 
+up. In vain. 
+
+He had •* ferreted out " nothing. No one in Montfermeil 
+thought any more about it. There w'**'e only a few brave gossips, 
+who said, ** You may be certain that the mender on the Gagny 
+road did not take all that trouble for nothing; he was sure that 
+the devil had come." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+60 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+111. — The Ankle-Chain must have undergone a Ckrtaik 
+
+Prepakatory Manipulation to be thus broken 
+
+WITH A Blow from a Hammer. 
+
+Towards the end of October, In that same year, 1823, Um 
+
+inhabitants of Toulon beheld the entry into their port, aftei 
+heavy weather, and for the purpose of repairing some damages, 
+of tlie ship Orion^ which was employed later at Brest as a 
+8:;hool-Bhip, and which then formed a part of the Mediterranean 
+squadron. 
+
+This vessel, battered as it was, — for the sea had handled it 
+roughly, — produced a fine effect as it entered the roads. It 
+flew some colors which procured for it the regulation salute of 
+eleven guns, which it returned, shot for shot; total, twenty- 
+two. It has been calculated that what with salvos, rojal and 
+military politenesses, courteous exchanges of uproar, sisals 
+of etiquette, formalities of roadsteads aud citadels, sunrises 
+and sunsets, saluted every day by all fortresses and all ships of 
+war, openings and closings of ports, etc., the civilized world, 
+discharged all over the earth, in the course of four and twenty 
+hours, one hundred and fifty thousand useless shots. At sis 
+francs the shot, that comes to nine hundred thousand francs a 
+day, three hundred millions a year, which vanish in smoke. Thia 
+Ib a mere detail. All this time the poor were dying of hanger. 
+
+The year 1823 was what the Restoration called *'* the epoch 
+of the Spanish war." 
+
+This war contained many events in one, and a quantity of 
+peculiarities. A grand family affair for the house of Bourbon ; 
+the branch of France succoring and protecting the bruncii of 
+Madrid, that is to say, performing an act devolving on the 
+elder; an apparent return to our national traditions, compli- 
+cated by servitude and by subjection to the cabinets of the 
+North; M. le Duc d'Aiigoulême, surnamed by the libérai 
+sheets the hero of Andujar^ compressing in a triumphal attitude 
+that was somewhat contradicted by his peaceable air, the 
+ancient and very powerful terrorism of the Holy Office at vari- 
+ance with the chimerical terrorism of the liberals; the sans- 
+cuUottea resuscitated, to the great terror of dowagers, under the 
+name of descamîsados ; monarchy opposing an obstacle to 
+progress described as anarchy; the theories of '89 ronghh 
+nterrupted in the sap , a European halt, called to the FVencb 
+idea, which was making the tour of the world: beside tlie sot 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 61 
+
+f>f France as generalissimo, the Prince dc Carignan, afterwards 
+Charles Albert, enrolling himself in that crusade of kings 
+agaiust people as a volunteer, with grenadier epaulets of red 
+worsted; the soldiers of the Empire setting out on a fresh 
+campaign, but aged, saddened, after eight years of repose, and 
+under the white cockade ; the tricolored standard waved abroad 
+by a heroic handful of Frenchmen, as the white standard had 
+been tliirty years earlier at Coblentz; monks mingled with our 
+Iroops ; the spirit of liberty and of novelty brought to its 
+senses by bayonets; principles slaughtered by canonnades; 
+France undoing by her arms that which she had done hy her 
+mind ; in addition to this, hostile leaders sold, soldiers hesitat- 
+ing, cities besieged by millions; no military perils, and yet 
+possible explosions, as in' every mine which is surprised and 
+invaded ; but little bloodshed, little honor won, shame foi 
+some, glory for no one. Such was this war, made by the 
+princes descended from Louis XIV., and conducted by gen- 
+erals who bad been under Napoleon. Its sad fate was to recall 
+neither the grand war nor grand politics. 
+
+Some feats of arms were serious ; the taking of the Trocadénv 
+among others, was a fine military action ; but after all, we repeat^ 
+the trumpets of this war give back a cracked sound, the whole 
+eflFect was suspicious ; history approves of France for making a 
+difficulty about accepting this false triumph. It seemed evident 
+that certain Spanish officers charged with resistance yielded too 
+easily ; the idea of corruption was connected with the victory ; 
+it ap|)ears as though generals and not battles had been won, 
+and the conquering soldier returned humiliated. A debasing 
+war, in short, in which the Bank of Frarice could be read in 
+the folds of the flag. 
+
+Soldiers of the war of 1808, on whom Saragossa had fallen 
+in formidable ruin, frowned in 1823 at the easy surrender of 
+citadels, and began to regret Palafox. It is the nature of 
+France to prefer to have Rostopchine rather than Ballesteros 
+in front of her. 
+
+From a still more serious point of view, and one which it is 
+also proper to insist u|x>n here, this war, which wounded the 
+military spirit of France, enraged the democratic spirit. It 
+was an enterprise of inthralment. In that campaign, the object 
+of the French soldier, the son of democracy, was the conquest 
+of a yoke for others. A hideous contradiction. France is 
+made to arouse the soul of nations, not to stifle it. All the 
+revolutions of Europe since 1792 are the French Revolutior 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+62 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+liberty darts rays from France. That is a solar fact. BUnd 
+
+is he who will uot see ! It was Bonaparte who said it. 
+
+The war of 1823, an outrage on tiie genei*ous Spanish nation, 
+was then, at the same time, an outrage on the French Revolu- 
+tion. It was France who committed this monstrous violence ; 
+by foul means, for, with the exception of wars of liberation, 
+everything tliat armies do is by foul means. The woixis pa^ive 
+obedience indicate this. An army is a strange masterpiece of 
+combination where force results from an enormous sum of 
+impotence. Thus is war, made by humanity against humanity, 
+despite humanity, explained. 
+
+As for the Bourbons, the war of 1823 was fatal to them. 
+They took it for a success. They did not perceive the danger 
+that lies in having an idea slain to 'order. The}' went astray, 
+in their innocence, to such a degree that they introduced the 
+immense enfeeblement of a crime into their establishment as an 
+element of strength. The spirit of the ambush entered into 
+their politics. 1830 had its germ in 1823 The Spanish cam- 
+paign became in their counsels an argument for force and for 
+adventures by right Divine. France, having re-established d 
+rey netto in Spain, might well have re-established the absolute 
+king at home. They fell into the alarming error of taking 
+the obedience of the soldier for the consent of the cation. 
+Such confidence is the ruin of thrones. It is not permitted 
+to fall asleep, either in the shadow of a machined tree, nor in 
+<he shadow of an army. 
+
+Iict us return to the ship Orion. 
+
+During the operations of the arm}' commanded by the prince 
+generalissimo, a squadio.a had been cruising in the Mediter< 
+ranean. We have just sfated that the Orion belonged to this 
+fleet, and that accidents of the sea had brought it into port at 
+Toulon. 
+
+The presence of a vessel of war in a port has something 
+about it which attracts and engages a crowd. It is because i^ 
+is great, and the crowd loves what is great. 
+
+A ship of the line is one of the most magnificent combina- 
+tions of the genius of man with the powers of nature. 
+
+A ship of the line is composed, at the same time, of the 
+heaviest and the lightest of possible matter, for it deals at one 
+and the same time with three forms of substance, — solid, liquid, 
+and fluid, — and it must do battle with all three. It has eleven 
+claws of iron with which to seize the granite on the bottom of 
+the sea, and more wings and more antennje than winged insects, 
+to catch the wind in the clouds. Its breath pours out through 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTB» 63 
+
+2tB hundred and twenty cannons as through enormous trumpets, 
+and replies proudly to the thunder. The ocean seeks to lead 
+it astray in the alarming sameness of its billows, but the vessel 
+has its soul, its compass, which counsels it and always shows it 
+the north. In the blackest nights, its lanterus supply the place 
+of the stars. Thus, against the wind, it has its cordage and its 
+canvas ; against the water, wood ; against tiie rocks, its iron, 
+brass, and lead ; against the shadows, its light ; against immen 
+sity, a needle. 
+
+If one wishes to form an idea of all those gigantic pit>po; 
+tions, which, taken as a whole, constitute the ship of the line, 
+one has only to enter one of the six-story covered construction 
+stocks, in the ports of Brest or Toulon. The vessels in proceso 
+of construction are under a bell-glass there, as it were. This 
+colossal beam is a yard; that great column of wood which 
+stretclies out on the earth as far as the eye can reach is the 
+main-mast. Taking it from its root in the stocks to its tip in 
+the clouds, it is sixty fathoms long, and Its diameter at its basf» 
+is three feet The English main-mast rises to a height of two 
+hundred and seventeen feet above the water-line. The navy of 
+our fathers employed cables, ours employs chains. The simple 
+pile of chains oft a ship of a hundred guns is four feet high, 
+twenty feet in breadth, and eight feet in depth. And how much 
+w<K)d is required to make this ship? Three thousand cubic 
+mitres. It is a floating forest. 
+
+And moreover, let this be borne in mind, it is onl}- a question 
+here of the military vessel of forty years ago, of the simple 
+sailing-vessel ; steam, then in its infancy, has since added new 
+miracles to that prodigy which is called a war vessel. At the 
+present time, for example, the mixed vessel with a screw is a sur- 
+prising machine, propelled by three thousand square metresof can- 
+vas and by an engine of two thousand five hundred horse-power. 
+
+Not to mention these new marvels, the ancient vessel of 
+Christopher Columbus and of De Ruyter is one of the master- 
+pieces of man. It is as inexhaustible in force as is the Infinite 
+H gales ; it stores up the wind in its sails, it is precise in tlie 
+immense vagueness of the billows, it floats, and it reigns. 
+
+There comes an hour, nevertheless, when the gale breaks that 
+sixty-foot yard like a straw, when the wind bends that mast 
+four hundred feet tall, when that anchor, which weighs tens of 
+thousands, is twisted in the jaws of the waves like a fisherman*! 
+hook in the jaws of a pike, wiien those monstrous cannons uttei 
+plaintive and futile roars, which the hurricane beare forth into 
+the void and into night, when all that power and all that 
+
+uigiiizea oy -v^jOOVt Iv 
+
+
+
+ii4 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+majesty are engulfed in a power and majesty which are 
+
+superior. 
+
+Every time that immense force is displayed to culminate 
+in an immense feebleness it affords men fooii for thought. 
+Hence in the ports curious pcoi)lc abound around these mar- 
+Yellous umciiines of war and of navigation, without being able 
+to explain perfectly to themselves why. 
+
+Every day, accordingly, from morning until night, the quays, 
+sluices, and tlie jetties of the port of Toulon were covered with 
+a multitude of idlers and loungers, as the}' say in Paris, whose 
+business consibUd in staring at the Orion, 
+
+The Orion was :i ship that had been ailing for a long time ; 
+in the course of its previous cruises tliick layers of barnacles 
+had collected on its keel to such a degree as to deprive it of 
+half its speed ; it had gone into the dr}* dock the year before 
+this, in order to have the barnacles scraped off, then it had put 
+to sea again ; but this cleaning had affected the bolts of the 
+keel : in the neighborhood of the Balearic Isles the sides had 
+been strained and had opened ; and, as the plating in those days 
+was not of sheet iron, the vessel had sprung aleak. A violent 
+equinoctial gale had come up, which had first staved in a gloat- 
+ing and a porthole on the larboard side, and damilged the fore top- 
+gallant-shrouds ; in consequence of these injuries, the Orion 
+had run back to Toulon. 
+
+It anchored near the Arsenal ; it was fully equipped, and re- 
+pairs were begun. The hull had received no damage on the 
+starboard, but some of the planks had been unnailed here and 
+there, according to custom, to permit of air entering the hold. 
+
+One morning the crowd which was gazing at it witnessed 
+an accident. 
+
+The crew was busy bending the sails ; the topman, who had 
+tt> take the upper corner of the main-top-sail on the starboard, 
+lost his balance ; he was seen to waver ; the multitude throng- 
+ing the Arsenal quay uttered a cry ; the man's head overbal- 
+anced his body ; the man fell around the yard, with his hands 
+outstretched towards the abyss ; on his way he seized the foot- 
+rope, first with one hand, then with the other, and remained 
+hanging from it : the sea lay below him at a dizzy depth ; the 
+shock of his fall had imparted to the foot-rope a violent swing- 
+ing motion ; the man swayed back and forth at the end of that 
+rope, like a stone in a sling. 
+
+It was incurring a frightful risk to go to his assistance ; not 
+one of the sailors, all fishermen of the coast, recently levied fof 
+the service, dared to attempt it. In the meantime, the unfortu- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 65 
+
+nate topman was losing his strength ; his anguish oould not he 
+discerned on his face, hut his exhaustion was visible in every 
+limb ; his aims were contracted in horrible twitchiugs ; every 
+effort which he made to re-ascend served but to augment the 
+oscillations of the foot-rope ; he did not shout, for fear of ex- 
+hausting his strength. All were awaiting the minute when he 
+should release his hold on tlie rope, and, from instant to instant, 
+beads were turned aside that his fall might not be seen. 
+There are moments when a bit of rope, a pole, the branch of a 
+tree, is life itself, and it is a terrible thing to see a living being 
+detach himself from it and fall like a ripe fruit. 
+
+AU at once, a man was seen climbing into the rigging with 
+the agility of a tiger-cat ; this man was dressed in red ; he was 
+% coQTict ; he wore a green cap ; he was a life convict. On 
+arriving on a level with the top, a gust of wind carried away his 
+cap, and allowed a perfectly white head to be seen : he was not 
+a 3'oung man. 
+
+A convict employed on board with a detachment from the 
+galleys had, in fact, at the very first instant, hastened to the 
+officer of the watch, and, in the midst of the consternation and 
+the hesitation of the crew, while all the sailors were trembling 
+and drawing back, he had asked the officer's permission to risk 
+his life to save the topman ; at an affirmative sign from the 
+officer he had broken the chain riveted to his ankle with one 
+blow of a hammer, then he had caught up a rope, and had 
+dashed into the rigging : no one noticed, at the instant, with 
+what ease that chain had been broken ; it was only later on that 
+the incident was recalled. 
+
+In a twinkling he was on the yard; he paused for a few 
+seconds and appeared to be measuring it with his eye ; these 
+seconds, during which the breeze swayed the topman at the 
+extremity of a thread, seemed centuries to those who were 
+looking on. At last, the convict raised his eyes to heaven and 
+advanced a step : the crowd drew a long breath. He was seen 
+to run out along the yard : on arriving at the point, he fastened 
+the rope which he had brought to it, and allowed tlie other end 
+to hang down, then he began to descend the rope, hand over 
+hand, and then, — and the anguish was indescribable, — instead 
+of one man suspended over the gulf, there* were two. 
+
+One would have said it was a spider coming to seize a fly, 
+only here the spider brought life, not death. Ten thousand 
+glances were fastened on this group ; not a cry, not a word ; 
+the same tremor contracted «very brow ; all mouths held theii 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+66 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+breath, as though they feared to add the slightest paff to the 
+wind which was swaying the two unfortunate men. 
+
+In the meantime, the convict had succeeded in lowering him- 
+self to a position near the sailor. It was high time ; one minute 
+more, and the exhausted and despairing man would have allowed 
+himself to fall into the abyss. The convict had moored him 
+securely with the cord to which he clung with one hand, while 
+he was working with the other. At last, he was seen to climb 
+back on the yard, and to drag the sailor up after him ; he held 
+him tliere a moment to allow him to recover his strength, then 
+he grasped him in his arms and carried him, walking on the 
+yard himself to the cap, and from there to the main-top, where 
+he left him in the hands of his comrades. 
+
+At that moment the crowd broke into applause : old convict- 
+sergeants among them wept, and women embraced each other 
+on the quay, and all voiced were heard to cry with a sort of 
+tender rage, " Pardon for tliat man ! " 
+
+He, in the meantime, had immediately begun to make his 
+descent to rejoin his detachment. In order to reach them the 
+more speedily, he dropped into the rigging, and ran along one 
+of the lower yards ; all eyes were following him. At a certain 
+moment fear assailed them; whether it was that he was fa- 
+tigued, or that his head turned, they thought they saw him hes- 
+itate and stagger. All at once the crowd uttered a loud shout : 
+the convict had fallen into the sea. 
+
+The fall was perilous. The frigate Algésiras was anchored 
+alongside the Orion^ and the poor convict had fallen between 
+the two vessels : it was to be feared that he would slip under 
+one or the other of them. Four men flung themselves hastily 
+into a boat ; the crowd cheered them on ; anxiety again took 
+possession of all souls ; the man had not risen to the surface ; 
+he had disappeared in the sea without leaving a ripple, as 
+though he had fallen into a cask of oil : they sounded, they 
+dived. In vain. The search was continned until the evening: 
+they did not even find the body. 
+
+On the following day the Toulon newspaper printed these 
+tines : — 
+
+"Nov. 17, 1823. Yesterda}', a convict belonging to the 
+detachment on board of the Orion^ on his return from render- 
+ing assistance to a sailor, fell into the sea and was drowned. 
+The body has not yet been found ; it is supposed that it is en- 
+tangled among the piles of the Arsenal point: this man was 
+committed under the number 9,430, and his name was Jeai 
+Valjean.'* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTB. tl 
+
+
+
+BOOK THIRD.— ACCOMPLISHMENT OF THE PROM- 
+ISE MADE TO THE DEAD WOMAN. 
+
+I. — Th£ Water Question at Montfermeil. 
+
+MoKTFERifEiL is situated between Livry and Chelles, on the 
+Bouthern edge of that lof tj' table-land which separates the Ourcq 
+from the Marne. At the present day it is a tolerably large 
+town, ornamented all the year through with plaster villas, a;id 
+on Sundays with beaming bourgeois. In 1823 there were at 
+Montfermeil neither so many white houses nor so many well- 
+satisfied citizens : it was only a village in the forest. Some 
+pleasure-houses of the last century were to be met with there, 
+to be sure, which were recognizable by their grand air, their 
+balconies in twisted iron, and their long windows, whose tiny 
+panes cast all sorts of varying shades of green on the white of 
+the closed shuttei's ; but Montfermeil was none the less a village. 
+Retired cloth-merchants aud rusticating attorneys had not dis- 
+covered it as yet ; it was a peaceful and charming place, which 
+was not on the road to anywhere : there people lived, and 
+cheaply, that peasant rustic life which is so bounteous and so 
+easy ; only, water was rare there, on account of the elevation of 
+the plateau. 
+
+It was necessary to fetch it from a considerable distance ; the 
+end of the village towards Gagny drew its water from the 
+magnificent ponds which exist in the woods there. The other 
+end, which surrounds the church and which lies in the direction 
+of Chelles, found drinking-water only at a little spring half- 
+way down the slope, near the road to Chelles, about a quarter 
+-A an hour from Montfermeil. 
+
+Thus each household found it hard work to keep supplied 
+with water. The large houses, the aristocracy, of which the 
+Thénardier tavern formed a part, paid half a farthing a bucket- 
+ful to a man who made a business of it, and who earned about 
+eight sous a day in his enterprise of supplying Montfermeil 
+with water ; but this good man only worked until seven o'clock in 
+the evening in summer, and five in winter ; and night once come 
+and the shutters on the ground floor once closed, he who had no 
+water to drink went to fetch it for himself or did without it. 
+
+This constituted the terror of the poor creature whom the 
+reader has probably not forgotten, — little Cosette. It will be re< 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+«s LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+membered that Cosette was useful to the Théuardiers in twc 
+ways : they made the mother pay them, aud they made the child 
+serve them. So when the mother ceased to pay altogether, tlic 
+reason for which we have read in preceding chapters, the Thé- 
+nardiers kept Cosette. She took the place of a servant in their 
+house. In this capacity she it was who ran to fetch water when 
+it was required. So the child, who was greatly terrified at the 
+idea of going to the spring at night, took great care that water 
+•hould never be lacking in the house. 
+
+Christmas of the year 1823 was particularly^ brilliant at Mont- 
+fermeil. The beginning of the winter had been mild ; there had 
+been neither snow nor frost up to that time. Some mounte- 
+banks from Paris had obtained permission of the mayor to erect 
+their booths in the principal street of the village, and a band of 
+itinerant merchants, under protection of the same tolerance, 
+had constructed their stalls on the Church Square, and even 
+extended them into Boulanger Alley, where, as the reader will 
+perhaps remember, the Thénardiers' hostelry was situated. 
+These people filled the inns and drinking-shops, and communi- 
+cated to that tranquil little district a noisy and joyous life. In 
+order to play the part of a faithful historian, we ought even to 
+add that, among the curiosities displayed in the square, there 
+was a menagerie, in which frightful clowns, clad in rags and 
+coming no one knew whence, exhibited to the peasants of Mont- 
+fermeil in 1823 one of those horrible Brazilian vultures, such as 
+our Royal Museum did not possess until 1845, and which have 
+a tricolored cockade for an eye. I believe that naturalists call this 
+bird Caracara Polyborus ; it belongs to the order of the Apici- 
+des, and to the family of the vultures. Some good old Bona- 
+partist soldiers, who had retired to the village, went to see this 
+creature with great devotion. The mountebanks gave out that 
+the tricolored cockade was a unique phenomenon made by God 
+8xi)res8ly for their menagerie. 
+
+On Christmas eve itself, a number of men, carters and 
+pedlers, were seated at table, drinking and smoking ai'ound 
+four or five candles in the public room of Thénardier's hostelry. 
+This room resembled all drinkiug-shop I'ooms, — tables, pewter 
+jugs, bottles, drinkers, smokers ; but little light and a great deal 
+of noise. The date of the year 1823 was indicated, neverthe- 
+less, by two objects which were then fashionable in the bour- 
+geois class : to wit, a kaleidoscope and a lamp of ribbed tin. 
+The female Thénardier was attending to the supper, which was 
+roasting in front of a clear fire ; her husband was drinking witb 
+his customers and talking politics. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 69 
+
+Besides political conversations which had for their principal 
+subjects the Spanish war and M. le Due d'Angouleine, strictly 
+local parentheses, like the following, were audible amid the up- 
+roar : — 
+
+" About Nan terre and Suresnes the vines have flourished 
+greatly. When ten pieces were reckoned on there have been 
+twelve. They have yielded a great deal of juice under the 
+press." *'l}ut the grapes cannot be ripe?" ''In those parts 
+the grapes should not be ripe ; the wine turns oily as soon as 
+spring comes." ''Then it is very thin wine?" "There are 
+wines poorer even than these. The grapes must be gathered 
+while green." Etc. 
+
+Or a miller would call out : — 
+
+"Are we responsible for what is in the sacks? We find in 
+them a quantity of small seed which we cannot sift out, and 
+which we are obliged to send through the mill-stones; there 
+are tares, fennel, vetches, hempseed, fox-tail, and a host of 
+other weeds, not to mention pebbles, which abound in certain 
+wheat, especially in Breton wheat. I am not fond of grinding 
+Breton wheat, any more than long-sawyers like to saw beams 
+with nails in them. You can judge of the bad dust that makes 
+in grinding. And then people complain of the flour. They are 
+in the wrong. The flour is no fault of ours." 
+
+In a space between two windows a mower, who was seated at 
+table with a landed proprietor who was fixing on a price for 
+some meadow work to be performed in the spring, was saying : — 
+
+" It does no harm to have the grass wet. It cuts better. 
+Dew is a good thing, sir. It makes no difference with that 
+grass. Your grass is young and very hard to cut still. It's 
+terriblj' tender. It yields before the iron." Etc. 
+
+Cosette was in her usual place, seated on the croHS-})ar of the 
+kitchen table near the chimney. She was in rags ; her bare feet 
+were thrust into wooden shoes, and by the firelight she was en- 
+gaged in knitting woollen stockings destined for the young 
+Thénardîers. A very young kitten was playing about among 
+the chairs. Laughter and chatter were audible in the adjoining 
+room, from two fresh children's voices : it was Éponine and 
+Azelma. 
+
+In the chimney-comer a cat-o'-nine-tails was hanging on a nail. 
+
+At intervals the cry of a very young child, which was some- 
+where in the house, rang through the noise of the dram-shop. 
+It was a little boj* who had been born to the Thenardiers during 
+one of the preceding winters, — '" she did not know why, "she 
+Baid, *' the result of the cold," — and who was a little more than 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+;0 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+three years old. The mother had nursed him, but she did not 
+love him. When the persistent clamor of the brat became too 
+annoying, "Your son is squalling/' Tliénardier would say ; "do 
+go and sec what he wants." '* liah ! " the mother would reply, 
+" he bothers me." And the neglected child continued to shriek 
+in the dark. 
+
+II. — Two Complete Portraits. 
+
+So far in this book the Thénardiers have been viewed only in 
+profile ; the moment has arrived for making the circuit of this 
+couple, and considering it under all its aspects. 
+
+Thénardier had just passed his fiftieth birthday ; Madame 
+Thénardier was approaching her forties, which is equivalent to 
+fifty in a woman ; so that there existed a balance of age between 
+husband and wife. 
+
+Our readers have possibly preserved some recollection of 
+this Thénardier woman, ever since her first appearance, — tall, 
+blond, red, fat, angular, square, enormous, and agile ; she be- 
+longed, as we have said, to the race of those colossal wild 
+women, who contort themselves at fairs with paving-stones 
+hanging from their hair. She did everything about the house, — 
+made the beds, did the washing, the cooking, and everything 
+else. Cosette was her only servant ; a mouse in the service of 
+an elephant. P^verything trembled at the sound of her voice, 
+— window panes, furniture, and people. Her big face, dotted 
+with red blotches, presented the appearance of a skimmer. She 
+had a beaiti. She was an ideal market-porter dressed in 
+woman's clothes. She swore splendidly ; she boasted of being 
+able to crack a nut with one blow of her fist. Except for the 
+romances which she hud read, and which made the affected lady 
+peep through the ogress at times, in a very queer way, the idea 
+would never have occurred to any one to say of her, "That 
+is a woman." This Thénardier female was like the product of 
+a wench engrafted on a fishwife. When one heard her speak, 
+one said, '' That is a gendarme" ; when one saw her drink, one 
+said, "That is a carter"; when one saw her handle Cosette , 
+one said, " That is the hangman." One of her teeth projected 
+when her face was in repose. 
+
+Thénardier was a small, thin, pale, angular, bony, ffeeble 
+man, who had a sickly air and who was wonderfully healthy. His 
+cunning began here ; he smiled habitually, by waj' of precaO' 
+tion, and was almost polite to everybody, even to the beggar to 
+whom he refused half a farthing. He had the glance of a pole- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 71 
+
+£at and the bearing of a man of letters. He greatly resembled 
+the portraits of the Abbé Delille. His coquetry consisted in 
+drinking with the carters. No one had ever succeeded in ren- 
+dering him drunk. He smoked a big pipe. He wore a blouse, 
+and under his blouse an old black coat. He made pretensions 
+to literature and to materialism. There were certain names which 
+he often pronounced to support whatever things he might be say- 
+ing, — Voltaire, Raynal, Parny, and, singularly enough, Saint 
+Augustine. He declared that he had " a system." In addition, 
+he was a great swindler. A JUousophe [philosophe] , a scientific 
+thief. The species does exist. It will be remembered that he 
+pretended to have served in the army ; he was in the habit of 
+relating with exuberance, how, being a sergeant in the 6th or 
+the 9th light something or other, at Waterloo, he had alone, and 
+in the presence of a squadron of death-dealing hussars, covered 
+with his body and saved from death, in the midst of the grape- 
+shot, " a general, who had been dangerously wounded." Thence 
+arose for his wall the flaring sign, and for his inn the name 
+which it bore in the neighborhood, of '' the cabaret of the 
+Sergeant of Waterloo." He was a liberal, a classic, and a 
+Bonapartist. He had subscribed for the Champ d'Asile. It 
+was said in the village that he had studied for the priesthood. 
+
+We believe that he had simply studied in Holland for an inn- 
+keeper. This rascal of composite order was, in all probability, 
+some Fleming from Lille, in Flanders, a Frenchman in Paris, a 
+Belgian at Brussels, being comfortably astride of both fron- 
+tiers. As for his prowess at Waterloo, the reader is already 
+acquainted with that. It will be perceived that he exaggerated 
+it a trifle. Ebb and flow, wandering, adventure, was the leven 
+of his existence; a tattered conscience entails a fragmentary 
+life, and, apparently at the stormy epoch of June 18, 1815, 
+Thénardier belonged to that variety of marauding sutlers of 
+which we have spoken, beating about the country, selling to 
+some, stealing from others, and travelling like a family man, 
+with wife and children, in a rickety cart, in the rear of troops 
+on the march, with an instinct for always attaching himself to 
+the victorious army. This campaign ended, and having, as he 
+said, *'some quibus," he had come to Montfermeil and set up 
+an inn there. 
+
+This quibus^ composed of purses and watches, of gold rings 
+and silver crosses, gathered in harvest- time in furrows sown 
+with corpses, did not amount to a large total, and did not carry 
+this sutler turned eating-house-keeper very far. 
+
+Thénardier had that peculiar rectilinear something about his 
+
+uignizeu uy vjOOvt Iv^ 
+
+
+
+72 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+gestures which, accompanied by an oath, recalls the barracks, 
+and by a sign of the cross, the seminary. He was a tine talker. 
+He allowed it to be thought that he was an educated man. 
+Nevertheless^ the schoolmaster had noticed that he pronounced 
+improperly.^ 
+
+He composed the travellers' tariff card in a superior manner, 
+but practised eyes sometimes spied out orthographical errors in 
+it. Thénardier was cunniug, greedy, slothful, and clever. He 
+did not disdain his servants, which caused his wife to dis])euse 
+with them. This giantess was jealous. It seemed to her that 
+that thin and yellow little man must be an object coveted by all. 
+
+Thénardier, who was, above all, an astute and well-balanced 
+man, was a scamp of a temperate sort. This is the worst 
+species ; hypocrisy enters into it. 
+
+It is not that Thénardier was not, on occasion, capable of 
+wrath to quite the • same degree as his wife ; but this was very 
+rare, and at such times, since he was enraged with the human 
+race in general, as he bore within him a deep furnace of 
+hatred. And since he was one of those people who are contin- 
+ually avenging their wrongs, who accuse everything that passes 
+before them of everything which has befallen them, and who are 
+alwa} s ready to cast upon the first person who comes to hand, 
+as a legitimate grievance, the sum total of the deceptions, the 
+bankruptcies, and the calamities of their lives, — when all this 
+leaven was stirred up in him and boiled forth from his mouth 
+and eyes, he was terrible. Woe to the person who came under 
+his wrath at such a time ! 
+
+In addition to his other qualities, Thénardier was attentive 
+and penetrating, silent or talkative, according to circumstances, 
+and always highly intelligent. He had something of the look 
+of sailors, who are accustomed to screw up their eyes to gaze 
+through marine glasses. Thénardier was a statesman. 
+
+Every new-comer who entered the tavern said, on catching 
+sight of Madame Thénardier, '* There is the master of the 
+house." A mistake. She was not even the mistress. The 
+husband was both master and mistress. She worked ; he 
+created. He directed everything by a sort of invisible and 
+constant magnetic action. A word was sufHeient for him, 
+sometimes a sign ; the mastodon obeyed. Thénardier was a 
+sort of special and sovereign being in Madame Thénardîer's 
+eyes, though she did not thoroughly realize it. She was pos- 
+
+1 Literally " made cuire *' ; te., pronouDced a < or an i at the end of words 
+whore the opposite letter should occur, or used either one of them whert 
+neither exists. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 78 
+
+.** 
+
+sessed of virtues after her own kiud ; if she had ever had a 
+/lisagreemeiit as to any detail with '^ Monsieur Tliénardier," — 
+which was an inadmissible hypothesis, by the way, — she would 
+not have blameil her husband in public on any subject what- 
+ever. She would never have committed '^ before strangers " 
+that mistake so often committed by women, and which is called 
+in parliamentary language, "exposing the crown." Although 
+their concord had only evil as its result, there was contempla- 
+tion in Madams Thénardicr's submission to lier husband. That 
+mountain of noise and of flesh moved under the little finger of 
+that frail despot. Viewed on its dwarfed and grotesque side, 
+this was that grand and universal thing, the adoration of mind 
+by matter ; for certain ugly features have a cause in the very 
+depths of eternal beauty. There was an unknown quantity 
+aliout Thénardier ; hence the absolute empire of the man over 
+that woman. At certain moments she beheld him like a lighted 
+candle ; at others she felt him like a claw. 
+
+This woman was a formidable creature who loved no one 
+except her children, and who did not fear any one except her 
+husband. She was a mother because she was mammiferous. 
+Bat her maternity stopped short with her daughters, and, as 
+we shall see, did not extend to boys. The man had but one 
+thought, — how to enrich himself. 
+
+He did not succeed in this. A theatre woith}' of this great 
+talent was lacking. Thénardier was ruining himself at Mont- 
+fermeil, if ruin is possible to zero; in Switzerland or in the 
+Pyrenees tliis penniless scamp would have become a millionnaire ; 
+but an inn-keeper must browse where fate has hitched him. 
+
+It will be understood that the word inn-keeper is here em- 
+ployed in a restricted sense, and does not extend to an en tira 
+class. 
+
+In this same year, 1823, Thénardier was burdened with about 
+fifteen hundred francs' worth of petty debts, and this rendered 
+him anxious. 
+
+Whatever may have been the obstinate injustice of destiny in 
+this case, Thénardier was one of those men who undersUmd 
+best, with the most profundity and in the most modern fashion, 
+that thing which is a virtue among barbarous peoples and an 
+object of merchandise among civilized peoples, — hospitality. 
+Besides, he was an admirable poacher, and quoted for his skill 
+in shooting. He had a certain cold and tranquil laugh, which 
+was particularly dangerous. 
+
+His theories as a landlord sometimes burst forth in lightning 
+flashes. He bad professional aphorisms, which he inserted into 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+74 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+his wife's mind. .'^ The duty of the inn-keeper/' he said to hei 
+one day, violently, and in a low voice, " is to sell to the first* 
+comer, stews, repose, light, fire, dirty sheets, a servant, lice, 
+and a smile ; to stop passers-bj', to empty small purses, and to 
+honestly lighten heavy ones ; to shelter travelling families re- 
+spectfully : to shave the man, to pluck the woman, to pick the 
+child clean ; to quote the window open, the window shut, the 
+chimney-corner, the arm-chair, the chair, the ottoman, the stool, 
+the feather-bed, the mattress and the trass of straw ; to know 
+bow much the shadow uses up the mirror, and to put a price on 
+it ; and, by five hundred thousand devils, to make the traveller 
+pay for everything, even for the flies which his dog eats ! " 
+
+This man and this woman were ruse and rage wedded — a 
+hideous and terrible team. 
+
+While the husband pondered and combined, Madame Thénar- 
+dier thought not of absent creditors, took no heed of yesterday 
+nor of to-morrov<r, and lived in a fit of anger, all in i^ minute. 
+
+Such were these two beings. Cosette was between them, 
+subjected to their double pressure, like a creature who is at 
+the same time being ground up in a mill and pulled to pieces 
+with pincers. The man and the woman each had a different 
+method: Cosette was overwhelmed with blows — this was the 
+woman's ; she went barefooted in winter — that was the man's 
+doing. 
+
+Cosette ran up stairs and down, washed, swept, rubbed, 
+dusted,. ran, fluttered about, panted, moved heavy aiticles, and 
+weak as she was, did the coarse work. There was no mercy 
+for her ; a fierce mistress and venomous master. The Thenar- 
+dier hostelry was like a spider's web, in which Cosette had been 
+caught, and where she lay trembling. The ideal of oppression 
+was realized by this sinister household. It was something like 
+the fly serving the spiders. 
+
+The poor child passively held her peace. 
+
+What takes place within these souls when they have but just 
+quitted God, find themselves thus, at the very dawn of life, very 
+small and in the midst of men all naked ! 
+
+
+
+Ill, — Men must have Wine, and Horses must HAVk Water. 
+
+Four new travellers had arrived. 
+
+Cosette was meditating sadly ; for, although she was only 
+eight years old, she had already suffered so much, that she 
+reflected with the lugubrious air of an old woman. Her ejo 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 75 
+
+«ras black in consequence of a blow from Madame Thenar* 
+dier's fist, which caused the latter to rematk from time to time, 
+" How ugl3' she is with her fist-blow on her eye ! " 
+
+Cosette was thinking that it was dark, very dark, that the 
+pitchers and caraffes in the chambera of the travellers who had 
+arrived must have been filled and that there was no more watei 
+in the cistern. 
+
+She was somewhat reassured because no one in the Thé- 
+nardier establishment drank much water. Thirsty people were 
+never lacking there ; but their thirst was of the sort wliich 
+applies to the jug rather than to the pitcher. Any one who liad 
+asked for a glass of water among all those glasses of wine 
+would have appeared a savage to all these men. But there 
+came a moment when the child trembled ; Madame Thénardier 
+raised the cover of a stew-pan which was boiling on the stove, 
+then seized a glass and briskly approached the cistern. She 
+turned the faucet ; the child had raised her head and was fol- 
+lowing all the woman's movements. A thin stream of water 
+trickled from the faucet, and half filled the glass. "Well," 
+said she, '^ there is no more water!" A momentary silence 
+ensued. The child did not breathe. 
+
+" Bah ! " resumed Madame Thénardier, examining the half- 
+filled glass, " this will be enough." 
+
+Ck>sette applied herself to her work once more, but for a 
+quarter of an hour she felt her heart leaping in her bosom like 
+a big snow-flake. 
+
+She counted the minutes that passed in this manner, and 
+wished it were the next morning. 
+
+From time to time one of the drinkers looked into the street, 
+and exclaimed, "It's as black as an oven ! " or, " One must 
+needs be a cat to go about the streets without a lantern at this 
+hour ! " And Cosette trembled. 
+
+AU at once one of the pedlers who lodged in the. hostelry 
+entered, and said in a harsh voice : — 
+
+" My horse has not been watered." 
+
+** Yes, it has," said Madame Thénardier. 
+
+** I tell you that it has not," retorted the pedler. 
+
+Cosette had emerged from under the table. 
+
+^^Oh, yes, sir!" said she, "the horse has had a dnnk; he 
+drank out of a bucket, a whole bucketful, and it was I who 
+sook the water to him, and I spoke to him." 
+
+It was not true ; Cosette lied. 
+
+" Tîiere's a brat as big as my fist who tells lies as big as the 
+bouse," exclaimed the pedler. " I tell you that he has not 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+76 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+been watered, you little jade ! He has a way of blowing whet 
+he has had no water,*which I know well." 
+
+Cosette persisted, and added in a voice rendered hoarse with 
+anguish, and which was haixily audible : — 
+
+" And he even drank heartily." 
+
+•'Come," said the pedler, in a rage, "this won't do at all, 
+let my horse be watered, and let that be the end of it I " 
+
+Cosette cropt under the table again. 
+
+'' In truth, that is fair ! " said Madame Thénardier, '' if the 
+<)east has not been watered, it must be." 
+
+Then glancing about her : — 
+
+'* Well, now ! Where's that other beast? " 
+
+She bent down and discovered Cosette cowering at the other 
+end of the table, almost under the drinkers* feet. 
+
+** Are you coming?" shrieked Madame Thénardier. 
+
+Cosette crawled out of the sort of hole in which she had hid- 
+den herself. The Thénardier resumed : — 
+
+" Mademoiselle Dog-lack-name, go and water that horse." 
+
+*' But, Madame," said Cosette, feebly, *' there is no water." 
+
+The Thénardier threw the street door wide open : — 
+
+'* Well, go and get some, then ! " 
+
+Cosette dropped her head, and went for an empty bucket 
+which stood near the chimney-corner. 
+
+This bucket was bigger than she was, and the child could 
+have set down in it at her ease. 
+
+The Thénardier returned to her stove, and tasted what waa 
+in the stewpan, with a wooden spoon, grumbling the while: — 
+
+''There's plenty in the spring. There never was such a 
+malicious creature as that. I think I should have done better 
+to strain my onions." 
+
+Then she rummaged in a drawer which contained sous, pepper, 
+and shallots. 
+
+" Seebere, Mam'selle Toad," she added, " on your way back, 
+you will get a big loaf from the baker. Here's a fifteen-sox] 
+piece." 
+
+Cosette had a little pocket on one side of her apron ; she 
+took the coin without saying a word, and put it in that pocket. 
+
+Then she stood motionless, bucket in hand, the open door 
+before her. She seemed to be waiting for some one to come 
+to her rescue. 
+
+" Get along with you ! " screamed the Thénardier. 
+
+Cosette went out. The door closed behind her. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 77 
+
+
+
+IV. — Entrance on the Scene op a Doll. 
+
+The line of open-air booths starting at the church, extended, 
+as the reader will remember, as far as the hostelry of the Thé* 
+nardiers. These booths were all illuminated, because the 
+citizens would soon pass on their way to the midnight mass, 
+with candles burning in paper funnels, which, as the school* 
+master, then seated at the table at the Thénardiers' observed, 
+produced ^^ a magical effect." In compensation, not a star wa4 
+visible in the sky. 
+
+The last of these stalls, established precisely opposite the 
+Thénardiers' door, was a toy-shop all glittering with tinsel, 
+glass, and magnificent objects of tin. In the first row, and far 
+forwards, the merchant had placed on a background of white 
+napkins, an immense doll, nearl}' two feet high, who was dressed 
+in a robe of pink crepe, with gold wheat-ears on her head, 
+which had real hair and enamel eyes. All that day, this mar* 
+vel had been displayed to the wonderment of all passers-by 
+under ten years of age, without a mother being found in Mont- 
+fermeil sufficiently rich or suflîciently extravagant to give it to 
+her child. Éponine and Azelma had passed hours in contemplât- 
+ing it, and Cosette herself had ventured to cast a glance at it, 
+on the sly, it is true. 
+
+At the moment when Cosette emerged, bucket in hand, 
+melancholy and overcome as she was, she could not refrain 
+from lifting her eyes to that wonderful doll, towards the lady^ 
+as she called it. The poor child paused in amazement. She 
+had not 3et beheld that doll close to. The whole shop seemed 
+a palace to her : the doll was not a doll ; it was a vision. It was 
+joy, splendor, riches, happiness, which appeared in a sort of 
+chimerical halo to that unhappy little being so profoundly en- 
+gulfed in gloomy and chilU' miser}'. With the sad and innocent 
+sagacity of childhood, Cosette measured the abyss which sepa- 
+rated her from that doll. She said to herself that one must be 
+a queen, or at least a princess, to have a " thing" like that. She 
+gazed at that beautiful pink dress, that beautiful smooth hair, 
+and she thought, " How happy that doll must be ! " She could 
+not take her eyes from that fantastic stall. The more she 
+looked, the more dazzled she grew. She thought she was gaz- 
+ing at paradise. There were other dolls behind the large one, 
+which seemed to her to fairies and genii. The merchant, who 
+was pacing back and forth in front of his shop, produced on hei 
+■omewhat the effect of being the Eternal Father. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+78 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+In this adoration she foi^ot everything, even the errand wiU 
+«rhich she was charged. 
+
+All at once the Thénardier's coarse voice recalled her to 
+reality: "What, you silly jade! you have not gone? Wait I 
+I'll give it to you ! I want to know what you are doing there I 
+Get along, you little monster ! " 
+
+The Thénardier had cast a glance into the street, and had 
+•:a(i<]:ht sight of Cosette in her ecstasy. 
+
+Oosette fled, dragging her pail, and taking the longest strides 
+ot which she was capable. 
+
+V. — The Lfttlr One All Alone. 
+
+As the Thénardier hostelry was in that part of the village 
+which is near the church, it was to the spring in the forest in 
+the direction of Chelles that Cosette was obliged to go for her 
+water. 
+
+She did not glance at the display of a single other merchant. 
+So long as she was in Boulanger Lane and in the neighborhood 
+of the church, the lighted stalls illuminated the roml ; but soon 
+tlie last light from the last stall vanished. The poor child 
+found herself in the dark. She plunged into it. Only, as a 
+certain emotion overcame her, she made as much motion as 
+possible with the handle of the* bucket as she walked along. 
+This made a noise which afforded her company. 
+
+The further she went, the denser the darkness became. 
+There was no one in the streets. However, she did encounter 
+a woman, who turned around on seeing her, and stood still, mut- 
+tering between her teeth : ** Where can that child be going? I& 
+it a werewolf child ? " Then the woman recognized Cosette* 
+" Well," said she, " it's the Lark ! " 
+
+In this manner Cosette traversed the labyrinth of tortaons 
+and deserted streets which terminate in tlie village of Montfer- 
+meil on the side of Chelles. So long as she had the houses oi 
+even the walls only on both sides of her path, she prooeede<î 
+with tolerable boldness. From time to time she oanght the 
+flicker of a candle through the crack of a shutter — this was 
+light and life ; there were people there, and it reassured her. 
+But in proportion as she advanced, her pace slackened mechan- 
+ically, as it were. When she had passed the corner of the laî^t 
+house, Cosette paused. It had been hard to advance further 
+than the last stall ; it became impossible to proceed further 
+than the last house. vShc set her bucket on the ground, thrust 
+her hand into her hair, and began slowly to scratc^h lier heady - * 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. n 
+
+a gesture peculiar to children when terrified and undecided what 
+to do. It was no longer Montfermeil ; it was the open fields. 
+Black and desert space was before her. She gazed in despaif 
+at that darkness, where there was no longer an}* one, where 
+there were beasts, where there were spectres, possibly. She 
+took a good look, and heard the beasts walking on the grass, 
+and she distinctly saw spectres moving in the trees. Then she 
+seized her bucket again ; fear had lent her audacity. " Bah ! " 
+said she; '^ I will tell him that there was no more water I' 
+And she resolutely re-entered Montfermeil. 
+
+Hardly had she gone a hundred paces when she paused and 
+began to scratch her head again. Now it was the Thénardier 
+who appeared to her, with her hideous, hyena mouth, and 
+wrath flashing in her eyes. The child cast a melancholy glance 
+before her and beliind her. What was she to do ? What was 
+to become of her ? Where was she to go ? In front of her was 
+the spectre of the Tliénardier ; behind her all the phantoms of 
+the night and of the forest. It was before the Thénardier that 
+she recoiled. She resumed her path to the spring, and began 
+to run. She emerged from the village, she entered the forest at 
+a run, no longer looking at or listening to anything. She only 
+paused in her course when her breath failed her ; but she did not 
+halt in her advance. She went straight before her in desperation. 
+
+As she ran she felt like crying. 
+
+The nocturnal quivering of the forest surrounded her com« 
+pletely. 
+
+She no longer thought, she no longer saw. The immensity 
+of night was facing this tiny creature. On the one hand, all 
+shadow ; on the other, an atom. 
+
+It was only seven or eight minutes' walk «f rom the edge of 
+the woods to the spring. Cosette knew the way, through having 
+gone over it many times in daylight. Strange to say, she did 
+not get lost. A remnant of instinct guided her vaguely. But 
+she did not turn her eyes either to right or to left, for fear of 
+seeing things in the branches and in the brushwood. In this 
+manner she reached the spring. 
+
+It was a narrow, natural basin, hollowed out by the water in 
+a clayey soil, about two feet deep, surrounded with moss and 
+with those tall, crimped grasses which are called Henry IV. 's 
+frills, and paved with several large stones. A brook ran out 
+<^f it, with a tranquil little noise. 
+
+Oosette did not take time to breathe. It was very dark, but 
+■^e was in the habit of coming to this spring. She felt with hcl 
+left hand in the dark for a young oak which leaned over th« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+so LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+spring, and which usually served to support her, found one ol 
+Its branches, clung to it, bent down, and plunged tlie bucket vo 
+the water. She was in a state of such violent excitement that 
+her strength was trebled. While thus bent over, she did not 
+notice that the pocket of her ai)ron had emptied itself into the 
+spring. The fifteen-sou piece fell into the water. Cosette 
+neither saw nor heard it fall. She drew out the bucket nearly 
+«hll, and set it on the grass. 
+
+That done, she perceived that she was worn out with fatigue. 
+She would have liked to set out again at once, but the effort 
+rt^quired to fill the bucket had been such that she found it 
+fi\iiK)ssible to take a step. She was forced to sit down. She 
+dropped on the grass, and remained crouching there. 
+
+She shut her eyes; then she opened them again, without 
+knowing why, but because she could not do otherwise. The 
+agitated water in the bucket beside her was describing circles 
+which resembled tin serpents. 
+
+Overhead the sky was covered with vast black clouds, which 
+were like masses of smoke. The tragic mask of shadow seemed 
+to bend vaguely over the child. 
+
+Jupiter was setting in the depths. 
+
+The child stared with bewildered eyes at this great star, with 
+which she was unfamiliar, and which terrified her. The planet 
+was, in fact, very near the horizon and was traversing a dense 
+layer of mist which imparted to it a hoiTible ruddy hue. The 
+mist, gloomily empurpled, magnified the star. One would have 
+called it a luminous wound. 
+
+A cold wind was blowing from the plain. The forest was 
+dark, not a leaf was moving ; there were none of the vague, 
+fresh gleams of sutnmertide. Great boughs uplifted themselves 
+in friglitful wise. Slender and misshapen bushes whistled in 
+lihe clearings. The tall grasses undulated like eels under the 
+lorth wind. The nettles seemed to twist long arms furnished 
+^itli claws in search of prey. Some bits of dry heather, tossed 
+by the breeze, flew rapidly by, and had the air of fleeing in 
+icrror before something wliich was coming after. On all sides 
+there were lugubrious stretches. 
+
+The darkness was bewildering. Man requires light. Who- 
+ever buries himself in the opposite of day feels his heart con- 
+tract. When the eye sees black, the heart sees trouble. In an 
+eclipse in the night, in the sooty opacity, there is anxiety even 
+for the stoutest of hearts. No one walks alone in the forest at 
+night without treinblins:. Shadows and trees — two formidable 
+densities. A chimerical reality appears in the indistinct depths. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 81 
+
+rhe inconceivable is outlined a few paces distant from you with 
+a spectral clearuess. One beholds floating, either in space or 
+in one's own brain, one knows not what vague and intangible 
+thing, like the dreams of sleeping flowers. There are fierce 
+attitudes on the horizon. One inhales the effluvia of the great 
+black void. One is afraid to glance behind him, yet desirous of 
+doing so. The cavities of night, things grown haggard, taciturn 
+profiles which vanish when one advances, obscure dishevel- 
+ments, irritated tufts, livid pools, the lugubrious reflected in the 
+funereal, the sepulchral immensity of silence, unknown but pos 
+sible beings, bendings of mysterious branches, alarming torsos 
+of trees, long handfuls of quivering plants, — against all this 
+one has no protection. There is no hardihood which does not 
+shudder and which does not feel the vicinity of anguish. One 
+is conscious of something hideous, as though one's soul were 
+becoming amalgamated with the darkness. This penetration of 
+the shadows is indescribably sinister in the case of a child. 
+
+Forests are apocalypses, and the beating of the wings of a 
+tiny soul produces a sound of agony beneath their monstrous 
+vault. 
+
+Without understanding her sensations, Cosette was conscious 
+that she was seized upon by. that black enormity of nature ; it 
+was no longer terror alone which was gaining possession of 
+her; it was something more terrible even than terror; she 
+shivered. There are no words to express the strangeness of 
+that shiver which chilled her to the very bottom of her heart ; 
+her eye grew wild ; she thought she felt that she should not be 
+able to refrain from returning there at the same hour on the 
+morrow. 
+
+Then, by a sort of instinct, she began to count aloud, one, 
+two, three, four, and so on up to ten, in order to escape from 
+that singular state which she did not understand, but whicb 
+cerrified her, and, when she had finished, she began again ; this 
+restored her to a true perception of the things about her. Hei 
+hands, which she had wet in drawing the water, felt cold ; she 
+rose ; her terror, a natural and unconquerable terror, had re- 
+tamed : she had but one thought now, — to flee at full speed 
+through the forest, across the fields to the houses, to the win 
+clows, to the lighted candles. Her glance fell upon the water 
+which stood before her ; such was the fright which the Thenar- 
+dier inspired in her, that she dared not flee without that bucket 
+of water : she seized the handle with both hands ; she could 
+hardly lift the pail. 
+
+In this manner she advanced a dozen paces, but the bucket 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+82 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+was full ; it was heavy ; she was forced to set it on the ground 
+ouce more. She took breath for nn instant, then lifted the 
+handle of the bucket again, and resumed her march, proceed* 
+ing a little further this time, but again she was obliged to 
+pause. After some seconds of repose she set out again. She 
+walked bent forward, with drooping head, like an old woman ; 
+the weight of the bucket strained and stiffened her thin arms. 
+The iron handle completed the benumbing and freezing of hei 
+wet and tiny hands ; she was forced to halt from time to time, 
+2ind each time that she did so, the cold water which splasheil 
+from the pail fell on her bare legs. This took place in the deptlis 
+of a forest, at night, in winter, far from all human sight ; she 
+was a child of eight : no one but God saw that sad thing at the 
+moment. 
+
+And her mother, no doubt, alas ! 
+
+For there are things that make the dead open their ej es in 
+their graves. 
+
+She panted with a sort of painful rattle ; sobs contracted 
+her throat, but she dared not weep, so afraid was she of the 
+Thénardier, even at a distance : it was her custom to imagine 
+the Thénardier always present. 
+
+However, she could not make much headway in that manner, 
+and she went on very slowly. In spite of diminishing the 
+length of her stops, and of walking as long as possible between 
+them, she reflected with anguish that it would take her more 
+than an hour to return to Montfermeil in this manner, and that 
+the Thénardier would beat her. This anguish was mingled with 
+her terror at being alone in the woods at night ; she was worn 
+out with fatigue, and had not yet emerged from the forest. 
+On arriving near an old chestnut-tree with which she WiUj 
+acquainted, made a h\st halt, longer than the rest, in order that 
+she might get well rested ; then she summoned up all her 
+streugth, picked up her bucket again, and courageousl}' re- 
+3amed her march, but the poor little desperate creature oould 
+QOt refrain from crying, " O my God ! my God ! " 
+
+At that momeut she suddenly became conscious that her 
+bucket no longer weighed anything at all : a hand, which seemed 
+to her enormous, had just seized the handle, and lifted it vigor* 
+ously. She raised her head. A large black form, sti*aight and 
+erect, was walking beside her through the darkness ; it was a 
+man who had come up l)ehind her, and whose approach she had 
+not heard. This man, without uttering a word, had seized th« 
+handle of the bucket which she was carrying. 
+
+There are instincts for all the encounters of life. 
+
+The child was not «teld. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTB. 81 
+
+
+
+Vie — Which possibly proves Boulatbuelle's Intellioenge. 
+
+On the afternoon of that same Christmas Day, 1823, a man 
+had walked for rather a long time in the most deserted part of 
+the Boulevard de l'Hôpital in Paris. This man had the air of 
+a person who is seeking lodgings, and he seemed to halt, by 
+preference, at the most modest houses on that dilapidated 
+border of the fauborg Saint-Marceau. 
+
+We shall see further on that this man had, in fact, hired a 
+chamber in that isolated quarter. 
+
+This man, in his attire, as in all his person, realized the type 
+of what may be called the well-bred mendicant, — extreme 
+wretchedness combined with extreme cleanliness. This is a very 
+rare mixture which inspires intelligent hearts with that double 
+respect which one feels for the man who is very poor, and for 
+the man who is veiy worthy. He wore a very old and very well 
+brushed round hat ; a coarse coat, worn perfectly threadbare, of 
+an ochre yellow, a color that was not in the least eccentric at that 
+epoch ; a large waistcoat with pockets of a venerable cut ; black 
+breeches, worn gray at the knee, stockings of black worsted ; 
+and thick shoes with copper buckles. He would have been pro- 
+nounced a preceptor in some good family, returned from the 
+emigration. He would have been taken for more than sixty 
+years of age, from his perfectly white hair, his wrinkled brow, 
+his livid lips, and his countenance, where everything breathed 
+depression and weariness of life. Judging from his firm tread, 
+from the singular vigor which stamped all his movements, he 
+woald have hardly been thought fifty. The wrinkles on his brow 
+were well placed, and would have disposed in his favor any one 
+who observed him attentively. His lip contracted with a strange 
+fold which seemed severe, and which was humble. Tliere was in 
+the depth of his glance an indescribable melancholy serenity. 
+In his left hand he carried a little bundle tied up in a handker- 
+chief ; in his right he leaned on a sort of a cudgel, cut from 
+some hedge. This stick had been carefull}' trimmed, and had an 
+air that was not too threatening ; the most had been made of 
+its knots, and it had received a coral-iike head, made from red 
+wax : it was a cudgel, and it seemed to be a cane. 
+
+There are but few passers-by on that boulevard, particularly 
+in the winter. The man seemed to avoid them rather than to 
+seek them, but this without any affectation. 
+
+At that epoch. King Louis XVIII. went nearly every day to 
+Choisy-le-Boi : it was one of his favorite excursions. Toward» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+84 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+two o'clock, almost invariably, the royal carnage and cavalcad* 
+was seen to pass at full speed along the Boulevard de THôpitaL. 
+
+This served in lieu of a watch or clock to the poor women 
+of the quarter who said, *' It is two o'clock ; there he is return- 
+ing to tlie Tuileries." 
+
+And some rushed forward, and others drew up in line, for a 
+passing king always creates a tumult; besides, the appearance 
+and disappearance of Louis XVIII. produced a certain eflect in 
+the streets of Paris. It was rapid but majestic. This impotent 
+king had a taste for a fast gallop ; as he was not able to walk, 
+he wished to run : that cripple would gladly have had himself 
+drawn by the lightning. He passed, pacific and severe, in the 
+midst of naked swords. His massive couch, all covered with 
+gilding, with great branches of lilies painted on the panels, 
+thundered noisily along. There was hardly time to cast a glance 
+upon it. In the rear angle on the right there was visible on 
+tufted cushions of white satin a large, firm, and ruddy face, a 
+brow freshly powdered à V oiseau royal, a proud, hard,. crafty 
+eye, the smile of an educated man, two great epaulets with bul- 
+lion fringe floating over a bourgeois coat, the Golden Fleece, the 
+cross of Saint Louis, the cross of the Legion of Honor, the silver 
+plaque of the Saint-Esprit, a huge belly, and a wide blue ribbon : 
+it was the king. Outside of Paris, he lield his hat decked with 
+white ostrich plumes on his knees enwrapped in high English 
+gaiters ; when he re-entered the city, he put on his hat and 
+saluted rarely ; he stared coldly at the people, and they returncMl 
+it in kind. When he appeared for tlie first time in the Saint- 
+Marceau quarter, the whole success which he produced is con- 
+tained in this remark of an inhabitant of the faubourg to his 
+comrade, " That big fellow yonder is tlie government.** 
+
+This infallible passage of the king at the same hour was, 
+therefore, the daily event of the Boulevard de ITIôpital. 
+
+The promenader in the yellow coat evidently did not lx4onp 
+in the quarter, and probably did not belong in Paris, for he waç 
+ignorant as to this detail. When, at two o'clock, the royal ear- 
+riîige, surrounded by a squadron of the body-guard all covered 
+with silver lace, deboucihed on the boulevard, after having made 
+the turn of the Salpctrii'Te, he appeared surprised and almost 
+alarmed. There was no one but himself in this cross-lane. He 
+drew up hastily behind the corner of the wall of an enelosnre, 
+though this did not prevent M. le Due de Havre from spying 
+him out. 
+
+M. le Dnc de Havre, as captain of the guard on duty that 
+day, was 8oat4?d in the carriîige, opposite the king. He said u» 
+
+
+
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+COSETTE. 85 
+
+his Majesty, " Yonder is an evil-looking man." Members oi 
+the ijolice, who were clearing the king's route, took equal note 
+of him : one of them received an order to follow him. But the 
+man plunged into the deserted little streets of the faubourg, and 
+as twilight was beginning to fall, the agent lost trace of him, 
+as is stated in a report addressed that same evening to M. le 
+Comte d'Angles, Minister of State, Prefect of Police. 
+
+When the man in the yellow coat had thrown the agent off 
+bis track, he redoubled his pace, not without turning round 
+many a time to assure himself that he was not being followed. At 
+a quarter-past four, that is to say, when night was fully come, 
+he passed in front of the theatre of the Porte Saiut-Martin, 
+where The Two Convicts was being played that day. This 
+poster, illuminated by the theatre lanterns, struck him ; for, 
+although he was walking rapidly, he halted to read it. An 
+instant later he was in the blind alley of La Planchette, 
+and he entered the Plat d'Etain [the Pewter Platter], where 
+the office of the coach for Lagny was then situated. Tlïis coach 
+set out at half -past four. The horses were harnessed, and the 
+iiavellers, summoned by the coachman, were hastily climbing 
+the lofty iron ladder of the vehicle. 
+
+The man inquired : — 
+
+*'Have you a place?" 
+
+"Only one — beside me on the box," said the coachman. 
+
+'^ will take it." 
+
+'' Climb up." 
+
+Nevertheless, before setting out, the coachman cast a glance 
+at the traveller's shabby dress, at the diminutive size of his 
+bundle, and made him pay his fare. 
+
+** Are you going as far as Lagny? " demanded the coachman. 
+
+" Yes," said the man. 
+
+The traveller paid to Lagny. 
+
+They started. When they had passed the barrier, the coach- 
+3ian tried to enter into conversation, but the traveller only re- 
+plied in monosyllables. The coachman took to whistling and 
+fiwearing at his horses. 
+
+The coachman wrapped himself up in his cloak. It was cold. 
+The man did not appear to be thinking of that. Thus they 
+passed Gournay and Neuilly-sur-Marne. 
+
+Towards six o'clock in the evening they reached Cholles. 
+The coachman drew up in front of the carters' iuu installed in 
+tlie ancient buildings of the. Royal Abbey, to give his horses a 
+breathing spell. 
+
+^^ I get down here," said the man. 
+
+
+
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+$6 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+He took his bundle and his cudgel and jumped down froni 
+slie vehicle. 
+
+An instant later he had disappeared. 
+
+He did not enter the inn. 
+
+When the coach set out for Lagny a few minutes later, it did 
+not encounter him in the principal street of Chelles. 
+
+The coachman turned to the inside travellers. 
+
+" There," said he, *' is a man who does not belong here, foi 
+I do not know him. He had not the air of owning a sou, but 
+he docs not consider money ; he pays to Lagny, and he goes 
+only as far as Chelles. It is night ; all the houses are shut; be 
+does not enter the inn, and he is not to be found. So he has 
+dived tlirough the earth." 
+
+The man had not plunged into the earth, but he had gone 
+with great strides through the dark, down the principal street of 
+Chelles, then he had turned to the right before reaching the 
+church, into the cross-road leading taMontfermeil, like a person 
+who was acquainted with the country and had been there before. 
+
+He followed this road rapidl3\ At the spot where it is in- 
+tersected by the ancient tree-bordered road which runs from 
+Gagny to Lagny, he heard people coming. He concealed him- 
+self precipitately in a ditch, and there waited until the passers- 
+by were at a distance. The precaution was nearly superfluous, 
+however; for, as we have already said, it was a very dark 
+December night. Not more than two or three stars were visible 
+in the sky. 
+
+It is at this point that the ascent of the hill begins. The 
+man did not return to the road to Montfermeil; he struck 
+across the fields to the right, and entered the forest with long 
+strides. 
+
+Once in the forest he slackened his pace, and began a careful 
+examination of all the trees, advancing, step by step, as though 
+seeking and following a mysterious road known to himself 
+alone. There came a moment when he appeared to lose him- 
+self, and he paused in indecision. At last he arrived, by dint 
+of feeling his way inch by inch, at a clearing where there was 
+a great heap of whitish stones. He stepped up briskly to these 
+stones, and examined them attentively through the mists of 
+niglit, as though he were passing them in review. A large tree, 
+covered with those excrescences which are the warts of vege- 
+tation, stood a few paces distant from the pile of stones. He 
+went up to this tree and passed his hand over the bark of the 
+trunk, as thougli seek ins: to recognize and count all the warts. 
+
+Opposite this tree, which was an ash, there was a chestnut- 
+
+
+
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+COSETTE, 87 
+
+tree, suffering from a peeling of the bark, to which a band ot 
+Line had been nailed by way of dressing. He raised himseK 
+on tiptoe and toached this band of zinc. 
+
+Then he trod about for awhile on the ground comprised in 
+the space between the tree and the heap of stones, like a person 
+wbo is trying to assure himself that the soil has not recently 
+been disturbed. 
+
+That done, he took his bearings, and resumed his march 
+through the forest. 
+
+It was the man who had just met Cosette. 
+
+As he walked through the thicket in the direction of Mont- 
+fermeil, he had espied that tiny shadow moving with a groan, 
+dei)ositing a burden on the ground, then taking it up and set- 
+ting out again. He drew near, and perceived that it was a very 
+young child, laden with an enormous bucket of water. Then 
+he approached the child, and silently grasped the handle of the 
+bucket. 
+
+
+
+Vn. — Cosette Side by Side with the Stranger 
+IN THE Dark. 
+
+Cosette, as we have said, was not frightened. 
+
+The man accosted her. He spoke in a voice that was grave 
+and almost bass. 
+
+*' My child, what you are carrying is very heavy for you." 
+
+Cosette raised her head, and replied : — 
+
+•' Yes, sir." 
+
+" Give it to me," said the man ; *' I will carry it for 3'ou." 
+
+Cosette let go of the bucket-handle. The man walked along 
+beside her. 
+
+"It really is very heavy," he muttered between his teeth 
+Then he added : — 
+
+'* How old are you, little one?" 
+
+''Eight, sir." 
+
+" And have you come from far like this?" 
+
+" From the spring in the forest." 
+
+** Are 30U going far?" 
+
+" A good quarter of an hour's walk from here." 
+
+The man said nothing for a moment; then he remarked 
+abruptly : — 
+
+" So you have no môtker?" 
+
+'• I don't know," answered the child. 
+
+Before the man had time to speak again, she added: — 
+
+
+
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+
+^^ I don't think so. Other people have mothers. I have 
+none." 
+
+And after a silence she went on : — 
+
+*' I think that I never had any." 
+
+The man halted ; he set the bucket on the ground, bent down 
+and placed both hands on the child's shoulders, making an 
+effort to look at her and to see her face in the dark. 
+
+Cosette's thin and sickly face was vaguely outlined by the 
+livid light in the sky. 
+
+'* What is your name?'* said the man. 
+
+" Cosette." 
+
+The man seemed to have received an electric shock. He 
+looked at her once more ; then he removed his hands from Co- 
+sette's shoulders, seized the bucket, and set out again. 
+
+After a moment he inquired : — 
+
+" Where do you live, little one? " 
+
+'' At Montfermeil, if you know where that is." 
+
+" That is where we are going?" 
+
+'* Yes, sir." 
+
+He paused ; then began again : — 
+
+" Who sent you at such an hour to get water in the forest?" 
+
+" It was Madame Théuardier." 
+
+The man resumed, in a voice which he strove to render in- 
+different, but in which there was, nevertheless, a singular 
+tremor : — 
+
+*' What does your Madame Thénardicr do?" 
+
+'* She is my mistress," said the child. *' She keeps the inn." 
+
+"The inn?" said the man. "Well, I am going to lodge 
+there to-night. Show me the way." 
+
+" We are on the way there," said the child. 
+
+The man walked tolerably fast. Cosette followed him with- 
+out difficulty. She no longer felt any fatigue. From tiiue to 
+time she raised her eyes towards the man, with a sort of tran- 
+quillity and an indescribable confidence. She had never been 
+taught to turn to Providence and to pray ; nevertheless, she 
+felt within her something which resembled hope and joy, and 
+which mounted towards heaven. 
+
+Several minutes ela])8ed. The man resumed : — 
+
+" Is there no servant in Madame Thénardier's house?** 
+
+" No, sir." 
+
+" Are you alone there?" 
+
+" Yes, sir." 
+
+Another pause ensued. Cosette lifted up her voice : — 
+
+"That is to say, there are two little girls." 
+
+
+
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+COSETTE. 8$ 
+
+"What little girls?'* 
+
+" Poiiine and Zelma." 
+
+This was the way the child simplified the romantic names so 
+dear to the female Thénardier. 
+
+"Who are Popine and Zelma?" 
+
+"They are Madaaie Thénardier's young ladies; her daugh- 
+ters, as you would say." 
+
+" And what do those girls do?" 
+
+"Oh!" said the child, "they have beautiful dolls; things 
+with gold in them, all full of affairs. They play ; they amuse 
+themselves." 
+
+"All dav long?" 
+
+" Yes, sir." 
+
+"And you?" 
+
+"I? I work." 
+
+"All day long?" 
+
+The child raised her great eyes, in which hung a tear, which 
+was not visible because of the darkness, and replied gently : — 
+
+" Yes, sir." 
+
+After an interval of silence she went on : — 
+
+" Sometimes, when I have finished my work and they let me, 
+I amuse myself, too." 
+
+" How do you amuse yourself?" 
+
+" In the best way I can. They let me alone ; but I have not 
+many playthings. Ponine and Zelma will not let nie play with 
+their dolls. I have only a little lead sword, no longer than 
+that." 
+
+The child held up her tiny finger. 
+
+"And it will not cut?" 
+
+" Yes, sir," said the child ; " it cuts salad and the heads of 
+flies." 
+
+They reached the village. Cosette guided the stranger 
+through the streets. They passed the bakeshop, but Cosette 
+did not think of the bread which she had been ordered to 
+fetch. The man had ceased fc) ply her with questions, and now 
+preser»-ed a gloomy silence. 
+
+W\\*M\ they had left the church behind them, the man, on 
+perceiving all the open-air booths, asked Cosette : — 
+
+" So there is a fair going on here?" 
+
+" No, sir ; it is Christmas." 
+
+As they approached the tavern, Cosette timidly touched his 
+arm: — 
+
+"Monsieur?" 
+
+'*What, my child?" 
+
+
+
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+90 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+" Wc are quite near the house." 
+
+''Well?" 
+
+" Will you let me take my bucket now?** 
+
+"Why?" 
+
+"If Miidame sees that some one has carried it for me, she 
+will beat rae." 
+
+The man handed her the bucket. An instant later they were 
+at the tavern door. 
+
+VIII. — The Unpleasantness op receiving into One's 
+House a Poor Man who may be a Rich Man. 
+
+Cosette could not refrain from casting a sidelong glance at 
+the big doll, which was still displayed at the toy -merchant's ; 
+then she knocked. The door opened. The Théuardier ap- 
+peared with a candle in her hand. 
+
+''Ah ! so it's you, you little wretch ! good mercy, but you've 
+taken your time ! The hussy has been amusing herself!" 
+
+'' Madame," said Cosette, trembling all over, *' here is a gen- 
+tleman who wants a lodging." 
+
+The Thénardier speedily replaced her gruff air by her amiable 
+grimace, a change of aspect common to tavern-keepers, and 
+eagerly sought the new-comer with her eyes. 
+
+" This is the gentleman ? " said she. 
+
+^* Yes, Madame," replied the man, raising his hand to his hat. 
+
+Wealthy travellers are not so polite. This gesture, and an 
+inspection of the strau^^er's costume and baggage, which the 
+Théuardier passed in review with one glance, caused the amiable 
+grimace to vanish, and the gruff mien to reappear. She re- 
+Buuied dryly : — 
+
+*' Enter, my good man." 
+
+The '' good man " entered. The Théuardier cast a second 
+glance at iiim, paid particular attentiou to his frock-coat, which 
+was absolutely threadbare, and to his hat, which was a littl^: 
+battered, and, tossing her head, wrinkling her nose, and screw- 
+ing up her eyes, she consulted her husband, who was still 
+drinking with the carters. The husband replied by that im- 
+perceptible movement of the forefinger, which, backed up by 
+an inflation of the lips, signifies iu such cases : A regular beg- 
+gar. Thereupon, the Thénardier exclaimed : — 
+
+*' Ah ! see here, my good man ; I am very sorry, but I have 
+no rix>m lef;." 
+
+*' Put me where you like," said the man ; "in the attic, in the 
+«table. I will pay as though I occupied a room ' 
+
+
+
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+VOSETTB. 91 
+
+'•Forty 001».'' 
+
+'• Forty BOOS ; agreed." 
+
+"Very well, thenT' 
+
+•^ Forty 80UB ! ** said a carter, in a low tone, to the Thénaiv 
+lier woman ; ^* why, the charge is only twenty sous ! " 
+
+^^It is forty in his case," retorted the Thénardiei, in th« 
+%ame tone. ^^ I don't lodge po<»r folks for less." 
+
+*' That's true," added her husband, gently ; ^^ it ruins a hoDS« 
+lo hare such people in it.*' 
+
+In the meantime, the man, laying his bundle and his cudgd 
+on a bench, had seated himself at a table, on which Cosette 
+made haste to place a bottle of wine and a glass. The mer« 
+chant who had demanded the bucket of water took it to his 
+horse himself. Cosette resumed her place under the kitchen 
+table, and her knitting. 
+
+The man, who had barely moistened his lips in the wine which 
+he had poured out for himself, observed the child with peculiar 
+attention. 
+
+Cosette was ugly. If she had been happy, she might have 
+been pretty. We have already given a sketcli of that sombre 
+little figure. Cosette was thin and pale ; she was nearly eight 
+years old, but she seemed to be hardly six. Her large eyes, 
+sunken in a sort of shadow, were almost put out with weeping. 
+The comers of her month had that curve of habitual anguish 
+which is seen in condemned persons and desperately sick people. 
+Her hands were, as her mother had divined, ^^ ruined with chil- 
+blains." The fire which illuminated her at that moment, brought 
+into relief all the angles of her bones, and rendered her thinness 
+frightfully apparent. As she was always shivering, she had 
+acqnired the habit of pressing her knees one against the other. 
+Her entire clothing was but a rag which would have inspired pity 
+in summer, and which inspired hon*or in winter. All she had on 
+was hole-ridden linen, not a scrap of woollen. Her skin was 
+nsible here and there, and everywhere black and blue spots 
+x>uld be descried, which marked the places where the Thé- 
+aardiér woman had touched her. Her naked legs were thin 
+and red. The hollows in her neck were enough to make one 
+weep. This child's whole person, her mien, her attitude, the 
+aoundof her voice, the intervals which she allowed to elapse 
+between one word and the next, her glance, her silence, her 
+slightest gesture, expressed and betrayed one sole idea, — fear. 
+
+Fear was diffused all over her ; she was covered with it, so 
+to speak ; fear drew her elbows close to her hips, withdrew her 
+beels under her petticoat, made her occupy as little space af 
+
+
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+91 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+possible, allowed her only the breath that was absolotelj neces 
+sary, and hud become what might be called the habit of he» 
+body, admitting of no possible variation except an increase. 
+In the depths of her eyes there was an astonished nook where 
+terror lurked. 
+
+Her fear was such, that on her arrival, wet as she was, 
+Cosette did not dare to approach the fire and dry herself, bot 
+sat silently down to her work again. 
+
+The expression in the glance of that child of eight years was 
+habitually so gloomy, and at times so tragic, that it seemed at 
+certain moments as though she were on the verge of becomiDg 
+an idiot or a demon. 
+
+As we have stated, she had never known what it is to pray ; 
+she had never set foot in a church. *^ Have I the time? " said 
+the Thénardier. 
+
+The man in the yellow coat never took his eyes from Cosette* 
+
+All at once, the Thénardier exclaimed: — 
+
+" By the way, where's that bread?" 
+
+Cosette, according to her custom whenever the Thénardier up- 
+lifted her voice, emerged with great haste from beneath the table. 
+
+She had completely foi'gotten the bread. She had recourse 
+to the expedient of children who live in a constant state of 
+féar. She lied. 
+
+*^ Madame, the baker's shop was shot.*' •< 
+
+*' You should have knocked/' 
+
+^* I did knock, Madame." 
+
+**Well?" 
+
+^' He did not open the door.'* 
+
+^^ I'll find out to-morrow whether that is trae," said the Thé- 
+nardier ; '* and if you are telling me a lie, I'll lead you a preUy 
+dance. In the meantime, give me back my fifteen-sou piece.*' 
+
+Cosette plunged her hand into the pocket of her apron» and 
+turned green. The fifteen-sou piece was not there. 
+
+'^ Ah, come now," said Madame Thénardier, ^^did you hear 
+me?" 
+
+Cosette turned her pocket inside out ; there was nothing In 
+it. What could have become of that money? The unhappy 
+little creature could not find a word to say. She was petrified. 
+
+^^ Have you lost that fifteen*sou piece? " screamed the Thé- 
+nardier, hoarsely, ''or do you want to rob me of it?" 
+
+At the same time, she stretched out her arm towards the cat- 
+o'-nine-tails which hung on a nail in the chimney-corner. 
+
+This formidable gesture restored to Cosette sufiicieut strcDgtb 
+lo shriek : — 
+
+
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+COSETTE, 98 
+
+** Merc;, Madame, Madame ! I will not do so any more !** 
+
+The Thénardier took down the whip. 
+
+In the meantime, the man in the yellow coat had been fum- 
+bling in the fob of hi8 waistcoat, without any one having 
+Doticed his movements. Besides, the other travellers were 
+drinking or playing cards, and were not paying attention to 
+anything. 
+
+Cosette contracted herself into a ball, with anguish, within 
+the augle of the chimney, endeavoring to gather up and concea) 
+her poor half -nude limbs. The Thénardier raised her arm. 
+
+*' Pardon me, Madame," said the man, "but just now 1 
+caught sight of something which had fallen from this little one'f 
+apron pocket, and rolled aside. Perhaps this is it." 
+
+At the same time he bent down and seemed to be searchinf 
+on the floor for a moment. 
+
+*' Exactly ; here it is," he went on, straightening himself up 
+
+And he held out a silver coin to the Thénardier* 
+
+*' Yes, that's it," said she. 
+
+It was not it, for it was a twenty-sou piece ; but the Thé 
+nardier found it to her advantage. She put the coin in her 
+pocket, and confined herself to casting a fierce glance at the 
+child, accompanied with the remark, '' Don't let this ever hap- 
+pen again ! " 
+
+Cosette returned to what the Thénardier called ** her kennel," 
+and her large eyes, which were riveted on the traveller, began 
+to take on an expression such as they had never worn before. 
+Thus far it was only an innocent amazement, but a sort of 
+stupefied confidence was mingled with it. 
+
+" By the way, would you like some supper?" the Thénardier 
+inquired of the traveller. 
+
+He made no reply. He appeared to be absorbed in thought. 
+
+*' What sort of a man is that?" she muttered between her 
+teeth. " He's some frightfully poor wretch. He basnet a sou 
+to pay for a supper. Will he even pay me for his lodging? 
+It's very lucky, all the same, that it did not occur to him to 
+steal, the money that was on the floor." 
+
+In the meantime, a door had opened, and Éponine and 
+Azelma entered. 
+
+They were two really pretty little girls, more bourgeois than 
+peasant in looks, and ver}' charming ; the one with shining 
+chestnut tresses, the other with long black braids hanging down 
+her back, both vivacious, neat, plump, rosy, and healthy, and a 
+delight to the eye, They were warmly clad, but with so much 
+maternal art that the thickness of the stuffs did not detract 
+
+
+
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+M LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+from the coquetry of arrangement. There was a hint of winter. 
+though the springtime was not wholly effaced. Light emanated 
+from these two little beings. Besides this, they were on the 
+throne. In their toilettes, in their gayety, in the noise which 
+they made, there was sovereignty. When they entered, the 
+Thénardier said to them in a grumbling tone which was full of 
+adoration, "Ah ! there you are, you children 1 " 
+
+Then drawing them, one after the other to her Knees, smooth- 
+ing their hair, tying their ribbons afresh, and then releasing 
+them with that gentle manner of shaking off which is peculiar 
+to mothers, she exclaimed, '* What frights they are !" 
+
+They went and seated themselves in the chimney-corner. 
+They had a doll, which they turned over and over on Uieir 
+knees with all sorts of joyous chatter. From time to time 
+Cosette raised her eyes from her knitting, and watched their 
+play with a melancholy air. 
+
+Èponine and Azelma did not look at Cosette. She was the 
+same as a dog to them. These three little girls did not yet reckon 
+up four and twenty years between them, but they alreaily 
+represented the whole society of man ; envy on the one aide, 
+disdain on the other. 
+
+The doll of the Thénardier sisters was very much faded, very 
+old, and much broken ; but it seemed none the less admirable to 
+Cosette, who had never had a doll in her life, a real doll^ to 
+make use of the expression which all children will understand. 
+
+All at once, the Thénardier, who had been going back and 
+forth in the room, perceived that Cosette's mind was distracted, 
+and that, instead of working, she was paying attention to tho 
+little ones at their play. 
+
+"Ah! Tve canglit you at it!" she cried. "So that's the 
+way vou work I I'll make you work to the tune of the whip ; 
+that i will." 
+
+The stranger turned to the Thénardier, without quitting his 
+chair. 
+
+" Bah, Madame," he said, with an almost timid air, ^^ let her 
+play!" 
+
+Such a wish expressed by a traveller who had eaten a slice 
+of mutton and had drunk a couple of bottles of wine with bis 
+supper, and who had not the air of being frightfully poor, 
+would have been equivalent to an order. But that a man with 
+such a hat should permit himself such a desire, and that a man 
+with such a coat should permit himself to have a will, was 
+something which Madame Thénardier did not intend to tolerate 
+the retorted with acrimony : — » 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+COSETTE. M 
+
+<She mast work, since she eats. I don't feed her to do 
+oothing." 
+
+'^ What is she making?" went on the stranger, in a gentle 
+voice which contrasted strangely with his beggarly garments 
+»ud his porter's shoulders. 
+
+The Thénardier deigned to reply : — 
+
+"Stockings, if you please. Stockings for my little girls, 
+who have none, so to speak, and who are absolutely barefoot 
+just now." 
+
+The man looked atCosette's poor little red feet, and con 
+Anued : — 
+
+" When will she have finished this pair of stockings? " 
+
+" She has at least three or four good days' work on them 
+still, the lazy creature ! " 
+
+" And how much will that pair of stockiags be worth when 
+she has finished them ? " 
+
+The Thénardier cast a glance of disdain on him. 
+
+*» Thirty sous at least." 
+
+*^ Will you sell them for five francs? " went on the man. 
+
+'* Good heavens!" exclaimed a carter who was listening, 
+with a loud laugh ; " five francs ! the deuce, I should think so 1 
+five balls I " 
+
+Thénardier thought it time to strike in. 
+
+* ' Yes, sir ; if such is your fancy, you will be allowed to have 
+that pair of stockings for five francs. We can refuse nothing 
+to travellers." 
+
+" You must pay on the spot," said the Thénardier, in her curt 
+and peremptory fashion. 
+
+'- 1 will buy that pair of stockings," replied the man, *' and," 
+he added, drawing a five-franc piece from his pocket, and laying 
+it on the table, '• I will pay for them." 
+
+Then he turned to Cosette. 
+
+*' Now I own your work ; play, my child." 
+
+The carter was so much touched by the five-franc piece, that 
+he abandoned his glass and hastened up. 
+
+"Bat it's true!" he cried, examining it. "A real hind 
+wheel ! and not counterfeit ! " 
+
+Thénardier approached and silently put the coin in his pocket. 
+
+The Thénardier had no reply to make. She bit her lips, and 
+ber face assumed an expression of hatred. 
+
+In the meantime, Cosette was trembling. SLe ventured la 
+«5k: — 
+
+" l8 it true, Madame ? May I play ? " 
+
+'• Flay ! " said the Tliénardicr, in a terrible voice. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+96 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+** Thanks, Madame," said Cosette. 
+
+And while her mouth thanked the Thénardicr, her wholi 
+little soul thanked the traveller. 
+
+Thénardier had resumed his drinking ; his wife whispered ii» 
+bis ear : — 
+
+' ' Who can this yellow man be ? " 
+
+^^I have seen millionnaires with coats like that," repliée^ 
+Thénardier, in a sovereign manner. 
+
+Cosette had dropped her knitting, but had not left her seat. 
+Cosette always moved as little as possible. She picked up som^ 
+old rags and her little lead sword from a box beliind her. 
+
+Éponîne and Azelma paid no attention to what was going 
+on. They had just executed a very imx)ortant operation ; they 
+had just got hold of the cat. They had thrown their doll on 
+the ground, and Éponine, who was the elder, was swathing th*" 
+little cat, in spite of its mewing and its contortions, in a quan- 
+tity of clothes and red and blue scraps. Wliile performing this 
+serious and difficult work she was saving to her sister in that 
+sweet and adorable language of children, whose grace, like tlic 
+splendor of the butterfly's wing, vanishes when one essays to 
+fix it fast. 
+
+*' You see, sister, this doll is more amusing than the other. 
+She twists, she cries, she is warm. See, sister, let us play with 
+her. She shall be my little girl. I will be a lady. I will come 
+to see you, and you shall look at her. Gradually, you will per- 
+jceive her whiskers, and that will surprise you. And then you 
+will see her ears, and then you will see her tail, and it wil' 
+amaze you. And you will say to me, 'Ah! Mon Dieu !* and 
+I will say to 3'ou : ' Yes, Madame, it is my little girl. Little 
+girls are made like that just at present.'" 
+
+Azelma listened admiringly to Éponine. 
+
+In the meantime, the drinkers had begun to sing an obscene 
+song, and to laugh at it until the ceiling shook. Thénardier 
+accompanied and encouraged them. 
+
+As birds make nests out of everything, so children make a 
+doll out of anything which comes to hand. While Éponine aiu^ 
+Azelma were bundling up the cat, Cosette, on her side, Lati 
+dressed up her sword. That done, she laid it in her arms, and 
+sang to it softly, to lull it to sleep. 
+
+The doll is one of the most im])erious needs and, at Uie same 
+time, one of the most charming instincts of feminine childhooil. 
+To care for, to clothe, to deck, to dress, to undress, to redress, 
+to teach, scold a little, to rock, to dandle, to h\\\ to sleep, U- 
+Imagine that something is some one, — therein lies the whole 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. VI 
+
+ironiaQ*8 future. While dreaming and chattering, making tiuy 
+outfits, and baby clothes, while sewing little gowns, and cor- 
+sages and bodices, the child grows into a young girl, the young 
+girl into a big girl, the big girl into a woman. The first cliild 
+is the continuation of the last doll. 
+
+A little girl without a doll is almost as unhappy, and quite as 
+impossible, as a woman without children. 
+
+So Cosette had made herself a doll out of the sword 
+
+Madame Thénardier approached the yellow man; "My hus- 
+band is right," she thought; ^^ perhaps it is M . Laifitte ; there 
+are such queer rich men ! " 
+
+She came and set her elbows on the table. 
+
+"Monsieur," said she. At this word, -Wonsictt?-, the man 
+turned ; up to that time, the Thénardier had addressed him 
+only as brave homme or bojihomme. 
+
+" You. see, sir," she pursued, assuming a sweetish air that 
+was even more repulsive to behold than her fierce mien, " I am 
+willing that the child should play ; I do not oppose it, but it is 
+good for once, because you are generous. You see, she has 
+nothing ; she must needs work." 
+
+" Then this child is not yours? " demanded the man. 
+
+"Oh! mon Dieu! no, sir! she is a little beggar whom we 
+have taken in through charity ; a sort of imbecile child. She 
+mast have water on the brain ; she has a large head, as you 
+see. We do what we can for her, for we are not rich ; we have 
+written in vain to her native place, and have received no reply 
+these six months. It must be that her mother is dead." 
+
+*' Ah !" said the man, and fell into his revery once more. 
+
+^^Her mother didn't amount to much," added the Thénar- 
+dier ; " she abandoned her child." 
+
+During the whole of this conversation Cosette, as though 
+warned by some instinct that she was under discussion, had 
+not taken her eyes from the Thénardier's face; she listened 
+Taguely ; she caught a few words here and there. 
+
+Meanwhile, the drinkers, all three-quarters intoxicated, were 
+repeating their unclean refrain with redoubled gayety ; it was a 
+highly spiced and wanton song, in which the Virgin and the 
+infant Jesus were introduced. The Thénardier went off to take 
+part fn the shouts of laughter. Cosette, from her post under 
+the table, gazed at the fire, which was reflected from her fixed 
+eyes. She had begun to rock the sort of baby which she 
+had made, and, as she rocked it, she sang in a low volce^ 
+"My mother is dead! my mother is dead! my mother it 
+dead ! *' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+M LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+On being urged afresh by the hostesB, the yellow man, **tiM 
+millionnaire," consented at last to take supper. 
+
+*' What does Monsieur wish?" 
+
+*' Bread and cheese," said the man. 
+
+" Decidedly, he is a beggar," thought Madame Thénardier. 
+
+The drunken men were still singing their song, and the child 
+under the table was singing hers. 
+
+All at once, Cosette paused ; she had just turned round and 
+caught sight of the little Thénardiers* doll, which they had 
+abandoned for the cat and had left on the floor a few paces 
+from the kitchen table. 
+
+Then she dropped the swaddled sword, which only half met 
+her needs, and cast her eyes slowly round the room. Madame 
+Thénardier was whispering to her husband and counting over 
+some money ; Poninc and Zelma were playing with the cat; the 
+travellers were eating or drinking or singing ; not a glance was 
+fixed on her. She had not a moment to lose ; she crept out 
+from under the table on her hands and knees, made sure once 
+more that no one was watching her ; then she slipped quickly 
+up to the doll and seized it. An instant later, she was in her 
+place again, seated motionless, and only turned so as to cast a 
+shadow on the doll which she held in her arms. The happiness 
+of playing with a doll was so rare for her that it contained all 
+the violence of voluptuousness. 
+
+No one had seen her, except the traveller, who was slowly de- 
+vouring his meagre supper. 
+
+This joy lasted al>out a quarter of an hour. 
+
+But with all the precautions that Cosette had taken she did 
+not perceive that one of the doll's legs stuck out and thai the 
+fire on tiie hearth lighted it up very vividly. That pink and 
+shining foot, projecting from the shadow, suddenly struck tiie 
+eye of Azelma, who said to Eponine, *' Look ! sister." 
+
+The two little girls paused in stupefaction ; Cosette had 
+dared to take their doll ! 
+
+Éponine rose, and, without releasing the cat, she ran to her 
+mother, and began to tug at her skirt. 
+
+" Let me alone ! " said her mother ; " what do you want? ** 
+
+»' Mother," said the child, " look there Î " 
+
+And she pointed to Cosette. 
+
+Cosette, absorbed in the ecstasies of possession, no longer 
+saw or heard anything. 
+
+Madame Th^nardier's countenance assumed that peculiar 
+expression which is composed of the terrible mingled with the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+VOSETTE. 99 
+
+trifles of life, and which has caused this style of woman to be 
+Lamed megaeras. 
+
+On this occasion, wounded pride exasperated her wrath still 
+further. Cosette had overstepped all bounds ; Cosette bad laid 
+violent hands on the doll belonging to ^' these young ladies." 
+A czarina who should see a muzhik trying on her imperial 
+3on's blue ribbon would wear no other face. 
+
+She shrieked in a voice rendered hoarse with indignation : — 
+
+'^Cîosette!" 
+
+Cosette started as though the earth had trembled beneath 
+her ; she turned round. 
+
+" Cosette ! " repeated the Thénnrdier, 
+
+Cosette took the doll and laid it gently on the floor with a 
+sort of veneration mingled with despair; then, without taking 
+her eyes from it, she clasped her hands, aud, what is terril)le to 
+relate of a child of that age, she wrung them ; then — not one 
+of the emotions of the day, neither the trip to tlie forest, nor the 
+weight of the bucket of water, nor tlie loss of the money, nor 
+the sight of the whip, nor even the sad words which she had 
+heard Madame Thénardier utter had been able to wring this 
+from her — she wept; she burst out sobbing. 
+
+Meanwhile, the traveller had risen to his feet. 
+
+'^ What is the matter?" he said to the Thénardier. 
+
+" Don't you see ? " said the ïbénardier, pointing to the cor» 
+pus delicti which lay at Cosette's feet. 
+
+'* Well, what of it?" resumed the man. 
+
+"That beggar," replied the Thénardier, *' has permitted her- 
+self to touch the children's doll 1 " 
+
+'' All this noise for that ! " said the man ; " well, what if she 
+did play with that doll?" 
+
+" She touched it with her dirty hands ! " pursued the Thénar- 
+dier, " with her frightful hands ! " 
+
+Here Cosette pedoubled her sobs. 
+
+" Will you stop your noise?" screamed the Thénardier. 
+
+The man went straight to the street door, opened it, and 
+atepped out. 
+
+As soon as he had gone, the Thénardier profited by his a))- 
+aence to give Cosette a hearty kick under the table, which made 
+the child utter loud cries. 
+
+The door opene<l again, the man re-appenrcd ; he carried in 
+both hands the fabulous doll which we have mentioned, and 
+which all the village brats had been staring at ever since the 
+morning, and he set it upright in front of Cosette, saying : — 
+
+** Here ; this is for you " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+too LES MISERABLES. 
+
+It must be supposed that in the course of the hour and more 
+vfhich be had spent there he had taken coufused notice through 
+his revery of that toy shop, lighted up by fire-pots and candles 
+so splendidlj' that it was visible like an illumination (trough the 
+window of the drinking-shop. 
+
+Cosctte raised her eyes ; she gazed at the man approaching 
+her with that doll as she might have gazed at the sun ; she 
+heard the unprecedented words, " It is for you" ; she stared at 
+him ; she stared at the doll ; then she slowly retreated, and hid 
+herself at the extreme end, under the table in a corner of the 
+wall. 
+
+She no longer cried ; she no longer wept ; she had the ap- 
+pearance of no longer daring to breathe. 
+
+The Thénardier, Éponine, and Azelma were like statues 
+also ; the very drinkers had paused ; a solemn silence reigned 
+through the whole room. 
+
+Madame Thénardier, petrified and mute, recommenced her 
+conjectures: "Who is that old fellow? Is he a poor man? 
+Is he a millionnaire ? Perhaps he is both ; that is to say , m 
+thief." 
+
+The face of the male Thénardier presented that expressive 
+fold which accentuates the human countenance whenever the 
+dominant instinct appears there in all its bestial force. The 
+tavern-keeper stared alternately at the doll and at the traveller ; 
+he seemed to be scenting out the man, as he would have scented 
+out a bag of monej'. This did not last longer than the space 
+of a flash of lightning. He stepped up to his wife and said to 
+her in a low voice : — 
+
+"That machine costs at least thirty francs. No nonsense. 
+Down on your belly before that man ! " 
+
+Gross natures have this in common with naXve natures, that 
+they possess no transition state. 
+
+" Well, Cosette," said the Thénardier, in a voice that strove 
+jo be sweet, and which was composed of the bitter honey of 
+malicious women, " aren't you going to take your doll?" 
+
+Cosette ventured to emerge from her hole. 
+
+"The gentleman has given you a doll, my little Cosette," 
+said Thénardier, with a caressing air. " Take it; it is yours." 
+
+Cosette gazed at the mar>'ellous doll in a sort of terror. Her 
+face was still flooded with tears, but her eyes began to fill, like 
+the sky at daybreak, with stranfje beams of joy. What she 
+felt at that moment was a little like what she would have felt 
+if she had been abruptly told, " Little one, you are the Qneeo 
+of France.*' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 101 
+
+It tfcemed to ber that if she touched that doll, lightning 
+^ould dnrt from it. 
+
+This was truts up to a certain point, for she said to herself 
+that the Tliéiiardier would scold and beat her. 
+
+Nevertheless, the attraction carried the day. She ended by 
+drawing near and murmuring timidly as she turned towards 
+Madame ïhénardier : — 
+
+"May I, Madame?" 
+
+No words can render that air, at once despairing, terrified 
+and ecstatic. 
+
+" Pardi 1 " cried the Thénardier, "it is youre. The gentle- 
+man has given it to you." 
+
+''Truly, sir?" said Cosette. ''Is it true? Is the 'lady' 
+mine ? " 
+
+The stranger's eyes seemed to be full of tears. He appeared 
+to have reached that point of emotion where a man does not 
+speak for fear lest he should weep. He nodded to Cosette, 
+and placed the " lady's " hand in her tiny hand. 
+
+Cosette hastily withdrew her hand, as though that of the 
+" lady " scorched her, and began to stare at the floor. We are 
+forced to add that at that moment she stuck out her tongue 
+immoderately. All at once she wheeled round and seized the 
+doll in a transport. 
+
+" I shall call her Catherine," she said. 
+
+It was an odd moment when Cosctte's rags met and clasped 
+the ribbons and fresh pink muslins of the doll. 
+
+" Madame," she resumed, " may I put her on a chair? " 
+
+'* Yes, my child," replied the Thénardier. 
+
+It was now the turn of Épouine and Azelma to gaze at Co* 
+sette with envy. 
+
+Cosette placed Catherine on a chair, then seated herself on 
+the floor in front of her, and remained motionless, without 
+uttering a word, in an attitude of contemplation. 
+
+" Play, Cosette," said the stranger. 
+
+"Oh! I am playing," returned the child. 
+
+This stranger, this unknown individual, who had the air of a 
+yisit which Providence was making on Cosette, was the person 
+whoDQ the Thénardier hated worse than any one in the world ut 
+that moment. However, it was necessary to control herself. 
+Habituated as she was to dissimulation through endeavoring; 
+to copy her husband in all his actions, theses emotions were 
+more than she could endure. She made haste to send her 
+daughters to bed, then she asked the man's fyermisaion to send 
+^<wette off also ; '* for she has worked hard all day," she added 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+102 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+with a inaternal air. Cosette went off to bed, carrying Catiie- 
+
+vine iu her arms. 
+
+From time to time the Thénardier went to the other end of 
+the room where her hustjand was, to relieve her soulj as she 
+said. She exchanged with her husband words whioh were all 
+the more furious because she dared not utter them aloud. 
+
+' • Old beast ! What has he got in his belly, to come and op- 
+set us in this manner! To want that little monster to play! 
+to give away forty- franc dolls to a jade that I would sell for 
+forty sous, so I would ! A little more and he will be saying 
+Your Majesty to her, as though to the Duchess de Berrj- ! Is 
+there any sense in it? Is he mad, then, that mysterious old 
+fellow?" 
+
+*' Why !, it is perfectly simple," replied Thénardier, '* if tiiat 
+amuses him! It amuses you to have the little one work; it 
+amuses him to have her play. IIe*s all right. A traveller cau 
+do what he pleases when he pays for it. If the old fellow is i\ 
+philanthropist, what is that to jou? If he is an imbecile, it 
+does not concern you. What are you woiTying for, so long a i 
+he has money ? " 
+
+The language of a master, and the reasoning of an inn* 
+keeper, neither of which admitted of any reply. 
+
+The man had placed his elbows on the table, and resumed hi» 
+thoughtful attitude. All the other travellers, both pedlers and 
+carters, had withdrawn a little, aud had ceased singing. They 
+were staring at him from a distance, with a sort of re8pectfu4 
+awe. This poorly dressed man, who drew '* hind -wheels " fron) 
+his pocket with so much ease, and who lavished gigantic dolls 
+on dirty little brats in wooden shoes, was certainly a magnifi- 
+cent fellow, aud one to be feared. 
+
+Many hours passed. The midnight mass was over, the 
+chimes had ceased, the drinkers had taken their de]mrture, the 
+di'inking-shop was closed, the public ix>om was deserted, the fire 
+extinct, the stranger still remained in the same place and the 
+3ame attitude. From time to time he changed the elbow ou 
+^hich he leaned. That was all ; but he had not said a word 
+ai nee Cosette had left the room. 
+
+The Thénardiers alone, out of politeness and curiosity, had 
+remained in the room. 
+
+^^Is he going to pass the night in that fashion?" grumbled 
+the Thénardier. Wlicn two o'clock in the morning struck^ she- 
+declared herself vanquished, and said to her husband. ** V\\\ 
+going to bed. Do as you like." Her husband seated bixnsel^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 108 
+
+at » Uble in the corner, lighted a candle, and began to read the 
+Courrier IhxLnçais. 
+
+A good hour passed thus. The worthy inn-keeper had 
+perused the Courrier Français at least three times, from the 
+date of the number to the printer's name. The stranger did 
+Dot stir. 
+
+Thénardier fidgeted, coughed, spit, blew his nose, and 
+:Teaked his chair. Not a movement on the man*s part. ^^ Is 
+he asleep?" thought Thénardier. The man was not asleep, but 
+nothing could arouse him. 
+
+At last Thénardier took off his cap, stepped gently ap to 
+him, and ventured to say : — 
+
+" Is not Monsieur going to his repose ? " 
+
+Not gohig to bed would have seemed to him excessive and 
+Jamiliar. To repose smacked of luxury and respect, Tliese 
+words possess the mysterious and admirable proi>erty of swelling 
+the bill on the following day. A chamber where one sleeps costs 
+twenty sous ; a chamber in which one reposes costs twenty francs. 
+
+" Well 1 " said the stranger, *' you are right. Where is your 
+btable?" 
+
+"Sir!" exclaimed Thénardier, with a smile, *'I will conduct 
+you, sir-'* 
+
+He took the candle ; the man picked up his bundle and cudgel, 
+bind Thénardier conducted him to a chamber on the first floor, 
+which was of rare splendor, all furnished in mahogany, with a 
+low bedstead, curtained with red calico. 
+
+" What is this?" said the traveller. 
+
+'* It is really our bridal chamber," said the tavern-keeper. 
+" My wife and I occupy another. This is only entered three or 
+four times a year." 
+
+'' I should have liked the stable quite as well," said the man, 
+abruptly. 
+
+Thénardier pretended not to hear this unamiable remark. 
+
+He lighted two perfectly fresh wax candles which figured on 
+the chimney-piece. A very good fire was flickering: on the hearth. 
+
+On the chimney-piece, under a glass globe, stood a woman's 
+head-dress in silver wire and orange flowers. 
+
+** And what is this? " resumed the stranger. 
+
+"That, six," said Thénardier, "is my wife's wedding 
+bonnet." 
+
+The traveller surveyed the object with a glance which seemed 
+to say, " There really was a time, then, when that monster was 
+a maiden ? " 
+
+Thénardier lied, however. When he had leased this paltry 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+104 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+building for the purpose of converting it into a tavern, he haQ 
+found this chani})er decorated in just this manner, and ii&d pur 
+chased the furniture and obtained the orange flowers at second 
+hand, witli the idea that this would cast a graceful sliadow on 
+" his spouse," and would result in what the English call respec- 
+tability for his house. 
+
+When the traveller turned round, the host had disappeared 
+rhéuardier had withdrawn discreetly, without venturing to wish 
+bim a good night, as he did not wish to treat with d'srespectful 
+cordial it}' a man whom he proposed to fleece royally the follow- 
+ing morning. 
+
+The inn-keeper retired to his room. His wife was in bed, but 
+she was not asleep. AVhen she heard her husband's step she 
+turned over and said to him : — 
+
+" Do 3'ou know, I'm going to turn Cosette out of doors to- 
+morrow." 
+
+Thénardier replied coldly : — 
+
+" How you do go on ! " 
+
+They exchanged no further words, and a few moments later 
+their candle was extinguished. 
+
+As for the traveller, he had deposited his cudgel and his 
+bundle in a corner. The landlord once gone, he threw bimscU 
+into an arm-chair and remained for some time buried in thought. 
+Then he removed his shoes, took one of the two candles, blew 
+out the other, opened the door, and quitted the room, gazing 
+about him like a person who is in search of something. He 
+traversed a corridor and came upon a staircase. There he 
+heard a very faint and gentle sound like the breathing of a 
+child. He followed this sound, and came to a sort of triaug:iilar 
+recess built under the staircase, or rather formed by the stair- 
+case itself. This recess was nothing else than the'space under 
+the steps. There, in the midst of all sorts of old papers and 
+potsherds, among dust and spiders' webs, was a bed — if one 
+can call by the name of bed a straw pallet so full of holes as to 
+display the straw, and a coverlet so tattered as to show the 
+pallet. No sheetb. This was plac*ed on the floor- 
+In this bed Cosette was sleeping. • 
+
+The man approached and gazed down upon her. 
+
+Cosette was in a profound sleep ; she was fully dressed. In 
+the winter she did not undress, in order that she might not be 
+BO cold. 
+
+Against her breast was pressed the dolK whose large eyes, wide 
+open, glittered in the dark. From time to time she gave vent to 
+a deep sigh as though she were on the point of waking, and she 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSBTTB. 105 
+
+strained the doll almost conv ulsivek in her arms . Beside her 
+bed there was only one of her wooden shoes. 
+
+A door which stood open near Cosette's pallet permitted a 
+view of a rather large, dark room. The stranger stepped into 
+it« At the further extremity, through a glass door, he saw two 
+smalU very white beds. They belonged to Éponine and Azelma, 
+Behind these beds, and half hidden, stood an uncurtained 
+wicker cradle, in which the little boy who had cried all the 
+svening lay asleep. 
+
+The stranger conjectured that this chamber connected with 
+that of the Thénardier pair. He was on the point of retreat! iii; 
+when his eye fell upon the fireplace — one of those vast 
+tavern chimneys where there is always so little fire when there 
+is any fire at all, and which are so cold to look at. There was 
+no fire in this one, there was not even ashes ; but there was 
+something which attracted the stranger's gaze, nevertheless. It 
+was two tiny children's shoes, coquettish in shape and unequal 
+in size. Ihe traveller recalled the graceful and immemorial 
+custom in accordance with which children place their shoes in 
+the chimney on Christmas eve, there to await in the darkness 
+some sparkling gift from their good fairy. Éponine and Azelma 
+had taken care not to omit this, and each of them had set one 
+of her shoes on the hearth. 
+
+The traveller bent over them. 
+
+The fairy, that is to say, their mother, had already paid her 
+visit, and in each he saw a brand-new and shining ten-sou i»ieee. 
+
+The man straightened himself up, and was on tlie point of 
+withdrawing, when far in, in the darkest corner of the hearth, 
+he caught sight of another object. He looked at it, and re<*og- 
+nized a wooden shoe, a frightful shoe of the coarsest descrip- 
+tion, half dilapidated and all covered with ashes and dried mud. 
+It was Cosette's sabot. Cosette, with that touching trust ol 
+childhood, which can always be deceived yet never discouraged^ 
+had placed her shoe on the hearth-stone also. 
+
+Hope in a child who has never known anything but despair is 
+i sweet and touching thing. 
+
+There was nothing in this wooden shoe. 
+
+The stranger ftimbled in his waistcont, bent over and placed 
+a lonis d'or in Cosette's shoe. 
+
+Then he regained his own chamber with the stealthy tread of 
+b wolf. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+C06 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+
+
+IX. TnâNARDIER AT HIS MAHwHTBaB. 
+
+On the following moruing, two hours at Ibaob before a«ybreak^ 
+rhéuardier, seated beside a candle in the public room of the 
+tavern, pen in hand, was making out the uiU for the travellet 
+with tlie yellow coat. 
+
+His wife, standing beside him, and half bent over him, was 
+following him with her eyes. They exchanged not a word. On 
+the one hand, there was profound meditation, on the other, the 
+relig;ious admiration with which one watches the birth and de- 
+velopment of a marvel of the human mind. A noise was audible 
+in the house ; it was the Lark sweeping the stairs. 
+
+After the lapse .of a good quarter of an hour, and feome 
+erasures, Thénardier produced the following masterpiece : — 
+
+Bill of the Gentlbican in No. 1. 
+
+8upper 3 francs. 
+
+Chamber 10 * 
+
+Candle 6 " 
+
+Fire 4 « 
+
+Service ....•• 1 ** 
+
+ToUl . « . 28 franca. 
+
+Service was written servisse, 
+
+^*' Twenty-three francs 1 " cried the woman, with an enthusiasn 
+/hich was mingled with some hesitation. 
+
+Like all great artists, Thénardier was dissatisfied. 
+
+" Peuh ! " he exclaimed. 
+
+It was the accent of Castlereagh auditing France's bill at th« 
+Congress of Vienna. 
+
+"Monsieur Thénardier, j'ou are right; he certainly owes 
+that," murmured the wife, who was thinking of the doll bestowed 
+on Cosettc in the presence of her daughters. "It is justt but 
+t is too much. He will not pay it." 
+
+Thénardier laughed coldly, as usual, and said : — 
+
+"He will pay." 
+
+This laugh was the supreme assertion of certainty and author- 
+ity. That which was asserted in this inanner must needs be so. 
+His wife did not insist. 
+
+She set about arranging the table; her husband paoed the 
+room. A moment later he added : — 
+
+" I owe full fifteen hundred francs ! " 
+
+He went and seated himself in the chimney -comer, méditât 
+ing, with his feet among the warm ashes. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 101 
+
+•* Ah! by the way, ** resumed his wife, ''yon don't forge 
+Ihat I'm going to turn Cosette out of doors to-dav ? The mou 
+Iter ! She breaks my lieart with that doll of hers ! I*d rather 
+loarry Louis XVIII. than keep her another day in the house ' " 
+
+Thénardier lighted his pipe, and replied between two 
+puffs: — 
+
+*' You will hand that bill to the man." 
+
+Then he went out. 
+
+Hardly had he loft the room when the traveller entered. 
+
+Thénardier instantly reappeared behind him and remained 
+BOtionless in the half-open door, visible only to his wife. 
+
+The yellow man carried his bundle and his cudgel in his 
+liand. 
+
+*'Up so early?" said Madame Thénardier; "is Monsieur 
+liaving us already ? " 
+
+As she spoke thus, she was twisting the bill about in her 
+Ijinds with an embarrassed air, and making creases in it with 
+lier nails. Her hard face presented a shade which was not 
+liabitual with it, — timidity and scruples. 
+
+To present such a bill to a man who had so completely the 
+»ir "of a poor wretch" seemed difficult to her. 
+
+The traveller appeared to be preoccupied and absent-minded. 
+lie replied : — 
+
+" Yes, Madame, I am going." 
+
+" So Monsieur has no business in Montf ermeil ? " 
+
+" No, I was passing through That is all. What do I owe 
+3 on, Madame," he added. 
+
+The Thénardier silently handed him the folded bill. 
+
+The man unfolded the paper and glanced at it; but his 
+tiioughts were evidently elsewhere. • 
+
+^^ Madame," he resumed, " is business good here in Montfer- 
+meil?" 
+
+*' So so, Monsieur," replied the Thénardier, stupefied at not 
+witnessing another sort of explosion. 
+
+She continued, in a dreary aud lamentable tone : — 
+
+^^Oh! Monsieur, times are so hard! and then, we have 
+so few bourgeois in the neighborhood ! All the people are poor, 
+jrou see. If we had not, now and then, some rich and generous 
+travellers like Monsieur, we should not get along at all. We 
+have so many expenses. Just see, that child is costing us our 
+very eves." 
+
+** What child?" 
+
+** Why, the little one, you know ! Cosette — the Lark, as she 
+is called hereabouts I " 
+
+
+
+Digitized by CjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+i08 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+^^ Ah ! " said the man. 
+
+She went on : — 
+
+'^ How stupid these peasants are with their nicknames! Sho 
+has more the air of a bat than of a lark. You see, sir, we do 
+not ask charity, and we cannot bestow it. We earn nothing 
+and we have to pay out a great deal. The license, the imposts, 
+the door and window tax, the hundredths ! Monsieur is aware 
+that the government demands a terrible deal of money. And 
+then, I have my daughters. I have no need to bring up othei 
+people's children." 
+
+The man resumed, in that voice which he strove to rendei 
+indifferent, and in which there lingered a tremor ; — 
+
+'' What if one were to rid you of her? ** 
+
+''Who? Cosette?" 
+
+'' Yes." 
+
+The landlady's red and violent face brightened up hideoaely. 
+
+'* Ah ! sir, my dear sir, take her, keep her, lead her off, carry 
+her away, sugar her, stuff her with truffles, drink her, eat her, 
+and the blessings of the good holy Virgin and of all the saints 
+of paradise be upon you ! " 
+
+'* Agreed." 
+
+*' Really ! You will take her away?" 
+
+" I will take her away." 
+
+*' Immediately?" 
+
+" Immediately. Call the child." 
+
+*' Cosette ! " screamed the Thénardier. 
+
+'' In the meantime," pursued the man, " I will pay you wba« 
+I owe you. How much is it? " 
+
+He cast a glance on the bill, and could not restrain a start 
+>f surprise : — 
+
+"Twenty-throe francs ! " 
+
+He looked at the landlady, and repeated : — 
+
+*' Twenty-three francs? " 
+
+There was in the enunciation of these words, thus repeated, 
+an accent between an exclamation and an interrogation point. 
+
+The Thénardier had had time to prepare herself for the 
+shock. She replied, with assurance : — 
+
+"Good gracious, yes, sir, it is twenty-three francs." 
+
+The stranger laid five five-franc pieces on the table. 
+Go and get the child," said he. 
+
+A^ that moment Thénardier advanced to the middle of th^ 
+\)om, and said : — 
+
+" Monsieur owes twenty-six sous." 
+
+' Twenty -six sous ! " exclaimed his wife. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. lOS 
+
+" Twenty sous for the chamber," resumed Thénardier, coldly, 
+" and six sous for his supper. As lor the child, I must discuss 
+that matter a little witli the gentleman. Leave us, wife." 
+
+Madame Thénardier was dazzled as with the shock caused by 
+unexpected lightning flashes of talent. She was conscious that 
+a great actor was making his entrance on the stage, uttered not 
+a word in reply, and left the room. 
+
+As soon as they were aloge, Thénardier offered the traveller 
+a chair. The traveller seated himself; Thénardier remained 
+standing, and bis face assumed a singular expression of good- 
+fellowship and simplicity. 
+
+" Sir," said he, '' what I have to say to you is this, that I 
+adore that child." 
+
+The stranger gazed intently at him. 
+
+"What child?" 
+
+Thénardier continued : — 
+
+" How strange it is, one grows attached. What money is 
+that? Take back your hundred-sou piece. I adore the child." 
+
+" Whom do you mean?" demanded the stranger. 
+
+"Eh ! our little Cosette ! Are j^ou not intending to take her 
+away from us? Well, I speak frankly ; as true as you are an 
+honest man, T will not consent to it. I shall miss that child. 
+I saw her first when she was a tiny thing. It is true that she 
+costs us money ; it is true that she has her faults ; it is true that 
+we are not rich ; it is true that I have paid out over four hun- 
+dred francs for drugs for just one of her illnesses ! But one 
+must do something for the good God's sake. She has neither 
+father nor mother. I have brought her up. I have bread 
+enough for her and for myself. In tmth, I think a great deal 
+of that child. You understand, one conceives an affection for 
+a person ; I am a good sort of a beast, I am ; I do not reason ; 
+I love that little girl ; my wife is quick-tempered, but she loves 
+her also. You see, she is just the same as our own child. I 
+want to keep her to babble about the house." 
+
+The stranger kept his eye intently fixed on Thénardier. The 
+latter continued : — 
+
+"Excuse me, sir, but one does not give away one's child to 
+a passer-by, like that. I am right, am I not? Still, I don't 
+say — you are rich ; you have the air of a very good man, — if 
+it were for her happiness. But one must find out that. You 
+understand : suppose that I were to let her go and to sacrifice 
+myself, I should like to know what becomes of her ; I should 
+not wish to lose sight of her ; I should like to know with whom 
+she is living, so that I could go to see her from time to time ; so 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+110 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+that she may know that her good foster-father is alive, that he it 
+watching over her. In short, there are things which are not pos- 
+sible. I do not even know your name. If you were to take her 
+away, I should say : ' Weil, and the Lark, what has become 
+of her?' One must, at least, see some petty scrap of paper, 
+some trifle in the way of a passport, you know ! " 
+
+The stranger, still surveying him with that gaze which pene- 
+trates, as the saying goes, to the vgry depths of the conscience, 
+replied in a grave, firm voice : — 
+
+'' Monsieur Thénardier, one does not require a passport to 
+travel five leagues from Paris. If I take Cosette away, I shall 
+take her away, and that is the end of the matter. You will not 
+know my name, you will not know my residence, 3'ou will not 
+know where she is ; and my intention is that she shall never sot 
+eyes on you again so long as she lives. I break the thread 
+which binds her foot, and she departs. Does that suit you? 
+Yes or no ? " 
+
+Since geniuses, like demons, recognize the presence of a supe- 
+rior God by certain signs, Thénardier comprehended that he 
+had to deal with a very strong person. It was like an intuition ; 
+he comprehended it with his clear and sagacious promptitude- 
+While drinking with the carters, smoking, and singing coarse 
+songs on the preceding evening, he had devoted the whole of 
+the time to observing the stranger, watching liim like a cat, 
+and studying him like a mathematician. He had watched him, 
+both on his own account, for the pleasure of the thing, and 
+through instinct, and had spied upon him as though he had 
+been paid for so doing. Not a movement, not a gesture, op 
+the part of the man in the yellow great-coat had escrtped him. 
+Even before the stranger had so clearly manifested his interest 
+in Cosette, Thénardier had divined his purpose. He had caught 
+the old man's deep glances returning constantl}* to the child* 
+Who was this man? Why this interest? Why this hideoup 
+costume, when he had so much money in his purse? Questions 
+which he put to hiuiself without being able to solve them, and 
+which irritated him. He had pondered it all night long. He 
+could not be Cosette's father. Was he her grandfather? Then 
+why not make himself known at once ? When one has a right, 
+one asserts it. This man evidently had no right over Cosette. 
+What was it, then? Thénardier lost himself in conjectures. He 
+caught glimpees of everything, but he saw nothing. Be that 
+as it may, on entering into conversation with the man, sure 
+ihat there was some secret in the case, that the latter had 
+some mterest in remaining in the shadow, he felt himself 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+ÇOSETTE, m 
+
+strong; when he perceived from the stranger's dear and 
+firm retort, that this mysterious personage was mysterious in 
+so simple a way, he became conscious tliat he was weak* He 
+iiad expected nothing of the sort. His conjectures were put to 
+the rout. He rallied liis ideas. He weighed everything in the 
+space of a second. Thénardier was one of those men wlio take 
+in a situation at a glance. He decided that the moment imd 
+arrived for proceeding straightforward, and quickly at that. He 
+did as great leaders do at the decisive moment, wliich they 
+know that they alone recognize ; he abi-uptly unmasked his 
+batteries. 
+
+'^ Sir," said he, '*I am in need of fifteen hundred francs." 
+
+Tlie stranger took from his side pocket an old pocketbook 
+of black leather, opened it, drew out three bank-bills, which he 
+laid on the table. Then he placed his large thumb on the notes 
+and said to the inn-keeper : — 
+
+'* Go and fetch Cosette." 
+
+While this was taking place, what had Cosette been doing? 
+
+On waking up, Cosette had run to get her shoe. In it she 
+had found the gold piece. It was not a Napoleon ; it.was one 
+of those perfectly new twenty- franc pieces of the Restoration, 
+on whose effigy the little Prussian queue had replaced the laurel 
+wreath. Cosette was dazzled. Her destiny began to intoxicate 
+her. She did not know what a gold piece was ; she had never 
+seen one ; she hid it quickly in her pocket, as though she haii 
+stolen it. Still, she felt that it really was hers ; she guessed 
+whence her gift had come, but the joy which she experienced 
+was full of fear. She was happy ; above all she was stupefied. 
+Such magnificent and beautiful things did not appear real. The 
+doll frightened her, the gold piece frightened her. She ti-embled 
+vaguely in the presence of this magnificence. The stranger 
+alone did not frighten her. On the contrary, he reassured her. 
+Ever since the preceding evening, amid all her amazement, 
+even in her sleep, she had been thinking in her little childish 
+mind of that man who seemed to be so poor and so sad, and 
+who was so rich and so kind. Everything had changed for her 
+since she had met that good man in the forest. Cosette, less 
+happy than the most insignificant swallow of heaven, had never 
+known what it was to take refuge under a mother's shadow and 
+under a wing. For the last five years, that is to say, as far 
+back as her memory ran, the poor child had shivered and trem- 
+bled. She had always been exposed completely naked to the 
+sharp wind of adversity ; now it seemed to hei she was clothed. 
+Formerly her soul had seemed cold, now it was warm. Cosettf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+112 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+iras no longer afraid of tbe Thénardicr. She was do loDgei 
+alone ; there was some one there. 
+
+She hastily set about her regular morning duties. That louis, 
+which she had about her, in tlie very a])ron pocket whence the 
+fifbeen-sou piece had fallen on the night before, distracted her 
+thoughts. She dared not touch it, but she spent five minutes 
+in gazing at it, with her tongue hanging out, if the truth must 
+be told. As she swept the staircase, she paused, remained 
+standing there motionless, forgetful of her broom and of the 
+entire universe, occupied in gazing at that star which was blaz- 
+ing at the bottom of her pocket. 
+
+It was during one of these periods of contemplation that the 
+Thénardier joined her. She had gone in search of Cosette at 
+her husband's orders. AVhat was quite unprecedented, she 
+neither struck her nor said an insulting word to her. 
+
+*' Cosette," she said, almost gendy, " come immediately." 
+
+An instant later Cosette entered the public room. 
+
+The stranger took up the bundle which he had brought and 
+untied it. This bundle contained a little woollen gown, an 
+apron, a fustian bodice, a kerchief, a petticoat, woollen stock- 
+ings, shoes — a complete outfit for a girl of seven years. AH 
+was black. 
+
+'' My child," said the man, '' take these, and go and dreaB 
+yourself quickly." 
+
+Daylight was appearing when those of the inhabitants of 
+^lontfermeil who had begun to open their doors beheld a jworly 
+clad old man leading a little girl dressed in mourning, and car- 
+rying a pink doll in her arms, pass along the road to Paris, 
+They were going in the direction of Livry. 
+
+It was our man and Cosette. 
+
+No one knew the man; as Cosette was no longer in ra^irs, 
+many did not recognize her. Cosette was going away. With 
+whom? She did not know. Whither? She knew not. All 
+that she understood was that she was leaving the Thénardier 
+tavern behind her. No one had thought of bidditig her fare- 
+well, nor had she thought of taking leave of any one. She was 
+leavin<^ that hated and hating house. 
+
+Poor, gentle creature, whose heart had been repressed up to 
+that hour ! 
+
+Cosette walked along gravely, with her large eyes wide open, 
+and gazing at the sky. She had put hor lonis in the pocket of 
+her new apron. From time to time, she bent down and glanced 
+at it ; then she looked at the good man. She felt something 
+as thoujrh she were beside the good God. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 113 
+
+
+
+X. — He who seeks to betteb himself mat bendks Hlf 
+Situation Worse. 
+
+MadaME TnâNARDiER had allowed her husband to have his 
+•^WD way, as was her wont. She had expected great results. 
+When the man and Cosette had taken their departure, Thénar- 
+iier allowed a full quarter of an hour to elapse ; then he tooL: 
+-1er aside and showed her the fifteen hundred francs. 
+
+''Is that all?" said she. 
+
+It was the first time since they had set up housekeeping that 
+she had dared to criticise one of the master's acts. 
+
+The blow told. 
+
+'' You are right, in sooth," said he ; " I am a fool. Give me 
+my hat." 
+
+He folded up the three bank-bills, thrust them into his pocket, 
+and ran out in all haste ; but he made a mistake and turned to 
+the right first. Some neighbors, of whom he made inquiries, 
+put him on the track again ; the Lark and the man had been 
+seen going in the direction of Livr}'. He followed these hints, 
+walking with great strides, and talking to himself the while : — 
+
+'' That man is evidently a million dressed in yellow, and I am 
+an animal. First he gave twentj* sous, then five francs, then 
+fifty francs, then fifteen hundred francs, all with equal readi- 
+ness. He would have given fifteen thousand francs. But I 
+shall overtake him." 
+
+And then, that bundle of clothes prepared beforehand for the 
+child; all that was singular; many mysteries lay concealed 
+under it. One does not let mysteries out of one's hand when 
+one has once grasped them. The secrets of the wealthy arc 
+sponges of gold ; one must know how to subject them to pres- 
+.sure. All these thoughts whirled through his brain. '' I am 
+an animal," said he. 
+
+When one leaves Montfermeil and reaches the turn which the 
+road takes that runs to Livry, it can be seen stretching out be- 
+fore one to a great distance across ' the plateau. On arriving 
+there, he calculated that he ought to be able to see the old man 
+and the child. He looked as far as his vision reached, and saw 
+nothing. He made fresh inquiries, but he had wasted time, 
+î^ome passers-by informed him that the man and child of whom 
+lie was in search had gone towards the forest in the direction 
+<)f Oagny. He hastened in that direction. 
+
+They were far in advance of him ; but a child walks slowly, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+114 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+and he walked fast ; and then, he was well acquainted with the 
+country. 
+
+All at once he paused and dealt himself a blow on his fore- 
+head like a inau who has forgotten some essential point and 
+who is H'ady to retrace his steps. 
+
+^^ I ought to have taken my gun," said he to himself. 
+
+Thénardier was one of those double natures which sometimec 
+pass through our midst without our being aware of the fact 
+and who disap[>ear without our finding them out, because des 
+tiny has only (exhibited one side of them. It is the fate of 
+many men to live thus half submerged. In a calm and even 
+situation, Thénardier ]x>ssessed all that is required to make — - 
+we will not say to be — what people have agreed to call an hon- 
+est trader, a good bourgeois. At the same time certain circum- 
+stances being given, certain shocks arriving to bring his under- 
+nature to the surface, he had all the requisites for a blackguard. 
+He was a shopkeeper in whom there was some taint of tlie 
+monster. Satan must have occasionally crouched down in 
+some corner of the hovel in which Thénardier dwelt, and have 
+fallen a-dreaming in the presence of this hideous maaterpieee. 
+
+After a momentary hesitation : — 
+
+" Bah ! " he thought ; '' they will have time to make their es- 
+cape." 
+
+And he pursued his road, walking rapidly straight ahead, and 
+with almost an air of certainty, with the sagacity of a fox 
+scenting a covey of partridges. 
+
+In truth, when he had passed the ponds and had traversed in 
+an oblique direction the large clearing which lies on the right of 
+the Avenue de Bellevue, and reached that turf alley which 
+nearly makes the circuit of the hill, and covers the arch of the 
+ancient aqueduct of the Abbey of Chelles, he caught sight, 
+over the top of the brushwood, of the hat on which he had 
+already erected so many conjectures; it was that man's hat. 
+The brushwood was not high. Thénardier recognized the fact 
+tluit the man and Cosette were sitting there. The child could 
+Jot be seen on account of her small size, but the head of bei 
+doll was visible. 
+
+Thénardier was not mistaken. The man was sitting there, 
+and letting Cosette get somewhat rested. The inn-keeper 
+walked round the brushwood and presented himself abruptly tc 
+the eyes of those whom he v;as in search of. 
+
+"Pardon, excuse me, sir," he baid, quite breathless, ''but 
+here are your fifteen hnndred francs." 
+
+So saying, he handed the stranger the three bank-bills 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. \U 
+
+Tue man raised his eyes. 
+
+" What is the roeaniug of this? " 
+
+Thénardier replied respectf ullj : — 
+
+^^ It means, sir, that I shall take back Cosette/' 
+
+Cosette shuddered, and pressed close to the old man. 
+
+He replied, gazing to the very bottom of Thénardier's eyes 
+&e while, and enunciating every syllable distinctly : «— 
+
+" You are go-ing to take back Co-sette? " 
+
+^' Yes, sir, I am. I will tell you ; I have considered the mat- 
+ter. In fact, I have not the right to give her to you. I am an 
+honest man, you see ; this child does not belong to me ; she be- 
+longs to her mother. It was her mother who confided lier to me ; 
+Ï can only resign her to her mother. You will say to me, ' But 
+her mother is dead.' Good ; in that case I can only give the 
+child up to the person who shall bring me a writing, signed by 
+her mother, to the effect that I am to hand the child over to the 
+person therein mentioned ; that is clear." 
+
+The man, without making any reply, fumbled in his pocket, 
+and Tbénardier beheld the pocket-book of bank-bills make its 
+appearance once more. 
+
+The tavern-keeper shivered with joy. 
+
+^' Grooà ! ** thought he ; ^' let us hold firm ; he is going to bri>)e 
+me!" 
+
+Before opening the pocket-book, the traveller cast a glance 
+about him : the spot was absolutely deserted ; there was not a 
+soul either in the woods or in the valley. The man opened his 
+pocket-book once nnore and drew from it, not the handful of 
+bills which Thénardier expected, but a simple little paper, 
+which he unfolded and presented fully open to the inu-keeper, 
+saying : — 
+
+'* You are right ; read ! " 
+
+Thénardier took the paper and read : — 
+
+" M. SUR M., March 25. 182a 
+^MoKSiEnR Thénardier: — 
+
+You will deliver Cosette to this person. 
+You will be paid for all the little things. 
+I have the honor to salute you with respect, 
+
+Famtinb." 
+
+^^ Yoa know that signature? " resumed the man. 
+
+It oertainlv was Fantine's signature ; Thénardier reoogniied 
+it. 
+
+There was no reply to make; he experienced two violent 
+vexations, the vexation of renouncing the bribery which he had 
+V>ped for, and the vexation of beins; beaten ; the man added : —* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+116 LES MlSERABLlBTf. 
+
+•* You ma}' keep this paper as 3our receipt. *• 
+
+Thénardier retreated in tolerably good order. 
+
+"This signature is fairly well imitated," he growled between 
+hi3 teeth ; *' however, let it go ! " 
+
+Then he essayed a desperate effort. 
+
+" It is well, sir," he said, " since yon are the person, bat I 
+must be paid for all those little things. A great deal is owing 
+to me." 
+
+The man rose to his feet, filliping the dust from his thread 
+bare sleeve : — 
+
+" Monsieur Thénardier, in January last, the mother reckoned 
+that she owed you one hundred and twenty francs. In Febru- 
+ary, you sent her a bill of five hundred francs ; you received 
+three hundred francs at the end of February, and three hundred 
+francs at the beginning of March. Since then nine months 
+have elapsed, at fifteen francs a month, the price agreed upon, 
+which makes one hundred and thirty-five francs. You had re- 
+ceived one hundred fmncs too much ; that makes thirty-five still 
+owing you. I have just given you fifteen hundred francs.** 
+
+Thénardîer's sensations were those of the wolf at the mo- 
+ment when he feels himself nipped and seized by the steel jaw 
+of the trap. 
+
+"Who is this devil of a man? " he thought. 
+
+He did what the wolf does : he shook himself. Audacity had 
+succeeded with him once. 
+
+* ' Monsicur-I-don*t-know-your-name," he said resolutely, and 
+this time casting aside all respectful ceremony, " I shaU take 
+back Cosette if you do not give me a thousand crowns." 
+
+The stranger said tranquilly : — 
+
+"Come, Cosette." 
+
+He took Cosette by his left hand, and with his right he picked 
+up his cudgel, which was lying on the ground. 
+
+Thénardier noted the enormous size of the cudgel and the 
+solitude of the spot. 
+
+The man plunged into the forest with the child, leaving the 
+inn-koeper motionless and speechless. 
+
+While they were walking away, Thénardier scrutinized hii 
+huge shoulders, which were a little rounded, and his great 
+fists. 
+
+Then, bringing his eyes back to his own person, they fell a|)OD 
+his feeble arms and his thin hands. " I really must have beec 
+exceedingly stupid not to have thought to bring my giui," Lc 
+said to himself, '* since I was going hunting ! " 
+
+However, the inn-keeper did not give up. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+L'OSETTE. lir 
+
+" I want CO know where he is going," said he, and he set out 
+to follow them at a distance. Two things were left on liid 
+hands, an irony in the shape of the paper signed Fantine^ and 
+a consolation, the fifteen hundred francs. 
+
+The man led Cosette off in the direction of Livry and Bondy. 
+He walked slowly, with drooping head, in an attitude of reflec» 
+tion and sadness. The winter had thinned out the forest, so 
+that Thénardier did not lose them from sight, although he kept 
+at a good distance. The man turned round from time to time, 
+and looked to sec if he was being followed. All at once he 
+caught sight of Thénardier. He plunged suddenly into the 
+brushwood with Cosette, where they could both hide them- 
+selves. '' The deuce ! " said Thénardier, and he redoubled his 
+pace. 
+
+The thickness of the undei^owth forced him to draw nearer 
+to them. When the man had reached the densest part of the 
+thicket, he wheeled ronnd. It was in vain that Thénardier 
+sought to conceal himself in the branches ; he could not prevent 
+the man seeing him. The man cast upon him an uneasy glance, 
+then elevated his head and continued his course. The inn- 
+keeper set out again in pursuit. Thus they continued for two 
+or three hundred paces. All at once the man turned round 
+once more ; he saw the inn-keeper. This time he gazed at 
+bim with so sombre an air that Thénardier dc'cided that it was 
+^^ useless " to proceed further. Thénardier retraced his steps. 
+
+
+
+XL — Number 9,430 reappears, and Cosette wins rr in the 
+
+Lottery. 
+
+Jean Yaljean was not dead. 
+
+When he fell into the sea, or rather, when he threw himself 
+Into it, he was not ironed, as we have seen. He swam under 
+water until he reached a vessel at anchor, to which a boat was 
+moored. He found means of hiding himself in this boat until 
+night. At night he swam off again, and reached the shore a 
+little way from Cape Brun. There, as ho did not lack money, 
+he procured clothing. A small country-house in the neighbor- 
+bood of Balaguier was at that time the dressing-room of escaped 
+convicts, — a lucrative specialty. Then Jejui Valjean, like all 
+the sorry fugitives who are seeking to evade the vigilance of 
+the law and social fatality, pursued an oliscure and undulating 
+itinerary. He found his first refuge at Pradojuix, nonr Beans- 
+a^t. Then he directed his course towards Grand- Vilhird, nea 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+118 
+
+
+
+LES MISERABLES. 
+
+
+
+Briançon, In the Hautes Alpes. It was a f ambiing and aaeasj 
+flight* — a mole's track, whose branchings are untraceable, 
+liater on, some trace of his passage into Ain, in the territory 
+of Civrieux, was discovered: in the Pyrenees, at Accons; at 
+the spot called G range-de-Doumec, near the market of Cha- 
+vailles, and in the environs of Perigueux at Brunies, canton of 
+La Cha))elle-(Tonagnet. He reached Paris. We have Just seen 
+him at Moutfermcil. 
+
+His first care on arriving in Paris had been to buy mourning 
+clothes for a little girl of from seven to eight 3'ears of age ; then 
+to procure a loilging. That done, he had betaken himself to 
+MontftM-meil. It will be remembered that already, during his 
+preceding escape, he had made a mysterious trip thither, or 
+somewhere in that neighborhood, of which the law had gathered) 
+an inkling. 
+
+However, he was thought to l>e dead, and this still farthet 
+increased the obscurity which had gathered about hira. At 
+Paris, one of the journals which chronicled the fact fell into hit 
+Hands. He felt reassured and almost at peace, as though ht 
+i)ad really been dead. 
+
+On the evening of the day when Jean Valjean rescued Co- 
+sette from the claws of the Thénardiers, he returned to Parie^ 
+He re-entered it at nightfall, with the child, by way of the Barrier 
+Monceaux. There he entered a cabriolet, whibh took him t) 
+the esplanade of the Observatoire. There he got ont, paid thi 
+coachman, took Cosette by the hand, and together they directe<l 
+their steps through the darkness, — through the desei-ted streeti 
+#hich adjoin the Ourcine and the Glacière, towards the Boule- 
+vard de THApital. 
+
+The day had been strange and filled with emotions for Co- 
+sette. IThey had eaten some bread and cheese purchased in 
+isolated taverns, behind hedges ; they had changed carriages 
+fr(H|uently; they had travelled short distances on foot. She 
+niade no complaint, but she was weary, and Jean Valjean per- 
+ceived it by tlic way she dragged more and more on his hand 
+as she walked. He tc)ok her on his back. Cosette, without 
+letting go of Catherine, laid her head on Jean Valjean'i 
+shoulder, and there fell asleep. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+VOUETTV,. 119 
+
+
+
+BOOK FOURTH,— THE GORBEAU HOVEL 
+I. — Master Gorbbau. 
+
+FoinT yeare ago, a rambler who had ventured into that 
+oiknown country of the Salpétrière, and who had mounted to 
+the Barrière d'Italie by way of the boulevard, reached a point 
+where it miglit be said that Pi^ris disappeared. It was no 
+longer solitude, for there were passers-by ; it was not the coun- 
+try, for there were houses and streets ; it was not the city, foi 
+the streets had ruts like highways, and the grass grew in them , 
+it was not a village, the houses were too lofty. What was it, 
+then ? It was an inhabited spot where there was no one ; it was 
+a desert place where there was some one ; it was a boulevard of 
+Uie great city, a street of Paris ; more wild at night than the 
+forest, more gloomy by day than a cemetery. 
+
+It was the old quarter of the Marché-aux-Chevaux. 
+
+The rambler, if he risked himself outside the four decrepit 
+walls of this Marché-aux-Chevaux ; if he consented even to 
+pass beyond the Rue du Petit- Banquier, after leaving on his 
+right a garden protected by high walls ; then a field in which 
+tan-bark mills rose like gigantic beaver huts ; then an enclosure 
+encumbered with tim])er, with a heap of stumps, sawdust, and 
+shavings, on which stood a large dog, barking ; then a long, 
+low, utterly dilapidated wall, with a little black door in mourn- 
+ing, laden with mosses, which were covered with flowers in the 
+spring ; then, in the most deserted spot, a frightful and decrepit 
+building, on which ran the inscription in large letters : POST 
+NO BILLS, — this daring rambler would have reached little 
+known latitudes at the corner of the Rue des Vignes-Saiut- 
+Marcel. There, near a factory, and between two garden walls, 
+shere could be seen, at that epoch, a mean building, which, at 
+ttie first glance, seemed as small as a thatched hovel, and which 
+was, in reality, as large as a cathedral. It presented its side 
+and gable to the public road ; hence its apparent diminutiveness. 
+Nearl}' the whole of the house was hidden. Only the door and 
+one window could be seen. 
+
+This hovel was only one story high. 
+
+The first detail that struck the obsei'ver was, that the dod 
+«ould never have been anything but the door of a hovel, whilr 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+120 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Che window, if it had been carved out of dressed stone instead 
+of being in rough masonry, might have been the lattice of ii 
+lordly mansion. 
+
+The door was nothing but a collection of worm-eaten plank? 
+roughly bound together by cross-beams which resembled roaghlv 
+hewn logs. It opened directly on a steep staircase of lofty 
+steps, muddy, chalky, plaster-stained, dusty steps, of the same 
+width as itself, which could be seen from tlie street, runnino 
+straight up like a ladder aud disappearing in the darkness be- 
+tween two walls. The top of the shapeless bay into which this 
+door shut was masked by a narrow scantling in the centre of 
+which a triangular hole had been sawed, which served both as 
+wicket and air-hole when the door was closed. On the inside 
+of the door the figures 52 had been traced with a couple of 
+strokes of a brush dipped in ink, and above the scantling the 
+same hand had daubed the number 50, so that one hesitated. 
+Where was one? Above the door it said, " Number 50" ; the 
+hjside replied, " no, Number 52." No one knows what dust- 
+colored figures were suspended like draperies from the trianguiai 
+opening. 
+
+The window was large, sufficiently elevated, garnished with 
+Venetian blinds, and with a frame in large square panes ; only 
+these large panes were suffering from various wounds, which 
+were both concealed and betrayed by an ingenious i)aper band- 
+age.* And the blinds, dislocated and unpasted, thieatencd 
+passers-by rather than screened the occupants. The horizontal 
+slats were missing here and there and had been naïvely replaced 
+with boards nailed on perpendicularly ; so that what began as 
+a blind ended as a shutter. This door with an unclean, aud 
+this window with an honest though dilapidated air, thus behi'ld 
+on the same house, produced the effect of two incomplete beg- 
+gara walkhig side by side, with different miens beneath the 
+same rags, the one having always been a mendicant, and the 
+other having once been a gentleman. 
+
+The staircase led to a very vast edifice which resembled a 
+shed which had been converted into a house. This edifice hacK 
+for its intestinal tube, a long corridor, on which opened to right 
+and left sorts of compartments of varied dimensions which 
+were inhabitable under stress of circumstances, and rather more 
+like stalls than cells. These chambers received their light from 
+the vague waste grounds in the neighborhood. 
+
+All this was dark, disagreeable, wan, melancholy, sepulchral ; 
+traversed according as the crevices lay in the roof or in thf 
+door, by cold ravs or by icy winds. An interesting aud pictur> 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+VOSETTB. lt\ 
+
+Mine pecnliarity of this sort of dwelling is the enormous size of 
+•'ir spiders. 
+
+To the left of the entrance door', on the boulevard side, at 
+about the height of a man from the ground, a small window 
+which had been walled up formed a square niche fhll of stones 
+which the children had thrown there as they passed by. 
+
+A portion of this building has recently been demolished. 
+From what still remains of it one can form a judgment as to 
+what it was in former dîlys. As a whole, it was not over a 
+hundred yeara old. A hundred years is youth in a church and 
+age in a house. It seems as though man's lodging partook of 
+bis ephemeral character, and God's house of his eternity. 
+
+The postmen called the house Number 50-52; but it was 
+known in the neighborhood as the Gorbeau house. 
+
+Let us explain whence this appellation was derived. 
+
+Collectoi-s of petty details, who become lierbalists of aneo« 
+dotes, and prick slippery dates into their memories with a pin, 
+know that there was in Paris, during the last century, about 
+1770, two attorneys at the Châtelet named, one Corbeau 
+(Raven), the other Renard (Fox). The two names had been 
+forestalled by La Fontaine. The opportunity was too fine for 
+die lawyers ; they made the most of it. A parody was immedi- 
+ately put in circulation in the galleries of the court-house, im 
+Terses that limped a little : — 
+
+Mattre Corbeau, sur un dossier perchd, * 
+Tenait dans son bec ane saisie exécutoire; 
+
+Mattre Renard, par Todeur alMché, 
+Lui fit à peu près cette histoire : 
+Hél bonjour. Etc. 
+
+The two honest practitioners, embarrassed by the jests, and 
+finding the bearing of their heads interfered with by the shouts 
+of laughter which followed them, resolved to get rid of their 
+names, and hit u|)on the expedient of applying to the king. 
+
+Their petition was presented to Louis XV. on the same day 
+Ti^hen the Papal Nuncio, on the one hand, and the Cardinal de 
+ia Roche-Aymon on the other, both devoutly kneeling, were 
+sach engaged in putting on, in his Majesty's presence, a slipped 
+DO the bare feet of Madame du Barry, who had just got out of 
+bed. The king, who was laughing, continued to laugh, passed 
+gayly from the two bishops to the two lawyers, and bestowed 
+on these limbs of the law their former names, or nearly so, 
+
+1 Lawyer Corbeau, perched on a docket, held in his beak a writ of exec» 
+tlon ; lawyer Renard, attracted by the smell, addressed him nearly as folr 
+tows, elc 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+122 LBS MISERABLES. 
+
+By Ibe Idng's oomni&Dd, Maître Corbeau was permitted to mU 
+
+a tail to his initiai letter and to call himself Gorbeau. Midtr^ 
+Renard was less lucky ; all he obtained was leave to place a F 
+in front of his R, and to call himself Prenard ; bo that tht 
+second name bore almost as much resemblance as the first. 
+
+Now, according to local tradition, this Maître Gorbeau had 
+been the proprietor of the building numbered 50-4»2 on the 
+Boulevard de l'Hôpital. He was even the author of the monu^ 
+mental window. 
+
+Hence the edi6ce bore the name of the Gorbeau house. 
+
+Opposite this house, among the trees of the boulevard, rose 
+a great elm which was three-quarters dead; almost directly 
+facing it opens the Rue de la Barrière des Gobelins, a street 
+then without houses, unpaved, planted with unhealthy trees, 
+which was green or muddy according to the season, and whid 
+ended squarely in the exterior wall of Paris. An odor of oop 
+peras issued in pufTs from the roofs of the neighboring factory 
+
+The barrier was close at hand. In 1823 the city wall wan 
+still in existence. 
+
+This barrier itself evoked gloomy fancies in the mind. It waf 
+the road to Bicetre. It was through it that, under the Empire 
+and the Restoration, prisoners condemned to death re-entered 
+Paris on the day of their execution. It was there, that, abou^ 
+1829, was committi'd that mysterious assassination, called ^^ Thf? 
+assassination of the Fontainebleau barrier," whose authors justice^ 
+was never able to discover ; a melancholy problem which baa 
+never been elucidated, a frightful enigma which has never beec 
+unriddled. Take a few steps, and you come upon that fatal Rue 
+Croulebarbe, where Ulbacli stabbed the goat-girl of Ivry to the 
+sound of thunder, as in the melodramas. A few paces more, 
+and you arrive at the abominable pollarded elms of the Barrière 
+Saint- Jacques, that expedient of the philanthropist to conoeal 
+the scaffold, that miserable and shameful Place de Grève of a 
+shop-keeping and bourgeois society, which recoiled before the 
+death penalty, neitlier daring to abolish it with grandeur, nor 
+to uphold it with authority. 
+
+Leaving aside tliis Place Saint-Jaex^ues, which was, as it were^ 
+predestined, and which has always been horrible, probablj the 
+most mournful spot on that mournful boulevard, seven and 
+thirty years ago, was the spot which even to-day is so unattrac* 
+tive, where stood the building Number 50-52. 
+
+Bourgeois houses only began to spring up there twenty-fiye 
+ycîirs later. The place was unpleasant. In addition to the 
+gloomy thou«:hts which assailed one there, one was conscioua of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 123 
+
+1.1 ing between the Salpêtrière, a glimpse of whose dome oonld 
+l»e seen, and Bicêtre, whose outskirts one was fairly touching ; 
+that is to say, between the madness of women and the madnebs.4 
+i^f men. As far as the eye eould see, one could perceive noth- 
+ing but the abattoirs, the city wall, and the fronts of a few 
+factories, resembling barracks or monasteries ; everywhere 
+9bout stood hovels, rubbish, ancient walls blackened like cere 
+cloths, new white walls like winding-sheets ; everywhere paral 
+lei rows of trees, buildings erected on a line, flat constructions. 
+Jlong, cold rows, and the melancholy sadness of right angles 
+Not an uncvenness of the ground, not a caprice in the architec 
+tnre, not a fold. The ensemble was glacial, regular, hideous. 
+Nothing oppresses the heart like symmetry. It is because sym- 
+metry is ennui, and ennui is at the very foundation of grief. 
+i3espair yawns. Something more terrible than a hell where one 
+suffers may be iraf^ined, and that is a hell where one is bored. 
+If such a hell existed, that bit of the Boulevard de l'Hôpital 
+tjiight have formed the entrance to it. 
+
+Nevertheless, at nightfall, at the moment when the dajiight 
+is vanishing, especially in winter, at the hour when the twilight 
+breeze tears from the elms their last russet leaves, when the 
+darkness is deep and starless, or when the moon and the wind 
+are making openings in the clouds and losing themselves in the 
+shadows, this boulevard suddenly becomes frightful. The 
+tihick lines sink inwards and are lost in the shades, like morseli 
+uf the infinite. The passer-by cannot refrain from recalling 
+(he innumerable traditions of the place which are connected 
+\fith the gibbet. The solitude of this spot, where so many 
+crimes have been committed, had something terrible about it. 
+One almost had a presentiment of meeting with traps in thaDf 
+darkness ; all the confused forms of the darkness seemed sus- 
+picious, and the long, hollow square, of which one caught a 
+glimpse between each tree, seemed graves : by day it was ugly ; 
+in the evening melancholy ; by night it was sinister. 
+
+In summer, at twilight, one saw, here and there, a few old 
+women seated at the foot of the elm, on benches mouldy witb 
+rain. These good old women were fond of begging. 
+
+However, this quarter, which had a superannuated rather 
+than an antique air, was tending even then to transformation. 
+Even at that time any one who was desirous of seeing it had 
+to make haste. Each day some detail of the whole effect was 
+disappearing. For the last twenty years the station of the 
+Orleans railway has stood beside the old faubourg and distracted 
+!t» as it does to-day. Wherever it is placed on the borders of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+J 24 ^P^S MISERA nLEX 
+
+a capital, a railway station is the death of a snbarb and ISn 
+birth of a city. It seems as though, around these great contrrs 
+of the movements of a people, the earth, full of germs, trembled 
+«ind yawned, to engulf the ancient dwellings of men and to allow 
+.lew ones to spruig forth, at the rattle of these powerfal 
+nachines, at the breath of these monstrous horses of civiliza- 
+tion which devour coal and vomit fire. The old houses crumble 
+and new ones rise. 
+
+Since the Orleans railwa}^ has invaded the region of the Sal- 
+pe trière, the ancient, narrow streets which adjoin the moats 
+Saint- Vict<jr and the Jardin des Plantes tremble, as they are 
+violently traversed three or four times each day by those cur- 
+rents of coach fiacres and omnibuses which, in a given time, 
+crowd back the houses to the right and the led ; for there are 
+things which are odd when said that are rigorously exact ; and 
+just as it is true to say that in large cities the sun makes the 
+southern fronts of houses to vegetate and grow, it is certain 
+tliat the frequent passage of vehicles enlarges streets. The 
+symptoms of a new life are evident. In this old provincial 
+quarter, in the wildest nooks, the pavement shows itself, the 
+sidewalks begin to crawl and to grow longer, even where there 
+are as yet no pedestrians. One morning, — a memorable 
+morning in July, 1845, — black pots of bitumen were seen 
+smoking there ; on that day it might be said that civilizatiOD 
+had arrived in the Rue de TOurcine, and that Paris had entered 
+the suburb of Saint-Marceau. 
+
+II. — A Nest for Owl and a Warble». 
+
+It was in f)*ont of this Gorbeau house that Jean Valjean 
+halted. Like wild birds, he had chosen this desert place to 
+construct his nest. 
+
+He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, drew out a sort of « 
+pass-key, opened tlie door, entered, closed it again carefully, 
+and ascended the staircase, still carrying Cosctte. 
+
+At the top of the stairs he drew from his pocket another key, 
+with which he opened another door. The chamber which he 
+entered, and which he closed again instantly, was a kind of 
+moderately spacious attic, fnmished with a mtittrcss laid on the 
+floor, a table, and several chairs ; a stove in which a fire waa 
+burning, and whose embers were visible, stood in one corner, 
+A lantern on the boulevard cast a vague light into this poor room- 
+At the extreme end there was a dressing-room with a folding 
+bed : Jean Valjean carHod tlie child to this bed and laid bef 
+down there witliout wakin;jc heK«> • 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 125 
+
+He Btruck a match and lighted a candle. All this was pre 
+[:ared beforehand on the table, and, as he had done on the 
+previous evening, he began to scrutinize Cosette's face with a 
+^'aze full of ecstasy, in which the expression of kindness and 
+tenderness almost amounted to aberration. Tlie little girl, 
+with that tranquil confidence which belongs only to extreme 
+strength and extreme weakness, had fallen asleep without 
+knowing with whom she was, and continued to sleep without 
+knowhig where she was. 
+
+Jean Val jean bent down and kissed that child's hana. 
+
+Nine mouths before he had kissed the hknd of the mothef) 
+who had also just fallen asleep. 
+
+The same sad, piercing, religious sentiment filled his heart. 
+
+He knelt beside Cosette's bed. 
+
+It was broad daylight, and the child still slept. A wan ray 
+(if the December sun penetrated the window of the attic and 
+lay upon the ceiling in long threads of light and shade. All 
+3it once a heavily laden carrier's cart, which was passing along 
+the boulevard, shook the frail bed, like a clap of thunder, and 
+made it quiver from top to bottom. 
+
+" Yes, Madame ! " cried Cosette, waking with a start, " here 
+IJ am ! here I am ! " 
+
+And she sprang out of bed, her eyes still half shut with til 
+heaviness of sleep, extending her arms towards the corner on 
+♦he wall. 
+
+'* Ah, mon Dieu, my broom ! " said she. 
+
+She oi)ened her eyes wide now, and beheld the smiling conn 
+lenance of Jean Valjean. 
+
+*'*' Ah ! so it is true ! " said the child. '^ Good morning, Mon- 
+sieur." 
+
+Children accept joy and happiness Instantly and familiarly, 
+being themselves by nature joy and happiness. 
+
+Cosette caught sight of Catherine at the foot of her bed, and 
+took possession of her, and, as she played, she put a hundred 
+questions to Jean Valjean. Where was she? Was Paris very 
+Jai-ge? Was Madame Thénardier very far away? Was she to 
+i;o back? etc., etc. All at once she exclaimed, '^Uowprett/ 
+it is here I " 
+
+It was a frightful hole, but she felt free. 
+
+*' Must I sweep?" she resumed at last. 
+
+" Play ! " said Jean Valjean. 
+
+The day passed thus. Cosette, without troubling herself to 
+anderstanh anything, was inexpressibly happy with that doï 
+i'ud that kind man. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+126 i»SS MISERABLES 
+
+
+
+KL — Two Misfortunes hake One Piece op Good Portuni 
+
+On the following morning, at daybreak, Jean Valjean was 
+still by Cosette's l)edside ; he watcued there uiotionless, waitin^» 
+tor her to wake. 
+
+Some new thing had come into his soul. 
+
+Jean Valjean had never loved anything ; for twenty- five years 
+be had been alone in the world. He bad never beon father, 
+lover, husband, friend. In the prison he had been vicicms, 
+gloomy, chaste, ignorant, and shy. The heart of tluit ex-con- 
+vict was full of virginity'. His sister and his sister's children 
+had left him only a vague and far-off memory whicn had finally 
+almost completely vanished ; he had made every effort tf) find 
+them, and not having been able to find them, he had forgotten 
+them. Human nature is made thus ; the other tender emo- 
+tions of his youth, if he had ever had any, had fallen into ao 
+abyss. 
+
+When he saw Cosette, when he had taken possession of her, 
+carried her off, and delivered her, he felt his heart moved within 
+him. 
+
+All the passion and affection within him awoke, and rushed 
+towards that child. He a[)proached the bed, where she lay 
+sleeping, and trembled with joy. He suffered all the pangs of a 
+mother, and he knew not what it meant ; for that great and 
+singular movement of a heart which* begins to love is a very 
+obscure and a ver}' sweet thing. 
+
+Poor old man, with a perfectly new heart Î 
+
+Only, as he was five and fifty, and Cosette eight years of age, 
+all that raiglit have been love in the whole course of his life 
+flowed together into a sort of ineffa])lc light. 
+
+It was the second white apparition which he had encountered 
+The Bishop had caused the dawn of virtue to rise on his hon 
+zon ; Cosette caused tlie dawn of love to rise. 
+
+The early days passed in this dazzled state. 
+
+Cosette, on her side, had also, unknown to herself, become 
+another being, poor little thing ! She was so little when her 
+mother left her, that she no longer remembered her. Like all 
+children, who resemble young shoots of the vine, which clinjr 
+to everything, she had tried to love ; she had not succeeded, 
+All had repulsed her, — the Thénardîers, their children, other 
+children. She had loved the dog, and he had died, after which 
+nothing and nobody would have anything to do with her. It if 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTB, 121 
+
+/ oad thing to sayi» and we have already intimated it, that, M 
+eight years of age, hei' heart was cold. It was not her fault; 
+it was not the faculty of loviug that she lacked ; alas ! it wa| 
+the possibility. Thus, from the very first day, all her sentieu* 
+and thinking powers loved this kind man. She felt that which 
+she had never felt before — a sensation of expansion. 
+
+The man no longer produced on her the effect of being old o? 
+poor ; she thought Jean Valjean handsome, just as she thought 
+the hovel pretty. 
+
+These are the effects of the dawn, of childhood, of joy. 
+The novelty of the earth and of life counts for something here. 
+Nothing is so charming as the coloring rejection of happiness 
+on a garret. We all have in our past a delightful garret. 
+
+Nature, a difference of fifty jears, had set a profound gulf 
+l)etween Jean Valjean and Cosette ; destiny filled in this gulf. 
+Destiny suddenly united and wedded with its irresistible power 
+these two uprooted existences, differing in age, alike in sorrow. 
+One, in fact, completed the other. Cosette's iiistinct souglit a 
+father, as Jean Val jean's mstinct sought a child. To meet was 
+to find each other. At the mysterious moment when their hands 
+touched, they were welded together. When these two souls 
+l>erceived each other, they recognized each other as necessary 
+to each other, and embraced each other closely. 
+
+Taking the words in their most comprehensive and absolute 
+sense, we may say that, separated from every one by the walls 
+of the tomb, Jean Valjean was the widower, and Cosette was 
+the or[)han : this situation caused Jean Valjean to become 
+Cosette's father after a celestial fashion. 
+
+And in truth, the mysterious impression produced on Cosette 
+in the depths of the forest of Chelles by the hand of Jean Val- 
+jean grasping hers in the dark was not an illusion, but a reality. 
+The entrance of that man into the destiny of that child had 
+l>cen the advent of God. 
+
+Moreover, Jean Valjean had chosen his refuge well. There 
+he seemed perfectly secure. 
+
+The chamber with a dressing-room, which he occupied witl 
+Cosette, was the one whose window opened on the boulevard. 
+This being the only window in the house, no neighbors' glances 
+were to be feared from across the way or at the side. 
+
+The ground-floor of Number 50-52, a sort of dilapidated 
+penthouse, served as a wagon-house for market-gardeners, 
+and no communication existed between it and the first story. 
+ft was separated by the floorinor, which had neither traps noi 
+fitairs, and which formed the diaphragm of the building, as ii 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+128 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+were. The fini story contained, as we have said, q amadous 
+chambers and several attics, only one of which was occupied 
+by the old woman who took charge of Jean Val jean's house- 
+keeping ; all the rest was uninhabited. 
+
+It was this old woman, ornamented with the name of the 
+principal lodger, and in reality intrusted with the fonctions of 
+portress, who had let him the lodging on Christmas eve. He 
+had represented himself to her as a gentleman of means who 
+had been ruined by Spanish bonds, who was coming there to 
+live with his little daughter. He had paid her six mouths in 
+advance, and had commissioned the old woman to furnish the 
+chamber and dressing-room, as we have seen. It was this good 
+woman who had lighted the fire in the stove, and prepared 
+everything on the evening of their arrival. 
+
+Week followed week ; these two beings led a happy life in 
+that hovel. 
+
+Cosette laughed, chattered, and sang from daybreak. Chil- 
+dren have their morning song as well as birds. 
+
+It sometimes 'happened that Jean Valjean clasped her tiny red 
+hand, all cracked with chilblains, and kissed it. The poor child, 
+who was used to being beaten, did not know the meaning of 
+this, and ran away in confusion. 
+
+At times slie became serious and stared at her little black 
+gown. Cosette was no longer in rags ; she was in mourning. 
+She had emerged from misery, and she was entering into life. 
+
+Jean Valjean had undertaken to teach her to read. 
+Sometimes, as he made the child spell, he remembered that it 
+was with the idea of doing evil that he had learned to read in 
+prison. This idea had ended in teaching a child to read. Then 
+tlie ex-convict smiled with the pensive smile of tlie angels. 
+
+He felt in it a premeditation from on high, the will of some 
+one who was not man, and he became absorbed in revery. 
+Good thoughts have their abysses as well as evil ones. 
+
+To teach Cosette to read, and to let her play, tliis constituted 
+nearly the whole of Jean Valjean*s existence. And then he 
+talked of her mother, and he made her pray. 
+
+She called hhn father, and knew no other name for him. 
+
+He passed hours in watching her dressing and undressing her 
+doll, and in listening to her prattle. Life, henceforth, appeared 
+to him to be full of interest; men seemed to him good and just; 
+he no longer reproached any one in thought; he saw no reason 
+why he should not live to l)e a vory old man, now that this child 
+loved him. He saw a whole future stretching put before him, 
+illuminated by Cosette as by a charming light. The best of us 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. ^ iM 
+
+are not exempt from egotistical thoughts. At times, he reflectei? 
+with a sort of joy that she would be ugly. 
+
+This is only a personal opinion ; but, to utter our whole 
+ihought, at the point where Jean Valjean had arrived when 
+he began to love Cosette, it is by no means clear to us tiiat he 
+did not need this encouragement in order that he might perse- 
+vere in well-doing. He had just viewed the malice of men and 
+the miser}- of society under a new aspect — incomplete aspects, 
+which unfortunately only exhibited one side of the truth, the 
+fate of woman as summed up in Fantine, and public authority 
+as personified in Javert. He had returned to prison, this time 
+for having done right ; he had quaffed fresh bitterness ; disgust 
+and lassitude were overpowering him ; even the memory of the 
+Bishop probably suffered a temporary eclipse, though sure to re- 
+9ppear later on luminous and triumphant; but, after all, that 
+sacred memorj* was growing dim. Who knows whether Jean 
+Valjean had not been on the eve of growing discouraged and ot 
+falling once more ? He loved and grew strong again. Alaâ! 
+he walked with no less indecision than Cosette. He protected 
+her, and she strengthened him. Thanks to him, she could walk 
+through life ; thanks to her, he could continne in virtue. He 
+was that child's stay, and she was his prop. Oh, unfathomable 
+And divine mystery of the balances of destiny I 
+
+
+
+IV. — The Remarks of the Principal Tenant. 
+
+Jean Valjean was prudent enough never to go out by day. 
+Every evening, at twilight, he walked for an hour or two, some- 
+times alone, often with Cosette, seeking the most deserted side 
+alleys of the boulevard, and entering churches at nightfall. He 
+liked to go to Saint-Médard, which is the nearest church. 
+When he did not take Cosette with him, she remained with the 
+old woman ; but the child's delight was to go out witli the good 
+man. She preferred an hour with him to all her rapturous tête- 
+à-têteft with Catherine. He held her hand as they walked, and 
+eaid sweet things to her. 
+
+It turned oat that Cosette was a very gay little person. 
+
+The old woman attended to the housekeeping and cooking 
+Hod went to market. 
+
+They lived soberly, always having a little fire, but like people in 
+very moderate circumstances. Jean Valjean had made no altera 
+ations in the furniture as it was the first day ; he had merely 
+had the glass door leading to Cosette*s dressing-room replaced 
+by a solid door. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+180 LES MISFsRABLES. 
+
+He still wore his yellow coat, his black breeches, and his old 
+.•jat. In the street, he was taken for a poor man. It somo' 
+âmes happened that kin<l-hearted women turned back to bestow 
+a sou on hira. Jean Valjean accepted the sou with a deep bow. 
+It also happened occasionally that he encountered some poor 
+wretch asking alms ; then he looked behind him to make sure 
+that no one was observing him, stealthily approached tlie un- 
+fortunate man, put a piece of money into his hand, often a sil- 
+ver coin, and walked rapidly away. This had its disadvantages. 
+He began to be known in the neighborhood under the name of 
+the beggar who gives alms. 
+
+The old principal lodger, a cross-looking creature, who was 
+thoroughly penneated, so far as her neighbors were concerned, 
+with the inquisitiveness peculiar to envious persons, scrutinized 
+Jean Valjean a great deal, without his suspecting the fact. She 
+was a little deaf, which rendei-ed her talkative. There remained 
+to her from her past, two teeth, — one above, the other below, — 
+which she was continually knocking against each other. She 
+had questioned Cosette, who had not been able to tell her any- 
+thing, since she knew nothing herself except that she had come 
+from Montfermiel. One morning, this spy saw Jean Valjean, 
+with an air which struck the old gossip as peculiar, entering one 
+of the uninhabited compartments of the hovel. She followed 
+him with the step of an old cat, and was able to observe him 
+without being seen, through a crack in the door, which was 
+directly opposite him. Jean Valjean had his back turned 
+towards this door, by way of greater security, no doubt. The 
+old woman saw him fumble in his pocket and draw thence a 
+case, scissors, and thread ; then he began to rip the lining of 
+one of the skirts of his coat, and from the opening he took a bit 
+of yellowish paper, which he unfolded. The old woman recog- 
+nized, with terror, the fact that it was a bank-bill for a thousand 
+francs. It was the second or third only that she had seen in 
+the course of her existence. She fled in alarm. 
+
+A moment later, Jean Valjean accosted her, and asked her to 
+go and get this thousand-franc bill changed for him, adding 
+that it was his quarterly income, which he had received the day 
+before. *' Where? " thought the old woman. " He did not go 
+out until six o'clock in the evening, and the government bank 
+certainly is not open at that hour." The old woman went to 
+get the bill changed, and mentioned her surmises. That thou 
+sand-franc note, commented on and multiplied, produced a vast 
+amount of terrified discussion among the gossips of the Rue des 
+Vignes Saint-Marcel. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 13; 
+
+A few dajB later, it chanced tliat Joan Yaijean was sawiog 
+some wood, in his shirt-sleeves, in the corridor. The old woman 
+was in the chamber, putting things in order. She was alone. 
+Cosette was occupied in admiring the wood as it was sawed. 
+The old woman caught sight of the coat hanging on a nail, and 
+examined it. The lining had been sewed up again. The good 
+^oman felt of it carefully, and thought she observed in the 
+skirts and revers thicknesses of paper. More thousand-frano 
+bank-bills, no doubt ! 
+
+8he also noticed that there were all sorts of things in the 
+pockets. Not only the needles, thread, and scissors which she 
+had seen, but a big pocket-book, a very large knife, and — a 
+suspicions circumstance — several wigs of various colors. Each 
+pocket of this coat had the air of being in a manner provided 
+against unexpected accidents. 
+
+Thus the inhabitants of the house reached the last days oî 
+winter. 
+
+f. — A Five-Franc Piece falls on the Ground and pro- 
+duces A Tumult. 
+
+Near Saint-Médard's church there was a poor man who waa 
+in the habit of crouching on the brink of a public well which 
+had been condemned, and on whom Jean Val jean was fond of 
+bestowing charity. He never passed this man without giving 
+him a few sous. Sometimes he spoke to him. Those who 
+envied tliis mendicant said that he belonged to the police. He 
+was an ex-beadle of seventy-five, who was constantly mumbling 
+bis prayers. 
+
+One evening, as Jean Valjean was passing by, when he had 
+not Cosette with him, he saw the beggar in his usual place, be- 
+neath the lantern which had just been lighted. The man 
+seemed engaged in prayer, according to his custom, and was 
+much bent over. Jean Valjean stepped up to him and placed 
+his customary alms in his hand. The mendicant raised his 
+eyes suddenly, stared intently at Jean Valjean, then dropped 
+his head quickly. This movement was like a flash of lightning. 
+Jean Valjean was seized with a shudder. It seemed to hin? 
+that he had just caught sight, by the light of the street lantern, 
+not of the placid and beaming visage of the old beadle, but of 
+a well-known and startling face. He experienced the same inr 
+'j^ression that one would have on finding one's self, all of a 
+feudden, face to face, in the dark, with a tiger. He recoiled, 
+terrified, petrified, daring neither to breuthe, to speak, to re 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+132 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+main, nor to flee, staring at the beggar who had dropped hie 
+head which was enveloped in a rag, and no longer appeared to 
+know that he was there. At this strange moment, an instinct 
+— possibly the mysterious instinct of self-preservation, — re- 
+strained Jean Valjean from uttering a word. The beggar ha<l 
+the same figure, the same i*ags, the same appeai*anee as be had 
+every day. *' Bah!" said Jean Valjean, ''I am mad ! T am 
+dreaming ! Impossible ! " And he returned profoundly troubled. 
+
+He hardly dared to confess, even to himself, that the face 
+which he thought he had seen was the face of Javert. 
+
+That night, on thinking the matter over, he regretted not 
+liavin£^ questioned the man, in order to force him to raise his 
+head a second time. 
+
+On the following day, at nightfall, he went back. The beg- 
+gar was at his post. " Good day, my good man," said JeaN 
+Valjean, resolutely, handing him a son. The beggar raised h»'« 
+head, and replied in a whining voice, '' Thanks, my good sir. ' 
+It was unmistakably the ex- beadle. 
+
+Jean Valjean felt completely reassured. He began to laugh . 
+*' How the deuce could I have thought that I saw Javert there ? * 
+he thought. "Am I going to lose m}' eyesight now?" An^ 
+he thought no more about it. 
+
+A few days afterwards, — it might have been at eight o'cloeh 
+in the evening, — he was in his room, and engaged in makin*^ 
+Cosette spell alond, when he heard the house door open and 
+then shut again. This struck him as singular. The old woinat», 
+who was the only inhabitant of the house except himself, alway n 
+went to bed at nightfall, so that she might not burn out her 
+candles. Jean Valjean made a sign to Cosette to be quiet. He 
+heard some one ascending the stairs. It might possibly N* 
+the old woman, who might have fallen ill and have been out 
+to the apothecary's. Jean Valjean listened. 
+
+The step was heavy, and sounded like that of a man ; bnt the 
+old woman wore stout shoes, and there is nothing which sc 
+strongly resembles the step of a man as that of an old woman. 
+Nevertheless, Jean Valjean blew out his candle. 
+
+He had sent Cosette to bed, saying to her in a low voice, 
+" Get into bed very softly " ; and as he kissed her brow, this 
+eteps paused. 
+
+Jean Valjean remained silent, motionless, with his bac>i 
+towards the door, seated on tlje chair from which he had noi 
+stirred, and holding his breath in the dark. 
+
+After the expiration of a rather long intei-val, he turned 
+round, as he heard nothing more, and, as he raised his eye» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 133 
+
+towards the door of his chamber, he saw a light through the 
+keyhole. This light formed a sort of sinister star in the black» 
+ness' of the door and the wall. There was evidently some one 
+there, who was holding a candle in ins hand and listening. 
+
+Several minutes elapsed thus, and the light retreated, lint he 
+
+'i^eard no sound of footsteps, which seemed to indicate that the 
+
+erson who had been listening at tlie door had removed his slioes. 
+
+Jean Val jean threw himself, all dressed as he was, on his 
+xhI, and could not close his eyes all night. 
+
+At daybreak, just as he was falling into a doze througli 
+fatigue, he was awakened by the creaking of a d(K)r which 
+«opened on some attic at the end of the corridor, then he heard 
+tiie same masculine footstep which had ascendecl the stairs on 
+the preceding evening. The step was approaching. He sprang 
+off the bed and applied his eye to the keyhole, which was toler- 
+ably large, hoping to see thé person who had made his way by 
+night into the house and had listened at his door, as he passed. 
+It was a man, in fact, who passed, this time without paus- 
+ing, in front of Jean Valjean*8 chamber. The corridor was 
+too dark to allow of the person's face being distinguished ; but 
+when the man reached the staircase, a ray of light from witliout 
+made it stand out like a silhouette, and Jean Val jean had a 
+complete view of his back. The man was of lofty stature, 
+clad in a long frock-coat, with a cudgel under his arm. The 
+formidable neck and shoulders belonged to Javert. 
+
+Jean Valjean might have attempted to catch another glimpse 
+of him through his window opening on the boulevard, but he 
+would have been obliged to open the window : he dared not. 
+
+It was evident that this man had entered with a key, and like 
+himself. Who had given him that key ? What was the mean- 
+ing of this ? 
+
+When the old w©man came to do the work, at seven o'clock 
+in the morning, Jean Valjean cast a penetrating glance on hor, 
+out he did not question her. The good woman appeared as 
+jsual. 
+
+As she swept up she remarked to him : — 
+
+** Possibly Monsieur may have heard some one come in last 
+mght?** 
+
+At that age, and on that boulevard, eight o'clock in the 
+evening was the dead of the night. 
+
+*' That is true, by the way," he replied, in the most natural 
+tone possible. " Who was it?" 
+
+" !*, was a new lodger who has come into the house," sai*' 
+the old woman. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+i34 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+*' And what is bis name ? " 
+
+"'^ I don't know exactly ; Duinout, or Daumont, or some naoK 
+of that sort." 
+
+'* And who is this Monsieur Dumont?" 
+
+The old woman gazed at him with her little polecat eyes, and 
+answered : — 
+
+"A gentleman of property, like yourself." 
+
+Perhaps she had no ulterior meaning. Jean Val jean thought 
+he perceived one. 
+
+When the old woman had taken her departure, he did up a 
+hundred francs which he had in a cupboard, into a roll, and put 
+it in his pocket. In spite of all the precautions which he took 
+in tliis operation so that lie might not be heard rattling silver, 
+a hundred-sou piece escaped from his hands and rolled noisily 
+on the floor. 
+
+When darkness came on, he descended and carefully scruti- 
+nized both sides of the boulevard. He saw no one. The 
+boulevard appeared to be absolutely deserted. It is true that 
+a person can conceal himself behind trees. 
+
+He went up stairs again. 
+
+" Come," he said to Cosette. 
+
+He took her by the hand, and they both went out. 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIFTH.— FOR A BLACK HUNT, A MUTE 
+
+PACK. 
+
+I. — The Zigzags of Strategy. 
+
+An observation here becomes necessary, in view of the page» 
+which the reader is about to peruse, and of others which will be 
+met with further on. 
+
+The author of this book, who regrets the necessity of men 
+tioning himself, has been absent from Paris for mauj' yeai"s. 
+Paris has been transformed since he (piitted it. A new citv 
+has arisen, which is, after a fashion, unknown to him. There 
+is no need for him to say that he loves Paris: Paris is his 
+mind's natal city. In consequence of demolitions and rccoo- 
+structions, the Paris of liis youth, that Paris which he bora 
+away religiously in his memory, is now a Paris of days gone l>y. 
+He must be permitted to speak of that Paris as though it still 
+existed. It is [)ossibie that when the author conducts his read- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. \U 
+
+a^ to a spot and aaj's, ^^ In such a street there stands such and 
+siich a house," neither street nor house will anj' longer exist in 
+i)at locality. Readers may verify the facts, if they care to 
+take the trouble. For his own part, he is unacquainted with the 
+new Paris, and he writes with the old Paris before his eyes in 
+an illusion which is precious to him. It is a delight to him to 
+dream that there still lingers behind him something of that 
+ffhich he beheld when he was in his own country, and that all 
+has not vanished. So long as you go and come in your 
+ûative land, you imagine that those streets are a matter of in- 
+difference to you ; that those windows, those roofs, and those 
+doors are nothing to you ; that those walls are strangers to 
+you ; that those trees are merely the first encountered hap-haz- 
+ard ; that those houses, which you do not enter, are useless to 
+you ; that the pavements which you tread are merely stones. 
+Later on, when you are no longer there, you perceive that the 
+streets are dear to you ; that you miss those roofs, those doors ; 
+and that those walls are necessary to you, those trees are well 
+beloved by you ; that you entered those houses which jou never 
+entered, every day, and that you have left a part of your heart, 
+of your blood, of your soul, in those pavements. All those 
+places which you no longer behold, which you may never behold 
+again, perchance, and whose memory you have cherished, take 
+on a melancholy charm, recur to your mind with the melancholy 
+of an apparition, make the holy land visible to you, and are, so 
+to si>eak, the very form of France, and you love them ; and you 
+call them up as they are, as they were, and you persist in this, 
+and you will submit to no change : for you are attached to the 
+figure of your fatherland as to the face of your mother. 
+
+May we, then, be permitted to speak of the past in the pres- 
+ent? That said, we beg the reader to take note of it, and we 
+continue. 
+
+Jean Valjean instantly quitted the boulevard and plungod 
+into the streets, taking the most intricate lines which he could 
+ievise, returning on his track at times,' to make sure that he 
+vas not being followed. 
+
+This manœuvre is peculiar to the hunted stag. On soil where 
+an imprint of the track may be left, this manœuvre possesses, 
+among other advantages, that of deceiving the huntsmen and 
+the dogs, by throwing thom on the wrong scent. In venery 
+this is calle(f false re-imhushwenf. 
+
+The moon was full that night. Jean Valjean was not sorry 
+for this. The moon, still very close to the horizon, cast great 
+«aa^^ses of light and shadow in the streets. Jean Valjean couJa] 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+186 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+glide along dose to the houses on the dark side, and yet keep 
+watch of the light side. lie did not, perhaps, tiike suîîicicQtlv 
+into consideration the fact tiiat the dark side escaped him. 
+Still, in the deserted lanes which lie near the Hue Poli veau, he 
+thought he felt certain tliat no one was following him. 
+
+Cosette walked on without asking any questions. The suf- 
+ferings of the first six years of her life had instilled sometliing 
+passive into her nature. Moreover, — and this is a remark tc 
+which we shall frequently have occasion to recur, — siie had 
+grown used, without being herself aware of it, to the peculiari- 
+ties of this good man and to tiie freaks of destiny. And then 
+she was with him, and she felt safe. 
+
+Jean Valjean knew no more where he was going than did Co- 
+sette. lie trusted in God, as she trusted in him. It seemeilas 
+though he also were clinging to the hand of some one greater 
+than himself ; he thought he felt a being leading him, tliough 
+invisible. However, he had no settled idea, no plan, no pro- 
+ject. He was not even absolutely sure that it -was Javert, and 
+then it might have been Javert, without Javert knowing that he 
+was Jean V^aljean. Was not he disguised? Was not he be-' 
+lieved to be dead? Still, queer things had l)een going on for 
+severa!. days. He wanted no more of them. He was deter- 
+mined not to return to the Gorbeau house. Like the wild ani- 
+mal chased from its lair, he was seeking a hole in which be 
+roight hide until he could find one where he might dwell. 
+
+Jean Valjean described many and varied labyrinths in the 
+Mouffetard quarter, which was already asleep, as though the 
+discipline of the Middle Ages and the yoke of the curfew still 
+existed ; he combined in various manners, with cunning strat- 
+egy, the Rue Censier and the Rue Copeau, the Rue du Battoir- 
+Saint- Victor and the Rue du Puits TErmite. There are lodging- 
+houses in this locality, but he did not even enter one, fiuding 
+nothing which suited him. He had no doubt tiiat if any one 
+had chanced to be upon his track, they would have lost it. 
+
+As eleven o'clock struck from Saint-Étienne-du-M(mt, he wa£ 
+traversing the Rue de Pontoise, in front of the office of the 
+commissary of police, situated at No. 14. A few moment'^ 
+later, the instinct of which we have spoken above made him 
+turn round. At that moment he saw distinctly, thanks to the 
+commissary's lantern, which betrayed them, three men who 
+were following him closely, pass, one after the other, under 
+that lantern, on the dark side of the street. One of the three 
+entered the alley leading to the commissary's house. The one 
+who marched at their head struck him as decidedly suspicious. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 13? 
+
+'^ Come, child," he said to Cosette ; and he miide haste to 
+quit the line Poiitoise. 
+
+He to(^k a circuit, turned into the Passage des Patriarches, 
+which was closed on account of the hour, strode along tlie Rue 
+de rÉpée-de-Bois and the Rue de l'Arbalète, and plunged into 
+the Rue des Postes. 
+
+At that time there was a square formed by the intersection of 
+streets, where the College Rolliu stands to-day, and where tbe 
+Rue Neuve-Sainte-Geneviève tnrns off. 
+
+It is understood, of course, that the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Gene- 
+viève is an old street, and that a posting-chaise does not pxiss 
+through the Rue des Postes once in ten years. In the thirteenth 
+century this Rue des Postes was inhabited by potters, and its 
+real name is Rue des Pots. 
+
+The moon cast a vivid light into this open space. Jean Val- 
+jean went into ambush in a doorway, calculating that if the 
+men were still following him, he could not fail to get a good 
+look at them, as they traversed this illuminated space. 
+
+In point of fact, three minutes had not elapsed when the men 
+made their appearance. There were four of them now. All 
+were tall, dressed in long, brown coats, with round hats, and 
+huge cudgels in their hands. Their great stature and their 
+vast fists rendered them no less alarming than did their sinister 
+stride through the darkness. One would have pronouced them 
+four spectres disguised as bourgeois. 
+
+They halted in the middle of the space and formed a group, 
+like men in consultation. They had an air of indecision. The 
+one who appeared to be their leader turned round and poii^ttîd 
+hastily with his right hand in the direction which Jean Valjeau 
+had taken ; another seemed to indicate the contrary direction 
+with considerable obstinacy. At the moment when the first 
+man wheeled round, the moon fell full in his face. Jean Val- 
+jean reoc^nized Javert perfectly. 
+
+
+
+n. — It is Lucky that the Pont d'Austerlitz bears 
+Carriaoes. 
+
+Uhcertainty was at an end for Jean Valjean : fortunately it 
+still lasted for the men. He took advantage of their hesitation. 
+It was time lost for them, but gained for him. He slipped from 
+under the gate where he had concealed himself, and went dowr 
+the Rue des Postes, towards the region of the Jardin des Plantes. 
+Cosette was beginning to be tired. He took her in his arms 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+138 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+and carried her. There were do passers-by, anÀ the street lai 
+terns bad not been lighted on account of there being a moon. 
+
+He redoubled his pace. 
+
+In a few strides he had reached the Goblet potteries, on the 
+front of whicl) the moonlight rendered distinctly legible the 
+ancient inscription : — 
+
+Pe Goblet fils c'est ici la fabrique ; ^ 
+Venez choisir des cruches et des brocs, 
+Des pots à fleurs, des tuyaux, de la brique. 
+À tout venant le Cœur vend des Carreaux. 
+
+He left behind him the Rue de la Clef, then the Fonntam 
+Saint-Victor, skirted the Jardin des Plantes by the lower streets, 
+and reached the quay. There he turned round. The quay was 
+deserted. The streets were deserted. There was no one be 
+hind him. He drew a long breath. 
+
+He gained the Pont d'Austerlitz. 
+
+Tolls were still collected there at that epoch. 
+
+He presented himself at the toll office and handed over a son. 
+
+" It is two sous," said the old soldier in charge of the bridge. 
+"You are carrying a child who can walk. Pay for two." 
+
+He paid, vexed that his passage should have aroused remark. 
+Every flight should be^an imperceptible slipping away. . 
+
+A heavy cart was cmssing the Seine at the same time as him- 
+self, and on its way, like him, to the right bank. This was of 
+use to him. He could travei^e the bridge in the shadow of the 
+cart. 
+
+Towards the middle of the bridge, Cosette, whose feet were 
+benumbed, wanted to walk. He set her on the ground and took 
+her hand again. 
+
+The bridge once crossed, he perceived some timber-yards on 
+his right. He directed his course thither. In order to reach 
+them, it was necessary to risk himself in a tolerably large 
+unsheltered and illuminated space. He did not hesitate. 
+Those who were on his track had evidently lost the scent, and 
+Jean Valjean believed himself to be out of danger. Hunted, 
+yes ; followed, no. 
+
+A little street, the Rue du Chemin- Vert-Saint- Antoine, 
+opened out between two timber-yards enclosed in walls. This 
+street was dark and narrow and seemed made expressly for 
+him. Before entering it he cast a glance behind him. 
+
+1 This is the factory of Goblet Junior: 
+Come choose your jiijrs and crocks, 
+Flower-pots, pipes, bricks. 
+The Hearl sellf l>iaQinDds to everj oom«s. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 139 
+
+From the point where he stood he coald see the whole extent 
+of the Pont d'Austerlitz. 
+
+Four shadows were just entering on the bridge. 
+
+Tliese shadows had their backs turned to the Jardin de§ 
+Plantes and were on their way to the right bank. 
+
+These four shadows were the four men. 
+
+Jean Valjean shuddered like the wild beast which is recap 
+inred. 
+
+One hope remained to him ; it was, that the men had not, 
+perhaps, stepped on the bridge, and had not caught sight of 
+him while he was crossing the large illuminated space, holding 
+Cosette by the hand. 
+
+In that case, by plunging into the little street before him, he 
+might escape, if he could reach the timber-yards, the marshes, 
+ihe market-gardens, the uninhabited ground which was not 
+built upon. 
+
+It seemed to him that he might commit himself to that silent 
+little street. He entered it* 
+
+
+
+in. — To Wit, the Plan of Paris in 1727. 
+
+Three hundred paces further on, he arrived at a point where 
+the street forked. It separated into two streets, which ran in 
+a slanting line, one to the right, and the other to the left. 
+
+Jean Valjean had before him what resembled the two branches 
+of a Y. Which should he choose? He did not hesitate, but 
+took the one on the right. 
+
+Why? 
+
+Because that to the left ran towards a suburb, that is to sa}^ 
+towards inhabited regions, and the right branch towards th# 
+open country, that is to say, towards deserted regions. 
+
+However, they no longer walked very fast. Cosette's pace 
+retarded Jean Valjean*s. 
+
+He took her up and carried her again. Cosette laid her head 
+on the shoulder of the good man and said not a word. 
+
+He turned round from time to time and looked behind him. 
+He took cai'e to keep always on the dark side of the street. 
+The street was straight in his rear. The first two or three 
+times that he turned round he saw nothing ; the silence was 
+profound, and he continued his march somewhat reassured. 
+All at once, on turning round, lie thought he perceived in the 
+portion of the street which he liad just passed through, far off 
+(q tbe obsrnritv» something which was moving. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+140 LES MlSEît..BLËS. 
+
+He rushed forward precipitately rather tlian walked, hoping 
+to find some side-street, to make liis escape through it, and thua 
+to break his scent ouce more. 
+
+He arrived at a wall. 
+
+This wall, however, did not absolutely prevent further prog- 
+ress ; it was a wall which bordered a ti*ans verse street, io which 
+the one he had taken ended. 
+
+Here again, he was obliged to come to a decision ; should he 
+go to the right or to the left. 
+
+He glanced to the right. The fragmentary lane was pro- 
+longed between buildings which were either sheds or barns» 
+then ended at a blind alley. The extremity of -the cuMe-sae 
+was distinctly visible, — a lofty wl^ite wall. 
+
+He glanced to the left. On that side the lane was open, and 
+about two hundred paces further on, ran into a street of which 
+it was the affluent. On that side lay safety. 
+
+At the moment when Jean Val jean was meditating a turn to 
+the left, in an effort to reach the street which he saw at the end 
+of the lane, he perceived a sort of motionless, black statue at 
+the corner of the lane and the street towards which he was on 
+the point of directing his steps. 
+
+It was some one, a man, who had evidently just been posted 
+there, and who was barring the passage and waiting. 
+
+Jean Val jean recoiled. 
+
+The point of Paris where Jean Val jean found himself, situ- 
+ated between the Faubourg Saint-Antoine and la Râpée, is one 
+of those which recent improvements have ti*ansformed from top 
+to bottom,— 7 resulting in disfigurement according to some, and 
+in a. transfiguration according to others. The maiiket-gardens, 
+the timber yards, and the old buildings have been effaced. To- 
+day, there are brand-new, wide streets, arenas, circuses, hippo- 
+dromes, railway stations, and a prison, Mazas, there ; progress, 
+as the reader sees, with its antidote. 
+
+Half a century ago, in that ordinary, popular tongue, which 
+is all compounded of traditions, which persists in calling tlie 
+Institut les Quatre- Nation 3^ and the Opera-Comiquc Feydeaun 
+the precise spot whither Jean Valjean had arrived was called 
+?€ Petit Picpus, The Porte Saint-Jacques, the Porte Paris, the 
+Barrière des Sergents, the Porcherons, la Galiote, les Célestins, 
+les Capucins, le Mail, la Bourbe, l'Arbre de Cracovie, la Petite- 
+Pologne — these are the names of old Paris which survive amid 
+the new. The memory of the populace hovers over these relics 
+of the past. 
+
+Le Petit-Picpus, which, moreover, hardly ever had an^ ezist- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 141 
+
+fnoe, and never was more than the outline of a quarter, had 
+4 early the monkish aspect of a Spanish town. ÏUe roads were 
+i?ot much paved ; the streets were not much built up. With the 
+exception of the two or thi-ee streets, of which we shall pres- 
+ently speaky all was wall and solitude there. Not a shop, not 
+a vehicle, hardly a candle lighted here and there in the windows ; 
+all lights extinguished after ten o'clock. Gardens, convents, 
+timber-yards, marshes; occasional lowly dwellings and great 
+walls as high as the houses. 
+
+Such was this quarter in the last century. The Revolution 
+snubbed it soundl}'. The republican government demolished 
+and cut through it. Rubbish shoots were established there. 
+Thirty years ago, this quarter was disappearing under the 
+erasing process of new buildings. To-day, it has been utterly 
+dotted out. The Petit-Picpus, of which no existing plan has 
+]>reserved a trace, is indicated with sufficient clearness in the plan 
+itt 1727, published at Paris by Denis Thierry, Rue Saint-Jacques, 
+opposite the Rue du Plâtre ; and at Lyons, by Jean Girin, Rue 
+Mercière, at the sign of Prudence. Petit-Picpus had, as we 
+have just mentioned, a Y of streets, formed by the Rue du 
+Ohemin-Vert-Saiut- Antoine, which spread out in two branches, 
+taking on the left the name of Little Picpus Street, and on the 
+)ight the name of the Rue Polonceau. The two limbs of the 
+V were connected at the apex as by a bar ; this bar was called 
+Rue Droit-Mur. The Rue Polonceau ended there ; Rue Petit- 
+Picpus passed on, and ascended towards the Lenoir market. 
+A person coming from the Seine reached the extremity of the 
+Rue Polonceau, and had on his right the Rue Droit-Mur, turn- 
+ing abruptly at a right angle, in front of him the wall of that 
+street, and on his right a truncated prolongation of the Rue 
+Droit-Mur, which had no issue and was called the Cul-de-Sac 
+Genrot. 
+
+It was here that Jean Valjean stood. 
+
+As we have just said, on catching sight of that black silhou- 
+ette standing on guard at the angle of the Rue Droit-Mur and 
+vhe Rue Petit-Picpus, he recoiled. There could be no doubt of 
+it. That phantom was lying in wait for him. 
+What was he to do ? 
+
+The time for retreating was passed. That which he had per- 
+ceived in movement an instant before, in the distant darkness, 
+was Javert and his squad without a doubt. Javert was prob- 
+ably already at the commencement of the street at whose end 
+Jean Valjean stood. Javert, to all appearances, was ao- 
+nainted with this little labyrinth, and had taken his precautions 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+141 . LES MISERABLES. 
+
+hy sending one of his men to «^iiard the exit. Pbese Bormidei, 
+which so closely reseiuhled proofs, whirled suddenly, like a 
+handful of dust cau<j:iit up by an unexjieoted gust of wind, 
+through Jean Val jean's mournful brain, lie examined the Ciil 
+de-Sac Genrot; there he was cut off. He examined the Rue 
+Petit-Picpus ; tliere stood a sentinel. He saw that black form 
+standing out in relief against the white pavement, illuminated 
+i)y tlie moon ; to advance was to fall into this man's hands ; to 
+rotreat was to fling himself into Javert's arms. Jean Valjean 
+ts^M himself cauîrht, as in a net, which was slowly contracting ; 
+he gazed heavenward in despair. 
+
+IV. — The Gropings op Flight. 
+
+In order to understand what follows, it is requisite to form 
+an exact idea of the Droit-Mur lane, and, in particular, of the 
+angle which one leaves on the left when one emerges from the 
+Uuc Polonceau into this lane. Droit-Mur lane was almost en- 
+tirely bordered on the right, as far as the Rue Petit-Picpus, by 
+houses of mean aspect ; on the left by a solitary building of 
+severe outlines, composed of numerous parts which grew grad- 
+ually higher by a story or two as they approached the Rue 
+Petit-Picpus side ; so that this building, which was very lofty on 
+the Rue Petit-Picpus side, was tolerably low on the side adjoining 
+the Rue Polonceau. There, at the angle of which we have 
+spoken, it descended to such a degree tliat it consinted of merely 
+a wall. This wall did not abut directly on the street ; it formed 
+a deeply retreating niche, concealed by its two comer» from two 
+observers who might have been, one in the Rue Polonceau, the 
+other in the Rue Droit-Mur. 
+
+Beginning with these angles of the niche, the wall extendea 
+along the Rue Polonceau as far as a house which bore the num- 
+ber 49, and along the Rue Droit-Mur, where the fragment was 
+much shorter, as far as the gloomy building which we have 
+mentioned and whose gable it intersected, thus forming another 
+retreating angle in the street. This gable was sombre of as- 
+pect ; only one window was visible, or, to speak more correctly, 
+two shutters covered with a sheet of zinc and kept constantly 
+closed. 
+
+The state of the places of which we are here giving a de- 
+scription is rigorously exact, and will certainly awaken a verj 
+precise memory in the mind of old inhabitants of the quarter. 
+
+The niche was entirely filled by a thing which resembled a 
+ooiossal and wretched door ; it was a vast, formless aasemblagt 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 143 
+
+of perpendicular planks, fhe upper ones being broader than the 
+lower, bound together by long transverse strips of iron. At 
+one side there was a carriage gate of the ordinary dimensions, 
+and which had evidently not been cut more than fifty years pre- 
+viously. 
+
+A Unden-tree showed its crest above the niche, and the wall 
+was covered with ivy on the side of the Rue Polonceau. 
+
+In the imminent peril in which Jean Val jean found himself, 
+this sombre building had about it a solitary and uninhabited 
+Took which tempted him. He ran his eyes rapidly over it; he 
+said to himself, that if he could contrive to get inside it, he 
+might save himself. First he conceived an idea, then a hope. 
+
+In the central portion of the front of this building, on the 
+Rue DroitrMur side, there were at all the windows of the differ- 
+ent stories ancient cistern pipes of lead. The various branche» 
+of the pipes which led from one central pipe to all these little 
+basins sketched out a sort of tree on the front. These ramifi- 
+cations of pipes with their hundred elbows imitated those old 
+leafless vine-stocks which writhe over the fronts of old farm- 
+houses. 
+
+This odd espalier, with its branches of lead and iron, was the 
+first thing that struck Jean Val jean. He seated Cosette with 
+her back against a stone post, with an injunction to be silent, 
+and ran to the spot where the conduit touched the pavement. 
+Perhaps there was some way of climbing up by it and entering 
+the house. But the pipe was dilapidated and past service, and 
+hardly hung to its fastenings. Moreover, all the windows of 
+this silent dwelling were grated with heavy iron bars, even the 
+attic windows in the roof. And then, the moon fell full upon 
+that façade, and the man who was watching at the corner of 
+the street would have seen Jean Valjean in the act of climbing. 
+And finally, what was to be done with Cosette ? How was she 
+to be drawn up to the top of a three-story house ? 
+
+He gave up all idea of climbing by means of the drain-pipe, 
+and crawled along the wall to get back into the Rue Polonceau. 
+
+When he reached the slant of the wall where he had left 
+Cosette, he noticed that no one could see him there. As we 
+have just explained, he was concealed from all eyes, no matter 
+from which direction they were approaching; besides this, he 
+was in the shadow. Finally, there were two doors; perhaps 
+they might be forced. The wall above which he saw the linden- 
+tree and the ivy evidently abutted on a garden where he could, 
+at least, hide himself, although there were as yet no leaves on 
+the trees, and spend the remainder of the night. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+\44 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Time was paseiug ; he raust act quickly. 
+
+He felt over tlie carriage door, and immediately recogiiiz«l 
+the fact that it was impracticable outside and in. 
+
+He approached the other door with more hope ; it was frighir 
+fully decrepit ; its very immensity rendered it less solid ; the 
+planks were rotten ; the iron bands — there were only three of 
+them — were rusted. It seemed as though it might be possible 
+to pierce this worm-eaten barrier. 
+
+On examining it he found that the door was not a door ; it had 
+neither hinges, cross-bars, lock, nor fissure in the middle ; the 
+iron bands traversed it from side to side without any break. 
+Through tlie crevices in tlie planks he caught a view of unhewn 
+slabs and blocks of stone roughly cemented together, which 
+passers-by miglit still have seen there ten years ago. He was 
+forced to acknowledge with consternation tliat this apparent 
+door was simply the wood' •» decoration of a building againFt 
+vhich it was placed. It was easy to tear off a plank; but 
+•:ben, one found one's self face to face with a wall. 
+
+
+
+V. — Which would be Impossible with Gas Lahternb. 
+
+At that moment a heavy and measured sound began to b i 
+audible at some distance. Jean Valjean risked a glance rounA 
+the corner of the street. Seven or eight soldiers, drawn up irt 
+a platoon, had just debouched into the Rue Polonceau. He saw 
+the gleam of their bayonets. They were advancing towards 
+hîm ; these soldiers, at whose head he distinguished Javert*s tall- 
+figure, advanced slowly and cautiously. They halted fre- 
+quently ; it was plain that they were searching all the nooks of 
+tlie walls and all the embrasures of the doors and all; vs. 
+
+This was some patrol that Javert had encountered — there 
+could be no mistake as to this surmise — and whose aid he had 
+demanded. 
+
+Javert's two acolytes were marching in their ranks. 
+
+At the m te at which they were marching, and in considéra- 
+tion of the halts which they were makintr. it would take them 
+about a quarter of an hour to reach the spot where Jean Val- 
+jean stood. It was a frightful moment. A few minutes only 
+separated Jean Valjean from that terrible precipice which 
+yawned before him f')r the third time. And the galleys now 
+meant not only the j^alleys, but Cosette lost to him forever- 
+that is to say, a life r.'sembling the interior of a tomb. 
+
+There was but one thing which was possible. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTS. 141 
+
+/ean Valjean had this pecnliarityf that he carried, as one 
+might Bay, two beggar's pouches : in one he kept his saintly 
+thoughts; in the other the redoubtable talents of a convict. 
+lie rammaged in the one or the other, accoiding to circum- 
+f tances. 
+
+AnK)Qg his other resources, thanks to his numerous escapes 
+from the prison at Toulon, he was, as it will be remembered, 8 
+past master in the incredible art of crawling up without lad- 
+der or climbing-irons, by sheer muscular force, by leaning on 
+the nape of his neck, his shoulders, his hips, and his knees, by 
+helping himself on the rare projections of the stone, in the 
+right angle of a wall, as high as the sixth story, if need be ; an 
+art which has rendered so celebrated and so alarming that cornel 
+of the wall of the Conciergerie of l^aris by which Battemolle« 
+londemned to death, made his escape twenty years ago. 
+
+Jean Valjean measured with his eyes the wall above which he 
+espied the linden ; it was about eighteen feet in height. The 
+angle which it formed with the gable of the large building was 
+liUed, at its lower extremity, by a mass of masonry of a trian- 
+gular shape, probably intinded to preserve that too convenient 
+corner from the rubbish of those dirty creatures called the pas* 
+pers-by.. This practice of filling up corners of the wall is mud) 
+il nse in Paris. 
+
+This mass was about five feet in height ; the space above the 
+aummit of. this m&BS which it was necessary to climb was not 
+wore than fourteen feet. 
+
+The wall was surmounted by a flat stone without a coping* 
+
+Cosette was the diflieulty, for she did not know how to climb 
+a wall. Should he abandon her ? Jean Valjean did not once 
+think of that. It was impossible to carry her. A man's whole 
+Btrength is required to successfully carry out these singular as* 
+cents. The least burden would disturb his centre of gravity 
+and pall him downwards. 
+
+A rope would have been required ; Jean Valjean had none. 
+Where was he to get a rope at midnight, in the Rue Polonceau ? 
+Certainly, if Jean Valjean had had a kingdom, he would have 
+given it for a rope at that moment. 
+
+All extreme situations have their lightning flashes which 
+«ometimes dazzle, sometimes illuminate us. 
+
+Jean Valjean's despairing glance fell on the street lantern* 
+|«06t of the blind alley Genrot. 
+
+At that epoch there were no gas-jets in the streets of Paris. 
+At nightfall lanterns placed at regular distances were lighted \ 
+■hey were ascended and descended by means of a rope, whieii 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+146 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Iraverseâ the street from side to side, and was adjasted fa i 
+groove of the post. The pulley over which this rope ran WM 
+fastened underneath the lantern in a little iron box, the key to 
+which was kept by the lamp-lighter, and the rope itself was pro- 
+tected by a metal case. 
+
+Jean Val jean, with the energy of a supreme struggle, crossed 
+the street at one bound, entered the blind alley, broke the latch 
+of the little box with the point of his knife, and an instant later 
+he was beside Cosette once more. lie had a rope. TheM 
+gloomy inventors of expedients work rapidly when tiiey are 
+fighting against fatality. 
+
+We. have already explained that the lanterns had not been 
+lighted that night. The lantern in the Cul-de-8ac Gcnrot was 
+thus naturall}' extinct, like the rest ; and one could pass directly 
+under it without even noticing that it was no longer in its place. 
+
+Nevertheless, the hour, the place, the darkness, Jean Val- 
+jean's absorption, his singular gestures, his goings and comings, 
+all had begun to render Cosette uneasy. Any other child than 
+she would have given vent to loud shrieks long before. She 
+contented herself with plucking Jean Valjean by the skirt of bis 
+coat. They could hear the sound of the patrol's approach ever 
+more and more distinctly. 
+
+^^ Father," said she, in a very low voice, *^ I am afraid. Who 
+is coming yonder? '* 
+
+^^Hush!" replied the unhappy man; ^Mt is Madame Tlié- 
+nardier." 
+
+Cosette shuddered. He added : — 
+
+*' Say nothing. Don't interfere With me. If you cry out, if 
+you weep, the Thénardier is lying in wait for you. She is ootn- 
+tog to take you back.'* 
+
+Then, without haste, but without making a useless movement-, 
+frith firm and curt precision, the more remarkable at a moment 
+ft hen the patrol and Javert might come upon him at any 
+j[ioment, he undid his cravat, passed it round Cosette's body 
+ander the armpits, taking care that it should not hurt the child, 
+fastened this cravat to one end of the rope, by means of that 
+knot which seafaring men call a ^^ swallow knot," took the 
+other end of the rope in his teeth, pulled off his shoes and stock* 
+ings, which he threw over the wall, stepped upon the mass of 
+masonry, and bogan to raise himself in the angle of the wall 
+and the gable with as much solidity and certainty as though he 
+bad the rounds of a ladder under his feet and elbows. Half fi 
+minute had not elapsed when he was resting on his knees onttii 
+wall. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Cosette gazed at him in stapid amasoment, witiioui uttering 
+I word. Jean Valjean's injunction, and the name of Madams 
+Thénardier, had chilled bor blood. 
+
+AU at once she heard Jean Valjean's voice crying to her, 
+ttx>agh in a very low tone : — 
+
+" Pnt your back against the wall.** 
+
+She obeyed. 
+
+'^ Don't say a word, and don't be alarmed,'* went od Jeat 
+Faljean. 
+
+And she felt herself lifted from the ground. 
+
+Before she had time to recover herself, she was on the top of 
+the wall. 
+
+Jean Valjean grasped her, put her on his back, took her two 
+tiny hands in his large left band, lay clown flat on his stomach 
+and crawled along on top of the wall as far as the cant. As he 
+had guessed, there stood a building whose roof started from the 
+top of tiie wooden barricade and descended to within a very 
+Bhort distance of the ground, with a gentle slope which grazed 
+the lindeta'tree. A lucky circumstance, for the wall was much 
+higher on this side than on the street side. Jean Valjean could 
+only see the ground at a great depth below him. 
+
+He had just reached the slope of the roof, and had not yet 
+left the crest of the wall, when a violent upmar announced the 
+arrival of the patrol. The thundering voice of Javert was audi- 
+We: — 
+
+'^ Search the blind alley ! The Rue Droit-Mur is guarded ! 
+BO is the Rue Petit-Picpus. I'll answer for it that he is in the 
+bUnd alley." 
+
+The soidiers rushed into the Genrot alley. 
+
+Jean Valjean allowed himself to slide down the roof, still 
+holding fast to Cosette, reached the linden-tree, and leaped to 
+tiie ground. Whether from ten'or or courage, Cosette had not 
+breathed a sound, though her hands were a little abraded. 
+
+
+
+VI. — The Bboikxino of ak EiaovA. 
+
+Jkah Valjean found himself in a sort of garden which was 
+very vast and of singular aspect ; one of those melancholy gar* 
+uens which seem made to be looked at in winter and at night. 
+This garden was oblong in shape, with an alley of large poplars 
+at the further end, tolerably tall forest trees in the corners, and 
+an unshaded space in the centre, where could bo seen a very 
+huge, solitary tree, then several fruit-trees, gnarled and bristlinjyi 
+
+
+
+148 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+iîke bushes, beds of vegetables, a melon patch, whose glas^ 
+frames sparkled in the moonlight, and an old well. Here &c>l 
+ihere stood stone benches which seemed black with moss. Th« 
+îîlleys were bordered with gloomy and very erect little shrubs. 
+The gr&9s had half taken possession of them, and a green moul«4 
+L'overed the rest. 
+
+Jean Valjcan had beside him the building whose roof had 
+Gerved him as a means of descent, a pile of fagots, and, behind 
+the fagots, directly against the wall, a stone statue, whose 
+mutilated face was no longer anything more than a shapeless 
+mask which loomed vaguely through the gloom. 
+
+The building was a sort of ruin, where dismantled chambers 
+were distinguishable, one of which, much encumbered, seeme^l 
+to serve as a shed. 
+
+The large building of the Rue Droit-Mur, which had a wing 
+on the Rue Petit-Picpus, turned two façades, at right angles» 
+towards this garden. These interior façades were even moru 
+tragic than the exterior. All the windows were grated. Not a 
+gleam of light was visible at any one of them. The uppe* 
+story had scuttles like prisons. One of those façades cast it.'* 
+shadow on the other, which fell over the garden like an immenst 
+black pall. 
+
+No other house was visible. The bottom of the garden wa% 
+lost in mist and darkness. Nevertheless, walls could be con 
+fusedly made out, which intersected as though there were mor« 
+cultivated land beyond, and the low roofs of the Rue Polonceau. 
+
+Notliing more wild and solita^*y than this gaixlcn could b<> 
+imagined. There was no one in it, which was quite natural iu 
+view of the hour ; but it did not seem as though tills spot were 
+made for any one to walk in, even in broad daylight. 
+
+Jean Val jean's first care had been to get hold of his shoes 
+and put them on again, then to step under the shed with Cosette. 
+A man who is fleeing never thinks himself sufficiently hidden. 
+The child, whose thoughts were still on the Thénardler, shared 
+his instinct for withdrawing from sight as much as possible. 
+
+Cosette trembled and pressed close to him. They heard th'î 
+tumultuous noise of the patrol searching the blind allé}' and th« 
+streets ; the blows of their gun-stocks against the stones ; Javert*i 
+appeals to the police spies whom he had posted, and his impre 
+cations mingled with words which could not be distinguished. 
+
+At the expiration of a quarter of an hour it seemed as though 
+that species of stormy roar were becoming more distant. Jeaia 
+Valjcan held his breath. 
+
+He had laid Ids band lightly on Cosette's mouth. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 149 
+
+However, the solitude in which he stood was so strangely 
+calm, that this frightful uproar, close and furious as it was, did 
+not disturb hiiu by so much as the shadow of a misgiving. It 
+seemed as though those walls had been built of the deaf stones 
+of which the Scriptures speak. 
+
+All at once, in the midst of this profound calm, a fresh sound 
+arose ; a sound as celestial, divine, ineffable, ravishing, as the 
+other had been horrible. It was a hymn which issued from the 
+gloom, a dazzling burst of praj^er and harmony in the obscure 
+and alarming silence of the night ; women's voices, but voices 
+composed at one and the same time of the pure accents of vir- 
+gins and the innocent accents of children, — voices which are 
+not of the earth, and which resemble those that the new-born 
+infant still hears, and which the dying man hears already. 
+This song proceeded from the gloomy edifice which towered 
+above the garden. At the moment when the hubbub of demons 
+retreated, one would have said that a choir of angels was ap- 
+proaching through the gloom. 
+
+Cosette and Jean Valjean fell on their knees. 
+
+They knew not what it was, they knew not where they were ; 
+but both of them, the man and the child, the penitent and the 
+innocent, felt that they mast kneel. 
+
+These voices had this strange characteristic, that they did not 
+prevent the building from seeming to be deserted. It was a 
+supernatural chant in an uninhabited house. 
+
+While these voices were singing, Jean Valjean thought of 
+nothing. He no longer beheld the night ; he beheld a blue sky. 
+It seemed to him that he felt those wings which we all have 
+within as, unfolding. 
+
+The song died away. It may have lasted a long time. Jean 
+V aljean could not have told. Hours of ecstasy are never more 
+than a moment. 
+
+All fell silent again. There was no longer anything in the 
+3trcet ; there was nothing in the garden. That which had mcn- 
+ac?ed, that which had reassured him, — all had vanished. The 
+breeze swayed a few dry weeds on the crest of the wall, and 
+they gave cot a faint, sweet, melancholy sound. 
+
+
+
+Vn. — Continuation op the Enioma. 
+
+The night wind had risen, which indicated that it must b6 
+between one and two o'clock in the morning. Poor Cosette 
+said nothing. As she had seated herself beside him aod leaned 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+150 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+her head against him, Jean Val jean had fancied that sbe was 
+asleep. He bent down and looked at her. Cosette's eyes were 
+wide open, and her thoughtful air pained Jean Valjean. 
+
+She was still trembling. 
+
+" Are you sleepy?" said Jean Valjean. 
+
+*' I am very cold," she replied. 
+
+A moment later she resumed : — 
+
+"Is she still there?" 
+
+** Who?" said Jean Valjean. 
+
+*' Madame Tiiénardier." 
+
+Jean Valjean had already forgotten the means which he had 
+employed to make Cosette keep silent. 
+
+'' Ah ! " said he, '*she is gone. You need fear nothing fur- 
+ther." 
+
+The child sighed as though a load had been lifted from her 
+breast. 
+
+The ground was damp, the shed open on all sides, the breeze 
+grew more keen every instant. The goodman took off his ooat 
+and wrapped it round Cosette. 
+
+'* Are you less cold now?" said he. 
+
+" Oh, yes, father." 
+
+** Well, wait for me a moment. I will soon be back.** 
+
+He quitted the ruin and crept along the large building, seeking 
+a better shelter. He came across doors, but they were closed. 
+There were bars at all the windows of tlie ground floor. 
+
+Just after he had turned the inner angle of the edifice, he 
+observed that he was coming to some arched windows, where 
+he perceived a light. He stood on tiptoe and peeped through 
+one of these windows. They all opened on a tolerably vast 
+hall, paved with large flagstones, cut up by arcades and pillars, 
+where only a tiny light and great shadows were visible. The light 
+came from a taper which was burning in one corner. The 
+apartment was deserted, and nothing was Stirling in it. Never- 
+theless, by dint of gazing intently he thought he perceived on 
+the ground something which appeared to be covered with a 
+winding-sheet, and which resembled a human form. This form 
+was lying face downward, flat on the pavement, with the arms 
+extended in the form of a cross, in the immobility of death. 
+One would have said, judging from a sort of serpent which 
+undulated over the floor, that this sinister form had a rope 
+round its neck. 
+
+The whole chamber was bathed in that mist of places which 
+are sparely illuminated, which adds to horror. 
+
+Jean Valjean often said afterwards, that, althoogfa luanj 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSKTTE. 151 
+
+Ainereal spectres had crossed his path in life, he had never 
+beheld anything more blood-curdling and terrible than that 
+enigmatical form accomplishing some inexplicable mystery in 
+that gloomy place, and beheld thus at night. It was alarming 
+to suppose that that thing was perhaps dead ; and still more 
+alanning to think that it was i)erhaps alive. 
+
+He had the courage to plaster his face to the glass, and to 
+watch whether the thing would move. In spite of liis remaining 
+thus what seemed to him a very long time, the outstretched form 
+made no movement. All at once he felt himself overpowered 
+by an inexpressible terror, and he fled. He began to run 
+towards the shed, not daring to look behind him. It seemed 
+to him, that if he turned his head, he should see that form fol- 
+lowing him with great strides and waving its arms. 
+
+He reached the ruin all out of breath. His knees were giv' 
+ing wa}^ beneath him ; the perspiration was pouring from him. 
+
+Where was he? Who could ever have imagined anything 
+like that sort of sepulchre in the midst of Paris ! What was 
+this strange house? An edifice full of nocturnal mystery, call- 
+ing to souls through the darkness with the voice of angels, and 
+when they came, offering them abruptly that terrible vision ; 
+promising to open the radiant portals of heaven, and then open- 
+ing the horrible gates of the tomb ! And it actually was an 
+edifice, a house, which bore a number on the street ! It was 
+not a dream ! He had to touch the stones to convince himself 
+that such was the fact. 
+
+Cold, anxiet}', uneasiness, the emotions of the night, had 
+given him a genuine fever, and all these ideas were clashing 
+together in his brain. 
+
+He stepped up to Cosette. She was asleep. 
+
+
+
+Vni. — The Enioma becomes Doublt Mysterious. 
+
+The child had laid her head on a stone and fallen asleep. 
+
+He sat down beside her and began to think. Little by little, 
+•8 he gazed at her, he grew calm and regained possession of his 
+freedom of mind. 
+
+He clearly perceived this truth, the foundation of his life 
+henceforth, that so long as she was there, so long as he had 
+her near him, he should need nothing except for her, he should 
+fear nothing except for her. He was not even conscious that 
+he was very cold, since he had taken off his coat to cover her. 
+
+Nevertheless, athwart this revery into which he had fallen 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+152 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+he had heard for some time a peculiar noise. Tt was like the 
+tinkling of a bell. This sound proceeded from the garden. It 
+could he heard distinctly though faintly. It resembled the 
+faint, vague music produced by the bells of cattle at night vo 
+the pastures. 
+
+This noise made Jean Val jean turn round. 
+
+He looked and saw that there was some one in the garden. 
+
+A being resembling a man was walking amid the bell-glasses 
+of the melon beds, rising, stooping, halting, with regular move- 
+ments, as though he were dragging or spreading out something 
+on the ground. This person appeared to limp. 
+
+Jean Valjean shuddered with the continual tremor of the un- 
+happy. For them everything is hostile and suspicious. They 
+distrust the day because it enables poople to see them, and the 
+night because it aids in surprising them. A little while before 
+he had shivered because the garden was deserted, and now he 
+shivered because there was some one there. 
+
+He fell back from chimerical terrors to real terrors. He said 
+to himself tljat Javert and the spies had, perhaps, not taken 
+their departure ; that they had, no donbt, left people on the 
+watch in the street; that if this man should discover him in 
+the garden, he would cry out for help against thieves and deliver 
+"him up. He took the sleeping Cosette gently in his arms and 
+carried her behind a heap of old furniture, which was out of 
+use, in the most remote corner of the shed. Cosette did not stir. 
+
+From that point he scrutinized the appearance of the being 
+in the melon patch. The strange thing about it was, that the 
+sound of the bell followed each of this man's movements. 
+When the man approaiîhed, the sound approached; when the 
+man retreated, the sound retreated ; if he made any hasty ges- 
+ture, a tremulo accompanied the gesture ; when he halted, the 
+sound ceased. It appeared evident that the bell was attached 
+to that man ; but what could that signify? Who was this man 
+who had a bell suspended about him like a ram or an ox ? ' 
+
+As he put these questions to himself, he touched Cosette's 
+hands. They were icv cold. 
+
+'* Ah ! good God ! '' he cried. 
+
+He spoke to her in a low voice : — 
+
+" Cosette ! " 
+
+She did not open her eyes. 
+
+He shook her vigorously. 
+
+She did not wake. 
+
+" Is she dead? " he said to himself, and sprang to his feet 
+quivering from head to foot. 
+
+
+
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+
+COSETTB, 151 
+
+The moflt frightful thoughts rushed pell-mell through his 
+mind. There are moments when hideous surmises assail us 
+like a cohort of furies, and violently force the partitions of our 
+hrains. When those we love are in question, our prudence in- 
+vents every sort of madness. He remembered that sleep in 
+the open air on a cold night may be fatal. 
+
+Gosette was pale, and had fallen at full length on the ground 
+at his feet, without a movement. 
+
+He listened to her breathing : she still breathed, but with a 
+respiration which seemed to him weak and on tlie point of ex- 
+tinction. 
+
+How was he to warm her back to life ? How was he to rouse 
+her? All that was not connected with this vanished from his 
+thoughts. He rushed wildly from the ruin. 
+
+It was absolutely necessary that Cosotte should be in bed 
+and beside a fire in less than a quai-ter of an hour. 
+
+IX. — The Man with the Bell. 
+
+Hk walked straight up to the man whom he saw in the gar- 
+den. He had taken in his hand the roll of silver which was in 
+the pocket of his waistcoat. 
+
+The man's head was bent down, and he did not see him ap< 
+preaching. In a few strides Jean Val jean stood beside him. 
+
+Jean Valjean accosted him with the cry : — 
+
+" One hundred francs I " 
+
+The man gave a start and raised his eyes. 
+
+^^ You can earn a hundred francs," went on Jean Valjean, 
+^* if yon will grant me shelter for this night." 
+
+The moon shone full upon Jean Valjean's terrified counte- 
+nance. 
+
+^^ What I so it is you. Father Madeleine ! " said the man. 
+
+That name, thus pronounced, at that obscure hour, in that 
+unknown spot, by that strange man, made Jean Valjean start 
+back. 
+
+He had expected anything but that. The person who thus 
+addressed him was a bent and lame old man, dressed almost 
+like a peasant, who wore on his left knee a leather knee-cap, 
+whence hung a moderately large bell. His face, which was in 
+the shadow, was not distinguishable. 
+
+However, the goodman had removed his cap, and exclaimed, 
+trembling all over : — 
+
+**Ah, good God! How come you here. Father Madeleine? 
+Where did you enter? Dieu- Jésus ! Did you fall from heaven? 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+154 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Tbere is no trouble about that : if ever you do fall^ it will be 
+from there. And what a state you are in ! You have no cnir 
+vat ; you have uo hat ; you have no coat ] Do you know, you 
+would have frightened auy one who did not know you? No 
+coat ! Lord God ! Are the saiuts going mad nowadays ? But 
+how did you get in here ? " 
+
+His words tumbled over each other. The goodman talked 
+with a rustic volubility, in which tiiere was nothing alarming. 
+All this was uttered with a mixture of stupefaction and naïve 
+kindliness. 
+
+'^ Who are you? and what house is this?" demanded Jean 
+Valjean. 
+
+^^Ah! pardieu, this is too much!" exclaimed the old man. 
+^' I am the person for whom you got the place here, and this 
+house is the one where you had me placed. What ! You don't 
+recognize me?" 
+
+^'No," said Jean Valjean; ^'and how happens it that you 
+know me?" 
+
+" You saved my life," said the man. 
+
+He turned. A ray of moonlight outlined his profile, and 
+Jean Valjean recognized old Fauchelevent. 
+
+^^ Ah ! " said Jean Valjean, ^' so it is you? Yes, I recollect 
+you." 
+
+^' That is very lucky," said the old man, in a reproachful tone. 
+
+^^ And what are you doing here?" resumed Jean Valjean. 
+
+" Why, I am covering my melons, of course I " 
+
+In fact, at the moment when Jean Valjean accosted him, old 
+Fauchelevent held in his hand the end of a straw mat which he 
+was occupied in spreading over the melon bed. During the 
+hour or thereabouts that he had been in the garden he had 
+already spread out a number of them. It was this operation 
+which had caused him to execute the peculiar movements ob*^ 
+served from the shed by Jean Valjean. 
+
+He continued : — 
+
+'^I said to myself, 'The moon is bright: it is gofing to 
+freeze. What if I were to put my melons into their greatcoats ?' 
+And," he added, looking at Jean Valjean with a broad smile, — 
+^' pardieu ! you ought to have done the same I Bat how do you 
+come here ? " 
+
+Jean Valjean, finding himself known to this man, at least 
+only under the name of Madeleine, thenceforth advanced only 
+with caution. He multiplied his questions. Strange to say, 
+their rôles seemed to be reversed. It was he, the intruder, who 
+interrogated. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+COSETTE. 151 
+
+** And what is tins bell which yoa wear on your knee?'' 
+
+•* This," replied Fauchelevent, ** is bo that 1 may be avoided.* 
+
+" What ! so that you may be avoided ? " 
+
+Old Fauchelevent winked with an indedcribable air. 
+
+^< Ah, goodness ! there are only women in this house — mau]^ 
+young girls. It appears that I should be a dangerous person to 
+meet. The bell gives them warning. When I come, they go." 
+
+"What house is this?" 
+
+** Come, you know well enough.** 
+
+*' But I do not." 
+
+** Not when you got me the place here as gardener?** 
+
+*' Answer me as though I knew nothing." 
+
+"Well, then, this is àe Petit-Picpus convent." 
+
+Memories recurred to Jean Val jean. Chance, that is to say, 
+Providence, had cast him into precisely that convent in the 
+Quartier Saint-Antoine where old Fauchelevent, crippled by the 
+fair from his cart, had l>een admitted on his recommendation 
+two years previously. He repeated, as though talking to him- 
+self:— 
+
+"The Petit-Picpus convent.** 
+
+" Exactly," returned old Fauchelevent. " But to come to 
+tiie point, how the deuce did 3'ou manage to get in here, you, 
+Father Madeleine? No matter if you are a saint; you are a 
+man as well, and no man enters here.*' 
+
+"Yon certainly are here." 
+
+*' There is no one but me." 
+
+** Still," said Jean Valjean, "I must stay here." 
+
+" Ah, good God ! " cried Fauchelevent. 
+
+Jean Valjean drew near to the old man, and said to him in a 
+grave voice : — 
+
+"Father Fauchelevent, I saved your life." 
+
+" I was the first to recall it/' returned Fauchelevent. 
+
+" Well, you can do to-day for me that which I did for you in 
+iie olden days." ' 
+
+Fauchelevent took in his aged, trembling, and wrinkled hands 
+Jean Val jean's two robust hands, and stood for several minutes 
+as though incapable of speaking. At length he exclaimed : — 
+
+"Oh! that would be a blessing from the good God, if I 
+could make you some little return for that ! Save your life ! 
+Monsieur le Maire, dispose of the old man ! " 
+
+A wonderful joy had transfigured this old man. His coants 
+oance seemed to emit a ray of light. 
+
+"What do you wish meto do?" he resumed. 
+
+♦* That I will explain to you. You have a chamber?** 
+
+
+
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+
+166 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+'^ I have SD isolated hovel yonder, behind the ruins of the old 
+convent, in a corner which no one ever looks into. There are 
+three rooms in it." 
+
+The but was, in fact, so well hidden behind the rums, and so 
+cleverly arranged to prevent it being seen, that Jean Valjean 
+had not perceived it. 
+
+^' Good," said Jean Valjean. ^^ Now I am going to ask two 
+things of you." 
+
+'' What are they, Mr. Mayor?" 
+
+'^ In the first place, you are not to tell any one what yoQ 
+know about me. In the second, you are not to try to find out 
+anything more." 
+
+^^ As you please. I know Uiat you can do nothing that if 
+not honest, that you have always been a man after the good 
+God's heart. And then, moreover, you it was who placed me 
+here. That concerns you. I am at your service." 
+
+^^ That is settled then. Now, come with me. We will go 
+and get the child." 
+
+"Ah! " said Fauchelevent, " so there is a child?*' 
+
+He added not a word f uither, and followed Jean Valjean as 
+a dog follows his master. 
+
+Less than half an hour afterwards Cosette, who had grown 
+rosy again before the flame of a good fire, was lying asleep id 
+the old gardener's bed. Jean Valjean had put on his cravat 
+and coat once more ; this hat, which he had flung over the wall, 
+had been found and picked up. While Jean Valjean was putting 
+on his coat, Fauchelevent had removed the bell and knee-cap, 
+which now hung on a nail beside a vintage basket that adorned 
+the wall. The two men were warming tliemselves with their 
+elbows resting on a table upon which Fauchelevent bad placed 
+a bit of cheese, black bread, a bottle of wine, and two glasses, 
+and the old man was saying to Jean Valjean, as he laid his hand 
+on the latter's knee : " Ah I Father Madeleine ! You did not 
+recognize me immediately ; you save people's lives, and then you 
+forget them! That is bad I But they rememb^ you I YoQ 
+are an ingrate ! " 
+
+X. — Which explains how Javkbt got om thk Sgbht. 
+
+The events of which we have just beheld the reverse side, so 
+lo speak, had come about in the simplest possible manner. 
+
+When Jean Valjean, on the evening of the verj* day when 
+Javert had arrested him beside Fantine's death-bed, had escaped 
+from the town jail of M. sur M., tbe police had supposed that 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 167 
+
+lie had betaken himself to Paris. Paris is a maelstrom where 
+I verything is lost, and everything disappears in this belly of 
+the world, as in the belly of the sea. No forest hides a man as 
+does that crowd. Fugitives of every sort know this. They go 
+10 Paris as to an abyss ; there are gulfs which save. The 
+police know it also, and it is in Paris that they seek what they 
+bave lost elsewhere. There they sought the ex-mayor of M. 
+smr M. Javert was summoned to Paris to throw light on their 
+researches. Javert had, in fact, rendered powerful assistance 
+in the recapture of Jean Valjean. Javert's zeal and intelli- 
+gence on that occasion had been remarked b^' M. Cliabouillet, 
+secretary of the Prefecture under Comte Angles. M. Chabonil- 
+let, who had, moreover, aU-eady been Javert's patron, had the 
+inspector of M. sur M. attached to the police force of Paris. 
+There Javert rendered himself useful in divers and, though the 
+ford may seem strange for such semces, honorable manners. 
+
+He no longer thought of Jean Valjean, — the wolf of to-day 
+Auses these dogs who are always on the chase to forget the 
+wrolf of yesterday, — when, in December, 1823, he read a news- 
+paper, he who never read newspapers ; but Javert, a monarchi- 
+•»il man, had a desire to know the particulars of the triumphal 
+imtr}' of the " Prince Generalissimo " into Bayonne. Just as 
+he was finishing the article, which interested him, a name, the 
+name of Jean Valjean, attracted his attention at tiie bottom of 
+u page. The paper announced that the convict Jean Valjean 
+was dead, and published the fact in such formal terms that 
+Javert did not doubt it. He confined himself to the remark, 
+** That's a good entry.'* Then he threw aside the paper, and 
+thought no more about it. 
+
+Some time afterwards, it chanced that a police report was 
+tamnsmitted from the prefecture of the Seiue-et-Oise to the pre- 
+fectare of police in Paris, concerning the abduction of a child, 
+which had taken place, under peculiar circumstances, as it was 
+said, in the commune of Montfermeil. A little girl of seven or 
+?tght years of age, the report said, who had been intrusted by 
+her mother to an inn-keeper of that neigliborhood, had been 
+Atoieu by a stranger ; this child answered to the name of Co- 
+lette, and was the daughter of a girl named Fantine, who bad 
+died in the hospital, it was not known where or when. 
+
+This report came under Javert's eye and set him to thinking. 
+
+The name of Fantine was well known to him. He remem. 
+Lered tliat Jean Valjean had made him, Javert, burst into 
+laughter, by asking him for a respite of three days, for the pur- 
+(KMse of going to fetch tliat creature's child* He recalled the fact 
+
+
+
+!zeu ijy ^^^K^'Ky 
+
+
+
+à'^ 
+
+
+
+158 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+that Jean Valjcan had been arrested in Paris at the Tei^ 
+motneut when be was Btepping into the coach for Montfcrmeil 
+Some signs had made bit a suspect at tlie time that this was the, 
+second occasion of his entering that coach, and that he had al- 
+ready, on the previous day, made an excursion to the neigh!3or- 
+hood of that village, for he ha<l not been seen in the village 
+itself. What had he been intending to do in that region of 
+Montfermeil? It could not evorr be surmised. Javert under- 
+stood it now. Fan tine's daughter was there. Jean Valjean 
+was going there in search of her. And now this child had been 
+stolen by a stranger ! Who could that stranger be? Could it 
+be Jean Valjean? But Jean Valjean was dead. Javert, with- 
+out saying an3'thing to anybody, took the coach from the PeviAei 
+Platter^ Cul-de-Sac dc la Planchette, and made a trip to Mont- 
+fermeil. 
+
+He expected to find a great deal of light on the subject there ; 
+he found a great deal of obscurity. 
+
+For the first few days the Thénardiers had chattered in their 
+rage. The disappearance of the Lark had created a sensation 
+in the village. He immediately obtained numerous versions of 
+the story, which ended in the abduction of a child. Hence the 
+police rei>ort. But their first vexation having passed off, 
+Thénardier, with his wonderful instinct, had very quickly com- 
+prehended that it is never advisable to stir up the prosecutor of 
+the Crown, and that his complaints with regard to the cMnc- 
+twn of Cosette would have as their first result to fix upon him- 
+self, and upon many dark affairs which he had on hand, the 
+glittering eye of justice. The last thing that owls desire Ls to 
+have a candle brought to them. And in the first place, how 
+explain the fifteen hundred francs which he had received? He 
+turned squarely round, put a gag on his wife's mouth, and 
+feigned astonishment when the stolen cftUd was mentioned to 
+him. He understood nothing aboutit; no doubt he had 
+grumbled for a while at having that dear little creature ^^ taken 
+from him " so hastily ; he should have liked to keep her two or 
+three days longer, out of tenderness; but her "grandfather" 
+had come for her in the most natural way in the world. He 
+added the "grandfather," which produced a good effect. This 
+was the story that Javert hit upon when he arrived at Montfer* 
+meil. The grandfather caused Jean Valjean to vanish. 
+
+Nevertheless, Javert dropped a few questions, like plummets, 
+into Thénardier's history. "Who was that grandfather.^ and 
+what was his name?" Thénardier replied with simplicity: 
+"He is a wealthy farmer. I saw his passport. I think hu 
+name was M. Guillaume Lambert/' 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 169 
+
+Lambert is a respectable and extremely reaBsoring name. 
+Thereupon Javert returned to Paris. 
+
+'' Jean Valjean is ceiiainly dead," said lie, " and I am a 
+ninny." 
+
+He had again begun to forget this history, when, in the course 
+of March, 1824, he heard of a singular personage who dwelt in 
+the parish of Saint-Médard and who had been surnamcd ^ *• the 
+mendicant who gives alms." This person, the story ran waa 
+1 man of means, whose name no one knew exactly, and who 
+lived alone with a little girl of eight years, who knew nothing 
+about herself, save that she had come from Montfermeil. Mont- 
+fermeil ! that name was always coming up, and it made Javert 
+prick up his ears. An old beggar police spy, an ex-beadle, to 
+whom this person had given alms, added a few more details. 
+This gentleman of property was very shy, — never coming out 
+except in the evening, speaking to no one, except, occasion- 
+ally to the poor, and never allowing any one to approach him. 
+He wore a horrible old yellow frock-coat, which was worth many 
+millions, being all wadded with bank-bills. This piqued Javert's 
+curiosity in a decided manner. In order to get a close look at 
+this fantastic gentleman without alarming him, he borrowed the 
+headle's outfit for a day, and the place where the old spy was 
+in the habit of crouching every evening, whining orisons through 
+bis nose, and playing the spy under cover of prayer. 
+
+"The suspected individual" did indeed approach Javert thus 
+disguised, and bestow alms on him. At that moment Javert 
+raised his head, and the shock which Jean Valjean received on 
+recc^^izing Javert was equal to the one received by Javei't 
+when he thought he recognized Jean Valjean. 
+
+However, the darkness might have misled him ; Jean Valjean's 
+death was official ; Javert cherished very grave doubts ; and 
+when in doubt, Javert, the man of scruples, never laid a finger 
+on any one's collar. 
+
+He folk)wed his man to the Gorbeau house, and got " the old 
+woman" to talking, which was no difficult matter. The old 
+woman confirmed the fact regarding the coat lined with millions^ 
+and narrated to him the episode of the thousand-franc bill. She 
+had seen it ! She had handled it ! Javert hired a room ; that 
+evening he installed himself in it. He came and listened at the 
+mysterious lodger's door, hoping to catch the sound of his voice, 
+but Jean Valjean saw his candle through the key-hole, and foiled 
+the spy by keeping silent. 
+
+On the following day Jean Valjean decamped ; but the noise 
+made by the fall of the five-franc piece was noticed by the old 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+160 LES MISÉRABLES 
+
+woman, who, hearing the rattling of coin, suspected that ha 
+might be intending to leave, and made haste to warn Javert. 
+At night, when Joan Valjcan carae out, Javert was waiting for 
+him behind the trees of the boulevard with two men. 
+
+Javert had demanded assistance at the Prefecture, but he had 
+not mentioned the name of tl)e individual whom he hoped to 
+seize ; that was his secret, and he had kept it for three reasons : 
+in the first place, because the slightest indiscretion might put 
+Jean Valjean on the alert ; next, because, to lay hands on aa 
+ex-convict who had made his escape and was reputed dead, od 
+a criminal whom justice had formerly classed forever as among 
+malefactors of the most dangerous sort^ was a magnificent suc- 
+cess which the old members of the Parisian police would assur • 
+edly not leave to a new-comer like Javert, and he was afraid of 
+being deprived of his convict ; and lastlj', because Javert, bein|{ 
+an artist, had a taste for the unforeseen. He hated those well- 
+heralded successes which are talked of long in advance and 
+have had the bloom brushed off. He preferred to elaborate his 
+masterpieces in the dark and to unveil them suddenly at the last. 
+
+Javert had followed Jean Valjean from tree to tree, then 
+from comer to corner of the street, and had not lost sight of 
+him for a single instant ; even at the moments when Jean Val- 
+jean believed himself to be the most secure Javert's eye hac^ 
+been on him. Why had not Javert arrested Jean Valjean? Be 
+cause he was still in doubt. 
+
+It must be remembered that at that epoch the police was no\ 
+precisely at its ease ; the free press embarrassed it ; several 
+arbitrary arrests, denounced by the newspapers, had echoed 
+even as far as the Chambers, and had rendered the Prefecture 
+timid. Interference with individual liberty was a grave matter. 
+The police agents were afraid of making a mistake ; the prefect 
+laid the blame on them ; a mistake meant dismissal. The 
+reader can imagine the effect which this brief paragraph, repro- 
+duced by twenty newspapers, would have caused in Paris: 
+"Yesterday, an aged grandfather, with white hair, a respecta- 
+ble and weil-to-do gentleman, who was walking with his grand- 
+child, aged eight, was arrested and conducted to the agency of 
+the Prefecture as an escaped convict ! " 
+
+Let us repeat in addition that Javert had scruples of his own ; 
+injunctions of his conscience were added to tlie injunctions of 
+the prefect. He was really in doubt. 
+
+Jean Valjean turned his back on him and walked in the dark. 
+
+Sadness, uneasiness, anxiety, depression, this fresh misfortune 
+of bein^ forced to flee by night* to seek a chance refuge in Parii 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 161 
+
+fcH* Cofiette and himself, the necessity of regulating his pace to 
+the pace of the child — all this, without his being aware of it, had 
+altered Jean Valjean's walk, and impressed on his bearing such 
+senility, that the police themselves, incarnate in the person of 
+Javert, might, and did in fact, make a mistake. The impossi- 
+bility of approaching too close, his costume of an émigré pre- 
+ceptor, the declaration of Thénardier which made a grandfather 
+of him, and, finally, the belief in his deatii in prison, added still 
+«inrther to the uncertainty which gathered thick in Javert's mind. 
+
+For an instant it occurred to him to make an abrupt demand 
+for his papers; but if the man was not Jean Valjean, and if this 
+man was not a good, honest old fellow living on his income, he 
+was probably some merry blade deeply and cunningly implicated 
+in the obscure web of Parisian misdeeds, some chief of a dan- 
+gerous band, who gave alms to conceal his other talents, which 
+was an old dodge. He had trusty fellows, accomplices' retreats 
+in case of emergencies, in which he would, no doubt, take refuge. 
+All these turns which he was making through the streets seemed 
+to indicate that he was not a simple and honest man. To arrest 
+him too hastily would be '^ to kill the hen that laid the golden 
+^ggs«" Where was the inconvenience in waiting? Javert was 
+very snre that he would not escape. . 
+
+Thus he proceeded in a tolerably perplexed state of mind, 
+putting to himself a hundred questions about this enigmatical 
+personage. 
+
+It was only quite late in the Rue de Pon toise, that, thanks to 
+the brilliant light thrown from a dram-shop, he decidedly recog- 
+nized Jean Valjean. 
+
+There are in this world two beings who give a profound start, — 
+the mother who recovers her child and the tiger who recovers 
+his prey. Javert gave that profound start. 
+
+As soon as he had positively recognized Jean Valjean, the 
+fonnidable convict, he perceived that there were only three of 
+!;heni. and he asked for reinforcements at the police station of 
+^e Bue de Pontoise. One puts on gloves before grasping a 
+''hom cudgel. 
+
+This delay and the halt at the Cavrefour Bollin to consult 
+with his agents came near causing him to lose the trail. He 
+tpeedily divined, however, t^at Jean Valjean would want to put 
+the river between his pursuers and himself. He bent his head 
+fLDcl reflected like a blood-hound who puts his nose to the ground 
+to make sure that he is on the right scent. Javert, with his 
+powerful rectitude of instinct, went straijîht to the bride:o of 
+Austerlitz* A word with the toll-keeper furnished him with th« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+162 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+information which he required: ^^ Have yon seen a man with 
+a little girl ? " "I made him pay two sous/' replied the toll- 
+Reeptu*. Javert reached the bridge in season to 8ee Jean Val- 
+jean traverse the small illumiuated spot on the other side of the 
+water, leading Cosctte by the hand. He saw him enter the Rue 
+du Chemin-Vcrt-Saint-Antoine ;'he remembered the Cul-de-Sac 
+(ïenrot arranged there like a trap, and of the sole exit of the 
+Rue Droit-Mur into the Rue Petit-Picpus. He made sure of his 
+back burrows^ as huntsmen say ; he hastily despatched one of 
+his agents, by a roundabout wa}*, to guard that issue. A patrol 
+which wa.s returning to the Arsenal post having passed him, he 
+made a requisition on it, and caused it to accompany him. In 
+such games soldiers are aces. Moreover, the principle is, that 
+in order to get the host of a wild lx)ar, one must employ the 
+science of venery and plenty of dogs. These combinations hav- 
+ing been effected, feeling that Jean Valjean was caught between 
+the blind alley Gen rot on the right, his agent on the left, and 
+himself, Javert, in the rear, he took a pinch of snuff. 
+
+Then he hegaxi the game. He expenenced one ecstatic and 
+infernal moment ; he allowed his man to go on ahead, knowing 
+that he had him safe, but desirous of postponing the moment of 
+arrest as long as possible, happy at the thought that he was 
+taken and yet at seeing him free, gloating over him with bis 
+gaze, with that voluptuousness of the spider which allows the 
+fly to flutter, and of the cut which lets the mouse run. Claws 
+and talons possess a monstrous Bonsuality, — the obscure move- 
+ments of the creature imprisoned in their pincers. What a 
+delight this strangling is ! 
+
+Javert was enjoying himself. The meshes of his net were 
+stoutly knotted. He was sure of success ; all he had to do now 
+was to close his hand. 
+
+Accompanied as he was, the very idea of resistance was im- 
+possible, however vigorous, energetic, and desperate Jean Val 
+jean might be. 
+
+Javert advanced slowly, sounding, searching on his wa}- all 
+the nooks of the street like so many pockets of thieves. 
+
+When he reached the centre of the web he found the fly no 
+longer there. 
+
+His exasperation can be imagined. 
+
+He interrogated his sentinel of the Rnes Droit-Mur and Petit- 
+Picpus ; that agent, who had remained impertnrbably at his post, 
+had not seen the man pass. 
+
+it sometimes happens that a stag is lost bead and horns ; that 
+is to say, he escapes although he has the pack on bis very heelSf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 168 
+
+and then the oldest huntsnuen know not what to saj. Du vivier, 
+Liguivllle, and Desprez halt sbort. In a discomfiture of this 
+Bort, Artonge exclaims, "It was not a stag, but a sorcerer." 
+Javert would have liked to utter tlie same cry. 
+
+His disappointment bordered for a moment ou despair and 
+rage. 
+
+It is certain that Napoleon made mistakes during the war 
+with Russia, that Alexander committed blunders in the war in 
+India, that Caesar made mistakes in the war in Africa, that 
+Cyrus was at fault in the war in Scjthia, and that Javert blun- 
+dered in this campaign against Jean Valjean. He was wroug, 
+perhaps, in hesitating in his recognition of the ex-convict. The 
+first glance should hare sufficed him. He was wroug in not ar- 
+resting him purely and simply in the old building ; he was wrong 
+in not arresting him when he positively recognized him in the 
+Rue de Pontoise. He was wroug in taking couusel with his 
+auxiliaries in- the full light of the moon in the Carrefour Roilin. 
+Advice is certainly useful ; it is a good thing to know and to 
+interrogate those of the dogs who deserve confidence ; but the 
+hunter cannot be too cautious when he is chasing uneasy ani- 
+mals like the wolf and the convict. Javert, b}* taking too much 
+thought as to how he should set the bloodhounds of the pack 
+on the trail, alarmed the beast by giving him wind of the dart, 
+and so made him run. Above all, he was wrong in that after 
+he bad picked up the scent again on the bridge of Austcrlitz, 
+he played that formidable and puorile game of keeping such a 
+man at the end of a thread. He thought himself stronger than 
+he was, and believed that he could play at the game of the 
+mouse and the lion. At the same time, he reckoned himself as 
+too weak, when he judged it necessary to obtain reinforcement. 
+Fatal precaution, waste of precious time ! Javert committed all 
+these blunders, and none the less was one of the cleverest and 
+jiost correct spies that ever existed. He was, in the full force 
+3f the term, what is called in venery a knowing dog. But what 
+is Uiere that is perfect? 
+
+Great strategists have their eclipses. 
+
+The greatest follies are often composed, like the largest ropes, 
+of a multitude of strands. Take the cable thread by thread, 
+take all the petty determining motives separately, and you can 
+break them one after the other, and you say, " That is all there 
+is of it ! " Braid them, twist them together ; the result is enor- 
+mous : it is Attila hesitating between Marcian on the east and 
+Valentinian on the west ; it is Hannibal tarrying at Capua ; it is 
+Daoton falling asleep at Arcis-sur-Aube. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+164 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+However that may be, even at the moment when he aaw thait 
+Jean Val jean had escaped him, Javert did not lose his head. 
+Snre that the convict who had broken his ban could not be far 
+off, he established sentinels, he originized traps and ambuscades, 
+and beat the quarter all that night. The first thing he saw was 
+the disorder iu the street lantern whose rope had been cut. A 
+precious sign which, however, led aim astray, since it caused 
+him to turn all his researches in the direction of the Cul-de-Sac 
+Genrot. In this blind alley there were tolerably low walls which 
+abutted on gardens whoae bounds adjoined the immense 
+stretches of waste land. Jean Val jean evidently must have fled 
+in that direction. The fact is, that had he penetrate<l a little fur- 
+ther in the Cul«de-Sac Genrot, he would probably have done s> 
+and have been lost. Javert explored these gardens and these 
+waste stretches as though he had been hunting for a needle. 
+
+At daybreak he left two intelligent men on the outlook, ani 
+returned to the Prefecture of Police, as much ashamed as a 
+police spy who had been captured by a robber might have been. 
+
+
+
+BOOK SIXTH.— LE PETIT-PICPUS- 
+I. — Number 62 Rob PErrr-Picpus. 
+
+Nothing, half a century i^o, more resembled every other cai* 
+riage gate tbau the carriage gate of Number 62 Rue Petit-Picpus. 
+This entrance, which usually stood ajar in the most inviting 
+fashion, i>ermitted a view of two things, neither of which have 
+«iny thing very funereal about them, — a courtyard surrounded by 
+walls hung with vines, and the face of a lounging porter. Above 
+the wall, at the bottom of the court, tall trees were visible. 
+When a ray of sunlight enlivened the courtyard, when a glass of 
+wine cheered up the porter, it was difficult to pass Number 62 
+Little Picpus Street without carrying away a smiling impression 
+of it. Nevertheless, it was a sombi*e place of which one had had 
+a glimpse. 
+
+The threshold smiled ; the house prayed and wept. 
+
+If one succeeded in passing the porter, which was not easy, 
+— which was even nearly impossible for every one, for there 
+was an open sesame ! which it was necessary to know, — if, the 
+porter once passed, one entered a little vestibule on the right, 
+on which opened a staircase shut in between two walls and bo 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTB. 169 
+
+J^' lae of the Temple, leaves those two order* 
+
+^ Neil* only reseinblauce lies iu this praclitte of 
+
+^ 1^ ^jacrament and the Bernardines of JMurtin 
+
+cy d? -^ ^fcisted a similarity in the study and the 
+
+jy é^^"^ ^ «teries rehiting to the infancy, the life, 
+
+<^ ^^^ e»"^ <^ ^^^ ^^^^ Virgin, between the two or- 
+
+& 'Ks^^ ^ K '^^less, widely separated, and on occa- 
+
+5,^V^^Î^-^ .^V^tory of Italy, established at Flor- 
+
+^^° ^° c ^ <^% v.the Oratory of France, established 
+
+^>^^»CS^ x° ^^-(^ ^"^^^WffTwas all the more mysterioue 
+
+^^'{►^ ^ -'^ A^^ ^ ^ '^' ^^ ^"® opened it, one found one's 
+
+#^^^ ^crl^^ ^^N?ier about six feet square, tiled, well- 
+
+^J^^ '' "^-cJ^vy* ^^'^^*"' ^"^ hung with nankin paper with green 
+
+^A °^U^ cr ^^^-^^^sous the roll. A white, dull light fell from a 
+
+* ^L®^^^^^ <^^' ' ^^^^ ^*"y panes, on the left, which usurped the 
+
+^ ^ ^.^^'^a'^^* ^^ *^® room. One gazed about, but saw no one ; 
+
+5f .:^">i^ed, one heard neither a footstep nor a human murmur. 
+
+<>' ^s alls were bare, the chamber was not furnished ; there 
+
+'^1 not even a chair. 
+
+One looked again, and beheld on the wall facing the door a 
+quadrangular hole, about a foot square, with a grating of inter- 
+lacing iron bars, black, knotted, solid, which formed squares — 
+1 had almost said meshes — of less than an inch and a half in 
+diagonal length. The little green flowers of the nankin paper 
+ran in a calm and orderly manner to those iron bars, without 
+being startled or thrown into confusion by their funereal con- 
+tact. Supposing that a living being had been so wonderfully 
+thin as to essay an entrance or an exit through the square 
+hole, this grating would have prevented it. It did not allow 
+the passage of the body, but it did allow the passage of the 
+eyes ; that is to say, of the mind. This seems to have occurred 
+to them, for it had been re-enforced by a sheet of tin inserted 
+in the wall a little in the rear, and pierced with a thousand 
+holes more microscopic than the holes of a strainer. At the 
+bottom of this plate, an aperture had been pierced exactly 
+Bimilar to the orifice of a letter-box. A bit of tape attached 
+to a bell-wire huni; at the right of the grated opening. 
+
+If the tape was pulled, a bell rang, and one heard a voice 
+▼eiy near at hand, which made one start. 
+" Who is there?" the voice demanded. 
+
+It was a woman's voice, a gentle voice, so gentle that it was 
+moamful. 
+
+Here, again, there was a magical word which it was necessary 
+to know. If one did not know it, the voice ceased, the wall 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+164 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+However that may be, even at the xnoaair 
+
+Jean Valjean had escaped him, Javert ferrified obscudty of 
+
+Sure that the convict who had broken hyf jt. 
+
+oflF, he established sentinels, he originizç resumed, " Enter on 
+
+and beat the quarter all that night. T 
+
+the disorder in the street lantern whofci„g the window, a glass 
+
+precious sign which, however, led 9 and painted gray. On 
+
+him to turn all his researches in the|,reshold, one experienced 
+^enrot. In this blind alley there fen one enters at the theatre 
+into a grated iaîJ75lêS5.^ whose bor grating is lowered and the 
+chandelier is lighted. One'^BsJ^n fact, in a sort of theatre- 
+box, naiTow, furnished with two old chairs, and a much-frayed 
+straw matting, 8[)arely illuminated by the vague light from the 
+glass door ; a regular box, with its front just of a height to lean 
+u|K>n, bearing a tablet of black wood. This box wtis grated, 
+only the grating of it was not of gilded wood, a» at the opera ; it 
+was a monstrous lattice of iron bars, hideously interlaced and 
+riveted to the wall by enormous fastenings which resembled 
+clenched fists. 
+
+The first minutes passed ; when one's eyes began to grow used 
+to this cellnr-like half-twilight, one tried to pass the grating, 
+but got no further than six inches beyond it. There he 
+encountered a barrier of black shutters, re-enforced and forti- 
+fied with transverse beams of wood painted a gingerbread yel- 
+low. These shutters were divided into long, narrow slats, and 
+they masked the entire length of the grating. They were 
+always closed. At the expiration of a few moments one 
+heard a voice proceeding from behind these shutters, and 
+saying : — 
+
+** I am here. What do you wish with me ? " 
+
+It was a beloved, sometimes an adored, voice. No one was 
+visible. Hardly the sound of a breath was audible. It seemed 
+as though it wore a spirit which had been evoked, that was 
+speaking to you across the walls of the tomb. 
+
+If one chanced to be within certain prescribed and very rare 
+conditions^ the slat of one of these shutters opened opposite 
+you ; the evoked spirit became an apparition. Behind the 
+grating, behind the shutter, one perceived so far as the grating 
+permitted sight, a head, of which only the mouth and the chin 
+were visible ; the rest was covered with a black veil. One caoght 
+a g1im[)se of a black gnimpe, and a form that was barely defined, 
+covered with a black shroud. That head «spoke with you, but 
+did not look at you and never smiled at you. 
+
+The light which came from behind you was adjusted in such 
+a manner that you saw her in the white, and she saw you in the 
+black. This light was symbolic 
+
+Digitized by CjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 169 
+
+5e«cpa8 and to the houae of the Temple, leaves those two order* 
+iiigiierfecUy distinct. Tlieir only resemblance lies in this pruclice of 
+pnihe Ladies of the iluly Sacrament and tlie Bernardines of Martin 
+Ir^^erga, just as there existed a similarity in the study and the 
+s glorification of all the mysteries relating to the infancy, the life, 
+; and death of Jesus Christ and the Virgin, between the two or* 
+ders, which were, nevertheless, widely separated, and on occa- 
+sion even hostile. The Oratory of Italy, established at Flor- 
+ence by Philip de Neri, and the Oratory of France, established 
+by PieiTe de BéruUe. The Oratory of France claimed the pre* 
+cedencc, since Philip de Neri was only a saint, while BémlU 
+was a cardinal. 
+Let us return to the harsh Spanish rule of Martin Verga. 
+The Bernardioes-Benedictines of this obedience fast all the 
+year round, abstain from meat, fast in Lent and on many other 
+days which are peculiar to them, rise from their first sleep, 
+from one to three o'clock in the morning, to read their breviary 
+and chant matins, sleep in all seasons between serge sheets and 
+on straw, make no nse of the bath, never light a fire, scourge 
+themselves every Friday, observe the rule of silence, speak to 
+each other only during the recreation hours, which are very 
+brief, and wear drugget chemises for six months in the year, 
+from September 14th, which is the Exaltation of the Holy 
+Cross, until Easter. These six months are a modification : the 
+rule says all the year, but this drugget chemise, intolerable in the 
+heat of summer, produced fevers and nervous spasms. The use 
+of it iiad to be restricted. Even with this palliation, when the 
+nuns put on this chemise on the 14th of September, they suffer 
+from fever for three or four days. Obedience, poverty, chas- 
+tity, peraeverance in then: seclusion, — these are their vows, 
+which the rule greatly aggravates. 
+
+The prioress is elected for three years by the mothers, who 
+are called mères vocales because they have a voice in the chap- 
+ter. . A prioress can only be re-elected twice, which fixes the 
+longest possible reign of a prioress at nine years. 
+• The3' never see the officiating priest, who is always hidden 
+from tiiem by a serge curtain nine feet in height. During the 
+sermon, when the preacher is in the chapel, they drop their 
+veils over their faces. They must always speak low, walk with 
+their eyes on the ground and their heads bowed. One man 
+only is allowed to enter the convent, — the archbishop of the 
+diocese. 
+
+There is reany one omer, — tne gardener. But he is always 
+Ml old man, and, in order that he may always be alone in the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+X70 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+garden, and that the nuns mav be warned to avoid him, a bell is 
+attached to his kuce. 
+
+Their submission to the prioress is absolute and passive. It 
+is the canonical subjection in the full force of its abnegation. 
+As at the voice of Christ, ut voci Cliristi, at a gesture, at the 
+first sign, ad nuhim^ ad jwimum signum^ immediately, with 
+cheerfulness, with perseverance, with a certain blind obedience. 
+prompte^ hilariter^ persei)eranter et cœca quadam ohedientiiu as 
+the file in the hand of the workman, qriasi Umam in manihusfa' 
+'jri^ without power to read or to write without express permis- 
+3ion, légère vel scribere non addiscerU sine expressa supe^ioris 
+licenlia. 
+
+Each one of them in turn makes what they call reparation. 
+The reparation is the prayer for all the sins, for all the faults, 
+for all the dissensions, for all the violations, for all the iniqui- 
+ties, for all the crimes committed on earth. For the space of 
+twelve consecutive houi*s, from four o'clock in the aftenioon 
+till four o'clock in the morning, or from four o'clock in the 
+morning until four o'clock in the afternoon, the sister who is 
+making reparaJtion remains on her knees on the stone before 
+the Holy Sacrament, with hands clasped, a rope around her 
+neck. When her fatigue becomes unendurable, she prostrates 
+herself flat on her face against the earth, with her arms out- 
+stretched in the form of a cross ; this is her only relief. In this 
+attitude she prays for all the guilty in the universe. This is 
+great to sublimity. 
+
+As this act is performed in front of a post on which bums a 
+candle, it is called without distinction, to make reparation or to 
+be at the pout. The nuns even preftr, out of humility, this last 
+expression, which contains an idea of torture and abasement. 
+
+To make reparaJtion is a function in which the whole soul is 
+absoibed. The sister at the post would not turn round were a 
+thunderbolt to fall directly behind her. 
+
+Besides this, there is always a sister kneeling before the 
+[-loly Sacrament. This station lasts an hour. They relieve each 
+3ther like soldiers on guard. This is the Perpetual Adoration. ' 
+
+The pnoresses and the mothers almost always bear names 
+stamped with peculiar solemnity, recalling, not the saints and 
+martyrs, but moments in the life of Jesus Christ : as Mother 
+Nativity, Mother Conception, Mother Presentation, Mother 
+Passion. But the names of saints are not intei*dicted. 
+
+When one sees them, one never sees anything but their 
+mouths. 
+
+All their teeth are yellow. No tooth-brtwh ever entered that 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSBTTB. J 71 
+
+oonvent. Broshing one's teeth is at the top of a ladder at 
+whose bottom is the loss of one's soul. 
+
+They never say my. They possess nothing of their own, and 
+they must not attach themselves to anything. They call every- 
+thing our; thus : our veil, our chaplet ; if they were speaking 
+of their chemise, they would say mir chemise. Sometimes they 
+^row attached to some petty object, — to a book of hours, a 
+relic, a medal that has been blessed. As soon as the}* become 
+aware that they are growing attaclied to this object, they mu.st 
+give it up. They recall the words of Saint Thérèse, to whom a 
+great lady said, as she was on the point of r^nterin^r her oider, 
+''Permit me, mother, to send for a Bible to which I am greatly 
+attached/' "Ah, you are attached to something! In that 
+case, do not enter our oixier !" 
+
+Every peraon whatever is forbidden to shut herself up, to 
+have a place of her oivn, a chamber. They live with their cells 
+open. When they meet, one says, *' Blessed and adored be the 
+most Holy Sacrament of the altar I " The other responds, 
+** Forever." The same ceremony when one taps at the other's 
+door. Hardly has she touched the door when a soft voice on 
+the other side is heard to say hastily, '* Forever!" Like all 
+practices, this becomes mechanical by force of habit ; and one 
+sometimes says forever before the other has had time to say 
+the rather long sentence, " Praised and adored be the most 
+Holy Sacrament of the altar." 
+
+Among the Visitandines the one who enters says ; *' Ave 
+Maria," and the one whose cell is entered says, '* Gratia plena." 
+It is their way of saying good day, which is in fact full of grace. 
+
+At each hour of the day three supplementary strokes sound 
+from the church bell of the convent. At this signal prioress, 
+vocal mothers, professed nuns, lay -sisters, novices, postulants, 
+interrupt what they are saying, what they are doing, or what 
+they are thinking, and all say in unison if it is five o'clock, for 
+instance, '* At five o'clock and at all hours praised and adored 
+be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar ! " If it is eight o'clock, 
+^* At eight o'clock and at all hours I " and so on, according to the 
+hoar. 
+
+This custom, the object of which is to break the thread of 
+thought and to lead it back constantly to God, exists in many 
+communities ; the formula alone varies. Thus at The Infant 
+Jesus they sa}', *' At this hour and at every hour may the love 
+of Jesus kindle my heart!" The Beruardines-Benedictines of 
+Martin Vei^a, cloisterer! fifty years njro at Petit-Picpus, chant 
+the offices to a solemn psalmociy, a pure Gregorian chant, and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+172 J^ES MISERABLEis. 
+
+always with full voice during the whole course of the ofDoa 
+Everywhere in the missal where an asterisk occurs they pause, 
+and say in a low voice, ^^ Jesus-Marie-Josepii." For the office 
+of the dead they adopt a tone so low that the voices of women 
+can hardly descend to such a depth. The effect produced is 
+striking and tragic. 
+
+The nuns of the Petit-Picpus had made a vault under their 
+grand altar for the burial of their community. Tlie Govern- 
+menl^ as titey say, does not permit this vault to receive coffins, 
+so they leave the convent when they die. This is an affliction tc 
+them, and causes them constc^rnation as an infraction of tlie rules. 
+
+They had obtained a mediocre consolation at best, — i>ermi8- 
+sioD to be interred at a special hour and in a special comer in the 
+ancient Vaugirard cemetery, which was made of land which had 
+formerly belonged to their community. 
+
+On Fridays the nuns hear high mass, vespers, and all the 
+offices, as on Sunday. Thej* scrupulously observe in addition 
+all the little festivals unknown to people of the world, of which 
+the Church of France was so prodigal in the olden days, and of 
+which it is still prodigal in Spain and Italy. Their stations in 
+the chapel are interminable. As for the number and duraUon 
+of their prayers we can convey no better idea of them than by 
+quoting the ingenuous remark of one of them : '^ The prayers 
+of the postulants are frightful, the prayers of the novices are still 
+worse, and the prayers of the professed nuns are still woree." 
+
+Once a week the chapter assembles : the prioress presides ; the 
+vocal mothers assist. Each sister kneels in turn on the stones, 
+and confesses aloud, in the presence of all, the faults and sins 
+which she has committed during the week. The vocal mothers 
+consult after each confession and inflict the penance aloud. 
+
+Beside this confession in a loud tone, for which all faults 
+in the least seiious are reserved, they have for tlicir venial 
+offences what they call the œulpe. To wake one's coulj)e means 
+to prostrate one's self flat on one's face during the office in front 
+of the prioress until the latter, who is never called anything but 
+our mother^ notifies the culprit by a slight tap of her foot against 
+the wood of her stall that she can rise. The œulpe or peccavi^ 
+IS made for a very small matter — a broken glass, a torn veil, an 
+involuntary delay of a few seconds at an office, a false note in 
+church, etc. ; this suffices, and the coulpe is made. The coulpe 
+is entirely spontaneous ; it is the culpable person herself (the 
+word is etymologically in its place here) who judges herself and 
+inflicts it on herself. On festival days and Sundays four mother 
+precentors intone the offices before a large reading-desk witb 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+la o* «^ > 
+that v*<é (^ 
+nine yeaiS?"^, 
+
+
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+piDess! 
+It was ht 
+
+
+
+.'^^ 
+u^^ 
+
+
+
+''A Voccu \ ^y^ 
+
+The child ( .|^<. "> 
+torv. She sa>f o?>' 
+
+Mix, the l>iS* 
+
+Tlie Mother. ^ 
+
+Alix, àShe toi 
+her any questioi]| 
+
+
+
+V 
+
+
+
+.ite 
+
+.J she 
+
+-er, and 
+
+arate into 
+
+ijlaiutive ac- 
+
+j responds in a 
+
+Jhrist ! " 
+
+, a boarding-school 
+
+.inor-school for yonng 
+
+Aies, among whom could 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+174 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+be remarked Mademoiselle de Saint-Aulaire and de BélisBen, aoh 
+an English girl bearing the illustrious Catholic name of Talbot 
+These young girls, reared by these nuns between four walls, grew 
+up with a horror of the world and of the age. One of Uiem 
+said to us one day, ^^ The sight of the street pavement made 
+me shudder from head to foot." They were dressed in blue, 
+with a white cap and a Holy Spirit of silver gilt or of copper cm 
+their breast. On certain gi-and festival days, particularly Saint 
+Martha's day, they were permitted, as a high favor and a supreme 
+happiness, to dress themselves as nuns and to carry out tlie 
+otllws and practice of Saint-Benoît for a whole day. In the 
+early days the nuns were in the habit of lending them their black 
+garments. This seemed profane, and the prioress forbade it. 
+Only the novices were permitted to lend. It is remarkable that 
+these performances* tolerated and encouraged, no doubt, in the 
+convent out of a secret spirit of proselytism and in order to give 
+these children a foretaste of the holy habit, were a genuine hap- 
+piness an<J a real recreation for the scholars. They simply 
+amused themselves with it. It ivus new; it gave them achcmge. 
+Candid reasons of childhood, which do n<»t, however, succeed in 
+making us worldlings comprehend the felicit}' of holding a ho\y 
+water sprinkler in on^'s band and standing for hours togetlier 
+singing hard enough for four in front of a reading-desk. 
+
+The pupils conformed, with the exception of the austerities, to 
+all the practices of the convent. There was a certain young 
+woman who entered the world, and who after many years o 
+married life had not succeeded in breaking heraelf of the hab 
+of saying in great haste whenever any one knocked at her do 
+*' forever!" Like the nuns, the pupils saw their relatives ê 
+in the parlor. Their very mothers did not obtain pennissi' 
+embrace them. The following illustrates to what a degilu 
+verity on that ix)int was carried. One day a yoimg girl r/nial 
+a visit from her mother, who was accompanied by a littieans 
+three years of age. The young girl wept, for she wisht front 
+t<) era'urpce her sister. Impossible. She begged thaing but 
+the child might be permitted to pass her little hand t against 
+bars so that she could kiss it. This was almostr peccavi, 
+refused. >rn veil, an 
+
+IV. — Gayeties. Alse note in 
+
+The coulpe 
+
+None the less, these 3'oung girls filled this a herself (the 
+charming souvenus. ges herself and 
+
+At certain hours childhood sparkled in fays four mother 
+lecreation hour struck. A door swung cadiug-desk witb 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 17» 
+
+birds said, **Good; here come the children!'* An irruption 
+of youth inundated that garden intersected yvith a cross like a 
+shroud. Radiant faces, while foreheads, innocent eyes full of 
+merry light, all sorts of auroras, were scattered about amid 
+these shadows. After the psaluKxlies, the bells, the peals, and 
+knells and offices, the sound of these little girls burst forth on 
+a sudden more sweetly than the noise of bees. The hive of 
+joy was opened, and each one brought her honey. They 
+played, they called to each other, they formed into groups, they 
+ran about ; pretty little white teeth chattered in the corners ; 
+the veils superintended the laughs from a distance, shades kept 
+watch of the sunbeams, but what mattered it ? Still they beamed 
+and laughed. Those four lugubrious walls had their moment 
+of dazzling brilliancy. They looked on, vaguely blanched with 
+the reflection of so much joy at this sweet swarming of the 
+hives. It was like a shower of roses falling athwart this house 
+of mourning. The young girls frolicked beneath the eyes of 
+the nuns ; the gaze of impeccability does not embairass inno- 
+cence. Thanks to these children, there was, among so many aus- 
+tere hours, one hour of ingenuousness. The little ones skipped 
+about ; the elder ones danced. In this cloister play was mingled 
+with heaven. Nothing is so delightful and so august as all 
+these fresh, expanding young souls. Homer would have come 
+thither to Liugh with PerrauH ; and there was in that black gar- 
+den, youtli, health, noise, cries, giddiness, pleasure, happiness 
+enough to smooth out the wrinkles of all their ancestresses, 
+those of the epic as well as those of the fairy-tale, those of the 
+throne as well as those of the thatched cottage from Hecuba to 
+la Mère-Grand. 
+
+In that house more than anywhere else, perhaps, arise those 
+children's sayings which are so graceful and which evoke a smile 
+that is full of though tfulness. It was between those four 
+gloomy walls that a child of five years exclaimed one day : 
+" Mother 1 one of the big girls has Just told me thatl have only 
+nine years and ten months longer to remain here. What hap 
+piness ! " 
+
+It was here, too, that this memorable dialogue took place:-» 
+
+^*'A Vocal Mother, Why are you weeping, my child? 
+
+The child (aged six). I told Alix that I knew my French his- 
+tory. She says that I do not know it, but I do. 
+
+Alix^ the big girl (aged nine). No ; she does not know it. 
+
+Tlie Mother. How is that, my child? 
+
+Alix, She told me to open the book at random and to ask 
+her any question in the book, and she would answer it. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+!76 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+'* She did not answer it/' 
+
+^' Let us see about it. What did you ask her? ^ 
+
+'^ I opened the book at random, as she proposed, and I pi^t 
+the first question that I came across." 
+
+"And what was the question? " 
+
+'* It was, ' What happened after that? •" 
+
+It was there that that profound remark was made aneot a 
+rather greedy paroquet which belonged to a lady boarder: — 
+
+" IIow well bred ! it eats the top of the slice of bread and 
+butter just like a person ! " 
+
+It was on one of the flagstones of this cloister that there was 
+once picked up a confession which had been written out in ad- 
+vance, in order that she might not forget it, by a sinner of seven 
+years : — 
+
+*' Father, I accuse myself of having been avaricious. 
+
+"Father, I accuse myself of having been an adulteress. 
+
+" Father, I accuse myself of having raised my eyes to the 
+gentlemen." 
+
+It was on one of the turf benches of this garden that a rosy 
+mouth six years of age improvised the following tale, which 
+was listened to by blue eyes aged four and five years : — 
+
+"There were three little cocks who owned a country wheie 
+there were a great many flowers. They plucked the flowers anvjl 
+put them in their pockets. After that tliey plucked the leaves 
+and put them in their playthings. There was a wolf in that conn 
+try ; there was a great deal of forest ; and the wolf was in the 
+forest ; and he ate the little cocks." 
+
+And this other ix)cm : — 
+
+" There came a blow with a stick. 
+
+" It was Punchinello who bestowed it on the cat. 
+
+** It was not good for her ; it hurt her. 
+
+"Then a lady put Punchinello in prison." 
+
+It was there that a little abandoned child, a fonndling whom 
+the convent was bringing up out of charity, uttered this sweet 
+and heart-breaking saying. She heard the others talking of 
+their mothers, and she murmured in her corner : — 
+
+" As for me, my mother was not there when I was born ! " 
+
+There was a stout portress who could always be seen hurrying 
+through the corridors with her bunch of keys, and whose name 
+was Sister Agatha. The. big big girls — those over ten years of 
+age — called her Agathodes. 
+
+The refectory, a large apartment of an oblong square form, 
+which received no light except through a vaulted cloister on f 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. ITT 
+
+level with the garden, was dark and damp, and, as the children 
+say, full of beasts. All the places round about furnished theLr 
+contingent of insects. 
+
+Each of its four comers had received, in the language of the 
+pupils, a special and expressive name. There was Spider 
+corner, Caterpillar comer, Wood-louse corner, and Cricket cor- 
+ner. 
+
+Cricket corner was near the kitchen and was highly esteemed. 
+It was not so cold there as elsewhere. From the refectory the 
+names had passed to the boarding-school, and there served as in 
+the old College Mazarin to distinguish four nations. Every 
+pupil belonged to one of these four nations according to the 
+corner of the refectory in which she sat at meals. One day Mon- 
+seigneur the Archbishop while making his pastoral visit saw a 
+Iiretty little rosy girl with beautiful golden hair enter the class- 
+loom through which he was passing. 
+
+He inquired of another pupil, a charming bmnette with rosy 
+#heeks, who stood near him : — 
+
+"Who is that?" 
+
+" She is a spider. Monseigneur." 
+
+" Bah ! And that one yonder?" 
+
+" She is a cricket." 
+
+''And that one?" 
+
+*' She is a caterpillar.'' 
+
+"Really! and yourself ? '* 
+
+" I am a wood-louse. Monseigneur." 
+
+Every house of this sort has its own peculiarities. At the 
+beginning of this century Écouen was one of those strict and 
+graceful peaces where young girls pass their childhood in a 
+shadow that is almost august. At Éoouen, in order to take rank 
+i&the procession of the Holy Sacrament, a distinction was made 
+between virgins and florists. There were also the "dais" and 
+the " censors," — the first who held the cords of the dais, and the 
+others who carried incense before the Holy Sacrament. The 
+flowers belonged by right to the florists. Four "vii^ins" 
+walked in advance. On the morning of that great day it was 
+AC rare thing to hear the question put in the dormitory, "Who 
+H a virgin ? " 
+
+Madame Campan used to quote this saying of a " little one " 
+of seven years, to a " big girl " of sixteen, who took the head 
+•f the procession, while she, the little one, remained at the rear) 
+^^ Ton are a virgin, but I am not.*' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+i78 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+Y. — DisnucnoKs. 
+
+Aboyb the door of the refectory this prayer, which was caUea 
+the white Paternoster^ and which possessed the property of bear- 
+ing people straight to paradise, was inscribed in large blac^ 
+letters : — 
+
+*' Little white Paternoster, which God made, which God said 
+which God placed in paradise. In the evening, when I went tc 
+bed, I found three angels sitting on my bed, one at the foot, twc 
+at the head, the good Virgin Mary in the middle, who told me 
+to lie down without hesitation. The good God is my father, 
+the good Virgin is my mother, the three a)>ostlesare my brothers, 
+the three virgins are my sisters. The shirt in which God was 
+born envelops my body ; Saint Margaret's cross is written on 
+my breast. Madame the Virgin was walking through the mead- 
+ows, weeping for God, when she met M. Saint John. ' Mon- 
+sieur Saint John, whence come you ? ' 'I come from Ave Salua. 
+* You have not seen the good God ; where is he ? ' ^ He is on the 
+tree of the Cross, his feet hanging, his hands nailed, a little cap 
+of white thorns on his head.* Whoever shall say this thrice at 
+eventide, thrice in the morning, shall win paradise at the last." 
+
+In 1827 this characteristic orison had disappeared from the 
+wall under a triple coating of daubing paint. At the present 
+time it is finally disappearing from the memories of several who 
+were young girls then, and who are old women now. 
+
+A large crucifix fastened to the wall completed the decoration 
+of this refectory, whose only door, as we think we have men- 
+tioned, opened on the garden. Two narrow tables, each fianked 
+by two wooden benches, formed two long parallel lines from one 
+end to the other of the refectory. The walls were white, the ta- 
+hies were black ; these two mourning colors constitute the only va- 
+riety in convents. The meals were plain, and the food of the 
+children themselves severe. A single dish of meat and vege- 
+tables combined, or salt fish — such was their luxury. Thia 
+meagre fare, whîch was reserved for the pupils alone, was, 
+nevertheless, an exception. The children ate in silence, under 
+the eye of the mother whose turn it was, who, if a fly took a 
+notion to fiy or to hum against the rule, opened and shut a 
+wooden book from time to time. This silence was seasoned 
+with the lives of the saints, read aloud from a little pulpit with 
+a desk, which was situated at the foot of tl)e crucifix. The 
+readier was one of the big girls< in weekly turn. At regular 
+dist^iuces, on the bare tables, there were large, varnished bowU 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+
+COSETTE. 17f 
+
+tn which the pupils washed their own silver caps aad kaives and 
+forks, and into wliich the}- sometimes threw some scrap of tough 
+meat or spoiled dsh ; this was punished. These bowls were 
+ealled ronds d*eau. The child who broke the silence ^^ made a 
+cross with her tongue." Where? On the ground. She licked 
+the pavement. The dust, that end of all joys, was charged with 
+the chastisement of those poor little rose*leaves which had been 
+guilty of chirping. 
+
+There was in the convent a book which has never been printed 
+except as a unique copy, and which it is forbidden to read. It is 
+the rule of Saint-Benott. An arcanum which no profane eye 
+must penetrate. Nemo reçulasy seu constittUioties nostras^ exter- 
+nis communicabU. 
+
+The pupils one day succeeded in getting possession of this 
+bookf and set to reading it with avidity, a reading which was 
+often inteiTupted by the fear of being caught, wlîieh caused 
+them to close the volume precipitately. 
+
+From the great danger thus incurred they derived but a very 
+moderate amount of pleasure. The most ^' interesting thing'' 
+they found were some unintelligible pages about the sins of 
+young boys. 
+
+They played in an alley of the garden bordered with a few 
+shabby fruit-trees. In spite of the extreme surveillance and the 
+severity of the punishments administered, when the wind had 
+shaken the trees, they sometimes succeeded in picking up a green 
+apple or a spoiled apricot or an inhabited pear on the sly. I will 
+now cede the privilege of speech to a letter which lies before me, 
+a letter written five and twenty years ago by an old pupil, now 
+
+Madame la Duchesse de one of the most elegant women in 
+
+Paris. I quote literally : " One hides one's pear or one's apple 
+as best one may. When one goes up stairs to put the veil on 
+the bed before supper, one stuflfs them under one's pillow and at 
+ni^ht one eats them in bed, and when one cannot do that, one 
+Bats them in the closet." That was one of their greatest lux- 
+uries. 
+
+Once — it was at the epoch of the visit from the archbishop to 
+the convent — one of the young giris, Mademoiselle Bouchard, 
+who was connected with the Montmorency family, laid a wager 
+that she would ask for a day's leave of absence — an enormity iu 
+80 austere a community. The wager was accepted, but n6t one 
+of those who bet believed that she would do it. When the mo- 
+ment came, as the archbishop was passing in front of the |)Upils, 
+Mademoiselle Bouchard, to the indescribable terror of her coxxh 
+panions, stepped out of the ranks, and said, ^^ Monseigneur, « 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+180 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+day's leave of absence." Mademoiselle Bouchard was taU* 
+blooming, with the prettiest little rosy face in the world. - M 
+de Quéleu smiled and said; ^' What, my dear child, a day's 
+leave of absence ! Three da3's if you like. I grant yon thre« 
+days." The prioress could do nothing; the archbishop had 
+spoken. Horror of the convent, but joy of the pupil. The 
+effect may be imagined. 
+
+This stern cloister was not so well walled off, however, bat 
+that the life of the passions of the outside world, drama, and e%'en 
+romance, did not make their way in. To prove this, we will con' 
+fine ourselves to recording here and to briefly mentioning a real 
+and incontestable fact, wliich, however, bears no reference in 
+itself to, and is not connected by any thread whatever with the 
+story which we are relating. We mention the fact for the Bak« 
+of completing the physi<^nomy of tlie convent in the reader's 
+mind. 
+
+About this time there was in the convent a mysterious peraou 
+who was not a nun, who was treated with great respect, and who 
+was addressed as Madame Albertitie. Nothing was known 
+about her, save that she was mad, and that in the world she 
+passed for dead. Beneath tliis history it was said there lay th« 
+arrangements of fortune necessary for a great marriage. 
+
+This woman, hardly thirty years of age, of dark oomplexiopi 
+and tolerably pretty, had a vi^ue look in her lai^e black eyes. 
+Could she see ? There was some doubt al)out this. She glide<l 
+rather than walked, she never spoke; it was not quite known 
+whether she breathed. Her nostrils were livid and pinched as 
+after yielding up their last sigh. To touch her hand was like 
+touching snow. She possessed a strange spectral grace. Wher- 
+ever she entered, people felt cold. One day a sister, on seeing 
+her pass, said to another sister, ^^ She passes for a dead woman.*' 
+*' Perhaps she is one," replied the other. 
+
+A hundred tales were told of Madame Albertine. This arose 
+from the eternal curiosity of the pupils. In the chapel there 
+was a gallery called L'Œil de Bœuf, It was in this gallery, 
+which had only a circular bay, an œil de bœuf that Madame 
+Albertine listened to the offices. She always occupied it alone 
+because this gallery, being on the level of the first story, the 
+preacher or the officiating priest could be seen, which was intei- 
+dieted to the nuns. One day the pulpit was occupied by n 
+young priest of high rank, M. Le Duc de Rolian, peer of France, 
+officer o/ the Red Musketeers in 1815, when he was Prince d« 
+I^on, and who died afterward, in 1830, as cardinal and Arch- 
+bishop of Besançon. It was the first time that M. de Rothau harl 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. U\ 
+
+unreached at the Petit-PicpuB convent. Madame Albertine usu^ 
+ally preserved perfect calmness and complete immobility during 
+the sermons and services. That day, as soon as she caught 
+sight of M. de Rohan, she half rose, and said, in a loud voice, 
+amid the silence of the chapel, "Ah! Auguste!" The whole 
+community turned their heads in amazement, the preacher 
+raised his eyes, but Madame Albertine had relapsed into her im- 
+mobility. A breath from the outer world, a flash of life, had 
+passed for an instant across that cold and lifeless face and had 
+then vanished, and the mad woman had become a corpse again. 
+
+Those two words, however, had set every one in the convent 
+who had the privilege of speech, to chattering. How many 
+things were contained in that " Ah ! Auguste ! " what re vela-. 
+tions ! M. de Rohan's name really was Auguste. It was evi- 
+dent that Madame Albertine belonged to the very highest soci- 
+ety « since she knew M. de Rohan, and that her own rank 
+there was of the highest, since she spoke thus familiarly of so 
+great a lord, and that there existed between them some connec- 
+tion, of relationship, perhaps, but a very close one in any case, 
+since she knew his *' pet name." 
+
+Two very severe duchesses, Mesdames de Choiseul and de 
+Sérent, often visited the community, whither they penetrated, 
+no doabty in virtue of the privilege Magnates mnUeres^ and 
+caused great consternation in the boarding-school. When these 
+two old ladies passed by, all the poor young girls trembled and 
+dropped their eyes. 
+
+Moreover, M. de Rohan, quite unknown to himself, was an 
+object of attention to the schoolgirls. At that epoch he had 
+jïist been made, while waiting for the episcopate, vicar-general 
+of the Archbishop of Paris. It was one of his habits to come 
+tolerably often to celebrate the offices in the chapel of the nuns 
+of the Petit-Picpus. Not one of the young recluses could see 
+him, because of the serge curtain, but he had a sweet and 
+rather shrill voice, which they had come to know and to distin- 
+guish. He had been a mousquetaire, and then, he was said to 
+he very coquettish, that his handsome brown hair was very 
+well dressed in a roll around his head, and that he had a broad 
+girdle of magnificent moire, and that his black cassock was of 
+the most elegant cut in the world. He held a great place in all 
+these imaginations of sixteen years. 
+
+Not a sound from without made its way into the convent. 
+But there was one year when the sound of a flute |)eDetrated 
+thither. This was an event, and the girls who were at school 
+there at the time still recall it- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+nowaday», — ^* My Zétulbé, come reign o'er my soul,'' — and 
+it was heard two or three times a day. The young girls passed 
+hours in listening to it, the vocal mothers were upset by it, 
+brains were busy, punishments descended in showers. This 
+lasted for several months. The girls were all more or less iu 
+love with the unknown musician. Each one dreamed that she 
+was Zétulbé. The sound of the flute proceeded from Uie 
+direction of the Rue Droit-Mur ; and they would have given 
+Anything, compromised everything, attempted anything for the 
+sake of seeing, of catching a glance, if only for a second, 
+of the "young man" who played that flute so deliciously, 
+and who, no doubt, played on all these souls at the same 
+time. There were some who made their escape by a back 
+door, and ascended to the third story on the line Droit-Mur 
+side, in order to attempt to catch a glimpse through the gax>s. 
+Impossible ! One even went so far as to thrust her arm 
+through the grating, and to wave her white handkerchief. 
+Two were still bolder. They found means to climb on a roof, 
+and risked their lives there, and succeeded at last in seeing 
+" the young man.*' He was an old émigré gentleman, blind 
+and penniless, who was playing his flute in his attic, in order to 
+pass the time. 
+
+VI. — The Little Convent. 
+
+In this enclosure of the Petit- Picpus there were three per- 
+fectly distinct buildings, — the Great Convent, inhabited by the 
+nuns, the Boarding-school, where the scholars were lodged ; 
+and lastly, what was called the Little Convent. It was a 
+building with a garden, in which lived all sorts of aged nuns of 
+various orders, the relics of cloistcre destroyed in the Revolu- 
+tion ; a reunion of all the black, gray, and white medleys of all 
+communities and all possible varieties ; what might be called, 
+if such a coupling of words is permissible, a soit of harlequin 
+convent. 
+
+When the Empire was established, ail these poor old dispersed 
+and exiled women had been accorded permission to come and 
+take shelter under the wings of the Bçrnardines-Benedictines. 
+The government paid them a small [)ension, the ladies of the 
+Petit-Picpus received them cordially. It was a singular jh'II- 
+mell. Each followed her own rule. Sometimes the pupils of 
+the boarding-school were allowed, as a great recreation, to pay 
+
+
+
+Dismas et Gesmas, media est divina pote8t«8; 
+Alia petit Disnias, infelix, intima, Gesmas ; 
+Nos et res nostras conservet summa potestas. 
+Hos versus dicas, ne tu f urto tua perdas. 
+
+These verses in sixth century Latin raise tlic question whethet 
+the two thieves of Calvary were named, as is commonly be- 
+lieved, Dismas and Gcstas, or Disraas and Gesmas. This 
+orthography might have confounded the pretensions put for- 
+ward in the last century by the Vicomte de Gestas, of a descent 
+from the wicked thief. However, the useful virtue attached to 
+these verses forms an article of faith in the order of the 
+Hospitallers. 
+
+Tlie church of the house, constructed in such a manner as to 
+separate the Great Convent from the Boarding-school like a 
+veritable intrenchment, was, of course, common to the Board- 
+ing-school, the Great Convent, and the Little Convent. The 
+public was even admitted by a sort of lazaretto entrance 
+on the street. But all was so arranged, that none of the 
+inhabitants of the cloister could see a face from the out- 
+side world. Suppose a church whose choir is grasped in a 
+gigantic hand, and folded in such a manner as to form, not, as 
+in ordinary cliurches, a prolongation behind the altar, but a 
+sort of hall, or obscure cellar, to the right of the officiating 
+priest ; suppose this hall to be shut off by a curtain seven feet 
+in height, of which we have already spoken ; in the shadow of 
+that curtain, pile up on wooden stalls the nuns in the choir on 
+the left, the school-girls on the right, the la^'-sisters and the 
+novices at the bottom, and you will have some idea of the nuns 
+of the Petit-Picpus assisting at divine service. That cavern, 
+which was called the choir, communicated with the cloister by a 
+lobby. The church was lighted from the garden. When the 
+nuns were present at services where their rule enjoined silencte, 
+the public was warned of thoir presence only by the folding 
+seats of the stalls noisily rising and falling. 
+
+VII. — Some Silhouettes of this Darkness. 
+
+During the six years which separate 1819 from 1825, the 
+prioress of the Petit-Picpus was Mademoiselle de Blemeur. 
+
+1 On the boughs hang three bodies of unequal merits: Dismas and Gesmas, 
+between is the divine power. Dismays n<^eks the heights, Ciresmas, unhappy 
+man, the lowest regions; the highest |M)wer will preserve as and our effects 
+If you repeat this v«rse, you will uot lose your things by theft 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+wbo was in her dotage, and Sister Sainte-Michel, whose long 
+nose made them laugh. 
+
+All these women were gentle with the children. The nuns 
+were severe only towards themselves. No fire was lighted 
+except in the school, and the food was choice compared to 
+that in the convent. Moreover, they lavished a thousand cares 
+on their scholars. Only, when a child passed near a nun and 
+addressed her, the nun never replied. 
+
+This rule of silence had had this efifect, that throughout the 
+whole convent, speech had been withdrawn from human crea- 
+tures, and bestowed on inanimate objects. Now it was the 
+church-bell which spoke, now it was the gardener's bell. A 
+very sonorous bell, placed beside the portress, and which waa 
+audible throughout the house, indicated by its varied peals, 
+which formed a sort of acoustic telegraph, all the actions of 
+material life which were to be performed, and summoned to the 
+parlor, in case of need, such or such an inhabitant of the house. 
+Each person and each thing had its own peal. The prioi^ss 
+had one and one, the sub-prioress one and two. Six-five 
+announced lessons, so that the pupils never said ^^ to go to 
+lessons," but ''to go to six-five." Four-four was Madame de 
+Genlis's signal. It was very often heard. '^ C'est le diable a 
+quatre," — it's the very deuce — said the uncharitable. Ten- 
+nine strokes announced a great event. It was the opening of 
+the door of aedusion^ a frightful sheet of iron bristling with 
+bolts, which only turned on its hinges in the presence of the 
+archbishop. 
+
+With the exception of the archbishop and the gardener, no 
+man entered the convent, as we have already said. The school- 
+girls saw two others : one, the chaplain, the Abbé Banes, old 
+and ugly, whom they were permitted to contemplate in the 
+choir, through a grating; the other the drawing- master, M. 
+Ansiaux, whom tiie letter, of which we have perused a few 
+lines, calls M. Anciot^ and describes as a frightful old hunchback. 
+
+It will be seen that all these men were carefully chosen. 
+
+Such was this curious house. 
+
+VIII. — Post Corda Lapides. 
+
+After having sketched its moral face, it will not provo un- 
+profitable to point out, in a few words, its material configurm- 
+tion. The reader already lias some idea of it. 
+
+
+
+cive ana neigiiDornooa, aua ne wiii oe aoie ix) lorm lor nimseii 
+a complote image of what the house of the Bernardines of 
+the Petit-Picpus was forty years ago. This holy house had 
+been built on the precise site of a famous tennis-ground of the 
+fourteenth to the sixteenth century, which was called the 
+*' tennis-ground of the eleven thousand devils." 
+
+All these streets, moreover, were more ancient than Paris. 
+These names, Droit-Mur and An marais are very ancicDt ; the 
+streets which bear them are very much more ancient still 
+Aumarais Lane was called Maugout Lane ; the Rue Droit-Mur 
+was called the Rue des Églantiers, for God opened flowers 
+before man cut stones. 
+
+IX. — A Century under a Guimpe. 
+
+Since we are engaged in giving details as to what the convent 
+of the Petit-Picpus was in former times, and since we have ven- 
+tured to open a window on that discreet retreat, the reader will 
+permit us one other little digression, utterly foreign to this 
+book, but characteristic and useful, since it shows that the 
+cloister even has its original figures. 
+
+In the Little Convent there was a ceolienarian who came from 
+the Abbey of Fontevrault. She had even been in society before 
+the Revolution. She talked a great deal of M. de Miromesnil. 
+Keeper of the Seals under Louis XVI. and of a Presidentcss 
+Du plat, with whom she had been very intimate. It was bcr 
+pleasure and her vanity to drag in these names on every pretext. 
+She told wonders of the Abbey of Fontevrault, — that it was 
+like a city, and that there were streets in the monastery. 
+
+She talked with a Picard accent which amused the pupils. 
+Every year, she solemnly renewed her vows, and at the moment. 
+of taking the oath, she said to the priest, " Monseigneur Saint- 
+François gave it to Monseigneur Saint-Julien, Monseigneur 
+Saint- Julien gave it to Monseigneur Saint-Ëusebius, Monseig- 
+neur Saint-Ëusebius gave it to Monseigneur Saint-Procopius^ 
+etc., etc. ; and thus I give it to you, father." And the school- 
+girls would begin to laugh, not in their sleeves, but onder their 
+veils ; charming little stifled laughs which made the vocal mothers 
+frown. 
+
+On another occasion, the centenarian was telling stories. She 
+said that in her yoiUh the Bernardine monks wei-e every tohit as 
+good (w the mousquetaires. It was a century which spoke 
+through her, but it was the eighteenth century. She told about 
+
+
+
+190 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+X. — Origin of tue Perpetual âdoratioh. 
+
+However, this almost sepulchral parlor, of which we bav» 
+iought to convey an idea, is a purely local trait which is not re- 
+produced with the same severity in other convents. At the 
+convent of t!ie Rue du Temple, in particular, which belonp:ed, 
+in truth, to another order, the black shutters were replaced by 
+brown curtains, and the parlor itself was a salon with a polished 
+wood floor, whose windows were draped in white muslin cur- 
+tains and whose walls admitted all sorts of frames, a portrait 
+of a Benedictine nuu with unveiled face, painted bouquets, and 
+even the head of a Turk. 
+
+It is in that garden of the Temple convent, that stoocî that 
+famous chestnut-tree which was renowned as the finest and the 
+largest in France, and which bore the reputation among the 
+good people of the eighteenth century of being the father of all 
+the chestnut-trees of the realm. 
+
+As we have said, this convent of the Temple was occupied 
+by Benedictines of the Perpetual Adoration, Benedictines quite 
+different from those who depended on Ctteaux. This order of 
+the Perpetual Adoration is not very ancient and does not go 
+back more than two hundred years. In 1649 the holy sacra- 
+ment was profaned on two occasions a few days apart, in two 
+churches in Paris, at Saint-Sul[)ice aud at Saint-Jean en Grève, 
+a rare and frightful sacrilege which set the whole town in an 
+uproar. M. the Prior and Vicar-General of Saint-Germain des 
+Prés ordered a solemn procession of all his clergy, in which the 
+Pope's Nuncio officiated. But this expiation did not satisfy 
+two sainted women, Madame Courtin, Marquise de Boues, and 
+the Comtesse de Châteauvieux. This outrage committed on 
+*' the most holy sacrament of the altar," though but temporary, 
+would not depart from these holy souls, and it seemed to them 
+that it could only be extenuated by a " Perpetual Adoration " 
+in some female monastery. Both of them, one in 1652, the 
+other in 1653, made donations of notable sums to Mother 
+Catherine de Bar, called of the Holy Sacrament, a Benedictine 
+nun, for the purpose of founding, to this pious end, a monas- 
+tery of the order of Saint-Benott ; the first permission for ^his 
+foundation was given to Mother Catherine de Bar by M. de 
+Metz, Abbé of Saint-Germain, ^' on condition that no woman 
+could be received unless she contributed three hundred livres 
+income, which amounts to six thousand livres, to the principal." 
+After the Abbé of Saint-Germain, the king accorded letters- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTB. 191 
+
+patent ; and all the rest, abbatial chai*ter, and ro3'al letters, was 
+confirmed in 1654 by the Chamber of Accounts and the Parlia 
+mcnt. 
+
+Such is the origin and the legal consecration of the establish- 
+ment of the Benedictines of the Perpetual Adoration of the Holy 
+Sacrament at Paris. Their first convent was " a new building " 
+in the Rue Cassette, out of the contributions of Mesdames de 
+Boucs and de Château vieux. 
+
+This order, as it will be seen, was not to be confounded with 
+the Benedictine nuns of Cîteaux. It mounted back to the Abbé 
+of Saint-(îcnnain des Prés, in the same manner that the Ifidies 
+of the Sacred Heart go back to the general of the Jesuits, and 
+the sisters of charity to the general of the Lazarists. 
+
+It was also totally different from the Bernardines of the 
+Petit-Picpus, whose interior we have just shown. In 1657, 
+Pope Alexander VII. had authorized, by a special brief, the 
+Bernardines of the Rue Petit-Picpus, to practise the Perpetual 
+Adoration like the Benedictine nuns of the Holy Sacrament. 
+But the two orders remained distinct none the less. 
+
+
+
+XI. — End of the Pettt-Piopus. 
+
+At the beginning of the Restoration, the convent of the 
+Petit-Picpus was in its decay ; this forms a part of the general 
+death of the order, which, after the eighteenth century, has 
+been disappearing like all the religious orders. Contemplation 
+is, like prayer, one of humanity's needs ; but, like everything 
+which the Revolution touched, it will be transformed, and from 
+being hostile to social progress, it will become favorable to it. 
+
+The house of the Petit-Picpus was becoming rapidly depop- 
+ulated. In 1840, the Little Convent had disappeared, the school 
+had disappeared. There were no longer any old women, nor 
+young girls; the first were dead, the latter had taken their 
+departure. Volaverunt. 
+
+The rule of the Perpetual Adoration is so rigid in its nature 
+that it alarms, vocations recoil before it, the order receives no 
+recruits. In 1845, it still obtained lay-sisters here and there. 
+But of professed nuns, none at all. Forty years ago, the nuns 
+numbered nearly a hundred ; fifteen years ago there were not 
+more than twenty-eight of them. How many are there to-day ? 
+In 1847, the prioress was young, a sign that the circle of choice 
+was restricted. She was not forty years old. In proportion àa 
+the number diminishes, the fatigue increases, the service of each 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+near when lucre woulu be out a dozen beat ami acuiiig shoul- 
+ders to bear the heavy rule of Saiut-Beuoit. The burden is im- 
+placable, and remains the same for the few as for the many. 
+It weighs down, it crushes. Thus they die. At the period 
+when the author of this book still lived in Paris, two died. One 
+was twenty-five years old, the other twenty-three. This latter 
+can say, like Julia Alpinula: " Hie jaceo. Vixi annos vigiuti 
+et ires.'* It is in consequence of this decay that the convent 
+gave up the education of girls. 
+
+We have not felt able to pass before this extraordinary house 
+without entering it, and without introducing the minds which 
+accompany us, and which are listening to our tale, to the profit 
+of some, perchance, of the melancholy history of Jean Valjean. 
+We have penetrated into this community, full of those oh! prac- 
+tices which seem so novel to-day. It is the closed garden, hoj'- 
+tus condiisus. We have spoken of this singular place in detail, 
+but with respect, in so far, at least, as detail and respect arc 
+compatible. We do not understand all, but we insult nothing. 
+We are equally far removed from the hosanna of Joseph de 
+Maistre, who wound up by anointing the executioner, and from 
+the sneer of Voltaire, who even goes so far as to ridicule the 
+cross. 
+
+An illogical act on Voltaire's part, we ma3' remark; by the 
+way ; for Voltaire would have defended Jesus as he defended 
+Calas ; and even for those who deny superhuman incarnations, 
+what does the crucifix represent? The assassinated sage. 
+
+In this ninteenth century, the religious idea is undergoing a 
+crisis. People are unlearning certain things, and they do well, 
+provided that, while unlearning them they learn this : There is 
+no vacuum in the human heart. Certain demolitions take place, 
+and it is well that they do, but on condition that they are fol- 
+lowed by reconstructions. 
+
+In the meantime, let us study things which are no more. li 
+is necessary to know them, if only for the purpose of avoiding 
+them. The counterfeits of the past assume false names, and 
+gladly call themselves the future. This spectre, this past, is 
+given to falsifying its own passport. Let us inform ourselves 
+of the trap. Let us be on our guard. The past has a visage, 
+superstition, and a mask, hypocrisy. Let us denounce the vis 
+age and let us tear off the mask. 
+
+As for convents, the}' present a complex problem, — a qnes- 
+tion of civilization, which condemns them ; a question of lib 
+erty, which protects them. 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+nnues to set tne example. 
+
+Claustration has had its day. Cloisters, useful in the earlj 
+education of modern civilization, have embarrassed its growth, 
+and are injurious to its development. So far as institution and 
+formation with relation to man are concerned, monasteries, 
+which were good in the tenth centur}^, questionable in the fif- 
+teenth, are detestable in the nineteenth. The leprosy of monas- 
+ticisra has gnawed nearly to a skeleton two wonderful nations, 
+Italy and Spain ; the one the light, the other the splendor of 
+Europe for centuries ; and, at the present day, these two illustri- 
+ous peoples are but just beginning to convalesce, thanks to the 
+healthy and vigorous hygiene of 1789 alone. 
+
+The convent — the ancient female convent in particular, 
+such as it still presents itself on the threshold of this century, 
+in Italy, in Austria, in Spain — is one of the most sombre con- 
+cretions of the Middle Ages. The cloister, that cloister, is 
+the point of intereection of horrors. The Catholic cloister, 
+properly speaking, is wholly filled with the black radiance of 
+death. 
+
+The Spanish convent is the most funereal of all. There rise, 
+in obscurity, beneath vaults filled with gloom, beneath domes 
+vague with shadow, massive altars of Babel, as high as cathe- 
+drals ; there immense white crucifixes hang from chains in the 
+dark ; there are extended, all nude on the ebony, great Christs 
+of ivory ; more than bleeding, — bloody ; hideous and magnifi- 
+cent, with their elbows displaying the bones, their kneo-pans 
+showing their integuments, their wounds showing their flesh, 
+crowned with silver thorns, nailed with nails of gold, with blood 
+drops of rubies on their brows, and diamond tears in their eyes. 
+The diamonds and rubies seem wet, and make veiled beings in 
+the shadow below weep, their sides bruised with the hair shirt 
+and their iron-tipped scourges, their breasts crushed with wicker 
+hurdles, their knees excoriated with prayer ; women who think 
+themselves wives, spectres who think themselves seraphim 
+Do these women think ? No. Have they any will? No. Do 
+ihey love? No. Do they live? No. Their nerves have 
+turned to bone ; their bones have turned to stone. Their veil 
+is of woven night. Their breath under their veil resembles 
+the indescribably tragic respiration of death. The abbess, a 
+Rpectre, sanctifies them and terrifies them. The immaculate one 
+Is there, and very fierce. Such are the ancient monasteries of 
+Spain. Lairs of terrible devotion, caverns of virgins, ferocious 
+places. 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+iiiese iron nmges, inese DecRiet», tnat lorty peep-noie on a level 
+with the river's current, that box of stone closed with a lid of 
+granite like a tomb, with this difference, that the dead man here 
+was a living being, that soil which is but mud, that vault hole, 
+those oozing walls, — what declaimers ! 
+
+
+
+III. — On What Conditions One can respect the Past. 
+
+MoNASTicisM, such ES It existed in Spain, and such as it still 
+exists in Thibet, is a sort of phthisis for civilization. It stops 
+life short. In simply depopulates. Ciaastration, castration. 
+It has been the scourge of Europe. Add to this the violence 
+8o often done to the conscience, the forced vocations, feudalism 
+bolstered up by the cloister, the right of the first-born pouring 
+the excess of the family into monasticism, the ferocities of which 
+we have just spoken, the inpace^ the closed mouths, the walled- 
+up brains, so many unfortunate minds placed in the dungeon of 
+eternal vows, the taking of the habit, the interment of living 
+souls. Add individual tortures to national degradations, and, 
+whoever you may be, you will shudder before the frock and 
+'nhe veil, ^- those two winding-sheets of human devising. Never- 
+theless, at certain points and in certain places, in spite of philos- 
+lyphy, in spite of progress, the spirit of the cloister persists in the 
+midst of the nineteenth century, and a singular ascetic recrudes* 
+cenoe is, at this moment, astonishing the civilized world. The 
+obstinacy of antiquated institutions in perpetuating themselves 
+i*esembles the stubbornness of the rancid perfume which should 
+claim our hair, the pretensions of the spoiled fish which should 
+persist in being eaten, the persecution of the child's garmont 
+which should insist on clothing the man, the tenderness of 
+corpvses which should return to embrace the living. 
+
+" Ingrates ! " says the garment, *' I protected you in inclem 
+ent weather. Why will you have nothing to do with me ? " * *• I 
+iïave just come from the deep sea," says the fish. '* I have 
+been a rose," says the perfume. ** I have loved yoo," says the 
+oorpse. *^ I have civilized you," says the convent. 
+
+To this there is but one reply : *' In former days.** 
+
+To dream of the indefinite prolongation of defunct things, and 
+of the government of men by embalming, to restore dogmas ia 
+a bad condition, to regild shrines, tcT patch up cloisters, to re- 
+bless reliquaries, to refurnish superstitions, to revirtnnl fanati* 
+cisms^ to put new handles oo bo^ water brashes and militarisiiv 
+
+
+
+k 
+
+
+
+oouts, talapoius, and dervishes multiply even like swarms « I 
+vermin. 
+
+This said, the religious question remains. This question ho« 
+certain mysterious, almost formidable sides; may we be oe*- 
+mitted to look at it fixedly. 
+
+
+
+IV. — The Convent from the Point of View of Principles 
+
+Men unite themselves and dwell in communities. By virti-e 
+of what right? By virtue of the right of association. 
+
+They shut themselves up at home. By virtue of what right ? 
+By virtue of the right which every man has to open or shut h*« 
+door. 
+
+They do not come forth. By virtue of what right? B3' vii 
+tue of the right to go and come, which implies the right t % 
+remain at home. 
+
+There, at home, what do they do? 
+
+They speak in low tones ; they drop their eyes ; they toi) 
+They renounce the world, towns, sensualities, pleasures, vau:' • 
+ties, pride, interests. They are clothed in coarse woollen c ' 
+coarse linen. Not one of them possesses in his own right an^ • 
+thing whatever. On entering there, each one who was ricd 
+makes himself poor. What he has, he gives to all. He wb > 
+was what is called noble, a gentleman and a lord, is the equ<«l 
+of him who was a peasant. The cell is identical for all. AU 
+undergo the same tonsure, wear the same frock, eat the sam^ 
+black bread, sleep on the same straw, die on the same ashes. 
+The same sack on their backs, the same rope around theii loins. 
+If the decision has been to go barefoot, all go barefoot. There 
+may be a prince among them ; that prince is the same shadow 
+as the rest. No titles. Even family names have disappeared. 
+TJiey bear only first names. All are bowed beneath the equality 
+of baptismal names. They have dissolved the carnal family , 
+and constituted in their community a spiritual family. They 
+have no other relatives than all men. They succor the pooj , 
+they care for the sick. They elect those whom they obey. Ther 
+call each other " my brother." 
+
+You stop me and exclaim, '' But that is the ideal convent ! '* 
+
+It is sufilcient that it may be the possible «onvent, that I 
+should take notice of it. 
+
+Thence it results that, in the preceding book. I have spokei*. 
+of a convent with respectful accents. The Middle Ages caFf 
+
+
+
+in the lower infinity. Tiie / below is the soul; the Ion high 
+is God. 
+
+To place the infinity here below in con^ct, by the medium cf 
+thought, with the infinity on high, is called praying. 
+
+Let us take nothing from the human mind; to suppress is 
+bad. We must reform and transform. Certain faculties lu 
+man are directed towards the Unknown ; thought, revery, 
+prayer. The Unknown is an ocean. What is conscience? It 
+is the compass of the Unknown. Thought, revery, prayer, — 
+these are great and mysterious radiations. Let us respect 
+them. Whither go these majestic irradiations 6Î the soul? Into 
+the shadow ; that is to say, to tiie light. 
+
+The grandeur of democracy is to disown nothing and to deny 
+nothing of humanity. Close to the right of the man, beside 
+it at the least, there exists tlie right of the soul. 
+
+To crush fanaticism and to venerate the infinite, such is the 
+law. Let us not confine ourselves to prostrating ourselves 
+before the tree of creation, and to the contemplation of its 
+branches full of stars. We have a duty to labor over the 
+human soul, to defend the mystery against the miracle, to adore 
+the incomprehensible and reject the absurd, to admit, as an in- 
+explicable fact, only what is necessary, to purify belief, to 
+remove superstitions from above religion ; to clear God of cater- 
+pillars. 
+
+VI. — The Absolute Goodness of Prater* 
+
+With regard to the modes of prayer, all are good, provided 
+that they are sincere. Turn your book upside down and be in 
+the infinite. 
+
+There is, as we know, a philosophy which denies the infinite. 
+There is also a philosophy, pathologically classified, which 
+denies the sun ; this philosophy is called blindness. 
+
+To erect a sense which we lack into a source of truth, is a 
+fine blind man's self-sufficiency. 
+
+The curious thing is the haughty, superior, and compassion- 
+ate airs which this groping philosophy assumes towards the 
+philosophy which beholds God. One fancies he hears a mole 
+crying, '* I pity them with their sun ! " 
+
+There are, as we know, powerful and illustrious atheists. At 
+bottom, led back to the truth by their very force, they ai'e not 
+absolutely sure that they are atheists : it is with them only a 
+
+
+
+
+tbem all as an elixir the nottou of God, to make conscience and 
+science fraternize in them, to render them just by this mysteri- 
+ous confrontation ; such is the function of real philosophy. 
+Morality is a blossoming out of truths. Contemplation leads 
+to action. The absolute should be practicable. It is neces- 
+aary that the ideal should be breatiiable, drinkable, and eatable 
+to tlie human mind. It is the ideal which has the right to say : 
+Take, this is my body^ this is my blood. Wisdom is a holy 
+sommunioD. It is on this condition that it ceases to be a sterile 
+love of science and becomes the one and sovereign mode of 
+human rallying, and that pliilosophy herself is promoted to 
+religion. 
+
+Philosophy should not be a corbel erected on mystery to gaze 
+upon it at its eascj^ without any other result than "that of being 
+^convenient to curiosit}'. 
+
+For our part, adjourning the development of our thonght 
+to another occasion, we will confine ourselves to 8a3ing that wo 
+neither understand man as a point of departure nor progress aa 
+an end, without those two forces which are their two motors » 
+faith and love. 
+
+Pr(^es8 is the goal, the ideal is the type. 
+
+What is this ideal? It is God. 
+
+Ideal, absolute, perfection, infinity : identical words. 
+
+
+
+VII. — Precautions to be observed in Blame. 
+
+History and philosophy have eternal duties, which are, at the 
+Bame time, simple duties ; to combat Caiphas the High-priest, 
+Draco the Lawgiver, Trimalcion the Legislator, Tiberius the 
+Emperor; this is clear, direct, and limpid, and offers no ol>- 
+scurity. 
+
+But the right to live apart, even with its inconveniences and 
+its abuses, insists on being stated and taken into account. 
+Cenobitism is a human problem. 
+
+When one speaks of convents, those abodes of error, bat of 
+innocence, of aberration but of good-will, of ignorance bat of 
+devotion, of torture but of martyrdom, it always becomes neces- 
+sary to say either yes or no. 
+
+A convent is a contradiction. Its object, salvation ; its 
+means thereto, sacrifice. The convent is supreme egoism hȴ^ 
+ing for its result supreme abiiogatiou* 
+
+
+
+work more divine thaa that performed by these soals." And 
+we add : " Tbere is probably no work which is mçre useful." 
+
+There certainly must be some who pray constantly for those 
+who never pray at all. 
+
+In our opinion the whole question lies in the amount of 
+thought that is mingled with prayer. 
+
+Leibnitz praying is grand, Voltaire adoring is fine. Deo 
+irexit Voltaire. 
+
+We are for religion as against religions. 
+
+We are of the number who believe in the wretchedness of 
+orisons, and the sublimity of prayer. 
+
+Moreover, at this minute which we are now traversing, — a 
+minute which will not, fortunately, leave its impress on the nine- 
+teenth century, — at this hour, when so many men have low 
+brows and souls but little elevated, among so many mortals 
+whose morality consists in enjoyment, and who are busied with 
+the brief and misshapen things of matter, whoever exiles him- 
+self seem worthy of veneration to us. 
+
+The monaster}' is a renunciation. Sacrifice wrongly directed 
+is still sacrifice. To mistake a grave en*or for a duty has a 
+grandeur of its own. 
+
+Taken by itself, and ideally, and in order to examine thi 
+truth on all sides until all aspects have been impartially ex- 
+hausted, the monastery, the female convent in particular, — for 
+in our century it is woman who suffers tlie most, and in this 
+exile of the cloister there is something of protestation, — the 
+female convent has incontestably a certain majesty. 
+
+This cloistered existence which is so austere, so depressing, 
+a few of whose features we have just traced, is not life, for it 
+is not liberty ; it is not the tomb, for it is not plenitude ; it is 
+the strange place whence one beholds, as from the crest of a 
+lofty mountain, on one side the abyss where we are, on the 
+other, the abyss whither we aliall go; it is the narrow and 
+misty frontier separating two worlds, illuminated and obscured 
+by both at the same time, where the ray of life which has bo- 
+come enfeebled is mingled with the vague ray of death ; it 
+is the half obscurity of tne tomb. 
+
+We, who do not believe what these women believe, hut 
+who, like them, live by faith, — we have never been able 
+to think without a sort of tender and religious terror, with- 
+out a sort of pity, that is full of envy, of those devoted, 
+trembling and trusting creatures^ of these humble and aog^sl 
+
+
+
+but one step intervening between the" convent and prison ; the 
+safest, because, if he could manage to get himself accepted 
+there and remain there, who would ever seek him in such a 
+olaee? To dwell in an impossible place was safet}'. 
+
+On his side, Fauchelevent was cudgelling his brains. He 
+began by declaring to himself that he understood nothing of 
+jhe matter. How had M. Madeleine got there, when the walls 
+were what they were? Cloister walls are not to be stepped 
+over. How did he get there with a child? One cannot scale a 
+perpendicular wall with a child in one's arms. Who was that 
+child ? Where did they both come from ? Since Fauchelevent 
+had lived in the convent, he had heanl nothing of M. sur M., 
+and he knew nothing of .what had taken place there. Father 
+Madeleine had an air which discouraged questions ; and be- 
+sides, Fauchelevent said to himself: "One does not question 
+a saint." M. Madeleine had preserved all his prestige in 
+Fauchele vent's eyes. Only, from some words which Jean Val- 
+Jean had let fall, the gardener thought he could draw the infer- 
+ence that M. Madeleine had probably become bankrupt through 
+the hard times, and that he was pursued by his creditors ; or 
+that he had compromised himself in some political affair, and 
+was in hiding ; whicli last did not displease Fauchelevent, who, 
+like many of our peasants of the North, had an old fund of 
+Bonapartism about him. While in hiding, M. Madeleine had 
+selected the convent as a refuge, and it was quite simple that 
+he should wish to remain there. But the inexplicable point, to 
+which Fauchelevent returned constantly and over which he 
+wearied his brain, was that M. Madeleine should be there, and 
+that he should have that little girl with him. Fauchelevent saw 
+them, touched them, spoke to them, and still did not believe ft 
+possible. The incomprehensible had just made its entrance 
+into Fa uchele vent's hut. Fauchelevent groped about amid 
+conjectures, and could see nothing clearly but this : "M. Made- 
+leine saved my life." This certainty alone was sufficient and 
+decided his course. He said to himself : *' It is my turn now.** 
+Ho added in his conscience : '* M. Madeleine did not stop to 
+deliberate when it was a question of thrusting himself under 
+the cart for the purpose of dragging me out." He made up his 
+mind to save M. Madeleine. 
+
+Nevertheless, he put many questions to himself and made 
+himself divers replies : *' After what he did for me, would I 
+save hrm if he were a thief? Just the same. If he were an 
+
+
+
+k 
+
+
+
+siijnify malice or stupidity. 
+
+At daybreak, Father Fauchelevent opened his eyes, after 
+having done an enormous deal of thinking, and beheld M. Made- 
+leine seated on his truss of straw, and watching Cosette's 
+slumbers. Fauchelevent sat up and said : — 
+
+'* Now that you are here, how are you going to contrive to 
+enter?" 
+
+This remark summed up the situation and aroused Jean Val 
+jean from his re very. 
+
+The two men took counsel together. 
+
+*' In the fii-st place," said Fauchelevent, '* you will begin by 
+not setting foot outside of this chamber, cither you or the child 
+One step in the garden and we are done for." 
+
+'' That is true." 
+
+'* Monsieur Madeleine," resumed Fauchelevent, ''you have 
+arrived at a very auspicious moment, I mean to say a very in- 
+auspicious moment ; one of the ladies is very ill. This wilfpre- 
+vent them from looking much in our direction. It seems that 
+she is dying. The prayers of the forty hours are being said. 
+The whole community is in confusion. That occupies them. 
+The one who is on the point of departure is a saint. In fact, 
+we are all saints here ; all the difference between them and 
+me is that they say ' our cell,' and that I say ' my cabin.' 
+The prayers for the dying are to be said, and then the prayers 
+for the dead. We shall be at peace here for to-day ; but I will 
+not answer for to-morrow." 
+
+" Still," observed Jean Valjean, " this cottage is in the niche 
+of the wall, it is hidden by a sort of ruin, there are trees, it is 
+not visible from the convent." 
+
+" And I add that the nuns never come near it." 
+
+" Well? " said Jean Valjean. 
+
+The interrogation mark which accentuated this "well" signi- 
+led ; " it seems to me that one may remain concealed here?" 
+It was to this interrogation point that Fauchelevent responded: — 
+
+" There are the little girls." 
+
+" What little girls? " asked Jean Valjean. 
+
+Just as Fauchelevent opened his mouth to explain the words 
+vhich he had uttered, a bell emitted one stroke. 
+
+" The nun is dead," said he. " There is the knell.'* 
+
+And he made a sign to Jean Valjean to listen. 
+
+The bell struck a second time. 
+
+"It is the knell, Monsieur Madeleine. The bell will continue 
+
+
+
+
+gaged in swariniug in that quarter, agents on the watch, senti* 
+nels everywhere, frightful liste extended towards his collar, Ja- 
+vert at the corner of the intersection of the streets perhaps. 
+
+" Impossible ! " said he. " Father Fauchelevent, say that I 
+fell from the sky." 
+
+" But I believe it, I believe it," retorted Fauchelevent. " You 
+have no need to tell mc that. The good God must have take&you 
+tn his hand for the purpose of getting a good look at you close 
+to, and then dropped you. Only, he meant to place you in a 
+man's con veut ; he made a mistake. Come, there goes another 
+peal, that is to order the porter to go and inform the municipal- 
+ity that the dead-doctor is to come here and view a corpse. All 
+that is the ceremony of dying. These good ladies are not at 
+all fond of that visit. A doctor is a man who does not believe 
+in anything. He lifts the veil. Sometimes he lids something 
+else too. How quickly they have had the doctor summoned 
+this time ! What is the matter ? Your little one is still asleep. 
+What is her name?" 
+
+''Cosette." 
+
+^' She is your daughter? You are her grandfather, that is?** 
+
+'' Yes." 
+
+" It will be easy enough for her to get out of here. I have 
+my service door which opens on the courtyard. 1 knock. The 
+porter opens ; I have my vintage basket on my back, the child 
+is in it, I go out. Father Fauchelevent goes out with his bas- 
+ket — that is perfectly natural. Yon will tell the child to keep 
+very quiet. She will be under the cover. I will leave her for 
+whatever time is required with a good old friend, a fruit-seller 
+whom I know in the Rue Chemin-Vert, who is deaf, and who 
+has a little bed. I will shout in the fruit-seller's e-ar, tliat sht 
+is a niece of mine, and that she is to keep her for me until to- 
+morrow. Then the little one will re-enter with you ; for I will 
+contrive to have you re-enter. It must be done. But how will 
+you manage to get out?" 
+
+Jean Val jean shook his head. 
+
+^^ No one must see me, the whole point lies there, Father 
+Fauchelevent. Find some means of getting me out in a basket, 
+under cover, like Cosette." 
+
+Fauchelevent scratched the lobe of his ear with the middle 
+finger of his left hand, a sign of serious embarrassment. 
+
+A third peal created a diversion. 
+
+*^ That is the dead-doctor taking his departure,** said Faoche 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+l^ss than ten minutes later^ Father FaueUelevent, whose bell 
+put the nuns in his road to fliglit, tapped gently at a door., aud 
+a gentle voice replied: ^*' Forever! Forever!" that is to say: 
+" Enter." 
+
+The door was the one leading to the parlor reserved for seeing 
+the gardener on business. This parlor adjoined the chapter 
+hall. The prioress, seated on the ordy chair in the parlor, was 
+waiting for Fauchelevent. 
+
+II. — Faucheleveiît in the Presence of a Difficulty. 
+
+It is the peculiarity of certain persons and certain professions, 
+notably priests and nuns, to wear a grave and agitated air ou 
+critical occasions. At the moment when Fauchelevent entered, 
+this double form of preoccupation was imprinted on the counte- 
+nance of the prioress, who was that wise and charn^ng Matlem- 
+Giselle de Blemeur, Mother Innocente, who was ordinarily 
+cheerful. 
+
+The gardener made a timid bow, ami remained at the door of 
+the cell. The prioress, who was telling her beads, raised hef 
+ej^es and said : — 
+
+'' Ah ! it is you. Father Fauvent." 
+
+This abbreviation had been adopted in the convent. 
+
+Fauchelevent bowed again. 
+
+" Father Fauvent, I have sent for you." 
+
+*' Here I am, reverend Mother." 
+
+" I have something to say to you." 
+
+^' And so have I," said Fauchelevent with a boldness which 
+caused him inward terror, ^^ I have something to say to the very 
+reverend Mother." 
+
+The prioress stared at him. 
+
+^^Ah ! you have a communication to make to me*" 
+
+"A request." 
+
+*' Very well, speak." 
+
+Goodman Fauchelevent, the ex-notary, belonged to the cate^ 
+gory of peasants who have assurance. A certain clever igno- 
+rance constitutes a force ; you do not distrust it, and 3'o«; are 
+caught by it. Fauchelevent had been a success during the 
+something more than two years which he had passed in the <«od- 
+vent. Always solitary and busied about his gardening, he had 
+nothing else to do than to indulge his curiosity. As he was at 
+a distance from all those veiled women passing to and fro, he 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+When he had finished Speaking, the prioress stayed the 8li|H 
+ping of her rosary between her fingers, and said to him : — 
+
+>* Could you procure a stout iron bar between now and thii 
+evening ? " 
+
+'* For what purpose?" 
+
+" To serve as a lever." 
+
+*' Yes, reverend Mother," replied Fauchelevent. 
+
+The prioross, witliout adding a word, rose and entered the 
+adjoining room, which was the hall of the chapter, and where 
+the vocal mothers were probably assembled. Fauchelevent was 
+left alone. 
+
+III. — Mother Innocente. 
+
+About a quarter of an hour elapsed. The prioress returne»! 
+and seated herself once more on her chair. 
+
+The two interlocutors seemed preoccupied. We will present 
+a stenographic report of the dialogue which then ensued, to the 
+best of our ability. 
+
+" Father Fauvent ! " 
+
+" Reverend Mother ! " 
+
+*' Do you know the chapel? ** 
+
+" I have a little cage there, where I hear the mass and tht 
+offices." 
+
+"And you have been in the choir in pursuance of vour 
+duties?" 
+
+'* Two or three times." 
+
+*' There is a stone to be raised." 
+
+''Heavy?" 
+
+" The slab of the pavement which is at the side of the altar.'* 
+
+"The slab which closes the vault?" 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+" It would be a good thing to have two men for it." 
+
+"Mother Ascension, who is as strong as a man, will help 
+you." 
+
+*' A woman is never a man." 
+
+" We have only a woman here to help you. Each one does 
+what he can. Because I)om Mabillon gives four hundred and 
+seventeen epistles of Saint Bernard, while Merlonus Horstins 
+only gives three hundred and sixty-seven, I do not despise 
+Merlonus Horstius." 
+
+" Neither do I." 
+
+*' Merit consists in working according to one's strength. A 
+cloister is not a dock-yard^' 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+yuu uau vji must; cutci iiiiaii vuaujuort 
+
+
+
+A fine sight it woald be, to see a man enter th« 
+
+
+
+not say more often than what, I 
+Why do you say more often ? ** 
+
+
+
+x-^v v^i/uct xuaii itunu 
+
+See to that, 
+dead-room ! ' 
+
+** More often ! *' 
+
+"Hey?" 
+
+" More often ! " 
+
+^'Whatdoyousay?"* 
+
+*' I say more often." 
+
+" More often than what?' 
+
+" Reverend Mother, I did 
+said more often." 
+
+" I don't understand you. 
+
+*'In order to speak like you, reverend Mother." 
+
+'' But I did not say * more often.' " 
+
+At that moment, nine o'clock struck. 
+
+**At nine o'clock in the morning and at all hours, praised 
+and adored be the most Holy Sacrament of the altar," said tlie 
+prioress. 
+
+'' Amen," said Fauchelevent. 
+
+The clock struck opportunely. It cut " more often" short. 
+It is probable, that had it not been for this, the prioress and 
+Fauchelevent would never have unravelled that skein. 
+
+Fauchelevent mopped his forehead. 
+
+The prioress indulged in another little inward murmur, prob- 
+ably sacred, then raised her voice : — 
+
+''In her lifetime. Mother Crucifixion made converts; after 
+her death, she will perform miracles." 
+
+*' She will ! " replied Father Fauchelevent, falling into step, 
+and striving not to fiinch again. 
+
+'* Father Fauvent, the community has been blessed in Mother 
+Crucifixion. No doubt, it is not granted to every one to die, 
+like Cardinal de Bérulle, while saying the holy mass, and 
+to breathe forth their souls to God, while pronouncing these 
+words : Heme igitur oblationem. But without attaining to 
+such happiness, Mother Crucifixion's death was ver}^ pi'eeiows. 
+She retained her consciousness to the very last moment. She 
+spoke to us, then she spoke to the angels. She gave us her l.nst 
+commands. If you had a little more faith, and if you could 
+have been in her cell, she would have cured your leg merely by 
+touching it. She smiled. We felt that she was regaining her 
+life in God. There was something of paradise in that death." 
+
+Fauchelevent thought that it was an orison which she wa« 
+finishing. 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+^^ So I shall huve to uail up that coffin? '' 
+
+'* Yes." 
+
+** And we are to reject the undertaker's coffin ?** 
+
+** Precisely." 
+
+^^ I am at the orders of the very reverend community/ 
+
+** The four Mother Precentors will assist you." 
+
+<=^In nailing up tlie coffin? I do not need them.'* 
+
+" No. In lowering the cofflin." 
+
+*' Where?" 
+
+*'Into the vault." 
+
+** What vault?" 
+
+** Under the altar.** 
+
+Fauchelevent started. 
+
+*' The vault under the altwr? " 
+
+*' Under the altar." 
+
+*'But— " 
+
+" You will have an iron bar.** 
+
+*' Yes, but — " 
+
+^^ You will raise the stone with Û» bar bj meaiM of Bkj 
+ring." 
+
+'*But — " 
+
+'* The dead must be obeyed. To be buried in tho vauU 
+under the altar of the chapel, not to go to profane earth, 
+to remain there in death where she prayed while living ; audi 
+was the last wish of Mother Crucifixion. She asked it of us ; 
+that is to say, commanded us." 
+
+" But it is forbidden." 
+
+*' Forbidden by men, enjoined by Grod.** 
+
+'* What if it became known?" 
+
+'* We have confidence in you." 
+
+*' Oh ! I am a stone in your walls." 
+
+^^ The chapter assembled. The vocal mothers, whom 1 Lave 
+just consulted again, and who are now deliberating, have 
+decided that Mother Crucifixion shall be buried, acconling 
+to her wish, in her own coffin, under our altar. Think, Father 
+Fauvent, if she were to work miracles here ! What a glory of 
+God for the community ! And miracles issue from tombs." 
+
+'^ But, reverend Mother, if the agent of the sanitaty oommis- 
+Bion — " 
+
+^^ Saint Benoit II., in the matter of sepulture, resiated CoO' 
+itantine Pogonatus." 
+
+^' But the commissary of police— ** 
+
+
+
+L 
+
+
+
+Î20 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+huudred canonized saints, and has been in existence for fou» 
+teen hundred years. On one side Saint Bernard, on the otiiei 
+the agent of the sanitary department! On odc side Saint 
+Benoit, ou the other the inspector of public ways ! The state, 
+the road commissioners, the public undertaker, regulations, the 
+administration, what do we know of all that? There is not a 
+chance passer-by who would not be indignant to see how we are 
+treated. We have not even the right to give our dust to Jesu9 
+Christ 1 Your sanitary department is a revolutionary invention. 
+God subordinated to tiie commissary of police ; such is the age. 
+Silence, Fauvent ! " 
+
+Fauchelevent was but ill at ease under this shower bath. Tha 
+prioress continued : — 
+
+^^ No one doubts the right of the monastery to sepultare. 
+Only fanatics and those in error deny it. We live in times of 
+terrible confusion. We do not know that which it is necessary 
+to know, and we know tliat which we should ignore. We artt 
+ignorant and impious. In this age there exist people who do 
+not distinguish between the very great Saint Bernaixl and the 
+Saint Bernard denominated of the poor Catholics, a certain 
+good ecclesiastic who lived in the thirteenth century. Others 
+are so blaspliemous as to compare the scaffold of Loais XVI . to 
+the cross of Jesus Christ. Louis XVI. was merely a king. 
+Let us beware of God ! There is no longer just nor unjust. 
+The name of Voltaire is known, but not the name of César de 
+Bus. Nevertheless, César de Bus is a man of blessed mem- 
+ory, and Voltaire one of unblessed memory. The last arch- 
+bishop, the Cardinal de Périgord, did not even know thai 
+Charles de Gondren succeeded to BeruUe, and François Bour- 
+goin to Gondren, and Jean-François Senault to Boui^oin, and 
+Father Sainte Marthe to Jean-François Senault. The name of 
+Father Coton is known, not because he was one of the three 
+who urged the foundation of the Oratorie, but because he f ur> 
+nishcd Henri IV., the Huguenot king, with the material for an 
+oath. That which pleases people of the world in Saint François 
+de Sales, is that he cheated at play. And then, religion is at- 
+tacked. Why? Because there have been bad priests, because 
+Sagittaire, Bishop of Gap, was the brother of Salone, Bishop of 
+Embrun, and because both of them followed Mommol. What 
+has that to do with the question ? Does that prevent Martin 
+de Tours from being a saint, and giving half of his cloak to a 
+beggar? They persecute the saints. They shut their eyes to 
+the truth. Darkness is the rule. The most ferocious beasts 
+are beasts which are blind. No one thinks of bell as a reality 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 221 
+
+Dh! how wicked people are! By order of the king signifies 
+k>-day, by order of the révolution. One no longer knows what 
+is dae to the living or to the dead. A holy death is prohibited. 
+Burial is a civil matter. This is horrible. Saint Leo II. wrote 
+two special letters, one to Pierre Notaire, the other to the king 
+of the Visigoths, for the purpose of combating and rejectmg, in 
+questions touching the dead, the authority of the exarch and the 
+supremacy of the Emperor. Gauthier, Bishop of Chalons, held 
+his own in this matter against Otho, Duke of Burgundy. The 
+ancient magistracy agreed with him. In former times we had 
+voices in the chapter, even on matters of the day. The Abbot 
+of Citeaux, the general of the order, was councillor by right of 
+birth to the parliament of Bui^ndy. We do what we please 
+with our dead. Is not the body of Saint Benoit himself in 
+France, in the abbey of Fleury, called Saint Beno!t-sur-Loire, 
+although he died in Italy at Mont-Cassin, on Saturday, the 2l8t 
+of the month of March, of the year 548? All this is incontest- 
+able. I abhor psalm-singers, I hate priors, I execrate heretics, 
+but I should detest yet more any one who should maintain the 
+contrary. One has only to read Arnoul Wion, Gabriel BuceliUy 
+Trithemus, Maurolics, and Dom Luc d'Achcry.*' 
+
+The prioress took breath, then turned to Fauchelevent* 
+
+*' Is it settled, Father Fauvent?" 
+
+*' It is settled, reverend Mother/' 
+
+*' We may depend on you ?" 
+
+" I will obey.*' 
+
+" That is well." 
+
+** I am entirely devoted to the convent." 
+
+** That is understood. You will closs the coffin. The sisters 
+will carry it to the chapel. The oillce for the dead will then be 
+said. Then we shall return to the cloister. Between eleven 
+o'clock and midnight, you will come with your iron bar. All 
+will be done in the most profound secrec}^ Tliere will be in 
+the chapel only the four Mother Precentors, Mother Ascension 
+ind yourself." 
+
+^^ And the sister at the post?" 
+
+** She will not turn round." 
+
+" But she will hear." 
+
+^* She will not listen. Besides, what the cloister knows the 
+world learns not." 
+
+A pause ensued. The prioress went on : — 
+
+*^ You will remoye your bell. It is not necessary that the 
+•ister at the post should '^<*rceive your presence." 
+
+'* Reverend Mother; 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+822 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+** What, Father Fauvent? " 
+
+^^ Has the doctor for the dead paid his visit?'' 
+
+^^ He will pay it at four o'clock to-day. The peal which 
+orders the doctor for the dead to be summoned has already been 
+rung. But you do not understand any of the peals? " 
+
+^^ I pay no attention to any but my own." 
+
+" That is well, Father Fauvent." 
+
+^* Reverend Mother, a lever at least six feet long will be 
+required." 
+
+'* Where will you obtain it?" 
+
+*^ Where gratiugs are not lacking, iron bars are not lacking 
+I have my heap of old iron at the bottom of the garden." 
+
+'^ About three-quarters of an hour before midnight; do not 
+forget." 
+
+*' Reverend Mother?" 
+
+«'What?" 
+
+«' If you were ever to have any other jobs of this sort, my 
+brother is the strong man for you. A perfect Turk ! " 
+
+«' You will do it as speedily as possible." 
+
+«« I cannot work very fast. I am infirm ; that is why I re- 
+quire an assistant. I limp." 
+
+«'To limp is no sin, and perhaps it is a blessing. The 
+Emperor Henry II., who combated Antipope Gregory and 
+re-established Benoit VIII., has two surnames, the Saint and 
+the Lame." 
+
+««Two surtouts are a good thing," murmured Fauchelevent, 
+who really was a little hard of hearing. 
+
+«« Now that I think of it, Father Fauvent, let us give a whole 
+hour to it. That is not too much. Be near the principal altar, 
+with your iron bar, at eleven o'clock. The office begins at 
+midnight. Everything must have been completed a good 
+quarter of an hour before that." 
+
+«« I will do anything to prove my zeal towards the community. 
+These are my orders. I am to nail up the colBn. At eleven 
+o'clock exactly, I am to be in the chapel. The Mother Precen- 
+tors will be there. Mother Ascension will be there. Two men 
+would be better. However, never mind ! I shall have my lever. 
+We will open the ^rault, we will lower the coffin, and we will 
+dose the vault again. After which, there will be no trace of 
+anything. The government will have no suspicion. Thoa all 
+has been arranged, reverend Mother?" 
+
+««No!" 
+
+«« What else remains ? " 
+
+«« The empty coffin remains." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE, 223 
+
+This produced a paase. Faacheleveot meditated. The pn 
+oreBs meditated. 
+
+'^ Wliat is to )>e done with that cofBO) Father Fauvent?" 
+
+" It will be giveu to the earth." 
+
+*^ Empty?" 
+
+Another silence. Fauchelevent made, with his left hand, that 
+Bort of a gesture which dismisses a troublesome subject. 
+
+^^ Reverend Mother, I am the one who is to nail up the coffin 
+In the btisemcnt of the church, and no one can enter there but 
+myself, and I will cover the coffin with the pall." 
+
+*•*• Yes, but the bearers, when they place it in the hearse and 
+lower it into the grave, will be sure to feel that there is nothing 
+in it." 
+
+*' Ah ! tlie de — ! " exclaimed Fauchelevent. 
+
+The prioress began to make the sign of tlie cross, and looked 
+fixedly at the gardener. The vil stuck fast in his throat. 
+
+He made haste to improvise an expedient to make her forget 
+the oath. 
+
+*'I will put earth in the coffin, reverend Mother. That will 
+produce the effect of a corpse." 
+
+^^ You are right. Earth, that is the same thing as maii. So 
+you will manage the empty coffin ? " 
+
+"I will make that my special business." 
+
+The prioress's face, up to that moment troubled and clouded,^ 
+grew serene once more. She made the sign of a superior dis- 
+missing an inferior to him. Fauchelevent went towards the 
+door. As he was on the point of passing out, the prioress 
+raised her voice gently : — 
+
+*' I am pleased with you. Father Fan vent ; bring your brother 
+to me to-morrow, after the burial, and tell him to fetch his 
+daughter." 
+
+
+
+IV*- ^ Ih which Jban Valjean has quttb the Air op haying 
+BEAD Austin Castillbjo. 
+
+The strides of a lame man are like the ogling glances of a 
+one-eyed man ; they do not reach their goal very promptly. 
+Moreover, Fauchelevent was in a dilemma. He took nearly a 
+quarter of an hour to return to his cottage in the garden. Co- 
+sette had waked up. Jean Valjean had placed ber near the lire. 
+At the moment when Fauchelevent entered, iean Valjean was 
+pointing out to her the vintner's basket on the wall, and saying 
+to her. '' Listen attelitively to me, my little Cosette. We mast 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+224 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+go awaj from this house, bat we shall return to it, and we shal 
+^-^ very happy here. The good man who lives here is going Us 
+carry you off on his back in that. You will wait for me at a 
+lady's house. I shall come to fetch you. Obey, and say noth- 
+ing, above all things, unless you want Madame Thénardier to 
+get you again ! " 
+
+Cosette nodded gravely. 
+
+Jean Valjean turned round at the noise made by Fauchelevent 
+opening the door. 
+
+''Well?" 
+
+" Everything is arranged, and nothing is," said Fauchelevent. 
+*' I have permission to bring you in ; but before bringing yoa 
+in you must be got out. That's where the difficulty lies. It ia 
+easy enough with the child." 
+
+*' You will carry her out ? "' 
+
+" And she will hold her tongue ?*• 
+
+" I answer for that." 
+
+" But you, Father Madeleine?" 
+
+And, after a silence, fraught with anxiety, Fauchelevent ex< 
+claimed : — 
+
+" Why, get out as you came in ! " 
+
+Jean Valjean, as in the first instance, contented himself with 
+saying, " Impossible." 
+
+. Fauchelevent grumbled, more to himself than to Jean Val- 
+jean : — 
+
+*' There is another thing which bothers me. I have said that 
+I would put earth in it. When I come to think it over, the 
+earth instead of the corpse will not seem like the real thing, it 
+won't do, it will get displaced, it will move about. The men 
+will hear it. You understand, Father Madeleine, the govern- 
+ment will notice it. 
+
+Jean Valjean stared him straight in the eye and thought that 
+he was raving. 
+
+Fauchelevent went on : — 
+
+" How the de — uce are you going to get out? It must all 
+be done by to-morrow morning. It is to-morrow that I am tc» 
+bring you in. The prioress expects you." 
+
+Then he explained to Jean Valjean that this was his recom- 
+pense for a service which he, Fauclielevcnt, was to render to 
+the community. That it fell among his duties to take part 
+in their burials,, that he nailed up the cofRns and helped the 
+grave-digger at the cemetery. That the nun who had died that 
+morning had requested to be buried in the coffin which had 
+served her for a bed, and interred in the vault under tlie altai 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+VOSETTB. 225 
+
+>f the cbapeL That the police regulations forbade this, but 
+that she was one of those dead to whom nothing is refused. 
+That the prioress and the vocal mothers intended to fulfil the 
+wish of the deceased. That it was so much the worse for the 
+government. Tiiat he, Fauchelevent, was to nail up the coffin 
+in the cell, raise the stone in the chapel, and lower the corpse 
+into the vault. And that, by way of thanks, the prioress was to 
+admit his brother to the house as a gardener, and his niece as a 
+pupil. That his brother was M. Madeleine, and that his niece 
+was Cosette. That the prioress had told him to bring his 
+brother on the following evening, after the counterfeit inter- 
+ment in the cemetery'. But that he could not bring M. Made- 
+leine in from the outside if M. Madeleine was not outside. That 
+that was the first problem. And then, that there was another : 
+the empty coffin." 
+
+^< What is that empty coffin?" asked Jean Valjean, 
+
+Fauchelevent replied : — 
+
+'^ The coffin of Uie administration." 
+
+*' What coffin? What administration?" 
+
+*' A nun dies. The municipal doctor comes and says, ^A 
+nan has died.' The government sends a coffin. The next day 
+it sends a hearse and undertaker's men to get the coffin and 
+carry it to the cemetery. The undertaker's men will come and 
+lift the coffin ; there will be nothing in it/* 
+
+*' Put something in it." 
+
+** A corpse ? I have none.'* 
+
+" No." 
+
+** What then?" 
+
+** A living person.** 
+
+*'Whatpei-son?'* 
+
+" Me ! " said Jean Valjean. 
+
+Faachelevent, who was seated, sprang ap as though a bomb 
+bad bnrst under his chair. 
+
+"Yoal" 
+
+"Why not?" 
+
+Jean Valjean gave way to one of those rare smiles which 
+»i^hted up his face like a flash from heaven in the winter. 
+
+** You know, Fauchelevent, what you have said : * Mother Cru- 
+cifixion is dead,' and I add : ^ and Father Madeleine is buried.' " 
+
+*^ Ah ! good, you can laugh, you are not speaking seriously.** 
+
+'* Very seriously, I must get out of this place." 
+
+** Certainly.*' 
+
+^* I have told you to find a basket, and a cover for me also.' 
+
+**WeU?** 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+226 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+*' The basket will be of pine, and the cover a black dotii.* 
+
+^^ In the first place, it will be a white cloth. Nons are buried 
+m white." 
+
+" Let it be a white cloth, then." 
+
+" You are not like other men, Father Madeleine.** 
+
+To behold such devices, which are nothing else than the sav- 
+age and daring inventions of the galleys, spring forth from the 
+peaceable things which surrounded him, and mingle with what 
+he called the " petty course of life in the convent,*' caused 
+Fauchelevcnt as much amazement as a gnll fishing in the gutter 
+of the Rue Saint-Denis would inspire in a passer-by. 
+
+Jean Valjcan went on ; — 
+
+^^ The problem is to get out of here without being seen. This 
+offers the means. But give me some information, in the first 
+place. How is it managed? Where is this coffin?" 
+
+"The empty one?'* 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+" Down stairs, in what is called the dead-Toom. It stands on 
+two trestles, under the pall." 
+
+" How long is the coffin?** 
+
+" Six feet." 
+
+*' What is this dead-room?" 
+
+" It is a chamber on the ground floor which has a grated wii^ 
+dow opening on the garden, which is closed on the outside by a 
+shutter, and two doors ; one leads into the convent, the other 
+into the church." 
+
+''What church?" 
+
+" The church in the street, the church which any one can 
+enter." 
+
+"Have you the keys to those two doors?" 
+
+"No ; I have the key to the door which communicates with 
+the convent ; the porter has the key to the door which commun!» 
+cates with the church." 
+
+" When does the porter open that door?" 
+
+"Only to allow the undertaker's men to enter, when they 
+come to got the coffin. When the coffin has been taken out, the 
+door is closed again." 
+
+" Who nails up the coffin ? ** 
+
+" I do." 
+
+" Who spreads the pall over it?** 
+
+" I do." 
+
+" Are you alone?" 
+
+" Not another man, except the police doctor, can enter the 
+dead-room. Thiit is even written on the wall." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+VOSETTB, 227 
+
+*^ Could you hide me in that room to«night when every one if 
+asleep ? " 
+
+^^ No. Bat I could hide yoa in a small, dark nook which 
+opens on the dead-room, where I keep my tools to use foi 
+burials, and of which I have the key." 
+
+" At what time will the hearse «omc for the coffin to-morrow ? " 
+
+*'^ About three o'clock in the afternoon. The burial will take 
+place at the Vanghrard cemetery a little before nightfall. It is 
+not very near." 
+
+^^ £ will remain concealed in your tool-closet all night and all 
+the morning. And how about food? I shall be hungry." 
+
+*' I will bring you something." 
+
+** You can come and nail me up in the coffin at two o'clock." 
+
+Fanchdevant recoiled and cracked his finger-joints. 
+
+*' But that is impossible ! " 
+
+*' Bah ! Impossible to take a hammer and drive some nails in 
+a plank?" 
+
+What seemed unprecedented to Fauchelevent was, we repeat, 
+a simple matter to Jean Val jean. Jean Val jean had been in 
+woi*se straits than this. Anj* man who has been a prisoner un- 
+derstands how to contract himself to fit the diameter of the 
+escape. The prisoner is subject to flight as the sick man is 
+subject to a crisis which saves or kills him. An escape is a 
+cur«. What does not a man undergo for the sake of a cure? 
+To have himself nailed up in a case and carried off like a bale of 
+goods, to live for a long time in a box, to find air where there is 
+none, to economize his breath for hours, to know how to stifle 
+without dying — this was one of Jean Valjean's gloomy talents. 
+
+Moreover, a coffin containing a living being, — that convict's 
+
+expedient, — is also an imperial expedient. If we are to credit 
+
+the monk Austin Castillejo, this was the means ein[)loyed by 
+
+Charles the Fifth, desirous of seeing the Plombes for the last 
+
+ime after his abdication. 
+
+He had her brought into and carried out of the monastery of 
+Saint- Yuste in this manner. 
+
+Fauchelevent, who had recovered himself a little, exclaimed : — 
+
+** But how, will 3'ou manage to breathe?" 
+
+**I will breathe." 
+
+'* In that box ! The mere thought of it suflTocates me.** 
+
+" You surely must have a gimlet, you will make a few holes 
+here and there, around my mouth, and you will nail the top 
+niank on loosely." 
+
+^^Good! And what if you should t^%ppen to cough or to 
+sneeze?" 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+228 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+** A man who is making his escape does not cough or sneeze.* 
+
+And Jean Valjean added : — 
+
+'^Father Fauchelevent, we must come to a decision: 1 
+must either be caught here, or accept this escape through tbe 
+hearse." 
+
+Every one has noticed the taste which cats have for pausing 
+and lounging between the two leaves of a half-shut door- Who 
+is tliere who has rot said to a cat, " Do come in ! " Thei-e are 
+men who, when an incident stands half-open before them, have 
+the same tendency to halt in indecision between two resolutions, 
+at the risk of getting crushed through tlie abrupt closing of the 
+adventure by fate. The over-prudent, cats as tliey are, and 
+because they are cats, sometimes incur more danger than the 
+audacious. Fauchelevent was of this hesitating nature. But 
+Jean Valjean's coolness prevailed over him in spite of himself. 
+He grumbled : — 
+
+'' Well, since there is no other means." 
+
+Jean Valjean resumed : — 
+
+^^ The only thing which troubles me is what will take place at 
+the cemeter}-." 
+
+'' That is the very point that is not troublesome,'' exclaimed 
+Fauchelevent. " If 3'ou are sure of coming out of the coffiu all 
+right, I am sure of getting you out of the grave. The grave- 
+digger is a drunkard, and a friend of mine. He is Father Mes- 
+tienne. An old fellow of the old school. The grave-digger 
+puts the corpses in the grave, and I put the grave-digger in my 
+pocket. 1 will tell you what will take place. They will arrive 
+a little before dusk, three-quarters of an hour before the gates 
+of the cemetery are closed. The hearse will drive directly up 
+to the grave. I shall follow ; that is my business. I shall 
+have a hammer, a chisel, and some pincers in my pocket. The 
+hearse halts, the undertaker's men knot a rope around your 
+coflin and lower you down. The priest says the prayers, makes 
+the sign of the cross, sprinkles tiie holy water, and ttdces his 
+departure. I am left alone with Father Mestienne. He is my 
+friend, I tell you. One of two things will happen, he will 
+either be sober, or he will not be sober. If he i^ not dnmk, 
+I shall say to him : ' Come and drink a bout while the Bon 
+Coing [the Good Quince] is open.* I carry him off, I get 
+him drunk, — it does not take long to make Father Mes- 
+tienne drunk, he always has the beginning of it about him, 
+— I lay him under the table, I take his card, so that I can gel" 
+into the cemetery again, and I return without him. Then you 
+have no longer any one but me to deal with. If he is drunks 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+VOSETTE. 229 
+
+I shall say to him :. * Be off ; 1 will do your work for yoo/ Ofl 
+
+he goes, and 1 drag you out of the hole." 
+
+Jean Yaljean held out his hand, and Fauchelevcnt precipitated 
+
+himself upon it with the touching effusion of a peasant. 
+
+" That is settled, Father Fauchelevent. All will go well." 
+*' Provided -nothing goes wrong," thought Fauchelevent 
+
+* ' In that case, it would be terrible." 
+
+
+
+V. — It is hot Necbssart to be drunk in Order to be 
+
+IliMORTAL. 
+
+On the following day, as the sun was declining, the very rare 
+passers-by on the Boulevard du Maine pulled off their hats to 
+an old-fashioned hearse, ornamented with skulls, cross-bones, 
+and tears. This hearse contained a coffin covered with a white 
+cloth over which spread a large black cross, like a huge corpse 
+with drooping arms. A mourning-coach, in which could be 
+seen a priest in his surplice, and a choir boy in his red cap, fol- 
+lowed. Two undertaker's men in gray uniforms trimmed with 
+black walked on the right and the left of the hearse. Behind it 
+came an old man in the garments of a laborer, who limped 
+along. The procession was going in the direction of the Vau- 
+girard cemetery. 
+
+The handle of a hammer, the blade of a cold chisel, and the 
+antennae of a pair of pincers were visible, protruding from the 
+man's pocket. 
+
+The Vaugirard cemetery formed an exception among the 
+cemeteries of Paris. It had its peculiar usages, just as it had 
+its carriage entrance and its house door, which old people in the 
+quarter, who clung tenaciously to ancient words, still called the 
+porte cavalière and the porte piétonne} The Bernardines-Bene- 
+dictines of the Rue Petit-Picpus had obtained permission, as we 
+have already stated, to be buried there in a corner apart, and 
+at night, the plot of land having formerly belonged to their 
+community. The grave-diggers being thus bound to service in 
+the evening in summer and at night in winter, in this cemetery, 
+they were subjected to a special discipline. The gates of the 
+Paris cemeteries closed, at that epoch, at sundown, and this 
+being a municipal regulation, the Vaugirard cemetery was bound 
+by it like the rest. The carriage gate and the house door were two 
+contiguous grated gates, adjoining a pavilion built by the 
+architect Perronet, and inhabited by the door-keeper of th€ 
+
+1 Instead oiporiê cockers and tiorU bâtarde 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+230 ùES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+cemetery. These gates, therefore, swung inexorably on their 
+hinges at the instant when the sun disappeared behind the dome of 
+die Invalides. If any grave-digger were delayed after that 
+moment in the cemetery, there was but one way for him to get 
+out — his grave -digger's card furnished by the department of 
+public funerals. A sort of letter-box was constructed in the 
+porter's window. The grave-digger dropped his cai-d inlo this 
+box, the porter heard it fall, pulled the rope, and the small 
+door opened. If the man had not his card, he mentioned his 
+name, the porter, who was sometimes in bed and asleep, rose, 
+came out and identified tlie man, and opened the gate with his 
+key; the grave-digger stepped out, but had to pay a fine of 
+fifteen francs. 
+
+This cemetery with its peculiarities outside the regulations, 
+embarrassed the symmetry of the administration. It was sup- 
+pressed a little later than 1830. The cemetery of Mont-Par- 
+nasse, called the Eastern cemetery, succeeded to it, and inherited 
+that famous dram-shop next to the Vaugirard cemetery, which 
+iv^as surmounted by a quince painted on a board, and which 
+formed an angle, one side on the drinkers* tables, and the other 
+on the tombs, with this sign : Aa Bon Coiiig. 
+
+The Vaugirard cemetery was what may be called a faded cem- 
+etery. It was falling into disuse. Dampness was invading it, 
+IJiie flowers were deserting it. The bourgeois did not care much 
+about being buried in the Vaugirard ; it hinted at poverty. Père- 
+Lachaise if you please ! to be buried in Père-Lachaise is equiva- 
+lent to having furniture of mahogany. It is recognized as ele- 
+gant. The Vaugirard cemetery was a venerable enclosure, 
+planted like an okl-fashioned French garden. Straight alleys, 
+l)ox, thuya-trees, holly, ancient tombs beneath aged cypress- 
+trees, and very tall grass. In the evening it was tragic there. 
+There were very lugubrious lines about it. 
+
+The sun had not yet set, when the hoarse with the white pall 
+%nd the black cross entered the avenue of the Vaugirard ceme - 
+!rery. The lame man who followed it was no other than Fauch- 
+ilevent. 
+
+The interment of Mother Crucifixion in the vault under the 
+altar, the exit of Cosette, the introduction of Jean Valjean to 
+the dead-room, — all had been executed without difiSculty, and 
+there had been no hitch. 
+
+Let us remark in passing, that the burial of Mother Crucifix 
+ion under the altar of the convent is a perfectly venial ofifence 
+in our sight. It is one of the faults which resemble a duty. 
+The nuns had committed it, not only without difilcalty, bat e^en 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 231 
+
+#ith the applause of their own consciences. In the cloister, what 
+JB called the ''government" is onl}' an intermeddling with au- 
+thority, an interference which is always questionable. In the 
+the first place, the rule ; as for the code, we shall see. Make 
+as many laws as you please, men ; but keep them for yourselves. 
+Tlie tribute to Caesar is never anything but the remnants of the 
+tribute to God. A prince is nothing in the presence of a principle. 
+
+Fauchelevent limped along behind the hearse in a very con 
+I.ented frame of mind. His twin plots, the one with the nnns, 
+the one for the convent, the other against it, the other with M„ 
+Madeleine, had succeeded, to all appearance. Jean Valjean's 
+composure was one of those powerful tranquillities which are 
+contagious. Fauchelevent no longer felt doubtful as to his 
+success. 
+
+What remained to be done was a mere nothing. Within the 
+last two years, he had made good Father Mestienne, a chubby- 
+cheeked person, drunk at least ten times. He played with 
+Father Mestienne. He did what he liked with him. He made 
+him dance according to his whim. Mestienne's head adjusted 
+itself to the cap of Fauchele vent's will. Fauchele vent's confi- 
+dence was perfect. 
+
+At the moment when the convoy entered the avenue leading 
+to the cemetery, Fauchelevent glanced cheerfully at the hearse, 
+and said half aloud, as he rubbed his big hands : — 
+
+'* Here's a fine farce !" 
+
+All at once the hearse halted ; it had reached the gate. The 
+permission for interment must be exhibited. The undertaker's 
+man addressed himself to the porter of tlie cemetery. During 
+this colloquy, which always is productive of a delay of from one 
+to two minutes, some one, a stranger, came and placed himself 
+behind the hearse, beside Fauchelevent. He was a sort of la- 
+boring man, who wore a waistcoat with large pockets and car- 
+ried a mattock under his arm. 
+
+Fauchelevent surveyed this stranger. 
+
+" Who are you?" he demanded. 
+
+"The man replied : — 
+
+**The grave-digger.** 
+
+If a man could survive the blow of a cannon-ball full in the 
+tireast, he would make the same face that Fauchelevent made. 
+
+** The grave-digger?** 
+
+*»Te8.*' 
+Yon?** 
+
+**!.** 
+
+**Father Mestienne is the grave-digger.** 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+232 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+** He was." 
+
+**What! He was?" 
+
+"He is dead." 
+
+Fauchelevent had expected anything but this, that a grave- 
+digger oould die. It is true, nevertheless, that grave-diggers 
+do die themselves. By dint of excavating graves for other 
+people, one hollows out one's own. 
+
+Fauchelevent stood there with his month wide open. He had 
+hardly the strength to stammer: — 
+
+" But it is not possible ! " 
+
+" It is so." 
+
+"But," he persisted feebly, " Father Mestienne is the grave- 
+digger." 
+
+"After Napoleon, Louis XVIII. After Mestienne, Gnbier. 
+Feasant, my name is Gribier." 
+
+Fauchelevent, who was deadly pale, stared at this Gribier. 
+
+He was a tall, thin, livid, utterly funereal man. He had the 
+air of an unsuccessful doctor who had turned grave-digger. 
+
+Fauchelevent burst out laughing. 
+
+"Ah ! " said he, " what queer tilings do happen ! Father Mes* 
+tienne is dead, but long live little Father Lenoir ! Do you know 
+who little Father Lenoir is ? He is a jug of red wine. It is a 
+jug of Surene, morbigou ! of real Paris Surône? Ah! So old 
+Mestienne is dead ! I am sorry for it ; he was a jolly fellow. 
+Hut you are a jolly fellow, too. Are you not, comrade? We'll 
+go and have a drink together presently." 
+
+The man replied : — 
+
+" I have been a student. I passed my fonrth examination. 
+I never drink." 
+
+The hearse had set out again, and was rolling up the grand 
+alley of the cemetery. 
+
+Fauchelevent had slackened his pace. He limped more oat 
+of anxiety than from infirmity. 
+
+The grave-digger walked on in front of him. 
+
+Fauchelevent passed the unexpected Gribier once more in re- 
+view. 
+
+He was one of those men who, though very young, have the 
+air of age, and who, though slender, are extremely strong. 
+
+" Comrade 1 " cried Fauchelevent. 
+
+The man turned round. 
+
+** I am the convent grave-digger." 
+
+** My colleague," said the man. 
+
+Fauchelevent, who was illiterate but very sharp, understood 
+that he had to deal with a formidable species of man, with 
+a fine talker. He muttered ^^^^ - 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQIC 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 233 
+
+<^ So Father Mestienne is dead.'* 
+
+The man replied : — 
+
+^^ Completely. The good God consulted his note-book which 
+shows when the time is up. It was Father Mestienne's turn. 
+Father Mestienne died.*' 
+
+Fauchelevent repeated mechanically : The good God — " 
+
+"The good God," said the man authoritatively. "Accord 
+ing to the philosophers, the Eternal Father ; according to the 
+Jacobins, the Supreme Being." 
+
+" Shall we not make each other's acquaintance?" stammered 
+Fauchelevent. 
+
+" It is made. You are a peasant, I am a Parisian." 
+
+"People do not know each other until they have drunk to- 
+gether. He who empties his glass empties his heart. You 
+must come and have a drink with me. Such a thing cannot be 
+refused." 
+
+" Business first." 
+
+Fauchelevent thought : " I am lost." 
+
+They were only a few turns of the wheel distant from the 
+small alley leading to the nuns' corner. 
+
+The grave-digger resumed : — 
+
+" Peasant, I have seven small children who must be fed. As 
+they must eat, I cannot drink." 
+
+And he added » with the satisfaction of a serious man who is 
+turning a phrase well : — 
+
+" Their hunger is the enemy of my thirst." 
+
+The hearse skirted a clump of cypress- trees, quitted the grand 
+alley, turned into a narrow one, entered the waste land, an4 
+plunged into a thicket. This indicated the immediate proximity- 
+of the place of sepulture. Fauchelevent slackened his pace, 
+but he could not detain the- hearse. Fortunately, the soil, 
+which was light and wet with the winter rains, clogged the 
+wheels and retarded its speed. 
+
+He approached the grave-digger. 
+
+"They have such a nice little Argenteuil wine," murmured 
+Fauchelevent. 
+
+" Villager," retorted the man, " I ought not be a grave- 
+digger. My father was a porter at the Prytaneum [Town-Hall], 
+He destined me for literature. But he had reverses. He had 
+tosses on 'change. I was obliged to renounce the profession of 
+ftothor. But I am still a public writer." 
+
+" So you are not a grave-digger, then?" returned Fauchele 
+rent, clutching at this branch, feeble as it was. 
+
+" The one does not hinder the other. 1 cumulate." 
+
+Fauchelevent did not understjand this last word. 
+
+uignized by CjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+234 LE^ MISÉRABLES. 
+
+"Come have a drink," said he. 
+
+Here a remark becomes necessary. Fauchelevent, whatevei 
+his anguish, offered a drink, but he did not explain himself on 
+one point ; who was to pay ? Generally, Fauchelevent offered 
+and Father Mestienue paid. An offer of a drink was the evi- 
+dent result of the novel situation created by the new grave- 
+digger, and it was necessary to make this offer, but the old 
+£:ardener loft the proverbial quarter of an hour named after 
+Rabelais in the dark, and that not unintentionally. As for 
+himself, Fauchelevent did not wish to pay, troubled as he was, 
+
+•The grave-digger went on with a superior smile : — 
+
+" One must eat. I have accepted Father Mestienne's rever- 
+sion. One gets to be a philosopher when one has nearly com- 
+pleted h)s classes. To the labor of the hand I join the labor 
+of the arm. I have my scrivener's stall in the market of the 
+Rue de Sèvres. You know? the Umbrella Market. All the 
+cooks of the Red Cross apply to me. I scribble their declara- 
+tions of love to the raw soldiers. In the morning I write love 
+letters ; in the evening I dig graves. Such is life, rustic." 
+
+The hearse was still advancing. Fauchelevent, uneasy to the 
+last degree, was gazing about him on all sides. Great drops of 
+perspiration trickled down from his brow. 
+
+" But," continued the grave-digger, " a man cannot serve two 
+mistresses. I must choose between the pen and the mattock. 
+The mattock is ruining my hand." 
+
+The hearse halted. 
+
+The choir boy alighted from the mourning-coach, then the 
+priest. 
+
+One of the small front wheels of the hearse had run up a 
+little on a pile of earth, beyond which an open grave was visible. 
+
+" What a farce this is !" repeated ï>Eiuchelevent in consterna* 
+tion. 
+
+VI. — Between Four Planks. 
+
+Who was in the coffin? The reader knows. Jean Valjean. 
+
+Jean Valjean had arranged things so that he could exist there, 
+jind he could almost breathe. 
+
+It is a strange thing to what a degree security of conscience 
+confers security of the rest. Every combination thought out by 
+Jean Valjean had been progressing, and progressing favorably, 
+since the preceding day. He, like Fauchelevent, counted on 
+Father Mestienne. He had no doubt as to the end. Never 
+was there a more critical situation, never more complete cook 
+posure. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 235 
+
+The foar planks of the ooflSn breathe oat a kind of terrible 
+peace. It seemed as though something of the repose of the 
+dead entered into Jean Valjean's tranquillity. 
+
+From the depths of that coffin he had been able to follow, 
+and he had followed, all the phases of the terrible drama which 
+he was playing with death. 
+
+Shortly after Fauchelevent had finished nailing on the nppei 
+plank, Jean Valjean had felt himself carried out, then driven 
+off. He knew, from the diminution in the jolting, when they 
+left the pavements and reachod the earth road. He had tiivined, 
+from a dnll noise, that they were crossing the bridge of Auster 
+litz. At the first halt, he had understood that they were enter 
+ing the cemetery ; at the second halt, he said to himself : — 
+
+" Here is the grave." 
+
+Suddenly, he felt hands seize the coffin, then a harsh grating 
+against the planks ; he explained it to himself as the rope which 
+was being fastened round the casket in order to lower it into the 
+cavity. 
+
+Tiien he experienced a giddiness. 
+
+The undertaker's man and the grave-digger had probably 
+allowed the coffin to lose its balance, and had lowered the head 
+before the foot. He recovered himself fully when he felt him- 
+self horizontal and motionless. He had just touched the bottom. 
+
+He had a certain sensation of cold. 
+
+A voice rose above him, glacial and solemn. He heard Latin 
+words, which he did not understand, pass over him, so slowly 
+that he was able to catch them one by one : — 
+
+** Qui dormlwU in terrœ pidvere^ evigilabunt; alii in vitam 
+oBtemam^ et alU in opprobrium^ ut videant semper»** 
+
+A child's voice said : — 
+
+^^^Deprofundis" 
+
+The grave voice began again : -— 
+
+** Requiem cetemam dona e*. Domine,'^ 
+
+The child's voice responded : — 
+
+^*^ Et lux perpétua luceaJt ei." 
+
+He heard something like the gentle patter of several drops 
+of ram on the plank which covered him. It was probably the 
+boly water. 
+
+He thought: " This will be over soon now. Patience for a 
+little while longer. The priest will take his departure. Fauche- 
+lèvent will take Mestienne off to drink. I shall be left. Then 
+Fauehelevent will return alone, and I shall e:et out. That wiU 
+be the work of a good hour/* 
+
+The grave voice resumed : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+236 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+-** Requiescat in pace.** 
+
+Ând tlie child's voice said : — 
+
+" Amen,'' 
+
+Jean Valjean strained his ears, and heard something like re 
+treating footsteps. 
+
+*' There, they are going now," thought he. *' I am alone." 
+
+All at once, he heard over his head a sound which seemed to 
+him to be a clap of thunder. 
+
+It was a shovelful of earth falling on the coffin. 
+
+A second shovelful fell. 
+
+One of the holes through which he breathed had Just been 
+stopped up. 
+
+A third shovelful of earth fell. 
+
+Then a fourth. 
+
+There are tilings which are too strong for the strongest mao. 
+Jean Valjean lost consciousness. 
+
+VII. — In which will be poimD the Origin op the Satinq : 
+Don't lose the Card. 
+
+This is what had taken place above the coffin in which lay 
+Jean Valjean. 
+
+When the hearae had driven off, when the priest and the choir 
+boy had entered the carriage again and taken their departure, 
+Fauchelevent, who had not taken his eyes from the grave-digger, 
+saw the latter bend over and grasp his shovel, which was stick* 
+ing upright in the heap of dirt. 
+
+Then Fauchelevent took a supreme resolve. 
+
+He placed himself between the grave and the grave-digger, 
+crossed his arms and said : — 
+
+" I am the one to pay ! ** 
+
+The grave-digger stared at him in amazement, and replied : -^ 
+
+'* What's that, peasant?" 
+
+Fauchelevent rei)eated : — 
+
+" I am the one who pays I ** 
+
+"What?" 
+
+** For the wine.'* 
+
+"What wine?" 
+
+" That Argenteuil wine.** 
+
+" Where is the Argenteuil? *' 
+
+*'Atthe J3ow Coing." 
+
+"Go to the devil ! " said the grave-digger. 
+
+And he flung a shovelful of earth on the coffin. 
+
+The coffin gave back a hollow sound. Fauchelevent felt Ml» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 283 
+
+éelf stagger and on the point of falling headlong into the grave 
+Himself. He shouted in a voice in which the strangling sound 
+of the death rattle began to mingle : — 
+
+'* Comrade ! Before the Bon Coing is shut 1 '* 
+
+The grave-digger took some more earth on bis shovel* Faoche- 
+tevent continued : — 
+
+*' I will pay.'* • 
+
+And he seized the man's arm. 
+
+'* Listen to me, comrade. I am the convent grave-digger, I 
+aave come to help you. It is a business which can be performed 
+fit night. Let us begin, then, by going for a drink." 
+
+And as he spoke, and clung to this desperate insistance, tliis 
+melancholy reflection occurred to him* *'And if he drinks, 
+will he get drunk?" 
+
+" Pi-ovincial," said the man, '* if you positively insist upon it, 
+I consent. We will drink. After work, never before." 
+
+And he flourished his shovel briskly. Fauchelevent held him 
+back. 
+
+" It is Argenteuil wine, at six.'* 
+
+"Oh, come," said the grave-digger, ''you are a bell-ringer. 
+Ding dong, ding dong, that's all you know how to say. Go 
+hang yourself." 
+
+And he threw in a second shovelful. 
+
+Fauchelevent had reached a point where he no longer knew 
+what he was saying. 
+
+''Come along and drink," he cried, " since it is I who pay the 
+bill." 
+
+"When we have put the child to bed," said the grave-digger. 
+
+He flung in the third shovelful. 
+
+Then he thrust his shovel into the earth and added : — 
+
+"It's cold to-night, you see, and the copse would shriek out 
+if ter us if we were to plant her there without a coverlet." 
+
+At that moment, as he loaded his shovel, the grave-digger 
+bent over, and the pocket of )iis waistcoat gaped. 
+
+Fauchelevent's wild gaze fell mechanically into that pocket, 
+And there it stopped. 
+
+The sun was not yet hidden behind the horizon ; there was 
+still light enough to enable him to distinguish something white 
+at the bottom of that yawning pocket. 
+
+The sum total of lightning that the eye of a Picard peasant 
+can contain, traversed Fauchelevent's pupils. An idea had 
+Just occurred to him. 
+
+He thrust his hand into the pocket from behind, without the 
+gXfiye^iggeti who was wholly absorbed in his shovelful of earthy 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+238 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+observing it. and pulled out the white object which lay at the 
+))ottom of it. 
+
+The man sent a fourth shovelful tumbling into the grave. 
+
+Just as he turned round to get the fifth, Fauchelevent looked 
+calmly at him and said : — 
+
+'* By the wa}', you new man, have you your card?** 
+
+The grave-digger paused. 
+
+"What card?" 
+
+** The sun is on the point of setting." 
+
+" Tliat/s gowi, it is going to put on its nightcap.** 
+
+" The gate of the cemetery will close immed lately. ** 
+
+"Well, what then?" 
+
+" Have you your card ? " 
+
+" Ah ! my card?" said the grave-digger. 
+
+And he fumbled in his pocket. 
+
+-Having searched one pocket, he ))roceeded to search the 
+other. He passed on to his fobs, explored the firat, returned to 
+the second. 
+
+"Why, nc," said he, "I have not my card. I must have 
+forgotten it." 
+
+" Fifteen fVancs fine," said Fauchelevent. 
+
+The grave-digger turned green. Green is the pallor of livid 
+people. 
+
+" Ah ! Jésos-mon-Dieu-baucroche-â-bas-la-lune ! " ' he ex- 
+claimed. " Fifteen francs fine ! " 
+
+" Three pieces of a hundred sous," said Fauchelevent. 
+
+The grave-digger dropped his shovel. 
+
+Fanchelevent's turn had come. 
+
+" Ah, come now, conscript," said Fauchelevent, ** none of 
+this despair. There is no question of committiug suicide and 
+benefiting the grave. Fifteen francs is fifteen francs, and be- 
+sides, yoa may not be able to |)ay it. I am an old hand, you 
+are a new one. I know all the ropes and the devices. I will 
+give you some friendly' advice. One thing is clear, the sun is 
+on the point of setting, it is touching the dome now, the ceme- 
+tery will be closed in five minutes more." 
+
+" That is true," replied the man. 
+
+" Five minutes more and you will not have time to fill the 
+^ave, it is as hollow as the devil, this grave, and to reach the 
+|ate in season to pass it before it is shut." 
+
+"Thatistrae." 
+
+\^ In that case, a fine of fifteen francs.** 
+
+" Fifteen francs." 
+
+^ Jesas-my-God-bandy-les: — down with the moon i 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 239 
+
+" But you have time. Where do you live?" 
+
+^^ A couple of steps from the barrier, a quarter of an hour 
+(h>m here. No. 87 Rue de Vaugirard." 
+
+^' You have just time to get out by taking to your heels at 
+^our best speed. '* 
+
+*'That is exactly so." 
+
+^^Once outside the gate, you gallop home, you get your card, 
+/OU return, the cemetery porter admits you. As you have your 
+card, there will be nothing to pay. And you will bury your 
+corpse. I'll watch it for you in the meantime, so that it shall 
+not run away." 
+
+^'I am indebted to you for my life, peasant." 
+
+"Decamp ! " said Fauchelevent. 
+
+The gi*ave-diggery overwhelmed with gratitude, shook his 
+hand and set off on a run. 
+
+When the man had disappeared in the thicket, Fauchelevent 
+listened until he heard his footsteps die away in the distance, 
+then he leaned over the grave, and said in a low tone : — 
+
+''Father Madeleine]" 
+
+There was no reply. 
+
+Fauchelevent was seized with a shudder. He tumbled rather 
+than climbed into the grave, flung himself on the head of the 
+coffin and cried : — 
+
+''Are you there?" 
+
+Silence in the coffin. 
+
+Fauchelevent, hardly able to draw his breath for trembling, 
+seized his cold chisel and his hammer, and pried up the coffin lid. 
+
+Jean Valjean's face appeared in the twilight ; it was pale and 
+his eyes were closed. 
+
+Fauchelevent's hair rose upright on his head, he sprang to his 
+feet, then fell back against tbe side of the grave, ready to swoon 
+on the coffin. lie stared at Jean Val jean. 
+
+Jean Valjcan lay there pallid and motionless. 
+
+Fauchelevent murmured in a voice as faint as a sigh : — • 
+
+"He is dead!" 
+
+And, drawing himself up, and folding his arms with such vio 
+lence that his clenched fists came in contact with his shoulders, 
+he cried : — 
+
+'* And tliis is the way I save his life !" 
+
+Then the poor man fell to sobbing. He soliloquized the 
+while, for it is an error to suppose that the soliloquy is unnatural. 
+Powerful emotion often talks aloud. 
+
+"It is Father Mestienne's fault. Why did that fool die! 
+What need was there for him to give up the ghost at the verj 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+t40 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+moment when no one was expecting it? It ia he who has killed 
+M. Madeleine. Father Madeleine ! He is in the cotliu. It is 
+quite handy. All is over. Now, is there any sense in these 
+things? Ah! my God! he is dead! Well! and his little girl, 
+what am I to do with her? What will the fruit-seller say? 
+The idea of its being possible for a man like that to die like this ! 
+When I think how he put himself under that cart! Father 
+Madeleine ! Father Madeleine ! Pardine ! He was suffocated, 
+I said so. He wouldn't believe me. Well ! Here's a pretty 
+trick to play ! lie is dead, that good man, the very best man out 
+of ail the good God's good folks ! And his little girl ! Ah ! In 
+the first place, I won't go back there myself. I shall stay here. 
+After having done such a thing as that! What's the use of 
+being two old men, if we are two old fools ! But, in the first 
+place, how did he manage to enter the convent? That was the 
+bc'ginning of it all. One should not do such things. Father 
+Madeleine ! Father Madeleine ! Father Madeleine ! Madeleine ! 
+Monsieur Madeleine ! Monsieur le Maire ! He does not hear 
+me. Now get out of this scrape if you can ! " 
+
+And he tore his hair. 
+
+A grating sound became audible through the trees in the dis- 
+tance. It was the cemetery gate closing. 
+
+Fauchelevent bent over Jean Vaijean, and all at once he 
+bounded back and recoiled so far as the limits of a grave permit. 
+
+Jean Valjcau's eyes were open and gazing at him. 
+
+To see a corpse is alarming, to behold a resurrection is almost 
+as much so. Fauchelevent became like stone, pale, haggard, 
+overwhelmed by all these excesses of emotion, not knowing 
+whether he had to do with a living man or a dead one, and star- 
+ing at Jean Vaijean, who was gazing at him. 
+
+"I fell asleep," said Jean Vaijean. 
+
+And he raised himself to a sitting posture. 
+
+Fauchelevent fell on his knees. 
+
+'' Just, good Virgin ! How you frightened me ! " 
+
+Then he sprang to his feet and cried : — 
+
+" Thanks, Father Madeleine ! " 
+
+Jean Vaijean had merely fainted. The fresh abr had revived 
+him. 
+
+Joy is the ebb of terror. Fauchelevent found almost as much 
+difficulty in recovering himself as Jean Vaijean had. 
+
+** So you are not dead ! Oh ! How wise you are ! I called 
+you so much that you came back. When I saw your eyes shut, I 
+said: 'Good! there he is, stifled,* I should have gone raviug 
+mad, mad enough for a s'^**ait jacket. They would have pat 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+VOSETTE. 241 
+
+me in BtoAtre. What do yon suppose I should have done if yoq 
+had been dead? And your little girl? There's that fruit- 
+seller, — she would never have understood it! The child is 
+thrust into your arms, and then — the grandfather is dead I 
+What a story ! good saints of paradise, what a tale I Ah I you 
+are alive, that's the best of it ! " 
+
+" I am cold," said Jean Valjean- 
+
+This remark recalled Fauchelevent thoroughly to reality, and 
+there was pressing need of it. The souls of these two men 
+were troubled even when they had recovered themselves, al-* 
+though they did not realize it, and there was about them some- 
+thing uncanny, which was the sinister bewilderment inspired by 
+the place. 
+
+** Let us get out of here quickly," exclaimed Fauchelevent. 
+
+He fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out a gourd with which 
+he had provided himself. 
+
+" But first, take a drop," said he. 
+
+The flask finished what tlie fresh air had begun, Jean Val jean 
+swallowed a mouthful of brandy, and regained full possession 
+of his faculties. 
+
+He got out of the coffin^ and helped Fauchelevent to nail on 
+the lid again. 
+
+Three minutes later they were out of the grave. 
+
+Moveover, Fauchelevent was perfectly composed. He took 
+Ms time. The cemetery was closed. The arrival of the grave- 
+digger Gribier was not to be apprehended. That " conscript" 
+was at home busily engaged in looking for his card, and at 
+some difliculty in finding it in his lodgiugs, since it was in Fauche- 
+levenf s pocket. Without a card, he could not get back into 
+the cemetery. 
+
+Fauchelevent took the shovel, and Jean Yaljean the pickaxe, 
+and together they buned the empty coflSn. 
+
+When the grave was full, Fauchelevent said to Jean Val- 
+îean : — 
+
+" Let us go. I will keep the shovel ; do you carry off the 
+Jiattock." 
+
+Night was falling. 
+
+Jean Valjean experienced some difidculty in moving and in 
+walking. He had stiffened himself in that cofiSn, and had be- 
+come a little like a corpse. The rigidity of dealîi had seized 
+upon him between those four planks. He had, in a manner, to 
+thaw out, from Uie tomb. 
+
+" You are benumbed," said Fauchelevent. '' It is a pity that 
+I have a game leg, for otherwise we might step out briskly." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+242 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+*' Bah !*' replied Jean Yaljean, ^^ four paces will pat life inia 
+my legs once more." 
+
+They set off by the alleys through which the liearse had 
+passed. On arriving before the closed gate and the porteras 
+pavilion Fauchelevent, who held the grave-digger's card in his 
+hand, dropped it into the box, the poiter pulled the rope, the 
+gate opened, and they went out. 
+
+'* How well everything is going ! " said Fauchelevcnt ; " what 
+a capital idea that was of yours, Father Madeleine ! " 
+
+They passed the Vaugirard barrier in the simplest manner \h 
+the world. In the neighborhood of the cemetery, a shovel and 
+pick are equal to two passi>orts. 
+
+The Rue Vaugirard was deserted. 
+
+^* Father Madeleine," said Fauchelevent as they went along, 
+and raising his eyes to Ibe houses, ^^ Your eyes are better than 
+mine. Show me No. 87." 
+
+"Here it is," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+^^ There is no one in the street," said Fauchelevent. ^^Give 
+me your mattock and wait a couple of minutes for me.** 
+
+Fauchelevent entered No. 87, ascended to the very top, 
+guided by the instinct which always leads the poor man to the 
+garret, and knocked in the dark, at the f"^ 'A an attic. 
+
+A voice replied : " Come in." 
+
+It was Gribier's voice. 
+
+Fauchelevent opened the door. The grave-digger's dwelling 
+«ras, hke all such wretched habitations, an unfurnished and en- 
+cumbered gan*et. A packing-case — a coffin, perhaps — took 
+the place of a commode, a butter-pot served for a drinking- 
+fountain, a straw mattress served for a bed, the floor served in- 
+stead of tables and chairs. In a corner, on a tattered fragment 
+which had been a piece of an old carpet, a thin woman and a 
+uiiiuber of children were piled in a heap. The whole of this 
+|)overty-stricken interior bore traces of having been overturned. 
+One would have said that there had been an earthquake '^foi 
+c^ne." The covers were displaced, the rags scattered about, the 
+jug broken, the mother had been crying, the children had probably 
+been beaten ; traces of a vigorous and ill-tempered search. It 
+was plain that the grave-digger had made a desperate search 
+ibr his cai-d, and had made everybody in the garret, from the 
+Jug to his wife, responsible for its loss. He wore an air of des- 
+peration. 
+
+But Fauchelevent was in too great a hurry to terminate this 
+adventure to take any notice of this sad side of his success. 
+
+He entered and said : ~ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTS. 24a 
+
+^I have brought you back your shorel and pick.^ 
+
+Gribier gazed at him in stupefaction. 
+
+" Is it you, peasant ? " 
+
+'' And to-morrow morning you will find your card with the 
+potter of the cemetery." 
+
+And he laid the shovel and mattock on the floor. 
+
+"What is the meaning of this ? " demaned Gribier. 
+
+" The meaning of it is, that you dropped your card out of 
+your pocket, that 1 found it on the ground after you were gone, 
+that I have buried the corpse, that I have filled the grave, that 
+I have done your work, that the porter will return your card to 
+you, and that you will not have to pay fifteen francs. There 
+you have it, conscript." 
+
+" Thanks, villager I " exclaimed Gribier, radiant. " The next 
+time I will pay for the drinks." 
+
+
+
+VIII. — A SuccBssFui. Interrogatory. 
+
+An hour later, in the darkness of night, two men and a child 
+presented themselves at No. 62 Rue Petit-Fiepus. The elder 
+of the men lifted the knocker and rapped. 
+
+They were Fauchelevent, Jean Val jean, and Gosette. 
+
+The two old men had gone to fetch Cosette from the fruit- 
+erer's in the Rue du Chemin-Vert, where Fauchelevent had 
+deposited her on the preceding day. Cosette had passed these 
+twenty-four hours trembling silently and understanding noth- 
+ing. She trembled to such a degree that she wept. She liad 
+neither eaten nor slept. The worthy fruit-seller had plied her 
+with a hundred questions, without obtaining any other reply 
+than a melancholy and unvarying gaze. Cosette had betrayed 
+nothing of what she had seen and heard during the last two 
+days. She divined that they were passing through a crisis. 
+She was deeply conscious that it was necessary to " be good." 
+Who has not experienced the sovereign power of those two 
+words, pronounced with a certain accent in the ear of a terri- 
+fied little being: Say nothing! Fear is mute. Moreover, no 
+one guards a secret like a child. 
+
+But when, at the expiration of these lugubrious twenty-four 
+hours, she beheld Jean Valjean again, she gave vent to such 
+a cry of joy, that any thoughtful person who had chanced to 
+hear that cry, would have guessed that it issued from an abyss. 
+
+Fauchelevent belonged to the convent and knew the pass- 
+words. All the doors opened. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+244 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Thus was Bolved the double and alarming problem of how to 
+get out and how to get in. 
+
+The poi*ter, who had received his instructions, opened the 
+little servant's door which connected the courtyard with the 
+garden, and which could still be seen from the street twenty 
+years ago, in the wall at the bottom of the court, which faced 
+the carriage entrance. 
+
+The poitcr admitted all three of them through this door, and 
+from that point they reached the inner, reserved parlor where 
+Fauchelevent, on the preceding day, had received his orders 
+from the prioress. 
+
+The prioress, rosary in hand, was waiting for them. A vocal 
+mother, with her veil lowered, stood beside her. 
+
+A discreet candle lighted, one might almost say, made a show 
+of lighting the parlor. 
+
+The prioress passed Jean Valjean in review. There is noth* 
+ing which examines like a downcast eye. 
+
+Tiien she questioned him : — 
+
+** You are the brother?" 
+
+*'Ye8, reverend Mother," replied Fauchelevent. 
+
+*' What is your name?" 
+
+Fauchelevent replied : — 
+
+" Ultime Fauchelevent." 
+
+He really had had a brother named Ultime, who was dead* 
+
+*' Where do you come from?" 
+
+Fauchelevent replied : — 
+
+" From Picquigny, near Amiens/' 
+
+"What is your i^e?" 
+
+Fauchelevent replied : — 
+
+'* Fifty." 
+
+"What is your profession?** 
+
+Fauchelevent replied : — 
+
+" Gardener." 
+
+" Are 3'ou a good Christian?*' 
+
+Fauchelevent replied : — 
+
+"Every one is in the family.** 
+
+•• Is this your little girl?" 
+
+Fauchelevent replied : — 
+
+" Yes, reverend Mother." 
+
+"You are her father?" 
+
+Fauchelevent replied : — 
+
+"Her grandfather." 
+
+The vocal mother said to the prioress in a low voice :-«- 
+
+**He answers well." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 245 
+
+Jean Valjean had not uttered a single word. 
+
+The prioress looked attentively at Cosette, and said hal; 
+aloud to the vocal mother: — 
+
+" She will grow up ugly." 
+
+The two mothers consulted for a few moments in very low 
+tones in the corner of the parlor, then the prioress turned round 
+and said : — 
+
+'^Father Fauvent, you will get another knee-cap with a belL 
+Two will be required now." 
+
+On the following day, therefore, two bells were audible in 
+the garden, and the nuns could not resist the temptation to 
+raise the corner of their veils. At the extreme end of the gar- 
+den, under the trees, two men, Fauvent and another man, were 
+risible as they dug side by side. An enormous event. Their 
+silence was broken to the extent of saying to each other : ^^ He 
+is an assistant gardener." 
+
+The vocal mothers added: "He is a brother of Father Fau- 
+vent." 
+
+Jean Valjean was, in fact, regularly installed ; he had his 
+belled knee-cap; henceforth he was ofQcial. His name was 
+Ultime Fauchelevent. 
+
+The most powerful determining cause of his admission had 
+been the prioress's observation upon Cosette : " She will grow 
+up ugly." 
+
+The prioress, that pronounced prognosticator, immediately 
+took a fancy to Cosette and gave her a place in the school as a 
+charity pnpil. 
+
+There is nothing that is not strictly logical about this. 
+
+It is in vain that mirrors are banished from the convent, 
+women are conscious of their faces ; now, girls who are con- 
+scious of their beauty do not easily become nuns ; the vocation 
+being voluntary in inverse proportion to their good looks, more 
+is to be hoped from the ugly than from the pretty. Hence a 
+lively taste for plain girls. 
+
+The whole of this adventure increased the importance of 
+good, old Fauchelevent ; he won a triple success ; in the eyes 
+of Jean Valjean, whom he had saved and sheltered ; in those of 
+grave-digger Gribier, who said to himself : " He spared me that 
+fine " ; with the convent, which, being enabled, thanks to himr 
+to retain the coffin of Mother Crucifixion under the altar, eluded 
+Cœsar and satisfied God. There was a coffin containing a body 
+in the Petit-Picpus, and a coffin without a body in the Vaugi- 
+rard cemetery, public order had no doubt been deeply disturbed 
+thereby, bat no one was aware of it. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+246 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+As for the convent, its gratitude to Faucbelevcnt was very 
+great. Fauclieleveut became the best of sorvilors and the 
+uiost precious of gardeners. Upon the occasion of the arch* 
+bishop's next visit, the prioress recounted the affair to his 
+Grace, making something of a CH>nfe8sion at the same time, 
+and jet boasting of her deed. On leaving the convent, the 
+archbishop mentioned it with approval, and in a whisper to M* 
+de Latil, Monsieur's confessor, afterwards Archbishop of Reim^ 
+and Cardinal. This admiration for Fauchclevent became wide« 
+spread, for it made its way to Rome. We have seen a note 
+addressed by the then reigning Pope, Leo XII., to one of his 
+relatives, a Monsignor in the Nuncio's establishment in Paris, 
+and bearing, hke himself, the name of Delia Genga ; it contained 
+these lines : ^^ It appears that there is in a convent in Paris an 
+excellent gardener, who is also a holy man, named Fan vent.*' 
+Nothing of this triumph reached Fauchelevent in his hut; he 
+went on grafting, weeding, and covering np his melon beds^ 
+without in the least suspecting his excellences and his sanctity. 
+Neither did he suspect his glory, any more than a Durham or 
+Surrey bull whose portrait is published in the TjOiidon IlhiMrcUed 
+News^ with this inscription : ^^ Bull which carried off the prize 
+at the Cattle Show." 
+
+
+
+IX. — Cloistbrbd. 
+
+CosETTis continued to hold her tongue in the convent. 
+
+It was quite natural that Cosette should thmk herself Jean 
+Vaijean's daughter. Moreover, as she knew nothing, she could 
+say nothing, and then, she would not have said anything in any 
+case. As we have just observed, nothing trains children to 
+silence like unhappiness. Cosette had suffered so mach, 
+that she feared everything, even to speak or to breathe. A 
+single word had so often brought down an avalanche upon 
+her. She had hardly begun to regain her confidence since she 
+had been with Jean Val jean. She speedily became accustomed 
+to the convent. Only she regretted Catherine, but she dared 
+not sa}' BO. Once, however, she did say to Jean Valje&D : 
+^^ Father, if I had known, I would have brought her away with 
+roe." 
+
+Cosette had been obliged, on becoming a scholar in the con* 
+vent, to don the garb of the pupils of the house. Jean Valjean 
+Bucceedeil in getting them to restore to him the garments which 
+she laid aside. This was the same mourning suit which he had 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 247 
+
+made her put on when she had quitted the Thénardiers' inn. 
+It was not very threadbare even now. Jean Valjean locked up 
+these garments, plus the stockings and the shoes, with a quan- 
+tity of camphor and all the aromatics in which convents abound, 
+in a little valise which he found means of procuring. He set 
+this valise on a chair near his bed, and he always carried the 
+key about his person. " Father," Cosette asked him one daj-, 
+" what is there in that box which smells so good?" 
+
+Father Fauchelevent received other recompense for his good 
+action, in addition to the glory which we Just mentioned, and 
+of which he knew nothing ; in the first place it made hiin happy ; 
+next, he had much less work, since it was shared. Lastly, as 
+he was very fond of snuff, he found the presence of M. Made- 
+leine an advantage, in that he used three times as much as he 
+had done previously, and that in an infinitely more luxurious 
+manner, seeing that M. Madeleine paid for it. 
+
+The nuns did not adopt the name of Ultime; they called 
+Jean Valjean the other Fauvent. 
+
+If these holy women had possessed anything of Javert's 
+glance, they would eventually have noticed that when there was 
+any errand to be done outside in the behalf of the garden, it 
+was always the elder Fauchelevent, the old, the infirm, the lame 
+man, who went, and never the other; but whether it is that 
+eyes constantly fixed on God know not how to spy, or whether 
+they were, by preference, occupied in keeping watch on each 
+other, they paid no heed to this. 
+
+Moreover, it was well for Jean Valjean that he kept close 
+and did not stir out. Javert watched the quarter for more than 
+a month. 
+
+This convent was for Jean Valjean like an island surrounded 
+by gulfs. Henceforth, those four walls constituted his world. 
+He saw enough of the sky there to enable him to preserve his 
+serenity, and Cosette enough to remain happy. 
+
+A very sweet life began for him. 
+
+He inhabited the old hnt at the end of the garden, in com- 
+pany with Fauchelevent. This hovel, built of old rubbish, 
+which was still in existence in 1845, was composed, as the 
+reader already knows, of three chambers, all of which were 
+utterly bare and bad nothing beyond the walls. The prin- 
+cipal one had been given ui), by force, for Jean Valjean had 
+opposed it in vain, to M. Madeleine, by Father Fauche- 
+levent. The walls of this chamber had for ornament, în ad- 
+dition to the two nails whereon to hang the knee-cap and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+248 
+
+
+
+LES MISERABLES. 
+
+
+
+the basket, a Rojalîst bauk-notc of '93, applied to the waX 
+over the chimney-pieoe, and of which the following is an exact 
+facsimile : — 
+
+
+
+XI^^|^f|qMiiaGittKil <^^ ^J ^ 
+
+
+
+% 
+^ 
+
+
+
+in 
+
+
+
+
+^ScC 
+
+
+
+Sâie«. 
+
+
+
+T w dbJop g aatle &]a 
+
+
+
+
+Y^ 
+
+
+
+10390. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+y 1^ i^ ♦ \<jtsàk^ > 1^ i^Vt 
+
+
+
+This specimen of Vendean paper money had been nailed to 
+the wall by the preceding gardener, an old Chouan, who had 
+died in the convent, and whose place Fauchelevent had taken. 
+
+Jean Valjean worked in the garden every day and made him- 
+self very useful. He had formerly been a pruner of trees, and 
+he gladly found himself a gardener once more. It wUl be re- 
+membered that he kûew all sorts of secrets and receipts for 
+agriculture. He turned these to advantage. Almost all the 
+trees in the orchard were ungrafted, and wild. He budded 
+them and made them produce excellent fruit. 
+
+Cosette had permission to pass an hour with him every day. 
+As the sisters were melancholy and he was kind, the child made 
+comparisons and adored him. At the appointed hour, she flew 
+to the hut. When she entered the lowly cabin, she filled it with 
+paradise. Jean Valjean blossomed out and felt his happiness 
+increase with the happiness which he afforded Cosette. The 
+joy which we inspire has this charming property, that, far from 
+growing meagre, like all reflections, it returns to us more radi» 
+ant than ever. At recreation hours, Jean Valjean watched her 
+running and playing in the distance, and he distinguished her 
+laugh from that of the rest. 
+
+For Cosette laughed now. 
+
+Cosette's face had even undergone a change, to a certain ex- 
+tent. The gloom had disappeared from it. A smile is the 
+same as sunshine ; it banishes winter from the human counte* 
+nance. 
+
+Recreation over, when Cosette went into the house again, 
+Jean Valjean gazed at the windows of her class-room, and at 
+night he rose to look at the windows of her dormitory. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+COSETTE. 249 
+
+Grod has his own ways, moreover ; the convent contribated, 
+like Cosette, to aphoid and complete the Bishop's work in Jean 
+Val jean. It is certain that virtue adjoins pride on one side. 
+A bridge built b}' the devil exists there. Jean Valjean had 
+been, onconsciously, perhaps, tolerably near that side and that 
+bridge, when Providence cast his lot in the convent of the 
+Fetit-Picpus ; so long as he had compared himself only to the 
+Bishop, he had regarded himself as unworthy and had remained 
+humble ; but for some time past he had been comparing himself 
+to men in general, and pride was beginning to spring up. Who 
+knows? He might have ended by returning very gradually to 
+hatred. 
+
+The convent stopped him on that downward path. 
+
+This was the second ^lace of captivity which he had seen. 
+In his youth, in what had been for him the beginning of his 
+life, and later on, quite recently again, he had beheld another, 
+— a frightful place, a terrible place, whose severities had al- 
+waj-s appeared to him the iniquity of justice, and the crime of 
+the law. Now, after he galleys, he saw the cloister ; and when 
+he meditated how he had formed a part of the galleys, and that 
+he now, so to speak, was a spectator of the cloister, he con- 
+fronted the two in his own mind wi h anxiety. 
+
+Sometimes he crossed his arms and leaned on his hoe, and 
+slowly descended the endless spirals of re very. 
+
+He recalled his former companions : how wretched they 
+were ; they rose at dawn, and toiled until night ; hardly were 
+they permitted to sleep ; the}' lay on camp beds, where nothing 
+was tolerated but mattresses two inches thick, in rooms which 
+were heated only in the very harshest months of the year ; they 
+were clothed in frightful red blouses ; they were allowed, as a 
+great favor, linen trousers in the hottest weather, and a wool- 
+len carter's blouse on their backs when it was very cold ; they 
+drank no wine, and ate no meat, except when they went on 
+"fatigue duty." They lived nameless, designated only by 
+numbci-s, and converted, after a manner, into ciphers them* 
+selves, with downcast eyes, with lowered voices, with shorn 
+heads, beneath the cudgel and in disgrace. 
+
+Then his mind reverted to the beings whom he had under his 
+©yes. 
+
+These beings also lived with shorn heads, with downcast 
+eyes, with lowered voices, not in disgrace, but amid the scoffs 
+of the world, not with their backs bruised with the cudgel, but 
+with their shoulders lacerated with their discipline. Their 
+aamea, alao, had vanished from among men ; they no longei 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+250 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+existed except under austere appellations. They never ate 
+meat and they never drank wine ; they often remained antil 
+evening without food ; they were attired, not in a red blouse, 
+but in a black shroud, of woollen, which was heavy in summer 
+and thin in winter, without the power to add or subtract any- 
+thing from it ; without having even, according to the seasoa 
+the resource of the linen garment or the woollen cloak ; and 
+for six months in the year they wore serge chemises which 
+gave them fever. They dwelt, not in rooms warmed only dur- 
+ing ri|,orous cold, but in cells where no fire was ever lighted ; 
+they slept, not on mattresses two inches thick, but on straw. 
+And finally, they were not even allowed their sleep; ever}' 
+night, after a day of toil, they were obliged, in the weariness 
+of their first slumber, at the moment when they were falling 
+sound asleep and beginning to get warm, to rouse themselves, 
+to rise and to go and pray in an ice-cold and gloomy chapel, 
+with their knees on the stones. 
+
+On certain days each of these beings in turn had to remain 
+for twelve successive hours in a kneeling posture, or prostrate, 
+with face upon the pavement, and arms outstretched in the 
+form of a cross. 
+
+The others were men ; these were women. 
+
+What had those men done? Tbey had stolen, violated, pil- 
+laged, murdered, assassinated. They were bandits, counter- 
+feiters, poisoners, incendiaries, murderers, parricides. What 
+had these women done? They had done nothing whatever. 
+
+On the one hand, highway robbery, fraud, deceit, violence, 
+sensuality, homicide, all sorts of sacrilege, every variety of 
+crime ; on the other, one thing only, innocence. 
+
+Perfect innocence, almost caught up into heaven In a myste- 
+rious assumption, attached to the earth by virtue, already pos- 
+sessing something of heaven through holiness. 
+
+On the one hand, confidences over crimes, which are ex- 
+changed in whispers; on the other, the confession of faults 
+made aloud. And what crimes ! And what faults ! 
+
+On the one hand, miasms ; on the other, an ineffable per- 
+fume. On the one hand, a moral pest, guarded from sight, 
+penned up under the range of cannon, and literally devouring 
+its plague-stricken victims ; on the other, the chaste flame of 
+all souls on the same hearth. There, darkness; here, the 
+shadow; but a shadow filled with gleams of light, and of 
+gleams full of radiance. 
+
+Two strongholds of slavery ; but in the first, deliverance pos- 
+sible, a legaJ limit always in sight, and then, escape. In tlie 
+
+
+
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+COSETTE. 251 
+
+second, perpetuity ; the sole hope, at the distant extremity of 
+the future, that faiat light of liberty which men call death. 
+
+In the first, men are bound only with chains ; in the other, 
+chained by faith. 
+
+What flowed from the first? An immense curse, the gnash- 
+ing of teeth, hatred, desperate viciousness, a cry of rage against 
+human society, a sarcasm against heaven. 
+
+What results flowed from the second ? Blessings and love. 
+
+And in these two places, so similar yet so unlike, these twc 
+species of beings who were so very unlike, were undergoing the 
+same work, expiation. 
+
+Jean Valjean understood thoroughly the expiation of the for 
+mer; that personal expiation, the expiation for one's self. But 
+he did not understand that of these last, that of creatures with- 
+out reproach and without stain, and he trembled as he asked 
+himself: The expiation of what? What expiation? 
+
+A voice within his conscience replied : "The most divine of 
+human generosities, the expiation for others." 
+
+Here all personal theory is withheld ; we are only the narra- 
+tor ; we place ourselves at Jean Valjean's point of view, and we 
+translate his impressions. 
+
+Before his eyes he had the sublime summit of abnegation, the 
+highest possible pitch of virtue ; the innocence which pardons 
+men their faults, and which expiates in their stead ; servitude 
+submitted to, torture accepted, punishment claimed by souls 
+which have not sinned, for the sake of sparing it to souls which 
+have fallen ; the love of humanity swallowed up in the love of 
+God, but even tbere preserving its distinct and mediatorial 
+character; sweet and feeble beings possessing the misery of 
+those who are punished and the smile of those who are recom* 
+pensed. 
+
+And he remembered that he had dared to murmur ! 
+
+Often, in the middle of the night, he rose to listen to the 
+grateful song of those innocent creatures weighed down with 
+severities, and the blood ran cold in his veins at the thouglit 
+that those who were justly chastised raised their voices heaven- 
+ward only in blasphemy, and that he, wretch that he was, had 
+shaken his fist at God. 
+
+There was one striking thing which caused him to meditate 
+deeply, like a warning whisper from Providence itself: the 
+scaling of that wall, the passing of those barriers, the adven 
+ture accepted even at the risk of death, the painful and difhcult 
+ascent, all those efforts even, which he had made to escape 
+from that other place of expiation, he had made in order t« 
+
+
+
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+S62 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+gain entrance into this one. Was this a symbol of his destiny f 
+This house was a prison likewise and bore a melancliol,v resem- 
+blance to tliat other one whence he had fled, and yet he had 
+never conceived an idea of anything similar. 
+
+Again he beheld gratings, bolts, iron bars — to gnard whom? 
+Angels. 
+
+These lofty walls which he had seen around tigers, he now 
+beheld once more around lambs. 
+
+This was a place of expiation, and not of pnnishment ; and 
+yet, it was still more austere, more gloomy, and more pitiless 
+than the other. 
+
+These virgins were even more heavily burdened than the con- 
+victs. A cold, harsh wind, that wind which had chilled his 
+youth, traversed the barred and padlocked grating of the vul- 
+tures ; a still harsher and more biting breeze blew in the cage 
+of these doves. 
+
+Why? 
+
+When he thought on these things, all that was within him 
+was lost in amazement before this mystery of sublimity. 
+
+In these meditations, his pride vanished. He scrutinized his 
+own heart in all manner of ways ; he felt his pettiness, and 
+many a time he wept. All that had entered into his life for 
+the last six months had led him back towards the Bishop's 
+holy injunctions; Cosette through love, the convent through 
+humility. 
+
+Sometimes at eventide, in the twilight, at en hour when the 
+garden was deserted, he could be seen on his knees in the 
+middle of the walk which skiited the chapel, in fVont of the 
+wmdow through which he had gazed on the night of his arrival, 
+and turned towards the spot where, as he knew, the sister was 
+making reparation, prostrated in prayer. Thus he prayed as he 
+knelt before the sister. 
+
+It seemed as though he dared not kneel directly before 
+God. 
+
+Everything that surrounded him, that peaoeful garden, those 
+fragrant flowers, Uiose children who uttered }o3'ous cries, those 
+grav<> and simple women, that silent cloister, slowly permeated 
+him^ and little by little, his soul became compounded of silence 
+like the cloister, of perfume like the flowers, of simplicity like 
+the women, of joy like the children. And then he reflected 
+that these had been two houses of God which had received him 
+in succession at two critical moments in his life : the first, when 
+all doors were closed and when human society rejected him ; 
+the second, at a moment when human society had again set oat 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+COSETTE. 253 
+
+in pursuit of him, and when the galleys were again yawning ; 
+and that, had it not been for the first, he should have relapsed 
+into crime, and had it not been for the second, into torment. 
+
+His whole heart melted in gratitude, and he loved more and 
+more. 
+
+Many years passed in this manner; Cosetf^ was growing 
+up. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+M. GILLENORMAND NEVER ADDRESSED THIS CHILD EXCEPT IN A 
+SEVERE VOICE. 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+BOOK FIRST. — PARIS STUDIED IN ITS ATOM 
+
+I. — Pabvulus. 
+
+Paris has a child, and the forest has a bird; the bird is 
+called the sparrow ; the child is called the gamin. 
+
+Conple tliese two ideas which contain, the one all the furnace, 
+the other all the dawn ; strike these two sparks together, Paris, 
+childhood ; there leaps out from them a little being. HomunciOj 
+Plantas would say. 
+
+This little being is Joyous. He has not food every day, and he 
+goes to the play every evening, if he sees good. He has no shirt 
+on his boily, no shoes on his feet, no roof over his head ; he is 
+like the flies of heaven, who have none of these things. He is 
+from seven to thirteen years of age, he lives in bands, roams 
+the streets, lodges in the open air, wears an old pair of trousers 
+of his father's, which descend below his heels, an old hat of 
+some other father, which descends below his ears, a single sus- 
+pender of yellow listing ; he runs, lies in wait, rummages about, 
+wastes time, blackens pipes, swears like a convict, haunts the 
+wine-shop, knows thieves, calls gay women thou^ talks slang, 
+sings ol»ceue songs, and has no evil in his heart. This is 
+because he has in his heart a pearl, innocence ; and pearls are 
+not to be dissolved in mud. So long as man is in his childhood, 
+God wills that he shall be innocent. 
+
+If one were to ask that enormous city : *' What is this?" she 
+would reply ; *' It is my little one," 
+
+n. — Som OP HIS Particular Characteristios. 
+
+The gamin — the street Arab — of Paris is the dwarf of th« 
+giant. 
+
+Let us not exaggerate, this cherub of tlie gutter sometimes 
+bas a ifairt, but, in that cai«e, he owni but one ; he sometimM 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+t LES MISERABLE!^, 
+
+oas shoes, bnt then they have no soles ; he sometimes has a 
+lodging, and he loves it, for he finds his mother there ; but he 
+prefers the street, because there he finds liberty. He has his own 
+games, his own bits of mischief, whose foundation consists of 
+hatred for the bourgeois ; his peculiar metaphors : to be dead 
+is to eat dandelions by the root; his own occupations, call- 
+ing hackney-coaches, letting down cariiage-steps, establishing 
+means of transit between the two sides of a street in heavy 
+rains, which he calls making the bridge of arts^ crying dis- 
+courses pronounced by the authorities in favor of the French 
+people, cleaning out the cracks in the pavement ; he has his own 
+coinage, which is composed of all the little morsels of worked 
+copper which are found on the public streets. This curious 
+money, which receives the name of loques — rags — has an inva- 
+riable and well-regulated currenc}' in this little Bohemia of 
+children. 
+
+Lastly, he has his own fauna, which he observes attentively 
+in the corners ; the lady-bird, the death's-head plant-louse, the 
+daddy-long-legs, ^^ the devil,'* a black insect, which menaces by 
+twisting about its tail armed with two horns. He has his 
+fabulous monster, which has scales under its belly, but is not 
+a lizzard, which has pustules on its back, but is not a toad, 
+which inhabits the nooks of old lime-kilns and wells that have 
+run diy, which is black, hairy, sticky, which crawls sometimes 
+slowly, sometimes rapidly, which has no cry, but which has a 
+look, and is so terrible that no one has ever beheld it ; he calls 
+this monster *' the deaf thing." The search for these " deaf 
+things" among the stones is a joy of formidable nature. 
+Another pleasure consists in suddenly prying up a paving-stone, 
+and taking a look at the wood-lice. Each region of Paris is 
+celebrated for the interesting treasures which are to be found 
+there. There are ear-wigs in the timber-yards of the Ursulines, 
+there are millepeds in the Pantheon, there are tadpoles in the 
+ditches of the Champs-de-Mars. 
+
+As far as sayings are concerned, this child has as many of 
+them as Talleyrand. He is no less cynical, but he is more 
+honest. He is endowed with a certain indescribable, unexpected 
+joviality ; he upsets the composure of the shopkeeper with his 
+wild laughter. He ranges boldly from high comedy to farce. 
+
+A funeral passes by. Among those who accompany the 
+dead there is a doctor. *^ Hey there ! " shouts some street 
+Arab, '' how long has it been customary for doctors to carry 
+home their own work ? " 
+
+Another is in a crowd. A grave man, adorned with spec- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+MARIUS. 8 
+
+(scies and trinkets, tarns round indignantly: '^ Ton good 
+for-uothing, yoa have seized my wife's waist 1" — ^^ I, sir 
+Search me 1 ** 
+
+in. — He IS Agbbeable. 
+
+In the evening, thanks to a few sons, which he always finds 
+means to procure, the homuncio enters a theatre. On crossing 
+that magic threshold, he becomes transfigured; he was the 
+street Aiab, he becomes the titi.^ Theati*es are a sort of ship 
+turned upside down with the keel in the air. It is in that keel 
+that the titi huddle together. The titi is to the gamin what the 
+moth is to the larva ; the same being endowed with wings and 
+soaring. It suffices for him to be there, with his radiance of 
+happiness, with his power of enthusiasm and joy, with bis hand- 
+clapping, which resembles a clapping of wings, to confer on 
+that narrow, dark, fetid, sordid, unhealthy, hideous, abominable 
+keel, the name of Paradise. 
+
+Bestow on an individual the useless and deprive him of the 
+the necessary, and you have the gamin. 
+
+The gamin is not devoid of literary intuition. His tendency, 
+and we say it with the proper amount of regret, would not 
+constitute classic taste. He is not very academic by nature. 
+Thus, to give an example, the popularity of Mademoiselle Mars 
+among that little audience of stormy children was seasoned 
+with a touch of h'ony. The gamin called her Mademoiselle 
+Muche — " hide yourself." 
+
+This being bawls and scoffs and ridicules and fights, has 
+rags like a baby and tatters like a philosopher, fishes in the 
+sewer, hunts in the cesspool, extracts mirth from foulness, 
+whips up the squares with his wit, grins and bites, whistles and 
+sings, shouts and shrieks, tempers Alleluia with Ma tan tu r- 
+lurette, chants every rhythm from the De Profundis to the Jack- 
+pudding, finds without seeking, knows what he is ignorant of, 
+is a Spartan to the point of thieving, is mad to wisdom, is lyrical 
+to filth, would crouch down on Olympus, wallows in the dung- 
+hill and emerges from it covered with stars. The gamin of 
+Paris is Rabelais in this youth. 
+
+He is not content with his trousers unless they have a watch- 
+pocket. 
+
+He is not easily astonished, he is still less easily terrified, he 
+makes songs on superstitions, he takes the wind out of exag« 
+
+1 Chicken : ilang aUuBioa to the noise made in calling poultry 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+4 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+geratioDS, he twits nfysterics, he thrusts ont his tongue a.t 
+ghosts, he takes the poetry out of stilted things, he introduces 
+caricature into epic extravaganzas. It is not that he is prosaic ; 
+far from that ; but he replaces the solemn vision by the farcical 
+phantasmagoria. If Adamastor were to appear to him, the 
+street Arab would say : ^' Hi there ! The bugaboo 1 ^ 
+
+IV. — He mat be of Use. 
+
+Paris begins with the lounger and ends with the street Arab, 
+two beings of which no other city is capable ; the passive accep- 
+tance, which contents itself with gazing, and the inexhaustible 
+initiative ; Prudhomme and Fouillou. Paris alone has this in 
+its natural history. The whole of the monarchy is contained 
+in the lounger ; the whole of anarchy in the gamin. 
+
+This pale child of the Parisian faubourgs lives and develops, 
+makes connections, "grows supple" id suffering, in the pres- 
+ence of social realities and of human things, a thoughtful wit- 
+ness. He thinks himself heedless ; and he is not. He looks 
+and is on the verge of laughter ; he is on the verge of something 
+else also. Whoever you may be, if your name is Prejndice, 
+Abuse, Ignorance, Oppression, Iniquity, Despotism, Injustice, 
+Fanaticism, Tyranny, beware of the gaping gamin. 
+
+The little fellow will grow up. 
+
+Of wliat clay is he made ? Of the first mud that comes to 
+hand. A handful of dirt, a breath, and behold Adam. It suf- 
+fices for a God to pass by. A God has always passed over 
+the street Arab. Fortune labors at this tiny being. By the 
+word " fortune " we mean chance, to some extent. That pig- 
+my kneaded out of common earth, ignorant, unlettered, giddy, 
+vulgar, low. Will that become an Ionian or a Boeotian? Wait, 
+i^wHt rota,, the spirit of Paris, that demon which creates the 
+children of chance and the men of destiny, reversing the pro- 
+cess of the Latin potter, makes of a jug an amphora. 
+
+v. — His Frontiers. 
+
+The gamin loves the city, he also loves solitude, since he has 
+gomething of the sage in him. Urbis amator^ like Fuscun ; ru'- 
+ris amator^ like Flaccus. 
+
+To roam thoughtfully about, that is to say, to lounge, is a 
+fine employment of time in the eyes of the philosopher ; partic- 
+ularly in that rather illegitimate species of campaign, which \a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+MARIUS. 5 
+
+lolerably ugly but odd and composed of two natures, which sur* 
+lounds certain great cities, notably Paris. To study the sub- 
+urbs is to study the amphibious animal. End of the ti-ees, 
+beginning of the roofs; end of the grass, beginning of the 
+pavements ; end of the furrows, beginniug of the shops ; end 
+of the wheel-rats, beginning of the passions ; end of the divine 
+murmur, beginning of the human uproar ; hence an extraordi- 
+nary interest. 
+
+Hence, in these not very attractive places, indelibly stamped 
+by tlie passing stroller with the epithet : melancholy ^ the appar- 
+ently objectless promenades of the dreamer. 
+
+He who writes these lines has long been a prowler about the 
+barriers of Paris, and it is for him a source of profound souve* 
+nirs. That close-shaven turf, those pebbly paths, that chalk, 
+those pools, those harsh monotonies of waste and fallow lauds, 
+the plants of early market-garden suddenly springing into sight 
+in a bottom, that mixture of the savage and the citizen, those 
+vast desert nooks where the garrison drums practise noisily, and 
+produce a sort of lisping of battle, those hermits by day and 
+cut-throats by night, that clumsy mill which turus in the wind, 
+the hoisting-wheels of the quarries, the tea-gardens at the cor- 
+ners of the cemeteries ; the mysterious charm of great, sombre 
+walls squarely intersecting immense, vague stretches of land 
+inundated wiài sunshine and full of butterflies, — all this at- 
+tracted him. 
+
+There is hardly any one on earth who is not acquainted with 
+those singular spots, the Glacière, the Cunette, the hideous wall 
+of Grenelle all speckled with balls, Mont-Parnasse, the Fosse- 
+aux-Loups, Aubiers on the bank of the Marne, Mont-Souris, 
+the Tombe-Issoire, the Pierre-Plate de Châtillon, where there is 
+an old, exhausted quarry which no longer serves any purpose 
+except to raise mushrooms, and which is closed, on a level with 
+the ground, by a trap-door of rotteu planks. The campagua of 
+Rome is one idea, the banlieue of Paris is another ; to behold 
+nothing but fields, houses, or trees in what a stretch of country 
+offers us, is to remain on the surface ; all aspects of things are 
+thoughts of God. The spot where a plain effects its junction 
+with a city is always stamped with a certain piercing melan- 
+choly. Nature and humanity both appeal to you at the same 
+time there. Local originalities there make their appearance. 
+
+Any one who, like ourselves, has wandered about in these 
+solitudes contiguous to our faubourgs, which may be designa- 
+ted as the limbos of Paris, has seen here and there, in the most 
+desert spot, at the moet unexpected moment, behind a meagre 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+e LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+hedge, or in the corner of a lugabrions wall, children groaped 
+tumultaouBlj, fetid, muddy, dusty, ragged, dishevelled, playing 
+hide-aud-Beek, and crowned with corn-flowers. All of them are 
+little ones who have made their escape fi-om poor families. The 
+outer boulevard is their breathing space ; the suburbs belong 
+to them. There they are eternally playing truant. There they 
+innocently sing their repertory of dirty songs. There they are, 
+or rather, tbere tbey exist, far from every eye, in the sweet ligbl 
+of May or June, kneeling round a hole in the ground, snapping 
+marbles with their thumbs, quarrelling over half -farthings, irre- 
+8i>onsible, volatile, free and happy ; and, no sooner do they 
+catch sight of you than they recollect that they have an indus- 
+try, and that they must earn their living, and they offer to sell 
+you an old woollen stocking filled with cockchafers, or a bunch 
+of lilacs. These encounters with strange children are one of 
+the charming and at the same time poignant graces of the envi- 
+rons of Paris. 
+
+Sometimes there are little girls among the throng of boys, --« 
+are they their sisters? — who are almost young maidens, thin, 
+feverish, with sunburnt hands, covered with freckles, crowned 
+with poppies and ears of rye, gay, haggard, barefooted. They 
+can be seen devouring cherries among the wheat. In the even- 
+ing they can be heard laughing. These groups, warmly illumi- 
+nated by the full glow of midday, or indistinctly seen in the 
+twilight, occupy the thoughtful man for a very long time, and 
+these visions mingle with his dreams. 
+
+Paris, centre, banlieue, circumference; this constitntes all 
+the earth to those children. They never venture beyond this. 
+They can no more escape from the Parisian atmosphere than 
+fish can escape from the water. For them, nothing exists two 
+leagues beyond the barriers : Ivry, Gentilly, Arcueil, Belleville, 
+Aubervilliers,Menilmontant, Choisy-le-Roi, Billancourt, Men- 
+don, Issy, Vanvre, Sèvres, Puteaux, Neuilly, Gennevilliers, 
+Colombes, Romainville, Chatou, Asnières, Bougival, Nanterre, 
+Eiighien, Noisy -le-Sec, Nogent, Gonrnay, Drancy, Gonesse; 
+the universe ends there. 
+
+VL — A Bit of History. 
+
+At the epoch, nearly contemporary by the way, when the ac- 
+tion of this book takes place, there was not, as there is to-day, 
+a policeman at the corner of every street (a benefit which there 
+is no time to discuss here) ; stray children abounded in Paris. 
+The statistics give an average of two hundred and sixty home* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+MARIUS. » 
+
+Jess children picked up annually at that period, by the police 
+patrols, in unenclosed lands, in houses in process of construis 
+tion, and under the arches of the bridges. One of tliese nests 
+which has become famous, produced *^ the swallows of the bridge 
+of Areola." This is, moreover, the most disastrous of social 
+symptoms. All crimes of the man begin in the vagabondage 
+:>f the child. 
+
+Let us make an exception in favor of Paris, nevei-theless. In 
+A relative measure, and in spite of the souvenir which we have 
+just recalled, the exception is just. While in any otlier great 
+city the vagabond child is a lost man, while nearly every wliere 
+the child left to itself is, in some sort, sacrificed aud abandoned 
+to a kind of fatal immersion in the public vices which devour in 
+him honesty and conscience, the street boy of Paris, we insist on 
+this point, however defaced and injured on the surface, is almost 
+intact on the interior. It is a magnificent thing to put on record, 
+and one which shines forth in the splendid probity of our 
+popular revolutions, that a certain incoiTuptibility results from 
+the idea which exists in the air of Paris, as salt exists in the 
+water of the ocean. To breathe Paris preserves the soul. 
+
+What we have just said takes away nothing of the anguish of 
+heart which one experiences every time that one meets one of 
+these children around whom one fancies that he beholds floating 
+the threads of a broken family. In the civilization of the 
+present day, incomplete as it still is, it is not a very abnornial 
+thing to behold these fractured families pouring themselves out 
+into the darkness, not knowing clearly what has become of their 
+children, and allowing their own entrails to fall on the public 
+highway. Hence these obscure destinies. This is called, for 
+this sad thing has given rise to an expression, " to be cast on 
+the pavements of Paris." 
+
+Let it be said by the way, that this abandonment of children 
+was not discourj^ed by the ancient monarchy. A little of 
+Egypt and Bohemia in the lower regions suited the upper 
+spheres, and compassed the aims of the powerful. The hatred 
+of instruction for the children of the people was a dogma. 
+What is the use of '' half-lights"? Such was the countersign. 
+Now, the erring child is the corollary of the ignorant child. 
+
+Besides this, the monarchy sometimes was in need of children, 
+and in that case it skimmed the streets. 
+
+Under Louis XIV., not to go any further back, the king 
+rightl}' desired to create a fleet. The idea was a good one. 
+But let us consider the means. There can be no fleet, if, beside 
+the sailing ship, that plaything of the winds, aud for the pur- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+g LES MISÉRAZLES. 
+
+pose of towÎDg it, in case of necessity, there is not the yesse. 
+which goes where it pleases, either by means of oars or of 
+steam ; the galleys were then to the marine what steamers are 
+to-day. Therefore, galleys were necessary ; but the galley is 
+moved only by the galley-slave; hence, galley-slaves were 
+required. Colbert had the commissioners of provinces and the 
+parliaments make as many convicts as possible. The magis 
+tracy showed a great deal of complaisance in the matter. A 
+man kept his hat on in the presence of a procession — it was a 
+Huguenot attitude ; he was sent to the galleys. A child was 
+encountered in the streets ; provided that he was fifteen yeare 
+of age and did not know where he was to sleep, he was sent to 
+the galleys. Grand reign ; grand century. 
+
+Under Louis XV. children disappeared in Paris ; the police 
+carried them off, for what mysterious purpose no one knew* 
+People whispered with tenor monstrous conjectures as to the 
+king's baths of purple. Barbier speaks ingenuously of these 
+things. It sometimes happened that the exempts of the guanl, 
+when they ran short of children, took those who had fathers. 
+The fathers, in despair, attacked the exempts. In that case, 
+the parliament intervened and had some one hung. Who? The 
+exempts? No, the fathers. 
+
+
+
+VII. — Thb Gamik should hate his Place in thb Cla88> 
+
+FICATIONS OF INDIA. 
+
+The body of street Arabs in Paris almost constitutes a caste. 
+One might almost say : Not every one who wishes to belong to 
+it can do so. 
+
+This word gamin was printed for the first time, and reached 
+popular speech through the literary tongue, in 1834. It is in a 
+little work entitled Claude Queuz that this word made its appear- 
+ance. The horror was lively. The word passed into circulation. 
+
+The elements which constitute the consideration of the gamins 
+for each other are very various. We have known and asso- 
+ciated with one who was greatly respected and vastly admired 
+because he had seen a man fail from the top of the tower or 
+Notre-Dame ; another, because he had succeeded in making his 
+way into the rear courtyard where the statues of the dome of 
+the Invalides had been temporarily deposited, and had ^' priggckl '' 
+some lead from them ; a third, because he had seen a diligence 
+tip over ; still another, because he '^ knew'' a soldier who came 
+near putting out the eye of a citizen. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIU8. 9 
+
+This explains that famous exclamation of a Parisian gamin 
+n {nrofound epiphonema, which the vulgar herd laughs at with- 
+out comprehending, — Dieu de Dieu ! WhcU ill-luck I do have J 
+to think that I have never yet seen anybody tumble from a fifth' 
+9tory window! (/ have pronounced / ^ave^ Bsxà fifth pronounced 
+
+Surely, this saying of a peasant is a liue one : '' Father So- 
+and-So, your wife has died of her malady ; why did you not send 
+for the doctor?" ** What would j'on have, sir, we poor folks 
+die of ourselves.** But if the peasant's whole passivity lies in 
+this saying, the whole of the free-thinking anarchy of the brat 
+of the faubourgs is, assuredly^ contained in this other saying. 
+A man condemned to death is listening to his confessor m the 
+tumbrel. The child of Paris exclaims : ^^ He is talking to his 
+black cap ! Oh, the sneak ! ** 
+
+A certain audacity on matters of religion sets off the gamin. 
+To be strong-minded is an important item. 
+
+To be present at executions constitutes a duty. He shows 
+himself at the guillotine, and he laughs. He calls it by all sorts 
+of pet names : The End of the Soup, The Growler, The Mothei 
+in the Blue (the sky), The Last Mouthful, etc., etc. In ordei 
+not to lose anything of the affair, he scales the walls, he hoista 
+himself to balconies, he ascends trees, he suspends himself to 
+gratings, he clings fast to chimneys. The gamin is boriva tiler 
+as he is born a mariner. A roof inspires him with no more feat 
+than a mast. There is no festival which comes up to an exe- 
+cntion on the Place de Grève. Samson and the Abbé Montés 
+are the truly popular names. They hoot at the victim in order 
+to encourage him. They sometimes admire him. Lacenaire, 
+when a gamin, on seeing the hideous Dautun die bravely, 
+nttered these words which contain a future : "I was jealous ol 
+him.** In the brotherhood of gamins Voltaire is not known, 
+bat Papavoine is. " Politicians " are confused with assassins 
+in the same legend. They have a tradition as to everybody's 
+last garment. It is known that Tolleron had a fireman's cap, 
+Avril an otter cap, Losvel a round hat, that old Delaporte was 
+bald and bare-headed, that Castaing was all rudd}^ and very 
+handsome, that Bories had a romantic small beard, that Jean 
+Martin kept on his suspenders, that Lecouffé and his mother 
+qaarrelled. *' Don't reproach each other for your basket," 
+shouted a gamin to them. Another, in order to get a look at 
+De backer as he passed, and being too small in the crowd, caught 
+Bight of the lantern on the quay and climbed it. A gendarme 
+stationed opposite frowned. '^ Let me climb up, m'sieu le ge» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+10 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+danoe," said the gamin. And, to soften the heart of the 
+aathorities, he added : '' I will not fall/' ^' I dou't care if yea 
+do," retorted the gendarme. 
+
+In the brotherhood of gamins, a memorable accident connu 
+for a great deal. One reaches the height of consideration if 
+one chances to cut one's self very deeply, *' to the very bone." 
+
+The fist is no mediocre element of respect. One of the thing? 
+that the gamin is fondest of saying is : ^^ I am One and stroiicTi 
+come now ! " To be left-handed renders you very enviable 
+A squint is highly esteemed. 
+
+VIIL — In Which the Reader will fikd a Charmino 
+Saying of tbb Last Kino. 
+
+In summer, he metamorphoses himself into a frog ; and in 
+die evening, when night is falling, in front of the bridges of 
+Austerlitz and Jena, from the tops of coal wagons, and tlie 
+washerwomen's boats, he hurls himself headlong into the 2Seiue, 
+and into all possible infractions of the laws of modesty and of 
+the iK>lice. Nevertheless the police keep an eye on him, and 
+the result is a highly dramatic situation which once gave rise to 
+a fraternal and memorable cry ; that cry which was celebrated 
+about 1830, is a strategic warning from gamin to gamin; it 
+scans tike a verse from Homer, with a notation as inexpressi* 
+ble as the eleusiac chant of the Punathenœa, and in it one en- 
+counters again the anciont Evohe. Here it is : ** Ohé, Titi, 
+ohéée ! Here comes the bobby, here comes the p'lice, pick up 
+your duds and be off, through the sewer with you 1 " 
+
+Sometimes this gnat — that is what he call himself — knows 
+how to read ; sometimes he knows how to write ; be always 
+knows how to daub. He does, not hesitate to acquire, by no 
+one knows what mysterious mutual instruction, all the talents 
+which can be of use to the public; from 1815 to 1830, he 
+imitated the cry of the turkey ; from 1830 to 1848, he scrawled 
+pears on the walls. One summer evening, when Louis Philippe 
+was returning home on foot, he saw a little fellow, no higher than 
+bis knee, perspiring ^nd climbing up to draw a gigantic pear in 
+charcoal on one of the pillars of the gate of Neuilly ; the King, 
+with that good -nature which came to him from Henry IV., helped 
+the gamin, finished the pear, and gave the child a louis, say- 
+ing: '^The pear is on that also."' The gamin loves «proar 
+
+1 Loufs XVIII. is represented in comic pictures of that day as baring % 
+pear-shaped head. 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. il 
+
+A certain state of violence pleases him. He execrates ^^ the 
+sarés." One da}, in the Rue de F Université, one of these 
+Bcamps was putting his thumb to his nose at the carriage gate 
+of No. 69. *' Why are you doing tliat at the gate?" a passer- 
+by asked. The boy replied: "There is a curé there." It 
+ras there, in fact, that the Papal Nuncio lived. 
+
+Nevertheless, whatever may be the Voltairianism of the small 
+gamin, if the occasion to become a chorister presents itself, it 
+is quite possible that he will accept, and in that case he serves 
+the mass civilly. There are two things to which he plays Tan- 
+talus, and which he always desires without ever attaining them : 
+to overthrow the government, and to get his trousers sewed up 
+again. 
+
+The gamin in his pei-fect state possesses all the policemen of 
+Paris, and can always put the name to the face of any one 
+which he chances to meet. He can tell them off on the tips of 
+his fingers. He studies their habits, and he has special notes 
+on each one of them. He reads the souls of the police like an 
+open book. He will tell you fluently and without flinching: 
+"Such an one \% 9, traitor; such another is very malicious; such 
+another is great; such another is rididUous.*' (AH these words : 
+traitor, malicious, great, ridiculous, have a particular meaning 
+in his mouth.) That one imagines that he owns tlie Pont-Neuf , 
+and he prevents people from walking on the cornice outside the 
+parapet ; that other has a mania for pulling person's ears ; 
+etc., etc. 
+
+IX. — The Old Soul op Gaul. 
+
+Thebe was something of that boy in Poquelin, the son of the 
+fish-market; Beaumarchais had something of it. Gaminerie is 
+a shade of the Gallic spirit. Mingled with good sense, it some- 
+times adds force to the latter, as alcohol does to wine, lionie- 
+times it is a defect. Homer repeats himself eternally, granted ; 
+one may say that Voltaire plays the gamin. Camille Des- 
+moulins was a native of the faubourgs. Championnet, who 
+treated miracles brutally, rose from the pavements of Paris ; he 
+had, when a small lad, inundated the porticos of Saint-Jean da 
+Beaavais, and of Saint-Étienne du Mont ; he had addressed the 
+shrine of Sainte-Geneviève familiarly to give orders to the phiâ^ 
+of Saint Januarius. 
+
+The gamin of Paris is respectful, ironical, and insolent. H? 
+has villanons teeth, because he is badly fed and his stomach 
+suffers, and handsome eyes because he has wit Xf Jehovab 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+18 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+himself were present, he would go hopping np tbe e%epk é. 
+paradise on one foot. He is strong on boxing. All Deiieis ^x^ 
+possible to him. He plays iu the gutter, and straigtitens him- 
+self up with a revolt ; his effrontery persists even in tlie presence 
+of grape-shot; he was a scapegrace, he is a hero; like the 
+little Tbeban, he shakes the skin from the lion ; Barra the 
+drummer-boy was a gamin of Paris ; he shouts : '* Forward ! " 
+as the horse of Scripture says " Vah ! " and in a moment he haa 
+passeci from the small brat to the giant. 
+
+This child of the puddle is also the child of the ideal. 
+Measure that spread of wings which reaches from Molière to 
+Barra. 
+
+To sum up the whole, and in one word, the gamin is a being 
+who amuses himself, because he is unhappy. 
+
+
+
+X. — EocE Paris, eocb Homo. 
+
+To sum it all up once more, the Paris gamin of to-day, like 
+the grœculus of Rome in days gone by, is the infant populace 
+with the wrinkle of the old world on his brow. 
+
+The gamin is a grace to the nation, and at the same time 
+a disease ; a disease which must be cured, how ? By light. 
+
+Light renders healthy. 
+
+Light kindles. 
+
+All generous social irradiations spring from science, letters, 
+arts, education. Make men, make men. Give them light 
+that they may warm you. Sooner or later the splendid 
+question of universal education will present itself with the 
+irresistible authority of the absolute truth; and then, those 
+who govern under the superintendence of the French idea 
+will have to make this choice ; the children of France or the 
+gamins of Paris ; flames in the light or will-o'-the-wisps in the 
+gloom. 
+
+The gamin expresses Paris, and Paris expresses the world. 
+
+For Paris ii a total. Paris is the ceiling of the hnman race. 
+The whole of this prodigious city is a foreshortening of dead 
+manners and living manners. He who sees Paris thinks he 
+sees the bottom of all history with heaven and constellations 
+in the intervals. Paris has a capital, the Town-Hall, a 
+Parthenon, Notre-Dame, a Mount Aventine, the Faubourg 
+Saint- Antoine, an Asinarium, the Sorbonne, a Pantheon, the 
+Pantheon, a Via Sacra, the Boulevard des Italiens, a temple 
+of the winds, opinion ; and it replaces the Gemoniœ by ridi» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 13 
+
+cale. Its ftujijo is called ^^ faraud," its Transteverin is the 
+man of the fauboarg», its hammal is the market-porter, its 
+lazzaronc is the pègre, its cockney is the native of Ghent 
+Everything that exists elsewhere exists at Paris. The fish, 
+woman of Damarsais can retort on the herb-seller of Euripi- 
+des, the discobols Vejanos lives again in the Forioso, the 
+tight-rope dancer. Therapontigonas Miles could walk arm in 
+arm with Vadeboucœur the grenadier, Damasippus the second- 
+hand dealer would be happy among biic-à-brac merchants, 
+Vincennes could grasp Socrates in its fist as just as Agora 
+could imprison Diderot, Grimod de la Reynière discovered 
+larded roast beef, 4às Curtillus invented roast hedgehog, we 
+see the trapeze which figures in Plautns reappear under the 
+vault of the Arc of l'Etoile, the sword-eater of Pœcilus 
+encountered by Apuleius is a sword-swallower on the Pont- 
+Neuf, the nephew of Rameau and Curculio the parasite make a 
+pair, Ergasilus could get himself presented to Cambacôres by 
+d'Aigrefeuille ; the four dandies of Rome : Alcesimarchus, Phœ- 
+dromus, Diabolus, and Argyrippus, descend from Conrtille 
+in Labatnt*s posting-chaise ; Aulus Gellius would halt no 
+longer in front of Congrio than would Charles Nodier in front 
+of Punchinello ; Marto is not a tigress, but Pardalisca was not 
+a dragon ; Pantolabus the wag jeers in the Caf^ Anglais at 
+Nomentanus the fast liver, Heimc^enus is a tenor in the 
+Champs-Elysées, and round him, Thracius the beggar, clad 
+like Bobèche, takes up a collection; the bore who stops you 
+by the button of your coat in the Tuileries makes you repeat 
+after a lapse of two thousand years Thesprion's apostrophe: 
+Quis praperantem me prehendit pcUUo f Tlie wine on Surêne 
+is a parody of the wine of Alba, tlie red border of Desaugiers 
+forms a balance to the great cutting of Balatro, Père Lachaise 
+exhales beneath nocturnal rains same gleams as the Esqtyliœ, 
+and the grave of the poor bought for five years, is certainly 
+the equivalent of the slave's hived coffin. 
+
+Seek something that Paris has not. The vat of Trophoniua 
+oontains nothing that is not also in Mesmer's tub ; Ergaphilaa 
+lives again in Cagliostro; the Brahmin YAsaphant become 
+incarnate in the Comte de Saint-Germain; the cemetery of 
+Saini-Médard works quite as good miracles as the Mosque of 
+Oumonmié at Damascus. 
+
+Paris has an ^sop-Mayeux, and a Canidia, Mademoiselle 
+Lenormand. It is terrified, like Delphos at the fulgurating 
+realities of the vision ; it makes tables turn as Dodona did 
+tripods. It places the grisette on the throne, as Rome placed 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+eaiina. Paris combines in an unprecedented type, which haa 
+existed and which we have elbowed, Grecian nudity, the 
+Hebraic ulcer, and the Gascon pun. It mingles Dic^enes^ 
+Job, and Jack-pudding, dresses up a spectre in old numbers of 
+the Constitutionnel^ and makes Chodruc Duclos. 
+
+Although Plutarch says : the tyrant never grows old^ Rome, 
+under Sylla as under Domitian, resigned itself and willingly 
+put water in its wine. The Tiber was a Lethe, if the ratiier 
+doctrinary eulogiura made of it by Varus Vibiscus is to be 
+credited: Contra Gracchos Tiherim hahemus^ Bibere Tiherim^ 
+id est seditionem oblivisci. Paris drinks a million litres of 
+water a day, but that does not prevent it from occasionally 
+beating the general alarm and tinging the tocsin. 
+
+With that exception, Paris is amiable. It accepts everything 
+royally ; it is not too particular about its Venus ; its Callipyge 
+is Hottentot; provided that it is made to laugh, it condones; 
+ugliness cheers it, deformity provokes it to laughter, vice 
+diverts it; be eccentric and you may be an eccentric; even 
+hypocrisy, that supreme cynicism, does not disgust it; it is so 
+literary that it does not hold its nose before Basile, and is no 
+more scandalized by the prayer of Tartufife than Horace was 
+repelled by the "hiccup" of Priapus. No titiit of the uni- 
+versal face is lacking in the profile of Paris. The bal Mabile 
+is not the polymnia dance of the Janiculum, but the dealer in 
+ladies' wearing apparel there devours the lorette with her eyes, 
+exactl}' as the procuress Staphyla lay in wait for the vii^n 
+Planesium. The Barrière du Combat is not the Coliseam, but 
+people are as ferocious there as though Ciesar were looking on. 
+The Syrian hostess has more grace than Mother Sagnet, but, if 
+Virgin haunted the Roman wine-shop, David d'Angers, Balzae 
+and Charlct have sat at the tables of Parisian taverns. Paris 
+reigns. Geniuses flash forth there, the red tails prosper tliere. 
+AdonaY passes on his chariot with its twelve wheels of thunder 
+and lightning ; Silenus makes his entry there on his ass. For 
+Silenus read Ramponneau. 
+
+Paris is the synonym of Cosmos, Paris is Athens, Sybaris, 
+Jerusalem, Pantin. All civilizations are there in an abrid^^ 
+form, all barbarisms also. Paris would greatly regret it if it 
+had not a guillotine. 
+
+A little of the Place de Grève is a good thing. What would 
+all that eternal festival be without this seasoning ? Our laws 
+are wisely provided, and thanks to them, this Made drips 00 
+this Shrove Tuesday. 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. U 
+
+
+
+XI. — To Scoff, to Reion. 
+
+Thbre is no limit to Paris, No citj has had that domination 
+which sometimes derides those whom it subjugates. To please 
+yon, O Athenians! exclaimed Alexander. Paris makes more 
+than the law, it makes the fashion ; Paris sets more than the 
+fashion, it sets the routine. Paris may be stupid, if it sees fit; 
+it sometimes allows itself this luxury; then the universe is 
+stupid in company with it; then Paris awakes, rubs its eyes, 
+says: ^' How stupid I am!" and bursts out laughing in the 
+face of the human race. What a marvel is such a city ! it is 
+a strange thing that this grandioseness and this burlesque 
+should l>e amicable neighbors, that all this majesty should not 
+be thrown into disorder by all this parody, and that the same 
+mouth can to-day blow into the trump of the Judgment Day, and 
+to-morrow into the reed-flute ! Paris has a sovereign joviality. 
+Its gayety is of tlie thunder and its farce holds a sceptre. 
+
+Its tempest sometimes proceeds from a grimace. Its ex- 
+plosions, its days, its masterpieces, its prodigies, its epics, go 
+forth to the bounds of the universe, and so also do its cock-and- 
+bull stories. Its laugh is the mouth of a volcano which spatters 
+the whole earth. Its jests are sparks. It imposes its carica- 
+tures as well as its ideal on people ; the highest monuments of 
+human civilization accept its ironies and lend their eternity to 
+its mischievous pranks. It is superb ; it has a prodigious 14th 
+of July, which delivers the globe ; it forces all nations to take 
+the oath of tennis ; its night of the 4th of August dissolves in 
+three hours a thousand years of feudalism ; it makes of its logic 
+the muscle of unanimous will ; it multiplies itself under all sorts 
+of forms of the sublime ; it fills with its light Washington, Kos<r 
+ciusko, Bolivar, Bozzaris, Riego, Bem, Mauin, Lopez, John 
+Brown, Garibaldi; it is everywhere where the future is 
+being lighted up, at Boston in 1779, at the Isle de Léon in 
+1820, at Pesth in 1848, at Palermo in 1860, it whispers the 
+mighty countersign : Liberty, in the ear of the American abo- 
+litionists grouped about the boat at Harper's Ferry, and in the 
+ear of the patriots of Ancona assembled in the shadow, to the 
+Archi before the Gozzi inn on the seashore ; it creates Canaris ; 
+it creates Quiroga ; it creates Pisacane ; it irradiates the great 
+on earth ; it was while proceeding whither its breath urge them, 
+that Byron perished at Missolonghi, and that Mazet died at 
+Barcelona ; it is the tribune under the feet of Mirabeau, and a 
+crater under the feet of Robespierre ; its books, its theatre, its 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+oi Liie liuiuuu race ; il uas x^ascai, iu;^uier, \^uiueiuf , j^escuiuets 
+Jean -Jacques : Voltaire for all moments, Molière for all cen- 
+turies ; it makes its language to be talked by the universal 
+mouth, and that language becomes the word ; it constructs in 
+all minds tlie idea of progress, the liberating dogmas which it 
+forges are for the generations trusty friends, and it is with 
+the soul of its thinkers and its poets that all heroes of all 
+nations have been made since 1 789 ; this does not prevent 
+vagabondism, and that enormous genius which is called Paris, 
+while transfiguring the world by its light, sketches in charcoal 
+Bouginier's nose on the wall of the temple of Theseus and 
+writes Credeville the thief on the Pyramids. 
+
+Paris is always showing its teeth ; when.it is not scolding it 
+IS laughing. 
+
+Such is Paris. The smoke of its roofs forms the ideas of the 
+universe. A heap of mud and stone, if you will, but, above all, 
+a moral being. It is more than great, it is immense. Why? 
+Because it is daring. 
+
+To dare ; that is the price of progress. 
+
+All sublime conquests are, more or less, the prizes of daring. 
+In order that the Revolution should take place, it docs not suf- 
+fice that Montesquieu should foresee it, that Diderot should 
+preach it, that Beaumarchais should announce it, that Condorcet 
+should cakoilate it, that Arouet should prepare it, that Rousseau 
+should premeditate it; it is necessary that Danton should 
+dare it. 
+
+The cry : Audacity / is a FHcU hex. It is necessary, for the 
+sake of the forward march of the human race, that there should 
+be proud lessons of courage permanently on the heights. Dar- 
+ing deeds dazzle history and are one of man's great sources 6f 
+ligiit. The dawn dares wh n it rises. To attempt, to brave, 
+to persist, to persevere, to be faithful to one*s self, to grasp fate 
+bodily, to astound catastrophe by the small amount of fear that 
+it occasions us, now to affront unjust power, again to insult 
+drunken victory, to hold one's position, to stand one's ground ; 
+that is the example which nations need, that is the light whiHi 
+electrifies them. The same formidable lightning proceeds fh>m 
+the torch of Prometheus to Cambronne's short pipe. 
+
+
+
+MA RI us. 17 
+
+
+
+Xn. — The Future Lateut ik the People. 
+
+As for the Parisian populace, even when a man grown, it is 
+always the street Arab ; to paint the child is to paint the city ; 
+and it is for that reason that we have studied this eagle in this 
+arrant sparrow. It is in the faubourgs, above all, we maintain, 
+that the Parisian race appears ; there is the pure bloo<l ; there 
+is the true physiognomy ; there this people toils and suffers, 
+and suffering and toil are the two faces of man. There exist 
+there immense numbers of unknown beings, among whom swarm 
+types of the strangest, from the porter of la Râpée to the knacker 
+of Montfaucon. Fez urbis^ exclaims Cicero; ?mo&, adds Burke 
+indignantly ; rabble, multitude, populace. These are words 
+and quickly uttered. But so be it. What does it matter? 
+What is it to me if they do go barefoot ! They do not know 
+how to read ; so much the worse. Would you abandon them 
+for that? Would you turn their distress into a malediction? 
+Cannot the light penetrate these masses ? Let us return to that 
+cry : Light ! and let us obstinately persist therein ! Light ! 
+Light! Who knows whether these opacities will not become 
+transparent? Are not revolutions transfigurations? Come, 
+philosophers, teach, enlighten, light up, think aloud, speak 
+aloud, hasten joyously to the great sun, fraternize with the 
+public place, announce the good news, spend your alphabets 
+lavishly, proclaim rights, sing the Marseillaises, sow ehthusiasms, 
+tear green boughs from the oaks. Make a whirlwind of the 
+idea. This crowd may be rendered sublime. Let us learn how 
+to make use of that vast conflagration of principles and virtues, 
+which sparkles, bui'sts forth and quivers at certain hours. 
+These bare feet, these bare arms, these rags, these ignorances, 
+these abjectnesses, these darknesses, may be employed in the 
+conquest of the ideal. Gaze past the people, and you will per- 
+ceive truth. Let that vile sand which you trample under foot 
+be cast into the furnace, let it melt and seethe there, it will be- 
+come a splendid crystal, and it is thanks to it that Galileo and 
+Newton will discover stars. 
+
+
+
+XIIL — LriTLE Gavroche. 
+
+Eight or nine years after the events narrated in the second 
+part of this story, people noticed on the Boulevard du Temple, 
+and in the regions of the Château -d' Eau ^ a little boy eleven oi 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+18 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+twelve years of age, who would have realized with tolerable 
+accuracy that ideal of the gauiin sketched out above, if, with the 
+laugh of liis age on his lips, he had uot had a heart absolutely 
+sombre and empty. This child was well mufÏÏcd up in a pair of 
+man's trousers, but he did uot get them from his father, and a 
+woman's chemise, but he did uot get it from his mother. Some 
+people or other had clothed him in rags out of charity. Still» 
+he had a father and a mother. But his father did not think of 
+Uim, and his mother did not love him. 
+
+lie was one of those children most deserving of pity, among 
+ill, one of those who have father and mother, and who are 
+orphans nevertheless. 
+
+This child never felt so well as when he was in the street. 
+The pavements were less hard to him than his mother's heart. 
+
+His parents had despatched him into life with a kick. 
+
+He simply took flight. 
+
+He was a boisterous, pallid, nimble, wide-awake, jeering, 
+lad, with a vivacious but sickly air. He went and came, sang, 
+played at hopscotch, scraped the gutters, stole a little, but, like 
+cats and sparrows, gayly laughed when he was called a rogne, 
+and got angry when called a thief. He had no shelter, no 
+bread, no fire, no love ; but he was merry because he was free. 
+
+When these poor creatures grow to be men, the millstones of 
+the social order meet them and crush them, but so long as they 
+are children, they escape because of their smallness. The 
+tiniest hole* saves them. 
+
+Nevertheless, abandoned as this child was, it sometimes hap- 
+pened, every two or three months, that he said, ^' Come, I'll go 
+and see mamma ! " Then he quitted the boulevaixl, the Cirque, 
+the Porte Saint-Martin, descended to the quays, crossed the 
+bridges, reached the suburbs, arrived at the Salpetrière, and 
+came to a halt, where ? Precisely at that double number 50-52 
+with which the reader is acquainted — at the Gorbeau hovel. 
+
+At that epoch, the hovel 50-52 generall}' deserted and eter- 
+nally decorated with the placard : "Chambers to let," chanced 
+to be, a rare thing, inhabited by numerous individuals who, 
+however, as is always the case in Paris, had no connection with 
+each other. All belonged to that indigent class which begins to 
+separate from the lowest of petty bourgeoisie in straitened cir- 
+cumstances, and which extends from misery to misery into the 
+lowest depths of society down to those two beings in whom all 
+the material things of civilization end, the sewer-man who 
+sweeps up the mud, and the ragpicker who collects scrape. 
+
+The '* principal lodger" of »Jean Valjean's day was dead and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MA RI us. 19 
+
+had been replaced by another exactly like her. I know no( 
+what philosopher has said: " Old women are never lacking." 
+
+This new old woman was named Madame Bourgon, and had 
+nothing remarkable about her life except a dynasty of three 
+paroquets, who had reigned in succession over her soul. 
+
+The most miserable of those who inhabited the hovel were a 
+family of four persons, consisting of father, mother, and two 
+daughters, already well grown, all four of whom were lodged in 
+the same attic, one of the cells which we have already men- 
+tioned. 
+
+At first sight, this family presented no very special feature except 
+its extreme destitution ; the father, when he hired the chamber, 
+had stated that his name was Jondrette. Some time after his 
+moving in, which had borne a singular resemblance to the 
+entrance of nothing at aU, to borrow the memorable expression 
+of the principal tenant, this Jondrette had said to the woman, 
+who, like her predecessor, was at the same time portress and 
+stair-sweepei' : '^Mother 8o-and-So, if any one should chance 
+to come and inquire for a Pole or an Italian, or even a Spaniard, 
+perchance, it is I." 
+
+Thia family was that of the merry barefoot boy. He arrived 
+there and found distress, and, what is still sadder, no smile ; a 
+cold hearth and cold hearts. When he entered, he was asked : 
+** Whence come you?" He replied: *' From the street," 
+When he went away, they asked him : *.' Whither are you 
+going? " He replied : ^^ Into the streets." His mother said to 
+bim : '* What did you come here for ? " 
+
+This child lived, in this absence of affection, like the pale 
+plants which spring up in cellars. It did not cause him suffer- 
+mg, and he blamed no one. He did not know exactly how a 
+father and mother should be. 
+
+Nevertheless, his mother loved his sisters. 
+
+We have foi^otten to mention, that on the Boulevard do 
+Temple this child was called Little Gavroche. Why was he 
+called Little Gavroche? 
+
+Ftobably because his father's name was Jondrette. 
+
+It seems to be the instinct of certain wretched families to 
+break the thread. 
+
+The chamber which the Jondrettes inhabited in the Gorbeao^ 
+hovel was the last at the end of the corridor. The cell next to 
+it was occupied by a very poor yonng man who was called M« 
+Marins. 
+
+Let us explain who this M. Marius waa. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+20 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+BOOK SECOND.— THE GREAT BOURGEOIS. 
+I. — Ninety Years and Thirty-two Teeth. 
+
+In the Rue Boucherat, Rue de Normandie, and the Roe de 
+Saintouge there still exist a few ancient inhabitants who have 
+preserved the memory of a worthy man named M. Gillenormaud, 
+and who mention him with complaisance. This good man was 
+old when they were young. This silhouette has not yet entirely 
+disappeared — for those who regard with melancholy that vague 
+swarm of shadows which is called the past — from the labyrinth 
+of streets in the vicinity of the Temple to which, under Louis 
+XIV., the names of all the provinces of France were appended 
+exactly as in our day, the streets of the new Tivoli quarter have 
+received the names of all the capitals of Europe ; a progression, 
+by the way, in which progress is visible. 
+
+M. Gillenormand, who was as much alive as possible in 1831, 
+was one of those men who had become curiosities to be viewed, 
+simply because they have lived a long time, and who are strange 
+because they formerly resembled everybody, and now resemble 
+nobody. He was a peculiar old man, and in very truth, a man 
+of another age, the real, complete and rather haughty bourgeois 
+of the eighteenth century, who wore his good, old bourgeoisie 
+with the air with which marquises wear their marquisates. He 
+was over ninety years of age, his walk was erect, he talked 
+loudly, saw clearly, drank neat, ate, slept, and snored. He had 
+all thirty-two of his teeth. He only wore spectacles when he read. 
+He was of an amorous disposition, but declared that, for the 
+last ten years, he had wholly and decidedly renounced women. 
+He could no longer please, he said ; he did not add : ^^ I am too 
+Did," but : '' I am too poor." He said : '' If I were not ruined 
+— Héée ! " AU he had left, in fact, was an income of about 
+fifteen thousand francs. His dream was to come into an Inher* 
+itance and to have a hundred thousand livres income for mis- 
+tresses. He did not belong, as the reader will perceive, to that 
+puny variety of octogenaries who, like M. de Voltaire, have 
+been dying all their life i his was no longevity of a cracked pot ; 
+this jovial old man had always had good health. He was super- 
+ficial, rapid, easily angered. He flew into a passion at every- 
+thing, generally quite contrary to all reason. When contradicted, 
+he raised his cane ,* he beat people as he had done in the great 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 21 
+
+century. He had a daughter over fifty years of age, aad 
+anmarried, whom he chastised severely with his tongue, when ia 
+a rage, and whom he would have liked to whip. She seemed to 
+him to be eiglit years old. He boxed his servants' ears soundly» 
+and said : '^ Ah ! carc^ne ! " One of his oaths was : ^' By the 
+pantoufloche of the pantouflochade ! " He had singular freaks 
+of tranquillity ; he had himself shaved every day by a barber 
+who had been mad and who detested him, being jealous of M. 
+Gillenormand on account of his wife, a pretty and coquettish 
+barberess. M. Gillenormand admired his own discernment in 
+all things, and declared that he was extremely sagacious ; here 
+is one of his sayings : '^ I have, in truth, some penetration ; I 
+am able to say when a flea bites me, from what woman it came." 
+The words which he uttered the most frequently were : thû 
+sengihle man^ and nature. He did not give to this last word 
+the grand acceptation which our epoch has accorded to it, but 
+he made it enter, after his own fashion, into his little chimney- 
+corner satires : ^^ Nature," he said, ^^in order that civilization 
+may have a little of everything, gives it even specimens of its 
+amusing barbarism. Europe possesses specimens of Asia and 
+Africa on a small scale. The cat is a drawing-room tiger, the 
+lizard is a pocket crocodile. The dancers at the opera ai*e pink 
+female savages. They do not eat men, they crunch them ; or, 
+magicians that they are, they transform them into oysters and 
+swallow them. Tlie Caribbeans leave only the bones, they leave 
+only the shell. Such are our morals. We do not devour, we 
+gnaw ; we do not exterminate, we claw." 
+
+
+
+n. — LiKB Master, Like House. 
+
+He lived in the Marais, Rue. des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 6. 
+He owned the house. This house has since been demolished 
+and rebuilt, and the number has probably been changed in those 
+revolutions of numeration which the streets of Paris undergo. 
+He occupied an ancient and vast apartment on the first floor, 
+between street and gardens, furnished to the very ceilings with 
+great Gobelins and Beauvais tapestries representing {)astoral 
+scenes ; the subjects of the ceilings and the panels were repeated 
+in miniature on the arm-chairs. He enveloped his bed in a vast, 
+nine-leaved screen of Coromandel lacquer. I^ng, full curtains 
+hung from the windows, and formed great, broken folds that 
+were very magnificent. The garden situated immediately under 
+his windows was attached to that one of them which formed 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+22 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+the angle, by means of a staircase twelve or fifteen steps long, 
+which the old gentleman ascended and descended with great 
+agility- In addition to a library adjoining his chamber, he had 
+a boudoir of which he thought a great deal, a gallant and elegant 
+retreat, with magnificent hangings of straw, with a pattern of 
+flowers and fleiirs-de-lys made on the galleys of Louis XIV. and 
+ordered of his convicts by M. de Vivonne for his mistress. M. 
+Gillenormand had inherited it from a grim maternal great-aunt, 
+who had died a centenarian. He had had two wives. Hi8 
+manners were something between those of the courtier, which 
+he had never been, and the lawyer, which he might have been. 
+He was gay, and caressing when he had a mind. In his youth 
+he had been one of those men who are always deceived by their 
+wives and never b}* their mistresses, because they are, at the 
+same time, the most sullen of husbands and the most charming 
+of lovers in existence. He was a connoisseur of pahiting. He 
+had in his chamber a marvellous portrait of no one knows 
+whom, painted by Jordaens, executed with great dashes of the 
+brush, with millions of details, in a confused and hap-bazard 
+manner. M. GillenormarnVs attire was not the habit of Louis 
+XIV. nor yet that of Louis XVI. ; it was that of the Incroy- 
+ables of the Directory. He had thought himself young up to 
+that period and had followed the fashions. His coat was of 
+light-weight cloth with voluminous revers, a long swallow-tail 
+and large steel buttons. With this he wore knee-breeches and 
+buckle shoes. He always thrust his hands into his fobs. He 
+said authoritatively: "The French Revolution is a heap of 
+blackguaixis." 
+
+III. — Luc-EspRrr. 
+
+At the age of sixteen, one evening at the opera, he had had 
+the honor to be stared at through opera-glasses by two beauties 
+at the same time — ripe and celebrated beauties then, and sung 
+by Voltaire, the Camargo and the Salle. Caught between two 
+fires, he had beaten a heroic retreat towaixls a little dancer, a 
+young girl named Nahenry, who was sixteen like himself, ob- 
+scure as a cat, and with whom he was in love. He abounded 
+in memories. He was accustomed to exclaim : *' How pretty 
+she was — that Guimard-Guimardini-Guimardinette, the last 
+time I saw her at Longchamps, her hair curled in sustained sen- 
+timents, with her come-and-see of turquoises, her gown of the 
+color of persons newly arrived, and her little agitation muff ! " 
+He had worn in his young manhood a waistcoat of Nain-Lon« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MAUI us. 28 
+
+firin, which he was fond of talking about effusively. *' I wafl 
+dressed like a Turk of the Levant Levautin," said he. Mad- 
+ame de Boufflers, having seen him by chance when he was 
+twenty, had described Lim as " a charming fool." He was 
+horrified by all the names which he saw in politics and in |)ower, 
+regarding them as vulgar and bourgeois. He read tlie journals, 
+the newspapers^ the gazettes as he said, stifling outbursts of 
+laughter tlie while. ^^ Oh ! " he said, ^^ what people these are ! 
+Corbière 1 Humann ! Casimir Férier ! . There's a minister for 
+you ! I can imagine this in a journal : *• M. Gilleuormand, 
+minister ! ' that would be a farce. Well ! They are so stupid 
+that it would pass ; " he merrily called everything by its name, 
+whether decent or indecent, and did not restrain himself in 
+the least before ladies. He uttered coarse speeches, obsceni- 
+ties, and filth with a certain tranquillity and lack of astonishment 
+which was elegant. It was in keeping with the unceremonious- 
+ness of his century. It is to be noted that the age of périphrase 
+in verse was the age of crudities in prose. His god-fathor had 
+predicted that he would turn out a man of genius, and had be - 
+stowed on him these two significant names : Luc-Esprit. 
+
+
+
+rV. — A Centenarian Aspirant. 
+
+He had taken prizes in his boyhood at the College of Moulins, 
+where he was born, and he had been crowned by the hand of 
+the Due de Nivernais, whom he called the Due de Nevers. 
+Neither the Convention, nor the death of I^uis XVI., nor the 
+Napoleon, nor the return of the Bourbons, nor anything else 
+had been able to efface the memory of this crowning. TJie Due 
+de Nevers was, in his eyes, the great figure of the century. 
+^^ What a charming grand seigneur," he said, *•' and what a fine 
+air he had with his blue ribbon ! " 
+
+In the eyes of M. Gillenormand, Catherine the Second had 
+jaade reparation for the crime of the partition of Poland b}* 
+purchasing, for three thousand roubles, the secret of the elixir 
+of gold, from Bestucheff. He grew animated on this subject : 
+" The elixir of gold," he exclaimed, '^ the yellow dye of Bestu- 
+cheff, General Lamotte's drops, in the eighteenth century, — 
+this was the great remedy for the catastro|)hes of love, the pan- 
+acea against Venus, at one louis the half -ounce phial. Louis 
+XV. sent two hundred phials of it to the Po|)e." He would have 
+boon gi'eatly irritated and thrown off his balance, had any one 
+told him that the elixir of gold is nothing but the perchloride oj 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+^4 i'ES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+iron. M. Gillenormand adored the Bourbons, and had a horroi 
+of 1789 ; he was forever narrating in what manner he had saved 
+himself during the Terror, and how he had been ol)liged to dis- 
+play a vast deal of gayety and cleverness in order to escape 
+having his head cut off. If any young man ventured to pro- 
+nounce an eulogium on the Republic in his presence, he turned 
+purple and grew so angr}' that he was on the point of swooning. 
+He sometimes alluded to his ninety years, and said : " I hope 
+that 1 shall not see ninetj'-three twice.** On these occasions, 
+he hinted to people that he meant to live to be a hundred. 
+
+
+
+V. — Basque akd Nicolbtte. 
+
+He had theories. Here is one of them: ''When a man is 
+passionately fond of women, and when he has himself a wife 
+for whom he cares but little, who is homely, cross, legitimat>(\ 
+with plenty of rights, perched on the code, and jealous at need, 
+there is but one way of extricating himself from the quandary and 
+of procuring peace, and that is to let his wife control the purse- 
+strings. This abdication sets him free. Then his wife busies 
+herself, grows passionately fond of handling coin, gets her fin- 
+gers covered with veixligris in the process, undertakes tlie edu- 
+cation of half-share tenants and the training of farmers* 
+convokes lawyers, presides over notaries, harangues scriveners- 
+visits limbs of the law, follows lawsuits, draws up leases, dic- 
+tates contracts, feels herself the sovereign, sells, buys, regulates, 
+promises and compromises, binds fast and annuls, yields, con- 
+cedes and rétrocèdes, arranges, disarranges, hoards, lavishes , 
+she commits follies, a supreme and personal delight, and tha* 
+consoles her. While her husband disdains her, she has the 
+satisfaction of ruining her husband.'* This theory M. Gillenor- 
+mand had himself applied, and it had become his history. His 
+wife — the second one — had administered his fortune in such 
+a manner that, one fine day, when M. Gillenormand found him- 
+self a widower, there remained to him just sufficient to live on, 
+by sinking nearly the whole of it in an annuity of fifteen thou- 
+sand francs, three-quarters of which would expire with him. 
+He had not liesitated on this point, not being anxious to leave 
+a property behind him. Besides, he had noticed that patrimo- 
+nies are subject to adventures, and, for instance, become national 
+property; he had been present at the avatars of consolidated 
+three per cents, and he had no great faith in the Great Rook of 
+tke Public Debt. '* All that's the Rue Quincampois ! " he said- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARI us. 2< 
+
+His house in the Rue Filles-du-Clavaire belonged to him, as w« 
+1 ave already stated. Ue had two servants, '* a male and a fe« 
+male." When a servant entered his establishment, M. Gille" 
+normand re-baptized him. He bestowed on the men the namj 
+tf their province: Nimois, Comtois, Poitevin, Picard. His 
+last valet was a big, foundered, short-winded fellow of fifty-live, 
+who was incapable of running twenty paces; but, as he had 
+been born at Bayoune, M. Gillenormand called him Basque. 
+Ail the female servants in his house were called Nicolette (even 
+the Maguon, of whom we shall hear more farther on). One 
+day, a haughty cook, a cordon bleu, of the lofty race of porters, 
+presented herself. '' How much wages do you want a month ? " 
+asked M. Gillenormand. •' Thirty francs." '' What is your 
+name? " " Olympic." '' You shall have fifty francs, and you 
+shall be called Nicolette." 
+
+
+
+VI. — In which Magnon and her Tviro Children are seen. 
+
+With M. Gillenormand, sorrow was converted into wrath; 
+he was furious at being in despair. He hud all sort-s of preju- 
+dices and took all sorts of liberties. One of the facts of which 
+his exterior relief and his internal satisfaction was composed, 
+was, as we have just hinted, that he had remained a brisk spark, 
+and that he passed energetically for such. This he called hav- 
+ing " royal renown." This royal renown sometimes drew down 
+upon him singular windfalls. One day, tlicre was brought to him 
+in a basket, as though it had been a basket of oysters, a stout, 
+newly born boy, who was yelling like the deuce, and duly wrapped 
+in swaddling-clothes, which a servant-maid, dismissed six 
+months previously, attributed to him. M. Gillenormand had, 
+«t that time, fully completed his eighty-fourth year. Indigna- 
+tion and uproar in the establishment. And whom did that bold 
+hussy think she could persuade to believe that? What audac- 
+ity ! What an abominable calumny ! M. Gillenormand him- 
+self was not at all enraged. He gazed at the brat with the 
+amiable smile of a good man who is flattered by the calumny, 
+and said in an aside : " Well, what now? What's the matter? 
+You are finely taken aback, and really, you are excessively 
+ignorant. M. le Duc d*Angoulêrae, the bastard of his Majesty 
+Charles IX., married a silly jade of fifteen when he was 
+eighty-five; M. Virginal, Marquis d'Alluye, brother to the Car- 
+dinal de Sourdis^ Archbishop of Bordeaux, had, at the age of 
+eighty-three, by the maid of Madame la Présidente Jacquin, a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+B6 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+son, a real child of love, who became a Chevalier of Malta ano 
+a counsellor of state ; one of the great men of this century, 
+the Abbé Tabaraud, is the son of a man of eighty-seven. 
+There is nothing out of the ordinary in these things. And 
+then, the Bible ! Upon that I declare that this little gentleman 
+is none of mine. Let him be taken care of. It is not his fault.'' 
+This manner of procedure was good-tempered. The woman. 
+whose name was Mag non, sent him another parcel in the fol 
+lowing year. It was a boy again. Thereuix)n, M. Gillenor- 
+mand capitulated. He sent the two brats back to their mother, 
+promising to pay eighty francs a month for their maintenance, 
+on the condition that the said mother would not do so any 
+more. He added : ^^ I insist upon it that the mother shall treat 
+them well. I shall go to sec them from time to time." And 
+this he did. He had had a brother who was a priest, and who 
+had been rector of the Academy of Poitiers for three and thirty 
+years, and had died at seventy-nine. '^ I lost him young," 
+said he. This brother, of whom but little memory remains, 
+was a peaceable miser, who, being a priest, thought himself 
+bound to bestow alms on the poor whom he met, but he never 
+gave them anything except bad or domonetized sous, thereby 
+discovering a means of going to hell by way of paradise. As 
+for M. Gillenormand the elder, he never higgled over his alms- 
+giving, but gave gladly and nobly. He was kindly, abrupt, 
+charitable, and if he had been rich, his turn of mind would have 
+been magnificent. He desired that all which concerned him 
+should be done in a grand manner, even his rogueries. One 
+day, having been cheated by a business man in a matter of in- 
+heritance, in a gross and apparent manner, he uttered this 
+solemn exclamation : '* That was indecently done ! I am really 
+ashamed of this pilfering. Everything has degenerated in this 
+century, even the rascals. Morbleu ! this is not the way to rob 
+a man of my standing. I am robbed as though in a forest, but 
+badiy robbed. Silvœ sint consule dignœ I " He had had two 
+wives, as we have alread}' mentioned ; by the firet he had had 
+a daughter, who had remained unmarried, and by the second? 
+another daughter, who had died at about the age of thirty, who 
+bad wedded, through love, or chance, or otherwise, a soldier of 
+fortune who had served in the armies of the Republic and of th« 
+Empire, who had won the cross at Ansterlitz and had been made 
+colonel at Waterloo. '* He is the disgrace of my family^" said 
+the old bourgeois. He took an immense amount of snuff, and 
+had a particularly graceful manner of plucking at his lace ruffle 
+with the back of one hand. He believed very little in God. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MA RI us. 27 
+
+
+
+VU. — Bule: Receive No One except in the Evening. 
+
+Such was M. Luc-Esprit Gillenormaud, who had not lost his 
+hair, — which was gray rather than white, — and which was 
+always dressed in '' dog's ears.*' To sum up, he was venerable 
+in spite of all this. 
+
+He had something of the eighteenth century about him; 
+frivolous and great. 
+
+In 1814 and during the early years of the Restoration, M. 
+Gillenormand, who was still young, — he was only seventy -four, 
+— lived in the Faubourg Saint Germain, Rue Servandoni, near 
+Saint-Sulpice. He had only retired to the Marais when he 
+quitted society, long after attaining the age of eighty. 
+
+And, on abandoning society, he had immured himself in his 
+habits. The principal one, and that which was invariable, was 
+lo keep his door absolutely closed during the day, and never to 
+receive any one whatever except in the evening. He dined at 
+five o'clock, and after that his door was open. That had been 
+the fashion of his century, and he would not swerve from it. 
+*^ The day is vulgar," said he, "-and deserves only a closed 
+shutter. Fashionable people only light up their minds when 
+the zenith lights up its stars." And he barricaded himself 
+against every one, even had it been the king himself. This was 
+the antiquated elegance of his day. 
+
+VIII. — Two DO NOT MA.KE A PaIR. 
+
+We have just spoken of M. Gillenormand's two daughters. 
+They had come into the world ten years apart. In their youth they 
+had borne very little resemblance to each otlier, either in charac- 
+ter or countenance, and had also been as little like sisters to each 
+other as possible. The youngest had a charming soul, which 
+turned towards all that belongs to the light, was occupied with 
+flowers, . with verses, with music, which fluttered away into 
+glorious space, enthusiastic, ethereal, and was wedded from her 
+ver3' youth, in ideal, to a vague and heroic figure. The elder 
+had also her chimera ; she espied in the azure some very wealthy 
+purveyor, a contractor, a splendidly stupid husband, a million 
+made man, or even a prefect; the receptions of the Prefecture, 
+an usher in the antechamber with a chain on his neck, official 
+balls, the harangues of the town-hall, to be '' Madame la Pré- 
+fète," — all this had created a whirlwind in her imagination. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+leuorinaiicl was not of this nature ; his domination in tho 
+Royalist salons which he frequented cost his self-respect 
+nothing. He was an oracle everywhere. It had happened to 
+him to hold his own against M. de Bonald, and even against M. 
+Bengy-Puy- Vallée . 
+
+About 1817, he invariably passed two afternoons a week in 
+a house in his own neighborhood, in the Rue Pérou, with Madame 
+la Baronne de T., a worthy and respectable person, whose 
+husband had been Ambassador of France to Berlin under Louis 
+XVI. Baron de T., who, during his lifetime, had gone very 
+passionately into ecstasies and magnetic visions, had died 
+bankrupt, during the emigration, leaving, as his entire fortune, 
+some very curious Memoirs about Mesmer and his tub, in ten 
+manuscript volumes, bound in red morocco and gilded on the 
+edges. Sladame de T. bad not published the memoirs, out 
+of pride, and maintained herself on a meagre income which 
+had survived no one knew how. 
+
+Madame de T. lived far from the Court; "a very mixed 
+society," as she said, in a noble isolation, proud and poor. A 
+few friends assembled twice a week about her widowed hearth, 
+and these constituted a purely Royalist salon. They sipped 
+tea there, and uttered groans or cries of horror at the century, 
+the charter, the Bonapartists, the prostitution of the blue rib- 
+bon, or the Jacobinism of Louis XVIII., according as the wind 
+v«ered towards elegy or dithyrambs ; and they spoke in low 
+tones of the hopes which were presented by Monsieur, after- 
+wards Charles X. 
+
+The songs of the fish women, in which Napoleon was calle<] 
+Nicolas, were received there with transiwrts of joy. Duchesses, 
+the most delicate and charming women in the world, went into 
+ecstasies over couplets like the following, addressed to ^^ the 
+federates " : — 
+
+Refoncez dans vos culottes ^ 
+Le bout d' chemis' qui vous pend. 
+Qu'on n' dis' pas qu' les patriotes 
+Ont arboré V drapeau blanc ? 
+
+There they amused themselves with puns which were considered 
+terrible, with innocent plays upon words which they supposed 
+to be venomous, with quatrains, with distiches even ; thus, upon 
+
+1 Tuck into your trousers the shirt>tail that is hanging out. Let it not Imi 
+
+said that patriots have hoisted the white flag. 
+
+
+
+excepi Ills siieut auu senrcniious air, nis coiu aua anguiar lacc, 
+his perfectly polished maimers, his coat buttoned up to his cra- 
+vat, and his long legs always crossed in long, flabby trousers 
+of the hue of burnt sienna. His face was the same color as his 
+trousers. 
+
+This M. de Laroothe was '^held in consideration" in this 
+salon on account of his "celebrity," and, strange to say, though 
+true, because of his name of Valois. 
+
+As for M. Gilleuormand, his consideration was of absolutclj' 
+first-rate quality. He had, in spite of his levity, and without its 
+interfering in any way with his dignity, a certain manner about 
+him which was imposing, dignified, honest, and lofty, in a bour- 
+geois fashion ; and his great age added to it. One is not a 
+century with impunity. The years finally produce around a 
+head, a venerable dishevelment. 
+
+In addition to this, he said things which had the genuine 
+sparkle of the old rock. Thus, when the King of Prussia, after 
+having restored Louis XVIII., came to pay the latter a visit 
+under the name of the Count de Ruppin, he was received by 
+the descendant of Louis XIV^. soinewhat as though he had been 
+the Marquis de Brandebourg, and with the most delicate imperti- 
+nence. M. Gilleuormand approved: "All kings who are not 
+the King of France," said he, "are provincial kings." One day, 
+the following question was put and the following answer returned 
+in his presence : " To what was the editor of the Courrier Pratt- 
+çais condemned ?" " To be suspended. " " Sus is superfluous," 
+observed M. Gilleuormand.* Remarks of this nature found a 
+situation. 
+
+At the Te Deum on the anniversary of the return of the Bour- 
+bons, he said, on seeing M. de Talleyrand pass by: ** There 
+goes his Excellency the Evil One." 
+
+M. Gillenormand was always accompanied by his daughter, 
+that tall mademoiselle, who was over forty and looked fifty, and 
+by a handsome little boy of seven years, white, ix)sy, fresh, 
+with happy and trusting eyes, who never appeared in that salori 
+without hearing voices murmur around him : " How handsome 
+he is ! What a pity ! Poor child !" This child was the one of 
+whom we dropped a word a while ago. He was called " |K>or 
+child," because he had for a father " a brigand of the Loire." 
+
+This brigand of the Loire was M. Gillenormand's son-iii * w 
+who has already been mentioned, and whom M. Gillenormand 
+called " the disgrace of his family." 
+
+^Suêpendu, tmspended; pendu. 
+
+
+
+t 
+
+
+
+84 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+child could make him give waj, and his servant scolded him. 
+He was so timid that lie seemed shy, ho rarely went out, and he 
+saw no one but the poor people who tapped at his pane and his 
+cure, the Abbé Mabeuf, a good old man. Nevertheless, if the 
+inhabitants of the town, or strangers, or any chance comers, 
+cunous to sec his tulips, rang at his little cottage, he opened 
+his door with a smile. He was the " brigand of the Loire." 
+
+Any one who had, at the same time, read military memoirs, 
+biographies, the Moniteur^ and the bulletins of the grand army< 
+would have been struck by a name which occurs there with tol- 
+erable frequency, the name of Georges Pontmercy. When 
+very young, this Georges Pontmercy had been a soldier in 
+Saintonge*s regiment. The Revolution broke out. Saintonge's 
+regiment formed a part of the army of the Rhine ; for the old 
+regiments of the monarchy preserved their names of provinces 
+even after the fall of the monarchy, and were only divided into 
+brigades in 1794. Pontmercy fought at Spire, at Worms, at 
+Neustadt, at Turkheim, at Alzey, at Mayence, where he was 
+one of the two hundred who formed Houchard's rearguard. 
+It was the twelfth to hold its ground against the corps of the 
+Prince of Hesse, behind the old rampart of Andernach, and 
+onl3' rejoined the main body of the army when the enemy's 
+cannon had opened a breach from the cord of the parapet to 
+the foot of the glacis. He was under Kléber at Marchiennes 
+and at the battle of Mont-Palissel, where a ball from a biscaien 
+broke his arm. Then he passed to the frontier of Italy, and 
+was one of the thirty grenadiers who defended the Col de Tende 
+with Joubert. Joubert was appointed its adjutant-general, and 
+Pontmercy sub-lieutenant. Pontmercy was by Berthier's side 
+in the midst of the grape-shot of that day at Lodi which caased 
+Bonaparte to say : "Berthier has been cannoneer, cavalier, and 
+grenadier." He beheld his old general, Joubert, fall at Novi, at 
+the moment when, with uplifted sabre, he was shouting : *' For- 
+ward ! " Having been embarked with his company in the 
+exigencies of the campaign, on board a pinnace which was pro- 
+ceeding from Genoa to some obscure port on the coast, he fell 
+into a wasps'-nest of seven or eiglit English vessels. The 
+Genoese commander wanted to throw his cannon into the 
+sea, to hide the soldiers between decks, and to slip along in the 
+dark as a merchant vessel. Pontmercy had tJie colors hoisted 
+to the peak, and sailed proudly past under the guns of the 
+British frigates. Twenty leagues further on, his audacity hav- 
+ing increased, he attacked with his pinnace, and captured a 
+large English transport which was carrying troops to Sicily, and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+irhich was so loaded down with men and horses that the vessel 
+was sunk to the level of the sea. lu 1805 he was in that Mai' 
+her division which took Giinzberg from the Archduke Ferdi- 
+nand. At Weltingen he received into his arras, beneath a storm 
+of bullets, Colonel Maupetit, mortally wounded at the head of 
+the 9th Dragoons. He distinguished himself at Austerlitz in 
+that admirable march in echelons eflPected under the enemy's 
+fire. When the cavalry of the Imperial Russian Guard crushed 
+a battalion of the 4th of the line, Pontmercy was one of those 
+who took their revenge and overthrew the Guard. The Emperor 
+gave him the cross. Pontmercy saw Wurmser at Mantaa, 
+Mêlas, and Alexandria, Mack at Ulm, made prisoners in suc- 
+cession. He formed a part of the eighth corps of the grand 
+army which Mortier commanded, and which captured Ham- 
+burg. Then he was transferred to the 55th of the line, which 
+was the old regiment of Flanders. At Eylau he was in the 
+cemetery where, for the space of two hours, the heroic Captain 
+Louis Hugo, the uncle of the author of this book, sustained 
+alone with his company of eighty-three men every effort of the 
+hostile army. Pontmercy was one of the three who emerged 
+alive from that cemetery. He was at Friedland. Then he saw 
+Moscow. Then La Bérésina, then Lutzen, Bautzen, Dresden, 
+Wachau, Leipzig, and the defiles of Gelenhausen ; then Mont- 
+mirail, Château-Thierry, Craon, the banks of the Marne, the 
+banks of the Aisne, and the redoubtable position of Laon. At 
+Arnay-Le-Duc, being then a captain, he put ten Cossacks to 
+the sword, and saved, not his general, but his corporal. He was 
+well slashed up on this occasion, and twenty-seven splinters 
+were extracted from his left arm alone. Eight days before the 
+capitulation of Paris he had just exchanged with a comrade 
+and entered the cavalry. He had what was called under the old 
+regime, the double handy that is to say, an equal aptitude for 
+handling the sabre or the musket as a soldier, or a squadron or 
+a battalion as an officer. It is from this aptitude, perfected by a 
+military education, which certain special bi*anches of the service 
+arise, the dragoons, for example, who are both cavalry-men and 
+infantry at one and the same time. He accompanied Napoleon 
+to the Island of Elba. At Waterloo, he was chief of a squad- 
+ron of cuirassiers, in Dubois' brigade. It was he who cap- 
+tured the standard of the Lunenburg battalion. He came and 
+east the flag at the Emperor's feet. He was covered with blood. 
+While tearing down the banner he had received a sword-cut 
+across his face. The Emperor, greatly pleased, shouted to 
+him : ^' You are a colonel, you are a baron, you are an ofiScer 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+36 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+of the Legion of Honor I " Poutmercy replied : *' Sire, I thank 
+you for my widow." An hour Inter, iie fell in ihe ravine of 
+bhain. Now, who was this Georges Poutmercy? He was this 
+same •' brigand of the Loire." 
+
+We have ah'cady seen something of his history. After Wa- 
+terloo, Pontmorey, who had been pulled out of the hollow road 
+of Chain, as it will be remembered, had succeeded in joining the 
+army, and had dragged himself from ambulance to ambulance 
+as far as the cantonments of the Loire. 
+
+The Restoration had placed him on half-pay, then had sent 
+him into residence, that is to say, under surveillance, at Ver- 
+non. King Louis XV I IL, 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 eoat, 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 conve3'ed to 
+him through an officious intermediary, Pontmercy retorted with 
+a bitter smile: "I do not know whether I no longer under- 
+stand 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 inter- 
+fere with him. Two or three times the Minister of War and 
+the general in command of the department wrote to him with tlic 
+following address : '' A Monsieur le Coramandant PorUmercy,** 
+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 Oenerai 
+Bonaparte, Pontmercy had ended, ma}' we be pardoned the ex- 
+pression, by having in his mouth the same saliva as his Emperor, 
+
+In the same way, there were at Rome Carthaginian prison- 
+ers 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 squad- 
+ron. He had hired the smallest house which he could find at 
+Vernon. He lived there alone, we hâve just seen how. Under 
+the Empire, between two wars, he had found time to marij 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARI us. 37 
+
+ftfademoiselle Giileoormand. The old bourgeois, thoroaghlj 
+iiidiguant at bottom, bad 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 wortliy of her husband, died, 
+leaving a child. This child had l)oen 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 bad transferred his love to flowers. 
+
+Moreover, he had i-enounced everything, and neither stirred 
+up mischief nor conspired. He shared his thoughts between 
+the innocent things which he was tlien doing and the great 
+things which he had done. lie 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 mock- 
+ing 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 witli 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, 
+tliinking 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 un- 
+- married, was very rich on the maternal side, and her sister's 
+son was her natural heir. The boy, whose name was Marins, 
+knew that he had a father, but nothing more. No one opened 
+bis mouth to him about it. Nevertlieless, in the society into 
+^hich his grandfather took him, whispers, innuendoes, and 
+winks, had eventually enligiitened the little boy's mind ; he had 
+finally underatood 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 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+38 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Saint-Sulpice, at the hour when Auut Gilleaormaad led Marim 
+to the mass. There, trembliug lest the aunt should turn round, 
+cx>ncealed 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 curé of Veraon, 
+M. l'Abbé Mabeuf. 
+
+That worthy priest was the brother of a warden of Saint 
+Suipice, who had often observed this man gazing at his child, 
+and the scar on his cheek, and the large teai*s in his eyes. That 
+man, who had so raanl}' 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 men- 
+tioned the circumstance to the curé, and both had paid the colonel 
+a visit, on some pretext or otlier. This visit led to others. Tlie 
+colonel, who had been extremely reserved at first, ended by 
+opening his heart, and the curé 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 curé to regaixi 
+him with veneration and tenderness, and the colonel, on his side, 
+became fond of the curé. And moreover, when both ai'e sin 
+cere and good, no men so penetrate each other, and so amalga* 
+mate with each other, as an old priest and an old soldier. At 
+bottom, the man is the same. The one has devoted his life to 
+his country here below, the other to his country on high ; that 
+is the only difference. 
+
+Twice a year, on the first of January and on St. Greorge's 
+day, Marius wrote duty letters to his father, whicb were die- 
+tated by his aunt, and which one would have pronounced to be 
+copied from some formula ; this was all that M. Gillenormand 
+tolerated ; and tlie father answered them with very tender let- 
+ters which the grandfather thrust into his pocket unread. 
+
+
+
+III. — Requiescamt. 
+
+Madame de T.'s salon was all that Marius Pontmercy knew 
+
+of the world. It was the only opening through which he ooulq 
+get a glimpse of life. This opening was sombre, and more 
+cold than warmth, more night than day, came to him through 
+this skylight. This child, wiio had been all joy find liïçht on 
+entering this strange world, soon became melancholy, and, what 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
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+
+MARIUS, 39 
+
+is still more contrary to bis age, grave. Surrounded by all 
+those singular and imposing personages, he gazed about hira 
+with serious amazement. Everything conspired to increase this 
+astonishment in him. There were in Madame de T.'s salon 
+some very noble ladies named Mathan, No6, Levis, — which 
+was pronounced Levi, — Cambis, pronounced Cambyse. These 
+antique visages and these Biblical names mingled in the child's 
+mind with the Old Testament which he was learning by heart, 
+and when they were all there, seated in a circle around a dying 
+fire, sparely lighted by a lamp shaded with green» with their 
+severe profiles, their gray or white hair, their long gowns of 
+another age, wliose lugubrious colors could not be distinguished, 
+dropping, at rare intervals, words which were both majestic and 
+severe, little Marins stared at them with frightened eyes, in th* 
+conviction that he beheld not women, but patriarchs and magi, 
+not real beings, but phantoms. 
+
+With these phantoms, priests were sometimes* mingled, fre- 
+quenters of this ancient salon, and some gentlemen ; the Mar- 
+quis de Sass****, private secretary to Madame de Berry, the 
+Vicomte de Val***, who published, under the pseudonyme oi 
+Charles-Antoine, monorhymed odes, the Prince de Beauff.*******, 
+who, though very young, had a gray head and a pretty and 
+witty wife, whose very low-necked toilettes of scarlet velvet 
+with gold torsades alarmed these shadows, the Marquis de 
+ç*»**#(|'j5*****»^ the man in all France who best understood 
+** proportioned politeness," the Comte d'Am*****, the kindly 
+nvin with tiie amiable chin, and the Chevalier de Port-de-Guy, 
+a pillar of the library of the Louvre, called the King's cabinet. 
+M. de Port-de-Guy, bald, and rather aged than old, was wont 
+to relate that in 1793, at the age of sixteen, he had been put 
+in tiie galleys as refractory and chained with an octogenarian, 
+the Bishop of Mirepoix, also refractor}', but as a priest, while 
+he was so in the capacity of a soldier. This was at Toulon. 
+Their business was to go at night and gather up on the scaffold 
+the heads and bodies of the ^persons who had been guillotined 
+during the daj' ; they bore away on their backs these dripping 
+corpses, and their red galley-slave blouses had a clot of blood 
+at the back of the neck, which was dry in the morning and wet 
+at night. These tragic tales aboundetl in Madame de T.'s salon, 
+and by dint of cursing Marat, they applauded Trestaillon. Some 
+deputies of the undiscoverable variety played their whist there ; 
+M. Thibord du Chalard, M. Le marchant de Gomicourt, and 
+the celebrated scoffer of the right, M. Cornet-Dincourt. The 
+bailiff de Ferrette, with his short breeches and his thin legs. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+40 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+sometimes traversed tliis salon on his way to M. de Talleyrand. 
+He had been M. le Comte d'Artois' companion in pleasures and 
+unlike Aristotle crouching under Campaspe, he had made the 
+Guimard crawl on all fours, and in that way he had exhibited to 
+the ages a philosopher avenged by a bailiff. As for the priests, 
+there was the Abbé llalma, the same to whom M. Larose, his 
+collaborator on la Foudre^ said: "Bah! Who is there who 
+ia not fifty years old ? a few greenhorns perhaps ? " The Abbé 
+Letourneur, preacher to the King, the Abbé Frayssinous, who 
+was not, as yet, either count, or bishop, or minister, or peer, 
+and who wore an old cassock whose buttons were missing, and 
+the Abl)é Keravenaut, Curé of Saiut-Germain-des-Prés ; also 
+the Pope's Nuncio, then Monsignor Macchi, Archbishop of 
+Nisibi, later on Cardinal, remarkable for his long, pensive nose, 
+and another Monsignor, entitled thus : Abbate Palmieri, do- 
+mestic prelate, one of the seven participant prothonotaries of the 
+Holy See, Cjinon of the illustrious Liberian basilica. Advocate 
+of the saints, Fostulatore del Saiiti^ which refers to matters of 
+canonization, and signifies very nearly: Master of Requests of 
+the section of Paradise. Lastly, two cardinals, M. de la Luzerne, 
+and M. do CI****** T*******. The Cardinal of Luzerne was a 
+writer and was destined to have, a few years later, the honor of 
+signing in the Conservateur articles side by side with Chateau- 
+briand ; M . de Cl****** T******* was Archbishop of Toul****, 
+and often made trips to Paris, to liis nephew, the Marquis do. 
+T*******, who was Minister of Marine and War. The Cardi- 
+nal of CI****** T******* was a merry little man, who displa^ted 
+his red stockings beneath his tucked-up cassock ; his specialty' 
+was a hatred of the Encyclopaedia, and his desperate play at 
+billiards, and persons who, at that epoch, passed through the 
+Rue M***** on summer evenings, where the hotel de Cl****** 
+T******* then stood, halted to listen to the shock of the balls 
+and the piercing voice of the Cardinal shouting to his conclavist. 
+Monseigneur Cotiret, Bishop in partihus of Carvste : ** Mark, 
+Abbé, I make a cannon." The Cardinal de Cl****** T******* 
+[lad been brought to Madame de T.'s by his most intimate friend, 
+M. de Roquelaure, former Bishop of Senlis, and one of the 
+Forty. M. de Roquelaure was notable for his lofty figure and 
+his assiduity at the Academy ; through the glass door of the 
+neighboring hall of the library where the French Academy then 
+held its meetings, the curions could, on every Tuesday, con- 
+template the Ex-Bishop of Senlis, usually standing erect, freshly 
+powdered, in violet hose, with his back turned to the door, ap- 
+parently for the purpose of allowing a better view of his littie 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+MARIUS. 41 
+
+oollar. All these ecclesiastics, though for the most part aa 
+much courtiers as churchmen, added to the gravity of the T. 
+âalon, whose seigniorial aspect was accentuated by five peers 
+of France, the Marquis de Vib****, the Marquis de Tal***, 
+the Marquis de Herb*******, the Vicomte Damb***, and the 
+Due de Val********. This Duc de Val********, although 
+Prince de Mon***, that is to say, a reigning prince abroad, had 
+so high an idea of France and its peerage, that he viewed every- 
+thing through their medium. It was he who said : *' The Cardi- 
+nals are the peers of France of Kome ; the lords are the peers 
+of France of England." Moreover, as it is indispensable that 
+the Revolution should be everywhere in this century, this feudal 
+salon was, as we have said, dominated by a bourgeois. M. 
+Gillenormand reigned there. 
+
+There lay the essence and quintessence of the Parisian white 
+society. There reputations, even Royalist reputations, were 
+held in quarantine. There is always a trace of anarchy in 
+renown. Chateaubriand, had he entered there, would have 
+produced the effect of Père Duchêne. Some of the scoffed-at 
+dld,^ nevertheless, penetrate thither on sufferance. Comte 
+Beug*** was received there, subject to correction. 
+
+The " noble " salons of the present da}' no longer resemble 
+those salons. The Faubourg Saint-Germain reeks of the fagot 
+even now. The Royalists of to-day are demagogues, let us 
+record it to their credit. 
+
+At Madame de T. 's the society was superior, taste was exquis- 
+ite and haughty, under the cover of a great show of politeness. 
+Manners there admitted of all sorts of involuntary refinements 
+which were the old régime itself, buried but still alive. Some 
+of these habits, especially in the matter of language, seem 
+eccentric. Persons but superficially acquainted with them 
+woold have taken for provincial that which was only antique. 
+A woman was called Madame la Générale, Madame la ColoneUe 
+was not entirely disused. The' charming Madame de Léon, in 
+memory, no doubt, of the Duchesses de Longueville and de 
+Chevreuse, preferred this appellation to her title of Princesse. 
+The Marquise de Créquy was also called Madame la Colonelle. 
+
+It was this little high society which invented at the Tuileries 
+the refinement of speaking to the King in private as the King^ 
+in the third person, and never as Yo^ir Majesty^ the designa- 
+tion of Tour Majesty having been '* soiled b}- the usurper." 
+
+Men and deeds were brought to judgment there. They 
+jeered at the age, which released them from the necessity'' of 
+understanding it. They abetted each other in amazement 
+
+
+
+Digitized by CjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+42 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+Tbej communicated to each other tliat modicum of light which 
+they possessed. Methusehih bestowed information on Epi- 
+meuides. The deaf man made the blind man acquainted with 
+the course of things. They declared that the time which had 
+elapsed since Coblentz had not existed. In the same manner 
+that Locis XVIII. was by the grace of God, in the five and 
+twentieth year of his reign, the emigrants were, by rights, in 
+the five and twentieth year of their adolescence. 
+
+All was harmonious ; nothing was too much alive ; speech 
+hardly amounted to a breath; the newspapers, agreeing with 
+the salons, seemed a papyrus. There were some young people, 
+but they were rather dead. The liveries in the antechamber 
+were antiquated. These utterly obsolete personages were 
+served by domestics of the same stamp. 
+
+They all had the air of having lived a long time ago, and of 
+obstinately resisting the sepulchre. Nearly the whole diction- 
+ary consisted of Conserver^ Conservation^ Conset'vateur ; to be 
+in good odor^ — that was the point. There are, in fact, aro- 
+matics in the opinions of these venerable groups, and their 
+ideas smelled of it. It was a mummified society. The ipaa- 
+ters were embalmed, the servants were stuffed with straw. 
+
+A worthy old marquise, an eviigrée and ruined, who had but 
+a solitary maid, continued to say : *' My people." 
+
+What did they do in Madame de T. 's salon? They were 
+ultra. 
+
+To be ultra ; this word, although what it represents ma}' not 
+have disappeared, has no longer any meaning at the present 
+day. Let us explain it. 
+
+To be ultra is to go beyond. It is to attack the sceptre in 
+the name of the throne, and the mitre in the name of the altar ; 
+it is to ill-treat the thing which one is dragging, it is to kick 
+over the traces ; it is to cavil at the fagot on the score of the 
+amount of cooking received by heretics ; it is to reproach the 
+idol with its small amount of idolatry ; it is to insult through 
+excess of respect ; it is to discover that the Pope is not suffi- 
+ciently papish, that the King is not sufficiently royal, and that 
+the night has too much light ; it is to be discontented with ala* 
+baster, with snow, with the swan and the lily in tlie name of 
+whiteness; it is to be a partisan of things to the point of 
+becoming their enemy ; it is to be so strongly for, as to be 
+igainst. 
+
+The ultra spirit especially characterizes the first phase of tlie 
+Restoration. 
+
+Nothing in history resembles that quarter of an hour which 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 48 
+
+begins in 1814 and terminates about 1820, with the advent of 
+M. de Villèle, tlie practical man of the Right. These six years 
+were an extraordinar}' moment ; at one and the same time 
+brilliant and gloomy, smiling and sombre, ilhiminated as by the 
+radiance of dawn and entirely covered, at the same time, with 
+the shadows of the great catastrophes which still filled the hori- 
+zon and were slowly sinking into the past. Tiiere existed in 
+that light and that shadow, a complete little new and old world, 
+comic and sad, juvenile and senile, which was rubbing its eyes ; 
+nothing resembles an awakening like a return ; a group which 
+regarded France with ill-temper, and which France regarded 
+with irony ; good old owls of marquises by the streetful, who 
+had returned, and of ghosts, the *' former" subjects of amaze- 
+ment at everything, brave and noble gentlemen who smiled at 
+being in France but wept also, delighted to behold their coun- 
+try once more, in despair at not finding their monarchy ; the 
+nobility of the Crusades treating the nobility of the Empire, 
+tliat is to say, the nobility of the sword, with scorn ; historic 
+races who had lost the sense of history ; the sons of tlie com- 
+panions of Charlemagne disdaining the companions of Napo- 
+leon. The swords, as we have just remarked, returned the 
+insult ; the sword of Fontcnoy was laughable and nothing but 
+a scrap of rasty iron; the sword of Marengo was odious and 
+was only a sabre. Former days did not recognize Yesterday. 
+People no longer had the feeling for what was grand. There 
+was some one who called Bonaparte Scapin. This society no 
+longer exists. Nothing of it, we repeat, exists to-day. When 
+we select from it some one figure at random, and attempt to 
+make it live again in thought, it seems as strange to us as the 
+world before the Deluge. It is because it, too, as a matter of 
+fact, has been engulfed in a deluge. It has disappeared beneath 
+two Revolutions. What billows are ideas ! How quickly they 
+cover all that it is their mission to destroy and to bury, and how 
+promptly they create frightful gulfs ! 
+
+Such was the physiognomy of the salons of those distant and 
+candid times when M. Martainville had more wit than Voltaire. 
+
+These salons had a literature and politics of their own. They 
+believed in Fiévée. M. Agier laid down the law in them. 
+They commentated M. Colnet, the old bookseller and publicist 
+of the Quay Malaquais. Napoleon was to them thoroughly the 
+Corsican Ogre. Later on the introduction into history of M. le 
+Marquis de Bonaparte, Lieutenant-General of the King's 
+armies, was a concession to the s{>irit of the age. 
+
+These salons did not long preserve their purity. Beginning; 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+44 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+with 1818, doctrinarians began to spring ap in them, i^, dk 
+turbing shade. Tlieir W2i)^ was to be Royalists and to excuse 
+themselves for being so. Where the ultras were very proud, 
+the doctrinarians were rather ashamed. They haii wit ; they had 
+silence ; their political dogma was suitably impregnated with 
+arrogance ; they should have succeeded. They indulged , and . 
+usefully too, in excesses in the matter of white neckties and 
+tightly buttoned coats. The mistake or the misfortune of the 
+doctrinarian party was to create aged youth. They assumed 
+the poses of wise men. They dreamod of engrafting a temper- 
+ate power on the absolute and excessive principle. They 
+opposed, and sometimes with rare intelligence, conservative 
+liberalism to the liberalism which demolishes. They were heard 
+to say : ^^ Thanks for Royalism ! It has reudered more than 
+one service. It has brought back tradition, worship, religion, 
+respect. It is faithful, brave, chivalric, loving, devoted. It 
+has mingled, though witli regret, the secular grandeui-s of the 
+monarchy with the new grandeurs of the nation. Its mistake is 
+not to understand the Revolution, the Empire, glory, liberty, 
+young ideas, young generations, the age. But this mistake 
+which it makes with regaixl to us, — have we not sometimes 
+been guilty of it towards them? The Revolution, whose heirs 
+we are, ought to be inteUigent on all points. To attack Royal* 
+ism is a misconstiiiction of liberalism. What an error I And 
+what blindness ! Revolutionary France is wanting in respect 
+towards historic France, that is to say, towards its mother, that 
+is to say, towards itself. After the ôth of September, the no- 
+bilit}' of the monarchy is treated as the nobility of the Empire 
+was treated after the 8th of July. They were unjust to the 
+eagle, we are unjust to the fleui-de-lys. It seems that we must 
+always have something to proscribe ! Does it serve any pur- 
+pose to ungild the crown of Louis XIV., to scrape the coat 
+of arms of Henry IV. ? We 'scoflF. at M. de Vaublanc for eras* 
+ing the N*s from the bridge of Jena ! What was it that he did ? 
+What are we doing? Bouvines belongs to us as well as Maren- 
+go. The fleurs-de-lys are ours as well as the N's. That is our 
+patrimony. To what pur|x>se shall we dimhiish it? We roust 
+not deny our country in the past any more tlian in the present. 
+Why not accept the whole of history? Why not love the whole 
+of France? 
+
+It is thus that the doctrinarians criticised and protected Royal* 
+ism, which was displeased at criticism and furious at proteo* 
+tion. 
+
+The ultras marked the first eix>ch of Royalism, congregation 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIVS. ^h 
+
+characterized the second. Skill foUows ardor. Let us eonftue 
+ourselves here to this sketch. 
+
+In the course of this narrative, the author of this book has 
+encountered in his path this curious moment of contetnporar}' 
+history ; he has been forced to cast a passing glance upon it, 
+and to trace once more some of the singular features of this 
+society which is unknown to-day. But he does it rapidly and 
+without any bitter or derisive idea. Souvenirs both respectful 
+and affectionate, for they touch his mother, attach him to- this 
+past. Moreover, let us remark, this same pett3* world had a 
+grandeur of its own. One may smile at it, but one can neither 
+despise nor hate it. It was the France of former days. 
+
+Marius Pontmercy pursued some studies, as all children do. 
+When he emerged from the hands of Aunt Gillenormand, his 
+grandfather confided him to a worthy professor of the most 
+purely classic innocence. This young soul which was expand- 
+ing passed from a prude to a vulgar pedant. 
+
+Marius went through his 3'ears of college, then he entered the 
+law school. He was a Royalist, fanatical and severe. He did 
+not love his grandfather much, as the latter*s gayety and cyni- 
+cism repelled him, and his feelings towards his father were 
+gloomy. 
+
+He was, on the whole, a cold and ardent, noble, generous, 
+proud, religious, enthusiastic lad ; dignified to harshness, pure 
+to shyness. 
+
+IV. — End op the Bbioand* 
+
+The conclusion of Marius' classical studies coincided with 
+M. Gillenormand's departure from society. The old man bade 
+farewell to the Faubourg Saint-Germain and to Madame de T. 's 
+salon, and established himself in the Marais, in his house of the 
+Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire. There he had for servants, in ad- 
+dition to the porter, that chambermaid, Nicolette, who had suc- 
+ceeded to Magnon, and that short-breathed and pursy Basque, 
+who have been mentione<I above. 
+
+In 1827, Marius had just attained his seventeenth year. One 
+evening on his return home, he saw his grandfather holding a 
+Letter in his hand. 
+
+" Marius,'' said M. Gillenormand, " you will set out for Ver- 
+non to-morrow." 
+
+** Why?" said Marius. 
+
+*' To see your father." 
+
+Marius was seized with a trembling fit. He had thought of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+46 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+everything except this — that he should one da}' be called apon 
+to see his fatlier. Nothing could be more unexpected, more 
+surprising, and, let us admit it, more disagreeable to him. It 
+was forcing estrangement into reconciliation. It was not an 
+affliction, but it was an unpleasant duty. 
+
+Marius, in addition to his motives of political antipathy, was 
+convinced that his father, the slasher^ as M. Gillenormand ctilled 
+him on his amiable days, did noè love him ; this was evident, 
+since he had abandoned him to others. Feeling that lie was 
+not beloved, he did not love. '* Nothing is more simple," he 
+said to himself. 
+
+lie was so astounded that he did not question M. Gillenor- 
+mand. The grandfather resumed : — 
+
+'* It appears that he is ill. He demands your presence." 
+
+And after a pause, he added : — 
+
+** Set out to-moiTow morning. I think there is a coach which 
+leaves the Cour des Fontaines at six o'clock, and which arrives 
+in the evening. Take it. He says that here is haste." 
+
+Then he crushed the letter in his hand and thrust it into his 
+pocket. Marius might have set out that very evening and hare 
+been with his father on the following morning. A diligence 
+from the Rue du Bouloi took the trip to Rouen by night at that 
+date, and passed through Vernon. Neither Marius nor M. Gille- 
+normand thought of making inquiries about it. 
+
+The next day, at twilight, Marius reached Venion. People 
+were just beginning to liglit their candles. He asked the first 
+person whom he met for ** M. Pontmercy's house." For in his 
+own mind, he agreed with the Restoration, and like it, did not 
+recognize his father's claim to the title of either colonel or 
+baron. 
+
+The house was pointed out to him. He rang ; a woman witfc 
+a little lamp in her hand opened the door. 
+
+" M. Pontmercy ? " said Marius. 
+
+The woman remained motionless. 
+
+"Is this his house?" demanded Marius. 
+
+The woman nodded afflrmatively. 
+
+*' Can I speak with him?" 
+
+The woman shook her head. 
+
+"But I am his son!" persisted Marins. ^' He is expecting 
+me." 
+
+** He no longer expects you," said the woman. 
+
+Then he perceived that she was weeping. 
+
+She pointed to the door of a room on the ground-floor ; he 
+entered. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MA RI us. 47 
+
+In that room, which was lighted by a tallow candle standing 
+on the chimney-piece, there were three men, one standing erect, 
+another kneeling, and one lying at full length, on the floor in 
+his shirt. The one on the floor was the colonel. 
+
+The other two were the doctor, and the priest, who was en- 
+gaged in prayer. 
+
+The colonel had been attacked by brain fever three days pre- 
+viously. As he had a foreboding of evil at the very beginning 
+of his illness, he had written to M. Gillenormand to demand 
+his son. The malady had grown worse. On the very evening 
+of Marins' arrival at Vernon, the colonel had had an attack of 
+delirium ; he had risen from his bed, in spite of the servant's 
+efforts to prevent him, crying : ^^My son is not coming ! I shall 
+go to meet him ! " Then he ran out of his room and fell pros- 
+trate on the floor of the antechamber. He had just expired. 
+
+The doctor had been summoned, and the curé. The doctor 
+had arrived too late. The son had also arrived too late. 
+
+By the dim light of the candle, a large tear could be distin- 
+guished on the pale and prostrate colonel's cheek, where it had 
+trickled from his dead eye. The eye was extinguished, but the 
+tear was not yet dry. That tear was his son's delay. 
+
+Marins gazed upon that man whom he beheld for the first 
+time, on that venerable and manly face, on those open eyes 
+which saw not, on those white locks, those robust limbs, on 
+which, here and there, brown lines, marking sword- thrusts, and 
+a aort of red stars, which indicated bullet-holes, were visible. 
+He contemplated that gigantic scar which stamped heroism on 
+that countenance upon which God had imprinted goodness. 
+He reflected that this man was his father, and that this man 
+was dead, and a chill ran over him. 
+
+The sorrow which he felt was the sorrow which he would have 
+felt in the presence of an}' other man whom he had chanced to 
+behold stretched out in death. 
+
+Anguish, poignant anguish, was in that chamber. The ser- 
+vant-woman was lamenting in a corner, the curé was praying, 
+and his sobs were audible, the doctor was wiping his eyes ; the 
+corpse itself was weeping. 
+
+The doctor, the priest, and the woman gazed at Marius in the 
+midst of their affliction without uttering a word ; he was the 
+atranger there. Marius, who was far too little affected, felt 
+ashamed and embarrassed at his own attitude ; he held his hat in 
+his hand ; and he dropped it on the floor, in order to produce 
+t}ie impression that grief had deprived him of the strength to 
+bold it. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+48 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+At the same time, he experienced remorse, and he despiaec 
+himself for behaving in this manner. But was it his fault' 
+He did not love his fatlier. Wliy should he ! 
+
+The colonel had left nothing. The sale of his furniture 
+barely paid the expenses of his burial. 
+
+The servant found a scrap of [laper, which she handed to 
+Marius. It contained the following, in the ooloneVs hand- 
+writing ; — 
+
+'^ For my son, — The Emperor made me a Baron on the 
+battle-fîelct of Waterloo. Since the Restoration disputes my 
+right to this title which I purchased with my blood, my son 
+shall take it and bear it. That he will be worthy of it is a 
+matter of course." Below, the colonel had added: "At that 
+same battle of Waterloo, a sergeant saved my life. The man's 
+name was Thénardier. I think that he has recently been keep- 
+ing a little inn, in a village in the neighborhood of Paris, at 
+Chelles or Montfermeil. If my son meets him, he will do all 
+the good he can to Thénardier." 
+
+Marius took this paper and preserved it, not out of duty to 
+his father, but because of that vague respect for death which is 
+always imperious in the heait of man. 
+
+Nothing remained of the colonel. M. Gillenormand had his 
+sword and uniform sold to an old-clothes dealer. The neigh* 
+bors devastated the garden and pillagod the rare flowers. The 
+other plants turned to nettles and weeds, and died. 
+
+Marius remained only forty-eight hours at Vernon. Aller 
+the interment he returned to Paris, and applied himself again 
+to his law studies, with no more thought of his father than if 
+the latter had never lived. In two days the colonel was buried, 
+and in three forgotten. 
+
+Marius wore crape on his hat. That was all. 
+
+V. — The Utility op going to Mass, in ordbr to BEGOMm 
+A Revolutionist. 
+
+Marius had preserved the religious habits of his childhood* 
+One Sunday, when he went to hear mass at Saint-Sulpiee, at 
+that same chapel of the Virgin whither his aunt had led him 
+when a small lad, he placed himself behind a pillar, being more 
+absent-minded and thoughtful than usual on that occasion, and 
+knelt down, without paying any special heed, upon a chair of 
+Utrecht velvet, on the back of which was inscril>ed this name : 
+Monsieur Mabettf^ warden. Mass had hardlj' begun wher ao 
+old man presented himself and said to Marius : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+M A RI us. 49 
+
+•* This -8 my place, sir." 
+
+Marius stepped aside promptly, and the old man took posses* 
+Bion of his chair. 
+
+The mass concluded, Marins still stood thoughtfully a few 
+paces distant; the old man approached him again and 
+daid : — 
+
+*' I beg your pardon, sir, for having disturbed you awhile 
+dgo, and for again disturbing you at this moment ; you must 
+bave thought me intrusive, and I will explain myself." 
+
+^' There is no need of that, sir," said Marius. 
+
+'* Yes ! " went on the old man, " I do not wish you to have a 
+bad opinion of me. You see, I am attached to this place. It 
+seems to me that the mass is better from here. Why ? I will 
+tell you. It is from this place, that I have watched a poor, 
+brave father come regularly, every two or three months, for the 
+last ten years, since he had no other opportunity and no other 
+way of seeing his child, because he was prevented by family 
+arrangements. He came at the hour when he knew that his son 
+would be brought to mass. The little one never suspected that 
+his father was there. Perhaps he did not even know that he 
+had a father, poor innocent ! The father kept behind a pillar, 
+so that he might not be seen. He gazed at his child and he wept. 
+He adored that little fellow, poor man ! I could see that. This 
+spot has become sanctified in my sight, and I have contracted 
+a habit of coming hither to listen to the mass. I prefer it to 
+the stall to which I have a right, in my capacity of warden. I 
+knew that unhappy gentleman a little, too. He had a father* 
+in*law, a wealthy aunt, relatives,* I don't know exactly what all, 
+who threatened to disinherit the child if he, the father, saw him. 
+He sacnficed himself in order that his son might be rich and 
+happy some day. He was separated from him because of 
+political o[>inions. Certainly, I approve of political opinions, 
+but there are jjeople who do not know where to stop. Mon 
+Dieu ! a man is not a monster because he was at Waterloo ; a 
+father is not separated from his child for such a reason as that. 
+He was one of Bonaparte's colonels. lie is dead, I believe 
+He lived at Vernon, where I have a brother who is a curé, 
+and his name was something like Pontmarie or Montpercy. He 
+had a fine sword-cut, on my honor." 
+
+*'Pontmercy,** suggested Marius, turning pale. 
+
+" Precisely, Pontmercy. Did you know him? •* 
+
+" Sir," said Marius, '' he was ray father." 
+
+The old warden clasped his hands and exclaimed : — 
+
+'^Ah I you are the child 1 Yes, that's true, he must be a man 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MîU'ius offered his arm to the old man and conducted him to 
+his lodgings. 
+
+On the following day, he said to M. Gillenormand : — 
+
+" I have arranged a huu ting-party with some friends. Will 
+you permit me to be absent for three days ? " 
+
+**Four!" replied his grandfather. *'Go and amuse your- 
+self." 
+
+And he said to his daughter in a low tone, and with a wiukv 
+** Some love affair I " 
+
+VI. — The Consequences of having met a Warden. 
+
+Where it was that Marius went will be disclosed a little 
+further on. 
+
+Marius was absent for three days, then he returned to Paria, 
+went straight to the library of the law-school aud asked for the 
+files of the Moniteur, 
+
+He read the Moniteur^ he read all the histories of the Repub- 
+lic and the Empire, the Memorial de Sainte- Hélène^ all the 
+memoirs, all the newspapers, the bulletins, the proclamations ; 
+he devoured everything. The first time that he came aci-oss 
+his father's name in the bulletins of the grand army, he had a 
+fever for a week. He went to see the generals under whom 
+Georges Pcntmercy had served, among others. Comte H. 
+Church- warden Mabeuf, whom he went to see again, told him 
+about the life at Vernon, the colonel's retreat, his flowers, his 
+solitude. Marius came to a full knowledge of that rare, sweet, 
+and sublime man, that species of lion-lamb who had been his 
+father. 
+
+In the meanwhile, occupied as he was with this study which 
+absorbed all his moments as well as his thoughts, he hardly saw 
+the Gillenormands at all. He made his api>earance at meals; 
+then they searched for him, and he was not to be found. Father 
+Gillenormand smiled. ''Bah! bah! He is just of the age for 
+the girls!" Sometimes the old man added : ''The deuce! I 
+thouo^ht it was only an affair of gallantry. It seems that it is 
+an affair of passion ! " 
+
+It was a passion, in fact. Marius was on the high road to 
+adoring his father. 
+
+At the same time, his ideas underwent an extraordinary 
+change. Tlie phases of this change were numerous and suc- 
+cessive. As this is the history of many minds of our day, we 
+
+
+
+V 
+
+
+
+dme, before the justice, the love of his son hiicl come to him? 
+Marius had a continual sob in his heart, which said to him 
+every moment: "Alas!" At the same time, he became more 
+truly serious, mo|:e truly grave, more sure of his tliought and 
+his faith. At each instant, gleams of the true came to com- 
+plete his reason. An inward growth seemed to be in progress 
+witliin him. He was conscious of a sort of natural enlarge- 
+ment, which gave him two things that were new to him — his 
+father and his country. 
+
+As everything opens when one has a key, so he explained to 
+himself that which he had hated, he penetrated that which he 
+bad abhorred ; henceforth he plainly perceived the providential, 
+divine and human sense of the great things which he had been 
+taught to detest, and of tlie great men whom he had been in- 
+structed to curse. When he reflected on his former opinions, 
+which were but those of yesterday, and which, nevertheless, 
+seemed to him already so very ancient, he grew indignant, yet 
+he smiled. 
+
+From the rehabilitation of his father, he naturally passed to 
+the rehabilitation of Napoleon. 
+
+But the latter, we will confess, was not effected withoat 
+tabor. 
+
+From his infancy, he had been imbued with the judgments of 
+the party of 1814, on Bonaparte. Now, all the prejudices of 
+the Restoration, all its interests, all its instincts tended to dis- 
+figure Napoleon. It execrated him even more than it did Robes- 
+pierre. It had very cleverly turned to sufficiently gopd account 
+the fatigue of the nation, and the hatred of mothers. Bona- 
+parte had become an almost fabulous monster, and in oixier to 
+paint him to the imagination of the people, which, as we lately 
+pointed out, resembles the imagination of children, the part}* of 
+1814 made him appear under all sorts of terrifying masks \l 
+succession, from that which is terrible though it remains grandi- 
+ose to that which is terrible and becomes grotesque, from Tibe- 
+dus to the bugaboo. Thus, in speaking of Bonaparte, one was 
+free to sob or to puff up with laughter, provided Ôiat hatred lay 
+at the bottom. Marius had never entertained — about that 7nan, 
+as he was called — any other ideas in his mind. They had 
+combined with the tenacity which existed in his nature. Tber« 
+wus in him a headstrong little man who hated Napoleon. 
+
+On reading history, on studying him, espociall}' in the docu- 
+ments and materials for history, the veil which concealed Napo 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+glimpse of something immense, and he suspected that he had 
+been deceived up to that moment, on the score of Bonaparte aa 
+about all the rest ; each day he saw more distinctly ; and be set 
+about mounting, slowly, step by step, almost regretfully in the 
+beginning, then with intoxication and as though attracted bj 
+an irresistible fascination, first the sombre steps, then the 
+vaguely illuminated steps, at last the luminous and splendid 
+steps of enthusiasm. 
+
+One night, he was alone in his little chamber near the roof. 
+His candle was burning ; he was reading, with his elbows rest- 
+ing on his table close to the open window. All sorts of reveries 
+reached him from space, and mingled with his thoughts. What 
+a «poetacle is tlit: iii^dit ! One liuur.s dull sinnuls, without 
+knowing whence they pioeeed ; one bchuUls »hj[iilci% nhicli is 
+twelve hundred times k^rger tliaii tlie earth, glowirim^ like a fire- 
+brand, the azure is black, the stars shine ; it is t'ormidable. 
+
+He WHS pt^rnsing the bulletins of the gnimi nnny, Lliuso heroic 
+strophob penned on the field of battle ; t fie re, at intervals, fm 
+beheld liis father*B name, alwaya the name uf the Emiieror; Uie 
+whole of that great Empire prei^eiited itself tu hiiu ; he felt a 
+flixxl swelfiug and rising witliin him ; it j^eeitiiHl to him at mo- 
+ments that tiis fîither passed elose to him like a breath, and 
+whispered in his ear ; he f^nulually got into a siii^^idar state ; he 
+thoiigiït til Ht fie heard drnnis, cannon, trumpets, the measured 
+tread of liattalions, the dull and dist;\ut gallop of the cavalry; 
+from time to time, his eyes were raised heaveïiward, aiid gazrd 
+ujM>n the colossal eonstcliations as they gleamed in the measure- 
+less ilcpths of Bpaee, then they fell upon his book once more, 
+and tficre they beheld utlrer colossaf things moving confusedly. 
+His heart contracted within him. He was in a trans(Mirl, trem- 
+bling, panthig. All at ouee, without liimself knowing wfiat vvaa 
+in ffim, and wtial iuipulse he wîis ofjcyiug, ht^ wpraug to fiis feet, 
+stretctied fioth arms out of t!ie window, gazetl intently iiilu the 
+^loom, the silence, the infinite darknees, the eternal humcnsity, 
+and exclaimed : ** Long live the Emperor ! " 
+
+From that moment forth, all was over; the Ogre of Corsica, 
+^the UMuriJcr, ^ — the tyrant^ — tiie iuonRter wfio was the lover 
+of hLs own sisters, — the aetor who took lei>suns of Talma, — 
+the poisoner of Jaffa, — the tiger, — liiioua[tarte, — all this van- 
+ished, aticl gave place in fiis mind to a vague and briltiant racïi 
+anee in which sfionr, at an inacecHsihfc heif^fit, th*' p!ile mai hfe 
+plmntom of Caesar, Tlie Kmpernr had tieen f't)r his father «»nl> 
+the well-beloved captain wbom one admires, for whom one tao 
+
+
+
+predestined constructor of tlie l<rench group, succeeding the 
+Roman group in the domination of the universe. He was a 
+prodigious architect, of a destruction, the continuer of Charle- 
+magne, of Louis XI., of Henry IV., of Richelieu, of Louis 
+XIV., and of the Committee of Public Safety, having his spots, 
+no doubt, his faults, his crimes even, being a man, that is to 
+Bay ; but august in his faults, brilliant in his spots, powerful in 
+bis crime. 
+
+He was the predestined man, who had forced all nations to 
+say : *' The great nation ! " He was better than that, he was 
+the very incarnation of France, conquering Europe by the 
+sword which he grasped, and the world by the light which he 
+shed. Marins saw in Bonaparte the dazzling spectre which will 
+always rise upon the frontier, and which will guard the future. 
+Despot but dictator ; a despot resulting from a republic and 
+summing up a revolution. Napoleon became for him the man- 
+people as Jesus Christ is the man-God. 
+
+It will be perceived, that like all new converts to a religion, 
+his conversion intoxicated him, he hurled Inmself headlong into 
+adhesion and he went too far. His nature was so constructed ; 
+once on the downward slope, it was almost impossible for him 
+to put on the drag. Fanaticism for the sword took possession 
+of him, and complicated in his mind his enthusiasm for the 
+idea. He did not perceive that, along with genius, and pell- 
+mell, he was admitting force, that is to say, that he was instal- 
+ling in two compartments of his idolatry, on the one hand that 
+which is divine, on the other that which is brutal. In many 
+respects, he had set about deceiving himself otherwise. He 
+admitted everything. There is a way of encountering error 
+while on one's way to the truth. He had a violent sort of good 
+faith which took everything in the lump. In the new path 
+which he had entered on, in judging the mistakes of the old re- 
+gime, as in measuring the glory of Napoleon, he neglected the 
+attenuating circumstances. 
+
+At all events, a tremendous step had been taken. Where he 
+had formerly beheld the fall of the monarchy, he now saw the 
+advent of France. His orientation had changed. What had 
+been his East became the West. He had turned squarely 
+round. 
+
+All these revolutions were accomplished within him, withont 
+his family obtaining an inkling of the case. 
+
+When, during this mystcrious labor, he had entirely shed hîs 
+old Bourbon and ultra skm, wheu he had cast off the aristocratf 
+
+
+
+pASS uie uiguL lu UL uiiigeuce : 
+
+"Just as I am going to do." 
+
+" But you — it is your duty ; in his case, it is wildness.** 
+
+" Bosh ! " said Théodule. 
+
+Here an event occurred to Mademoiselle Gillenormand xhc 
+elder, — an idea struck her. If she had been a man, she would 
+have slapped her brow. She apostrophized Théodule : — 
+
+"Are you aware whether your cousin knows you?** 
+
+" No. I have seen him ; but he has never deigned to notice 
+me. 
+
+"So you are going to travel together?" 
+
+"He in tbe imperial, I in the coupé." 
+
+"Where does this diligence run?'* 
+
+"To Andelys." 
+
+"Then that is where Marius is going?" 
+
+" Unless, like myself, he should stop on the way. I get down 
+at Vernon, in order to take the branch coach for Gaillon. T 
+know nothing of Marius* plan of travel." 
+
+" Marius ! what an ugly name ! what possessed them to name 
+him Marius ! While you, at least, are called Théodule." 
+
+" I would rather be called Alfred," said the officer. 
+
+"Listen, Théodule.*' 
+
+"I am listening, aunt." 
+
+"Pay attention." 
+
+"I am pa^ùng attention." 
+
+"You understand?" 
+
+"Yes." 
+
+"Well, Marius absents himself •*' 
+
+"Eh! ehl" 
+
+"He travels." 
+
+"Ah! ah!" 
+
+" He spends the night out/* 
+
+"Oh! oh!" 
+
+"We should like to know what there is behind all this.** 
+
+Théodule replied with the composure of a man of bronze : — ■ 
+
+"Some petticoat or other." 
+
+And with that inwai*d laugh which denotes certainty, he 
+added : — 
+
+"A lass.*' 
+
+" That is evident," exclaimed his aunt, who thought she heard 
+M. Gillenormand speaking, and who felt her conviction become 
+irresistible at that word Jillette^ accentuated in almost the very 
+same fashion by the grand-uncle and the grand-nephew. She 
+resumed : — 
+
+
+
+fou, It will De easy. Mnce a lass tnere is, try to get a sight ol 
+her. You must write us the tale. It will amuse his grand 
+father." 
+
+Théodule had no excessive taste for this sort of spying ; but 
+he was much touched by the ten louis, and he thought he saw a 
+chance for a possible sequel. He accepted the commission and 
+said: '' As you please, aunt." 
+
+And he added in an aside, to himself: ^^ Here I am g 
+duenna." 
+
+Mademoiselle Gillenormand embraced him. 
+
+** You are not the man to play such pranks, Théodule, ïo« 
+obey discipline, you are the slave of orders, you arc a man of 
+scruples and duty, and you would not quit your family to go 
+and see a creature." 
+
+The lancer made the pleased grimace of Cartouche when 
+praised for his probity. 
+
+Marins, on the evening following this dialogue, mounted the 
+diligence without suspecting that he was watched. As for the 
+watclier, the first thing he did was to fall asleep. His sluujber 
+was complete and conscientious. Argus snored all night 
+long. 
+
+At daybreak, the conductor of the diligence shouted 2 " Ver- 
+non ! rela}' of Vernon I Travellers for Vernon ! " And Lieu- 
+tenant Théodule woke. , 
+
+^^ Good," he growled, still half asleep, ^^ this is where I get 
+out." 
+
+Then, as his memory cleared by degrees, the effect of waking, 
+he recalled his aunt, the ten louis, and the account which he 
+had undertaken to render of the deeds and proceedings of Ma- 
+rias. This set him to laughing. 
+
+*' Perhaps he is no longer in the coach," he thought, as he 
+rebuttoned the waistcoat of his undress uniform. '* He may 
+have stopped at Poissy ; he may have stopped at Triel ; if he 
+did not get out at Meulan, he may have got out at Mantes, un- 
+less he got out at Rolleboise, or if he did not go on as far a,» 
+Pacy, with the choice of turning to the left at Êvreux, or to 
+tlie right at Laroche-Guyon. Run after him, aunty. What Ihc 
+dedl am I to write to that good old soul?" 
+
+At that moment, a pair of black trousers descending from 
+the imperial, made its appearance at the window of thi 
+coupé. 
+
+'^Can that be Marius?" said the lieutenant. 
+
+It wa« Marias. 
+
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+60 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+A little peasant girl, all entangled with the horses and the 
+postilions at the end of the veliicle, was ofTering flowers to the 
+travellers. " Give your ladies flowers Î " she cried. 
+
+Marins approached her and purchased the finest flowers in 
+her flat basket. 
+
+" Come now," said Théodule, leaping down from the coupé, 
+*'this piqnes my curiosity. Who the deuce is he going to 
+carry those flowers to? She must be a splendidly handsome 
+woman for so fine a bouquet. I want to see her." 
+
+And no longer in pursuance of orders, but from personal 
+curiosity, like dogs who hunt on their own account, he set out 
+to follow Marins. 
+
+Marins paid no attention to Théodule. Elegant women de- 
+scended from the diligence; he did not glance at them. He 
+seemed to see nothing around him. 
+
+" lie is pretty deeply in love ! " thought Théodule. 
+
+Marins directed his steps towards the church. 
+
+"Capital," said Théodule to himself. "Rendezvous sea- 
+soned with a bit of mass are the best sort. Nothing is so ex- 
+quisite as an ogle which passes over the good God's head." 
+
+On arriving at the church, Marins did not enter it, but skirted 
+the apse. lie disappeared behind one of the angles of the 
+apse. 
+
+"The rendezvous is appointed outside," said Théodule, 
+" Let's have a look at the lass." • 
+
+And he advanced on the tips of his boots towards the oomer 
+which Marins had turned. 
+
+On arriving there, he halted in amazement. 
+
+Marins, with his forehead clasped in his hands, was kneeling 
+upon the grass on a grave. He had strewn his bouquet there. 
+At the extremity of the grave, on a little swelling which marked 
+the head, there stood a cross of black wood with this name in 
+white letters: Colonel Babon Pontmerct. Marius' sobe 
+were audible. 
+
+The " lass " was a grave. 
+
+VIII. — Marble against Grantfb. 
+
+It was hither tliat Marius had come on the first occasion of 
+his absenting himself from Paris. It was hither that he bad 
+come every time that M. Gillenormand had said : " He is sleep- 
+ing out." 
+
+Lieutenant Théodule was absolutely put out of countenance 
+by this unexpected encounter with a sepulchre ; he experienced 
+
+
+
+• Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARius. ei 
+
+ft aiDgular and disagreeable sensation which he was incapable gX 
+analyzing, and which was composed of respect for the tomb, 
+mingled with respect for the colonel. He retreated, leaving 
+Marius alone in the cemetery, and there was discipline in this 
+retreat. Death appeared to him with large epaulets, and he 
+almost made the military salute to him. Not knowing what to 
+write to his aunt, he decided not to write at all ; and it is prob- 
+able that nothing would have resulted from the discovery made 
+by Théodule as to the love affairs of Marins, if, by one of those 
+mysterious arrangements which are so frequent in chance, the 
+scene at Vernon had not had an almost immediate counter- 
+shock at Paris. 
+
+Marius returned from Vernon on the third day, in the middle 
+of the morning, descended at his grandfather's door, and, 
+wearied by the two nights spent in the diligence, and feeling the 
+need of repairing his loss of sleep by an hour at the swimming- 
+school, he mounted rapidly to his chamber, took merely time 
+enough to throw off his traveUing-coat, and the black ribbon 
+which he wore round his neck, and went off to the bath. 
+
+M. Gillenormand, who had risen betimes like all old men in 
+good health, had heard his entrance, and had made haste to 
+climb, as quickly as his old legs permitted, the stairs to the 
+upper story where Marius lived, in order to embrace him, and 
+to question him whUe so doing, and to find out where he had 
+been. 
+
+But the youth had taken less time to descend than the old 
+man had to ascend, and when Father GiUenoriaand entered the 
+attic, Marius was no longer there. 
+
+The bed had not been disturbed, and on the bed lay, out> 
+spread, but not defiantly, the great-coat and the black ribbon. 
+
+** I like this better," said M. Gillenormand. 
+
+And a moment later, he made his entrance into the salon, 
+where Mademoiselle Gillenormand was already seated, busily 
+embroidering her cart-wheels. 
+
+The entrance was a triumphant one. 
+
+M. Gillenormand held in one hand the great-coat, and in the 
+other the neck-ribbon, and exclaimed ; — 
+
+"Victory! We are about to penetrate the mystoiy! We 
+ftre going to learn the most minute details ; we are going to lay 
+owr finger on the debaucheries of our sly friend ! Here we have 
+the romance itself. 1 have the portrait ! " 
+
+In fact, a case of black shagreen, resembling a medallion 
+poi-trait, was suspended from the ribbon. 
+
+The old man took this case and gazed at it for some tims 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+62 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+without opening it, with that air of enjoyment, rapture, and 
+wrath, with which a poor hungry fellow beholde an. admirable 
+dinner which is not for him, pass under his very nose. 
+
+^^For this evidently is a poilrait. I know all about such 
+things. That is worn tenderly on the heart. How stupid thej 
+are ! Some abominable fright that will make us shudder, prob- 
+ably ! Young men have such bad taste nowadays ! " 
+
+^^ Let us see, father," said the old spinster. 
+
+The case opened by the pressure of a spring. They found 
+in it nothing but a carefully folded paper. 
+
+^^ From the same to the same," said M. Gillenormand, 
+bursting with laughter. " I know what it is. A billet-doux.' 
+
+^^ Ah ! let us read it ! *' said the aunt. 
+
+And she put on her spectacles. They unfolded the papei 
+and read as follows : — 
+
+^^ For my soji. — The Emperor made me a Baron on the battle- 
+field of Waterloo. Since thg Restoration disputes my right tc 
+this title which I purchased with my blood, my son shall take it 
+and bear it. That he will be worthy of it is a matter of course.*' 
+
+The feelings of father and daughter cannot be dcscribei). 
+They felt chilled as by the breath of a death's-head. They did 
+not exchange a word. 
+
+Only, M. Gillenormand said in a low voice and as though 
+speaking to himself : — 
+
+" It is the slasher's handwriting." 
+
+The aunt examined the paper, turned it about in all direc- 
+tions, then put it back in its case. 
+
+At the same moment, a little oblong packet, envelopeti in 
+blue paper, fell from one of the pockets of tlie great-coal. 
+Mademoiselle Gillenormand picked it up and unfold^ the blue 
+paper. 
+
+It contained Marius' hundred cards. She handed one of 
+them to M. Gillenormand, who read : Le Baron Mantis Pout 
+mercy. 
+
+The old man rang the bell. Nicolette came. M. Gillenor 
+mand took the ribbon, the case, and the coat, flung them all on 
+the floor in the middle of the room, and said : — 
+
+*' Carry those duds away." 
+
+A full hour passed in the most profound silence. The old 
+man and the old spinster had seated themselves with their backs 
+to each other, and were thinking, each on his own account, the 
+same things, in all probability. 
+
+At the expiration of this hour, Aunt Gillenormand said: — 
+
+•' A pretty state of things ! " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARI us. 61 
+
+A few moments later, Marius made his appearance. He 
+entered. Even before !2c had crossed the thresliold he saw his 
+grandfather holding one of his own cards in his hand, and oo 
+catching sight of him, the latter exclaimed with his air of bour- 
+geois and grinning superiority which was something crushing : -^ 
+
+*'Well! well! well! well! well! so 3'ou are a baron now. 
+I present you my compliments. What is the meaning of this? " 
+
+Marius reddened slightly and replied : — 
+
+*' It means that I am the son of my father." 
+
+M. Gillenormand ceased to laugh, and said harshly : ~ 
+
+*' I am your father." 
+
+'^My father," retorted Marius, with downcast eyes and a 
+severe air, ^^was a humble and heroic man, who served the 
+Republic and France gloriously, who was great in the greatest 
+history that men have ever made, who lived in the bivouac for 
+a quarter of a century, beneath grape-shot and bullets, in snow 
+and mud by day, beneath rain at night, who captured two flags, 
+who received twenty wounds, who died forgotten and aban- 
+doned, and who never committed but one mistake, which was 
+to love too fondly two ingrates, his country and myself." 
+
+This was more than M. Gillenormand could bear to hear. At 
+the woixl republic, he rose, or, to speak more correctly, he sprang 
+to his feet. Every word that Marina had just uttered produced * 
+on the visage of the old Royalist the eiTsct of the putfs of air 
+from a forge upon a blazing brand. From a dull hue he had 
+turned red, from red, purple, and from purple, flame-colored. 
+
+"Marius! "he cried. ''Abominable child! I do not know 
+what your father was ! I do not wish to know ! I know aotb- 
+ing about that, and I do not know him ! Hut what I do know 
+is, that there never was anything but scoundrels among those 
+men ! They were all rascals, assassins, red-caps, thieves ! I 
+say all ! I say all ! I know not one ! I say all ! Do you hear 
+me, Marius ! See here, 3*ou are no more a baron tlian my slipper 
+is ! They were all bandits in the service of Robespierre ! All 
+who served B-û-o-naparté were brigands ! They were all traitors 
+who betrayed, betrayed, betrayed tlieir legitimate king ! All cow- 
+ards who fled before the Prussians and the English at Waterloo ! 
+That is what I do know ! Whether monsieur 3'our father comes 
+in that category, I do not know ! I am soitj' for it. so much the 
+worse, your humble servant ! " 
+
+In his turn, it was Marius who was the firebrand and M. 
+Gillenormand who was the bellows. Marius quivered in every 
+limb, he did not know what would iiappen next, his brain was 
+on flire. He was the priest who beholds all his sacred wafers 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+M LES MISÉRABLES. « 
+
+cast to the winds, the fakir who beholds a passer-by spit apoo 
+his idol. It could not be that such things had been uttered ii 
+his presence. What was he to do ? His father had just been 
+trampled under foot and stamped upon in his presence, but bj 
+whom? B}' his grandfather. How was he to avenge. the one 
+without outraging the other ? It was impossible for him to in- 
+sult his grandfather and it was equally impossible for him to 
+leave his father unavenged. On the one hand was a sacred 
+grave, on the other hoary locks. 
+
+He stood there for several moments, staggering as thoagh 
+intoxicated, with all this whirlwind dashing through his head ; 
+then he raised his eyes, gazed fixedly at his grandfather, and 
+cried in a voice of thunder : — 
+
+^^ Down with the Bourbons, and that great hog of a Louis 
+XVIII. ! " 
+
+Louis XVIII. had been dead for four years ; bat it was all 
+the same to him. 
+
+The old man, who had been crimson, turned whiter than his 
+hair. He wheeled round towards a bust of M. le Duc de Berry, 
+which stood on the chimney-piece, and made a profound bow, 
+with a sort of peculiar majesty. Then he paced twice, slowly 
+and in silence, from the fireplace to the window and from tbt 
+window to the fireplace, traversing the whole length of tb« 
+room, and making the polished floor creak as though he had 
+been a stone statue walking. 
+
+On his second turn, he bent over his daughter, who was 
+watching this encounter with the stupefied air of an antiquated 
+Iamb, and said to her with a smile that was almost calm : ^' A 
+baron like this gentleman, and a bourgeois like myself cannot 
+remain under the same roof." 
+
+And drawing himself up, all at once, pallid, trembling, terrible, 
+with his brow rendered more lofty by the terrible radiance of 
+wrath, he extended his arm towards Marius and shouted to 
+him: — 
+
+"Be off!" 
+
+Marius left the house. 
+
+On the following day, M. Gillenormand said to his daughter : — 
+
+*^ You will send sixty pistoles every six months to that blood» 
+drinker, and you will never mention his name to me." 
+
+Having an immense reserve fund of wrath to get rid of, and 
+not knowing what to do with it, he continued to address hia 
+daughter as you instead of tkou for the next three months. 
+
+Marius, on his side, had gone forth in indignation. There 
+was one circumstance which, it must be admitted, aggravated 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 6S 
+
+His exasperation. There are always petty fatalities of the sort 
+wliich complicate domestic dramas. They augment the griev- 
+ances in such cases, although, in reality, the wrongs are not 
+increased by them. While carrying Marins' "duds" precipi- 
+tately to his chamber, at his grandfather* s command, Nicolette 
+had, inadvertently, let fall, probably, on the attic staircase, 
+which was dark, that medallion of black shagreen which con- 
+tained the paper penned by the colonel. Neither paper nor 
+case could afterwards be found. Marins was convinced that 
+** Monsieur Gillenorraand" — from that day forth he never al- 
+luded to him otherwise —;- had flung "his father's testament" 
+in the fire. He knew by heart the few lines which the colonel 
+had written, and, consequently, nothing was lost. But the 
+paper, the writing, that sacred relic, — all that was his very 
+heart. What had been done with it? 
+
+Marius had taken his departure without saying whither he 
+was going, and without knowing where, with thirty francs, his 
+watch, and a few clothes in a hand-bag. He had entered a 
+hackney coach, had engaged it by the hour, and had directed 
+his course at hap-liazaid towards tlie Latin quarter. 
+
+What was to become of Marius? 
+
+
+
+BOOK FOURTH. — THE FRIENDS OF THE ABC 
+I. — A Group which barely missed becoming Historic. 
+
+At that epoch, which was, to all appearances indifferent, a 
+certain revolutionar}' quiver was vaguely current. Hreatlis 
+wliich had started forth from the dcptlis of '89 and '93 were in 
+the air. Youth was on the point, may the reader pardon us the 
+word, of moulting. People were undergoing a transformation, 
+almost without being conscious of it, through the movement of 
+the age. The needle which moves round the compass also 
+moves in souls. Each person was taking that step in advance 
+which he was bound to take. The royalists were becoming 
+liberals, liberals were turning democrats. It was a flood tide 
+complicated with a thousand ebb movements ; the peculijirity of 
+ebbs is to create intermixtures ; hence the combination of very 
+singular ideas ; people adored both Napoleon and liberty. We 
+arc making history here. These were the mirages of that 
+period. Opinions traverse phases. Voltairian royalism, a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+66 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+qaaint variety, had a no less singular sequel, Bonapartist lib- 
+eralism. 
+
+Other groups of minds were more serious. In that direction^ 
+they sounded principles, they attaclied themselves to the right. 
+They grew enthusiastic for the absolute, they caught glimpses 
+of infinite realizations ; the absolute, by its very rigidity, urges 
+spirits towards the sky and causes them to float in illimitable 
+space. There is nothing like dogma for bringing forth dreams. 
+And there is nothing like dreams for engendering the future. 
+Utopia to-day, flesh and blood to-morrow. 
+
+These advanced opinions had a double foundation. A begin- 
+ning of mystery menaced *' the established order of things," 
+which was suspicious and underhand. A sign which was revo- 
+lutionary to the highest degree. The second tlioughts of power 
+meet the second thoughts of the populace in the mine. The in- 
+cubation of insurrections gives the retort to the premeditation 
+of coups d*état. 
+
+There did not, as yet, exist in France, any of those vast 
+underlying organizations, like the German tngendhund and Ital- 
+ian Carbonarism ; but here and there, there were dark under- 
+minings, which were in process of throwing off shoots. The 
+Oougourde was being outlined at Aix ; there existed at Paris, 
+among other affiliations of that nature, the society of the 
+Friends of the A B C. 
+
+What were these Friends of the ABC? A society which 
+had for its object apparently the education of children, in real- 
+ity the elevation of man. 
+
+They declared themselves the Friends of the ABC, — the 
+Abaissé^ — the debased,» — that is to say, the people. They 
+wished to elevate the people. It was a pun which we should do 
+wrong to smile at. Puns are sometimes serious factore m poli- 
+tics ; witness the Castratus ad castra^ which made a general of 
+the army of Narses ; witness : Barbari et Barberini; witness : 
+2V es Peti-us et super hanc petram^ etc., etc. 
+
+The Friends of the ABC were not numerous, it was a secret 
+society in the state of embryo, we might almost say a coterie, 
+if coteries ended in heroes. They assembled at Paris in two 
+localities, near the fish-market, in a wine-shop called ConiUhe^ 
+of which more will be heard later on, and near the Pantheon in 
+a little café in the Rue Saint-Michel called the Café Musain^ 
+now torn down ; tlie first of these meeting-places was close to 
+the workingman, the second to the students. 
+
+The assemblies of the Friends of the ABC were usually 
+held in a back room of the Café Musain. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MAttWS. 67 
+
+This hall, which was tolerablj remote from the cafe, with 
+which it was couaected by an extremely long corridor, had two 
+windows and an exit witti a private stairway on the little Rue 
+des Grès. There they smoked and drank, and gambled and 
+laughed. There they conversed in very loud tones about every- 
+thing, and in whispers of other things. An old map of France 
+ander the Republic was nailed to the wall, — a sign quite suffi- 
+cient to excite the suspicion of a police agent. 
+
+The greater part of the Friends of the A B C were students, 
+who were on cordial terms with the working classes. Here are 
+the names of the principal ones. They belong, in a certain 
+measure, to history: Enjolras, Combeferre, Jean Prouvaire, 
+Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Lesgle or Laigle, Joly, Grantaire. 
+
+These young men formed a sort of family, through the bond 
+of friendship. All, with the exception of Laigle, were from 
+the South. 
+
+This was a remarkable group. It vanished in the invisible 
+depths which lie behind us. At the point of this drama which 
+we have now reached, it will not perhaps be supei^uous to 
+throw a ray of light upon these youthful heads, before the 
+reader beholds them plunging into the shadow of a tragic ad- 
+venture. 
+
+Enjolras, whose name we have mentioned first of all, — the 
+reader shall see why later on, — was an only son and wealthy. 
+
+Enjolras was a charming 3'ouug man, who was capable of 
+being terrible. He was angelically handsome. He was a sav- 
+age Antinous. One would have said, to see the pensive 
+thoughtfulness of his glance, that he had already, in some pre- 
+vious state of existence, traversed the*revolutionary apocalypse. 
+He possessed the tradition of it as though he had been a wit* 
+ness. He was acquainted with all the minute details of the 
+great affair. A pontifical and warlike nature, a singular thing 
+in a 3'outh. He was an officiating priest and a man of war; 
+from the immediate point of view, a soldier of the democracy ; 
+above the contemporary movement, the priest of the ideal. His 
+eyes were deep, his lids a little red, his lower lip was thick and 
+easily became disdainful, his brow was lofty. A great deal 
+of brow in a face is like a great deal of horizon in a view. 
+Like certain young men at the beginning of this century and 
+the end of the last, who became illustrious at an early age, he 
+was endowed with excessive youth, and was as rosy as a young 
+girl, althongh subject to hours of pallor. Already a man, be stiU 
+seemed a child. His two and twenty years appeared to be but 
+seventeen ; he was serious, it did not secro) \w t\\\y^\ b.e wece 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+one j)a88ioii — the right ; but one thought — to overthrow the 
+obstacle. On Mount Aventine, he would have been Gracchus ; 
+in the Convention, he would have been Saint-Just. He bardl; 
+saw the roses, he ignored spring, he did not hear the earollÎDg 
+of the birds ; the bare throat of Evadne would have moved him 
+no raore than it would have moved Aristogeiton ; he, like Har- 
+modius, thought flowers good for nothing except to conceal the 
+sword. He was severe in his enjoyments. He chastely 
+dropped his eyes before everything which was not the Republic. 
+He was the marble lover of liberty. His speech was harshly 
+inspired, and had the thrill of a hymn. He was subject to unex- 
+pected outbursts of soul. Woe to the love-aflPair which shoald 
+have risked itself beside him ! If any grisette of the Place 
+Cambrai or the Rue Saint- Jean-de-Beau vais, seeing that face of 
+a youth esea|ied from college, that page's mien, those long, 
+golden lashes, those blue eyes, that hair billowing in the wind, 
+those rosy cheeks, those fresh lips, those exquisite teeth, had 
+conceived an appetite- for that complete aurora, and had tried 
+her beauty on Enjolras, an astounding and terrible glance would 
+have promptly shown her the abyss, and would have taught her 
+not to confound the mighty cherub of Ezekiel with the gallaut 
+Chenibino of Beaumarchais. 
+
+By the side of Enjolras, who represented the logic of the Rev- 
+olution, Combefcrre re[)re6onte<i its philosophy. Between the 
+logic of the Revolution and its philosophy there exists this 
+difference — that its logic may end in war, whereas its philoao- 
+phy can end only in peace. Combcferre complemented and rec- 
+tified Enjolras. He was fess lofty, but broader. He desired to 
+pour into all minds the extensive principles of general ideas : he 
+said : ^^ Revolution, but civilization" ; and around the mountain 
+peak he opened out a vast view of the blue sky. The Revolutiou 
+was more adapted for breathing with Combcferre than with 
+Enjolras. Enjolras expressed its divine right, and Combcferre 
+its natural right. The first attached himself to Robespierre ; 
+the second confined himself to Condorcet. Combeferre lived 
+the life of all the rest of the world more than did Enjolras. If 
+it had been granted to these two young men to attain to history, 
+the one would have been the just, the other the wise man. En- 
+jolras was the more virile, Combeferre the more humane. Homo 
+And vi>, that was the exact effect of their different shades. 
+Combeferre was as gentle as Enjolras was severe, through nat- 
+ural whiteness. He loved the word citizen^ but he preferred the 
+word man. He would gladly have said: Hombrej like the 
+
+
+
+MARIUS, 69 
+
+Spanish. He read everything, went to the theatres, attended 
+the courses of public lecturers, learned the polarization of light 
+from Arago, grew enthusiastic over a lesson in which Geoffroy 
+Sainte-Hilaire explained the double function of the external 
+carotid artery, and the internal, the one which makes the face, 
+and the one which makes the brain ; he kept up with what was 
+going on, followed science step by step, compared Saint-Simon 
+with Fourier, deciphered hieroglyphics, broke the pebble which 
+he found and reasoned on geology, drew from memory a silk- 
+worm moth, pointed out the faulty French in the Dictionary of 
+the Academy, studied Puységur and Deleuze, affirmed nothing, 
+not even miracles ; denied nothing, not even ghosts ; turned 
+over the files of the Moniteur^ reflected. He declared that the 
+future lies in the hand of the schoolmaster, and busied himself 
+with educational questions. He desired that society should 
+labor without relaxation at the elevation of the moral and intel- 
+lectual level, at coining science, at putting ideas into circulation, 
+at increasing the mind in youthful persons, and he feared lest 
+the present poverty of method, the paltriness from a literary 
+point of view confined to two or three centuries called classic, 
+the tyrannical dogmatism of official pedants, scholastic preju- 
+dices and routines should end by converting our colleges into 
+artificial oyster beds. He was learned, a purist, exact, a grad* 
+uate of the Polytechnic, a close student, and at the same time, 
+thoughtful *' even to chimœras," so his friends said. He be- 
+lieved in all dreams, railroads, the suppression of suffering in 
+chirurgical operations, the fixing of images in the dark chamber» 
+the electric telegraph, the steering of balloons. Moreover, he 
+was not much alarmed by the citadels erected against the hu- 
+man mind in every direction, b}' superstition, despotism, and 
+prejudice. He was one of those who think that science will 
+eventually turn the position. Enjolras was a cliief, Combeferre 
+was a guide. One would have liked to fight under the one and 
+io march behind the other. It is not that Combeferre was not 
+capable of fighting, he did not refuse a hand-to-hand combat 
+with the obstacle, and to attack it by main force and explosively ; 
+but it suited him better to bring the human race into accord 
+with its destiny gradually, by means of education, the inculca- 
+tion of axioms, the promulgation of positive laws ; and, between 
+two lights, his preference was rather for illumination than for 
+conflagration. A conflagration can create an aurora, no doubt, 
+but why not await the dawn ? A volcano illuminates, but day- 
+break furnishes a still better illumination. Possibly, Combe- 
+ferre preferred the whiteness of the beautiful to the blaze of the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+the death of the game. Such was Feuilly's habitual text. This 
+poor workingmau had constituted himself the tutor of Justice, 
+and she recompensed him by rendering him great. The fact is, 
+that there is eternity in right. Warsaw can no more b© Tartar 
+than Venice can be Teuton. Kings lose their pains and theu 
+honor in the attempt to make them so. Sooner or later, the 
+submerged part floats to the surface and reappears. Greece 
+becomes Greece again, Italy is once more Italj*. The protest 
+of right against the deed persists forever. The theft of a na- 
+tion cannot be allowed by prescription. These lofty deeds of 
+rascality have no future. A nation cannot have its mark ex- 
+tracted like a i)ocket handkerchief. 
+
+Courfeyrac had a father who was called M. de Courfeyrac. 
+One of the false ideas of the bourgeoisie under the Restoration 
+as regards aristocracy and the nobility was to believe in the 
+particle. The particle, as every one knows, possesses no sig- 
+nificance. But the bourgeois of the epoch of la Minerve esti- 
+mated so highly that poor de, that they thought themselves 
+bound to abdicate it. Si. de Chauvelin had himself called M. 
+Chauvelin ; M. de Caumartin, M. Caumartin ; M. de Constant 
+de Robecqué, Benjamin Constant ; M. de Lafayette, M. Lafay- 
+ette. Courfeyrac had not wished to remain behind the rest, and 
+called himself plain Courfeyrac. 
+
+We might almost, so far as Courfeyrac is concerned, stop 
+here, and confine ourselves to saying with regard to what re- 
+mains : " For Courfeyrac, see Tholomyès." . 
+
+Courfeyrac had, in fact, that animation of youtli which may 
+be called the beauté du diable of the mind. Later on, this dis- 
+appears like the playfulness of the kitten, and all this grace 
+ends, with the bourgeois, on two legs, and with the tomcat, ou 
+four paws. 
+
+This sort of wit is transmitted from generation to generation 
+of the successive levies of youth who traverse the schools, who 
+pass it from hand to hand, quasi cursores^ and is almost always 
+exactly the same ; so that, as we have just pointed out, any one 
+who had listened to Courfeyrac in 1828 would have thought he 
+heard Tholomyès in 1817. Only, Courfeyrac was an honorable 
+fellow. Beneatli the apparent similarities of the exterior mind, 
+the difference between him and Tholomyès was very great. 
+The latent man which existed in the two was totally different 
+in the first from whîit it was in the second. There was in Thol- 
+omyès a district attorney, and in Courfeyrac a paladin. 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+lou wsK» ttic ijcuuu. J. uv; v^tucis ^u.v^ uiwii; itgiiii, iii; aucvi luwit» 
+
+warmth ; the truth is, that he possessed all the qualities of a 
+centre, roundness and radiance. 
+
+Bahorel had figured in the bloody tumult of June, 1822, on 
+the occasion of the burial of young Lallemand. 
+
+Bahorel was a good-natured mortal, who kept bad company, 
+brave, a spendthrift, prodigal, and to the verge of generosity, 
+talkntive, and at times eloquent, bold to the verge of effrontery ; 
+the best fellow possible ; he had daring waistcoats, and scarlet 
+opinion» ; a wholesale blusterer, that is to say, loving nothing so 
+much as a quarrel, unless it were an uprising ; and nothing so 
+much as an uprising, unless it were a revolution ; always ready 
+to smash a window-pane, then to tear up the pavement, then to 
+demolish a government, just to see the effect of it ; a student ini 
+his eleventh year. He had nosed about the law but did not prac- 
+tise it. He had taken for his device : " Never a lawyer," and 
+for his armorial bearings a nightstand in which was visible a 
+square cap. Every time that he passed the law-school, which 
+rarely happened, he buttoned up his frock-coat, — the paletot 
+had not yet been invented, — and took h^^gienic precautions. Of 
+the school porter he said : " What a fine old man ! " and of the 
+dean, M. Delvincourt : " What a monument ! " In his lectures 
+he espied subjects for ballads, and in his professors occasions 
+for caricature. He wasted a tolerably large allowance, some- 
+thing like three thousand francs a year, in doing nothing. 
+
+He had peasant parents whom he had contrived to imbue 
+with respect for their son. 
+
+He said of them: " They are peasants and not bourgeois; 
+that is the reason they are intelligent." 
+
+Bahorel, a man of caprice, was scattered over numerous 
+cafés ; the others had habits, he had none. He sauntered. To 
+Btray is human. To saunter is Parisian. In reality, he had a 
+penetrating mind and was more of a thinker than appeared to 
+new. 
+
+He served as a connecting link between the Friends of the 
+ABC and other still unorganized groups, which were destined 
+to take form later on. 
+
+In this conclave of young heads, there was one bald member. 
+
+The Marquis d*Avaray, whom I^uis XVIII. made a duke 
+/or having assisted him to enter a hackney-coach on the day 
+when he emigrated, was wont to relate, that in 1814, on his re* 
+turn to France, as the King was disembarking at Calais, a man 
+banded him a petition. 
+
+
+
+"' oire, a posi-ouice. 
+
+" What is your name? *' 
+
+*' L'Aigle." 
+
+The King frowned, glanced at the signature of the pétition 
+And beheld the name written thus : Lesgle. This non-B<>no< 
+parte orthography touched tlie King and he began to smile. 
+'' Sire," resumed the man with the petition, '' I had for an- 
+cestor a keeper of the hounds surnamcd Lcsgueules. This 
+surname furnished my name. I am called lcsgueules, by con- 
+traction Lesgle, and by corruption TAigle." This caused the 
+King to smile broadly. Later on he gave the man the posting 
+office of Moaux, either intentionally or accidentally. 
+
+The bald member of the group was the son of this Lesgle, 
+or Légle, and he signed himself, Légle [de Meaux]. As an 
+abbreviation, his companions called him Bossuet. 
+
+Bossuet was a gay but unlucky fellow. His specialty was not 
+to succeed in anything. As an offset, he laughed at every- 
+thing. At five and twenty he was bald. His father had ended 
+by owning a house and a field ; but he, the son, had made 
+haste to lose that house and field in a bad speculation. He 
+had notlîing left. He possessed knowledge and ?nt, but all 
+he did miscarried. Everything failed him and everybo<ly 
+deceived him ; what he was building tumbled down on top of 
+him. If he were splitting wood, he cut off a finger. If he had 
+a mistress, he speedily discovered that he had a friend also. 
+Some misfortune happened to him every moment, hence his 
+joviality. He said: ''I live under falling tiles." He was not 
+easily astonished, because, for him, an accident was what he 
+had foreseen, he took his bad luck serenely, and smiled at 
+the teasing of fate, like a person who is listening to pleasant- 
+ries. He was poor, but his fund of good humor was inex- 
+haustible. He soon reached his last sou, never his last bui-st 
+of laughter. When adversity entered his doors, he saluted this, 
+old acquaintance cordially, he tapped all catastrophes on tlu' 
+stomach ; he was familiar with fiitality to the point of calling 
+it by its nickname : *' Good day, Guignon," he said to it. 
+
+These pei*secutions of fate had rendered him inventive. He 
+was full of resources. He had no money, but he found means, 
+when it seemed good to him, to indulge in " unbridled extrava- 
+gance." One night, he went so far at to eat a " hundred 
+francs" in a supper with a wench, which inspired him to make 
+this memorable remark in the midst of the orgy: " Pull ofiTmj 
+boots, you five-louis jade." 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+76 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+their course at Paria ; he knew that the best co£fee was to be 
+had at the Café Lembliu, aud the best billiards at tiie Café Vol 
+taire, that good cakes and lasses were to be found at the £rmi' 
+U^e, on the Boulevard du Maine, spatchcocked chickens at 
+Mother Sauget's, excellent matelotes at the Barrière de la 
+Cu nette, and a certain thin white wine at the Barrière du Com- 
+pat. He knew the best place for everything ; in addition, box- 
+ing and foot-fencing and some dances ; and he was a thorough 
+single-stick player. He was a tremendous drinker to boot. 
+He was inordinately homely : the prettiest boot-stitcher of that 
+day, Irma Boissy, enraged with his homeliness, pronounced 
+sentence on him as follows : ^^ Grantaire is impossible " ; bat 
+Gran taire' s fatuity was not to be disconcerted. He stared 
+tenderly and fixedly at all women, with the air of saying to 
+them all : '^ If I only chose ! " and of trying to make his com- 
+rades believe that he was in general demand. 
+
+All those words : rights of the people, rights of man, tlw 
+social contract, the French Revolution, the Republic, democ- 
+racy, humanity, civilization, religion, progress, came very near 
+to signifying nothing whatever to Grantaire. He smiled at 
+them. Scepticism, that caries of the intelligence, had not left 
+him a single whole idea. He lived with irony. This was his» 
+axiom: ^^ There is but one certainty, my full glass." He 
+sneered at all devotion in all parties, the father as well as the 
+brother, RobespieiTe junior as well as LoizeroUes. " They are 
+greatly in advance to be dead," he exclaimed. He said of the 
+crucifix: "There is a gibbet which has been a success." A 
+rover, a gambler, a libertine, often drunk, he displeased these 
+young dreamers by humming incessantly: "J'aimons les filles, 
+et j'aimons le bon vin." Air: Vive Henri IV. 
+
+However, this sceptic had one fanaticism. This fanaticism 
+was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science ; it 
+was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and vene- 
+rated Enjolras. To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite him- 
+self in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute. 
+In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By his ideas? 
+No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observ* 
+able. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the 
+law of complementary colors. That which we lack attracts iib. 
+No one loves the light like the blind man. The dwarf adores 
+the drum-major. The toad always has his eyes fixed oo 
+heaven. Why ? In order to watch the bird in its flight. Gran- 
+taire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to wat«h faith soar in En- 
+jolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, flna^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+clearly aware oi it, and without the idea of explaiuing it to 
+himself having occurred to hiiu. He admired his opposite by 
+instinct. His soft, yielding, dislocated, sickly, shapeless ideas 
+attached themselves to Eujoiras as to a spinal column. His 
+moral backbone leaned on that firmness. Grantaire in the 
+presence of Enjolras became some one once more. He was, 
+himself, moreover, composed of two elements, which were, to 
+all appearance, incompatible.^ lie was ironical and cordial. 
+His indifference loved. His mind could get along witliout 
+belief, but his heart could not get along without friendship. 
+A profound contradiction; for an affection is a conviction. 
+His nature was thus constituted. There are men who seem 
+to be born to be tiie reverse, the obverse, the wrong side. 
+They are Pollux, Patrocles, Nisus, Ëudamidas, Ëphestion, 
+Pechmeja. They only exist on condition that they are backed 
+up with another man ; their name is a sequel, and is only 
+written preceded by the conjunction and; and their existence 
+is not their own ; it is the otlier side of an existence which is 
+not theirs. Grantaire was one of these men. He was the 
+obverse of Enjolras. 
+
+One night almost say that affinities begin with the letters of 
+the alphabet. In the series and P are inseparable. You can, 
+at will, pronounce O and P or Orestes and f ylades. 
+
+Grantaire, Enjolras' true satellite, inhabited this circle of 
+young men ; he lived there, he took no pleasure anywhere but 
+there ; he followed them everywhere. His joy was to see these 
+forms go and come through the fumes of wine. They tol- 
+erated him on account of his good humor. 
+
+Enjolras, the believer, disdained this sceptic ; and, a sober 
+man himself, scorned this drunkard. He accorded him a little 
+lofty pity. Grantaire was an unaccepted Py lades. Always 
+harshly treated by Enjolras, roughly repulsed, rejected yet ever 
+returning to the charge, he said of Enjolras : ^^ What fine mar« 
+bier 
+
+n. — Blondïbau's Funeral Oration bt Bossuet. 
+
+Om a certain afternoon, which had, as will be seen hereafter, 
+acme coincidence with the events heretofore related, Laigle de 
+Meaux was to be seen leaning in a sensual manner again8t tlie 
+doorpost of the Café Musain. He had the air of a caryatid on 
+a vacation ; he carried nothing but his re very, however. lie 
+staring at the Place Saint-Michel. To lean one's back 
+
+
+
+78 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+against a thing is equivalent to lying down while standing ereok, 
+which attitude is uot hated by thiukers. Lsiiglc de Meaux waa 
+pon(iering, without melancholy, over a little misadventure which 
+had befallen him two days previously at the law-school, and 
+which had modified his personal plans for the futnre, plans 
+which were rather indistinct in any case. 
+
+Revery does not prevent a cab from passing bj-, nor the 
+dreamer from takmg note of that cab. Laigle de Meaux, 
+w I lose eyes were straying about* in a sort of diifuse lounging, 
+oerceived, athwart his somnambulism, a two-wheeled vehicle 
+proceeding through the place, at a foot pace and apparently in 
+indecision. For whom was this cabriolet? Why was it driving 
+at a walk? Laigle took a survey. In it, beside the coachman, 
+sat a young man, and in front of the young man lay a rather 
+bulky hand-bag. The bag displayed to passers-by the follow- 
+ing name inscribed in large black letters on a card which was 
+sewn to the stuff : Marils Pontmkrcy. 
+
+This name caused Laigle to change his attitude. He drew 
+himself up and hurled this apostrophe at the young man in the 
+oabiiolet : — 
+
+** Monsieur Marius Pontmercy ! " 
+
+The cabriolet thus addressed came to a halt. 
+
+The young man, who also seemed deeply buried in thougfaU 
+raised his eyes : — 
+
+*'Hey?" said he. 
+
+*' You are M. Marius Pontmercy?*' 
+
+" Certainly." 
+
+*' I was looking for you," resumed Laigle de Meanx. 
+
+"How so?" demanded Marius; for it was he: in fact, he 
+had just quitted his grandfather's, and had before him a face 
+which he now beheld for the first time. *' I do not know you." 
+
+" Neither do I know you," responded Laigle. 
+
+Marius thought he had encountered a wag, the beginning of 
+a mystification in the open street. He was not in a very good 
+humor at the moment. He frowned. Laigle de Meaux went 
+on imperturbably : — 
+
+'* You were not at the school day before yesterday/' 
+
+'' That is possible." 
+
+'' That is certain." 
+
+" You are a student?" demanded Marins. 
+
+*' Yes, sir. Like yourself. Day before yestei-day, I enterecT 
+the school, by chance. You know, one does have such freaks 
+sometimes. The professor was just calling the roll. Yon are 
+iK)t unaware that they are verv ridiculous on such occasions. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. TO 
+
+At the third call, unanswered, yonr name is erased from the 
+list. Sixty ù'ancs in the gulf." 
+
+Marius began to listen. 
+
+^^ It was Blondeau who was making the call. You know 
+Blondeau, he has a very pointed and very malicious nose, and 
+he delights to scent out the absent. He slyly began with the 
+letter P. I was not listening, not being compromised by that 
+letter. The call was not going badly. No erasures ; the uni- 
+verse was present. Blondeau was grieved. I said to myself: 
+
+* Blondeau, my love, you will not get the very smallest sort ol 
+an execution to-day.' All at once Blondeau calls, 'Marius 
+Pontmercy ! ' No one answers. . Blondeau, filled with hope, 
+repeats more loudly : ' Marius Pontmercy ! ' And he takes his 
+pen. Monsieur, I have bowels of compassion. I said to myself 
+hastily : ' Here's a brave fellow who is going to get scratched 
+out. Attention. Here is a veritable mortal who is not exact. 
+He's not a good student. Here is none of your heavy-sides, 
+a student who studies, a. greenhorn pedant, strong on letters, 
+theology, science, and sapience, one of those dull wits cut by 
+the square ; a pin by profession. He is an honorable idler who 
+lounges, who practises country jaunts, who cultivates the gri- 
+sette, who pays court to the fair sex, who is at this very moment, 
+perhaps, with my mistress. Let us save him. Death to 
+Blondeau ! ' At that moment, Blondeau dipped his pen in, 
+all black with erasures in the ink, cast his yellow eyes round 
+the audience room, and repeated for the third time : ' Marius 
+Pontmercy ! ' I replied : ' Present ! ' This is why you were 
+not crossed off." 
+
+*' Monsieur ! — " said Marius. 
+
+'* And why I was," added Laigle de Meaux. 
+
+** I do not understand you," said Manus. 
+
+Laigle resumed : — 
+
+" Nothing is more simple. I was close to the desk to reply, 
+and close to the door for the purpose of flight. The professor 
+gazed at me with a certain intensity. All of a sudden, Blon- 
+deau, who must be the malicious nose alluded to by Boileau, 
+skipped to the letter L. L is my letter. I am from Meaux, 
+and my name is Lesgle." 
+
+" L'Aigle : " interrupted Marius, " what a fine name ! " 
+
+"Monsieur, Blondeau came to this fine name, and called: 
+
+* Laigle ! * I reply : ' Present ! ' Then Blondeau gazes at me, 
+with the gentleness of a tiger, and says to me : 'If you are 
+Footmercy, you are not Laigle.' A phrase which has a dis* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+êO LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+obligÎDg air for you, but which was lugubrious only far ma 
+
+That said, he crossed me off." 
+
+Marius exclaimed : — 
+
+*' I am mortified, sir — " 
+
+'^ Fhrst of all," interposed Laigle, '^ I demand permission to 
+embalm Blondeau iu a few phrases of deeply felt eulc^ium. 1 
+will assume that he is dead. There will be no great change 
+required in his gauntncss, in his pallor, in his coldness, aiul 
+in his smell. And I say: ^ Erudimini qui judicatis terram. 
+Here lies Blondeau, Blondeau the Nose, Blondeau Ns ^ica, the 
+ox of discipline, bos disdplinœ^ the bloodhound of the pass- 
+word, the angel of the roll-call, who was upright, square, exact, 
+rigid, honest, and hideous. God crossed him off as he crossed 
+me off/ " 
+
+Marius resumed : — 
+
+" I am very sorry — " 
+
+^^ Young man," said Laigle de Meaux, ^^ let this serve yoc 
+as a lesson. In future, be exact." . 
+
+" I really beg you a thousand pardons." 
+
+^^ Do not expose your neighbor to the danger of having his 
+name erased again." 
+
+" I am extremely sorry — " 
+
+Laigle burst out laughing. 
+
+^^ And I am delighted. I was on the brink of becoming a 
+lawyer. This erasure saves me. I renounce the triumphs of 
+the bar. I shall not defend the widow, and 1 shall not attack 
+the orphan. No more toga, no more stage. Here is my erasure 
+all ready for me. It is to you that I am indebted for it. Mon- 
+sieur Pontmercy. I intend to pay a solemn call of thanks 
+upon you. Where do you live ? " 
+
+^^ In this cab," said Marius. 
+
+*' A sign of opulence," retorted Laigle calmly. " I congrat- 
+ulate you. You have there a rent of nine thousand francs per 
+annum." 
+
+At that moment, Conrfeyrac emerged from the café. 
+
+Marias smiled sadly. 
+
+^^ I have paid this rent for the last two hours, and I aspire to 
+get rid of it ; but, there is a sort of history attached to it, and I 
+don't know where to go." 
+
+" Come to my place, sir," said Courfeyrac. 
+
+" I have the priority," observed Laigle, '* but I have no home/' 
+
+" Hold your tongue, Bossuet," said Courfeyrac. 
+
+*' Bossuet," said Marius, ^^ but I thought that your name i 
+taigle." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 81 
+
+•* De Meaux,** replied Laigle ; ••'by metaphor, Bossaet.** 
+
+Courfeyrac entered the cab. 
+
+*' Coachman," said he, "hotel de la Porte-Saint- Jacques.*' 
+
+And that very evening, Marins found himself installed in a 
+chamber of the hotel de la Porte-Saint-Jacques side by side with 
+Ck)urfeyrac. 
+
+III.— Marius' Astonishments. 
+
+In a few days, Marius had become Courfeyrac's iiiend. 
+Youth is the season for prompt welding and the rapid healing ol 
+scars. Marius breathed freely in Courfeyrac's society, a decid- 
+edly new thing for him. Courfeyrac put no questions to him. 
+He did not even think of such a thing. At that age, faces 
+disclose everj'thing on the spot. Words are superfluous. There 
+are young men of whom it can be said that their countenances 
+chatter. One looks at them and one knows them. 
+
+One morning, however, Courfeyrac abruptly addressed this 
+interrogation to him : — 
+
+"By the way, have you any political opinions?" 
+
+" The idea ! " said Marius, almost affronted by the question. 
+
+♦«What are you?" 
+
+" A democrat-Bonapartist." 
+
+" The gray hue of a reassured rat,'* said Courfeyrac. 
+
+On the following day, Courfeyrac introduced Marius at the 
+Café Musain. Then he whispered in his ear, with a smile : " I 
+must give you your entry to the revolution." And he led him 
+to the hall of the Friends of the A B C. He presented him to 
+the other comrades, saying this simple word which Marius did 
+not understand : "A pupil." 
+
+Marius had fallen into a wasps'-nest of wits. However, 
+although he was silent and grave, he was, none the less, both 
+winged and armed. 
+
+Marius, up to that time solitary and inclined to soliloquy, and 
+to asides, both by habit and by taste, was a little fluttered by 
+this covey of young men around him. All these various initia* 
+tives solicited his attention at once, and pulled him £bout. The 
+tumultuous movements of these minds at liberty and at work 
+set his ideas in a whirl. Sometimes, in his trouble, they fled so 
+far from him, that he had difficulty in recovering them. He 
+heard them talk of philosophy, of literature, of art, of history, 
+of religion, in ' unexpected fashion. He caught glimpses of 
+strange aspects ; and, as he did not place them in proper per- 
+•pectiyey he was not altogether sure that it was not chaos that 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+n LES MISERABLES. 
+
+be grasped. On abaudoning his grandfather^s opinioDS for tfll 
+opinions of his father, he had 8upi)osed himself fixed ; he uo>i 
+saspected, with uneasiness, and without daring to avow it. ta 
+himself, that he was not. The angle at which he saw every* 
+thing began to be displaced anew. A certain oscillation set aU 
+the horizons of his brains in motion. An odd internal upsetting. 
+He almost suffered from it. 
+
+It seemed as though there were no '^ consecrated things** fof 
+those young men. Marins heard singular propositions on every 
+%OTi of subject, which embarrassed his still timid mind. 
+
+A theatre poster presented itself, atiorned with the title of a 
+tragedy from the ancient repertory called classic: " Down with 
+tragedy dear to the bourgeois ! " cried Bahorel. And Marius 
+beard Combef erre reply : — 
+
+'*You are wrong, Bahorel. The bourgeoisie loves tragedy, 
+and the bourgeoisie must be left at peace on that score. Be« 
+wigged tragedy has a reason for its existence, and I am not one 
+of those who, by order of JEschylus, contest its right to exists 
+ence. There are rough outlines in nature ; there are, in créa* 
+tion, ready-made parodies ; a beak which is not a beak, wings 
+which are not wings, gills which are not gills, paws which are 
+not paws, a cry of pain which arouses a desire to laugh, there 
+is the duck. Now, since poultry exists b}' the side of the bird, 
+I do not see why classic tragedy should not exist in the face of 
+antique tragedy." 
+
+Or chance decreed that Marius should traverse Rue Jeaii- 
+Jacques liousseau between Enjolras and Courfeyrac. 
+
+Courfeyrac took his arm : — 
+
+*' Pay attention. This is the Rue Plâtrière, now called Rao 
+Jean- Jacques Rousseau, on account of a singular household 
+which lived in it sixty years ago. This consisted of Jean- 
+Jacques and Thérèse. From time to time, little beings were 
+born there. Thérèse gave birth to them, Jean-Jacques repre- 
+sented them as foundlings." 
+
+And Enjolras addressed Courfeyrac roughly: — 
+
+'* Silence in the presence of Jean -Jacques ! I admire that man* 
+He denied his own children, that may be ; but he adopted the 
+people.** 
+
+Not one of these young men articulated the word : The Em- 
+peror. Jean Prouvaire alone sometimes said Napoleon ; all the 
+others said "Bonaparte." Enjolras pronounced it ^^Buoni^ 
+parte." 
+
+Marius was vaguely surprised. Initium sapientiœ. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARWa. 83 
+
+
+
+nr. — Thb Back Room or tbb Café Musaih. 
+
+Oms of the conversations among the young men, at whica 
+êiarius was present and in which he sometimes joined, was a 
+veritable shock to his mind. 
+
+This took place in the back room of the Café Musain. Nearly 
+ill the Friends of the A B C had convened that evening. 
+The argund lamp was solemnly lighted. They talked of one 
+thing and another, without passion and with noise. With the 
+exception of £njolras and Marins, who held their peace, all were 
+haranguing rather at hap-hnzard. Conversations between com* 
+rades sometimes are subject to these peaceable tumults. It was 
+a game and an uproar as much as a conversation. They tossed 
+words to each other and caught them up in turn. They wer9 
+chattering in all quarters. 
+
+No woman was admitted to this back room, except Louison 
+the dish-washer of the café, who passed through it from time ti* 
+time, to go to her washing in the ^^avatory." 
+
+Gran taire, thoroughly drunk, was deafening the corner o» 
+which he had taken possession, reasoning and contradicting n< 
+the top of his Inngs^ and shouting : — 
+
+^* I am thirsty. Mortals, I am dreaming : tiiat the tun ol* 
+Heidelberg has an attack of apoplexy, and that I am one of the 
+dozen leeches which will be applied to it. I want a drink. I 
+desire to forget life. Life is a hideous invention of I know no^ 
+whom. It lasts no time at all, and is worth nothing. One 
+breaks one's neck in living. Life is a theatre set in which there 
+are but few practicable entrances. Happiness is an antique 
+reliquary painted on one side only. Ecclesiastes says: 'All is 
+vanity.' I agree with that good man, who never existed, 
+perhaps. Zero not wishing to go stark naked, clothed himself 
+In vanity. O vanity ! The patching up of everything with big 
+words ! a kitchen is a laboratory-, a dancer is a professor, an 
+su;robat is a gymnast, a boxer is a pugilist, an apothecary is 
+A chemist, a wigmaker is an artist, a hodman is an architect, a 
+Jockey is a six)rtsman, a wood-louse is a pterigybranche. Vanity 
+has a right and a wrong side ; the right side is stupid, it is the 
+negro with his glass beads ; the wrong side is foolish, it is the 
+philosopher with his rags. I weep over the one and I laugh 
+over the other. What are called honors and dignities, and even 
+dignity and honor, are generally of pinchbeck. Kings make 
+playthings of human pride. Caligula made a horse a consul { 
+Charles II. made a knight of a sirloin. Wr:ip yourself up now* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+14 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+iheD, between Consul Incitatus and Baronet Roastbeef. As 
+for the intrinsic value of people, it is no longer respectable 
+in the least. Listen to the panegyric which neighbor makes of 
+neighbor. White on white is ferocious ; if the lily could speak, 
+what a setting down it would give the dove ! A bigoted woman 
+prating of a devout woman is more venomous than the asp and 
+the cobra. It is a shame that I am ignorant, otherwise I would 
+quote to you a mass of things; but I know nothing. For 
+instance, I have always been witty ; when I was a pupil of Gros, 
+instead of daubing wretched little pictures, I passed my time in 
+pilfering apples ; rapin ' is the masculine of rapine. So much 
+for myself ; as for the rest of you, you are worth no more than 
+I am. I scoff at your perfections, excellences, and qualities. 
+Every good quality tends towards a defect ; economy borders on 
+avarice, the generous man is next door to the prodigal, the 
+brave man i*ubs elbows with the braggart; he who says very 
+pious says a trifle bigoted ; there are just as many vices in 
+virtue as there are holes in Diogenes' cloak. Whom do yoa 
+admire, the slam or the slayer, Caesar or Brutus? Generally 
+men are in favor of the slayer. Long live Brutus, he has slain ! 
+There lies the virtue. Virtue, granted, but madness also. 
+There are queer spots on those great men. The Brutus who 
+killed Caesar was in love with the statue of a little boy. This 
+statue was from the hand of tlie Greek sculptor Strongylion, 
+who also carved that figure of an Amazon known as tbe Beaati* 
+f ul Leg, Ëucnemos, which Nero carried with him in his travels. 
+This Strongylion left but two statues which placed Nero and 
+Brutus in accord. Brutus was in love with the one, Nero with 
+the other. All history is nothing but wearisome répétition* 
+One century is the plagiarist of the other. The battle of 
+Marengo copies the battle of Pydua; the Tolbiac of Clovis 
+and the Austerlitz of Napoleon are as like each other as two 
+drops of water. I don't attach much imix>rtance to victory. 
+Nothing is so stupid as to conquer ; true glory lies in convinc- 
+ing. But try to prove something! If you are content with 
+success, what mediocrity, and with conquering, what wretcbed- 
+ness! Alas, vanity and cowardice everywhere. Everything 
+obeys success, even grammar. Si volet usus^ says Horace. 
+Therefore I disdain the human race. Shall we descend to 
+the party at all? Do you wish me to begin admiring the 
+peoples? what people, if you please? Shall it be Greece? 
+The Athenians, those Parisians of days gone by, slew Phocion, 
+as we might say Coligny, and fawned upon tyrants to such an ex- 
+1 The BUng term for a painter's aBsistant 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MA RI us. 86 
+
+tent that AnaoephoniB said of Pisistratus : '* His nrine attracte 
+the bees." The most prominent man in Greece for filly years 
+was that grammarian Philetas, who was so small and so thin 
+Ihat he was obliged to load his shoes with lead in order not to 
+Je blown away by the wind. There stood on the great square 
+in Corinth a statue carved by Silanion and catalogued by Pliny ; 
+this statue represented Episthates. What did Episthates do? 
+He invented a trip. That sums up Greece and glory. Let us 
+pass on to others. Shall I admire England? Shall I admire 
+France ? France ? Why ? Because of Paris ? I have just told 
+you my opinion of Athens. England ? Why ? Because of Lon- 
+don? I hate Carthage. And then, London, the metropolis of 
+luxury, is the headquarters of wretchedness. There are a hun- 
+dred deaths a year of hunger in the parish of Charing-Cross 
+alone. Such is Albion. I add, as the climax, that I have seen 
+an Englishwoman dancing in a wreath of roses and blue spec- 
+tacles. A fig then for England ! If I do not admire John Bull, 
+shall I admire Brother Jonathan? I have but little taste for 
+that slaveholding brother. Take away Time is money, what 
+remains of England ? Take away Cotton is king, what remains 
+of America? Germany is the lymph, Italy is the bile. Shall 
+we go into ecstasies over Russia? Voltaire admired it. He 
+also admired China. I admit that Russia has its beauties, 
+among others, a stout despotism; but I pity the despots. 
+Their health is delicate. A decapitated Alexis, a poignarded 
+Peter, a strangled Paul, another Paul crushed flat with kicks, 
+divers Ivans strangled, with their throats cut, numerous Nicho- 
+lases and Basils poisoned, all this indicates that the palace of 
+the Emperors of Russia is in a condition of flagrant insalubrity. 
+All civilized peoples offer this detail to the admiration of the 
+thinker ; war ; now, war, civilized war, exhausts and sums up 
+all the forms of ruffianism, from the brigandage of the Trabuce- 
+ros in the gorges of Mont Jaxa to the marauding of the Co- 
+manche Indians in the Doubtful Pass. ^ Bah ! ' you will say to 
+me, *• but Europe is certainly better than Asia?' I admit that 
+Asia is a farce; but I do not precisely see what yon find to 
+laugh at in the Grand Lama, yon peoples of the west, who have 
+mingled with your fashions and your elegances all the compli- 
+cated filth of majesty, from the dirty chemise of Queen Isabella 
+to the chamber-chair of the Dauphin. Gentlemen of the human 
+race, I tell you, not a bit of it ! It is at Brussels that the most 
+beer is consumed, at Stockholm the most brandy, at Madrid 
+the most chocolate, at Amsterdam the most gin, at Ix)ndon the 
+most wine, at Constantinople the most coffee, at Paris the mo«| 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+86 LEt^ yflf^HRMU.rf^. 
+
+absinthe ; there are all the nseful notions. Paris carries tfat 
+day, in short. In Paris, even the r:ig-[)icker8 are sybarites; 
+Diogenes would have loved to be a rag-picker of the Place 
+Mïiubert better than to be a philosopher at the Piraeus. Learn 
+this in addition ; the wineshops of the rag-pickers are called 
+bibines; the most celebrated are the Saucepan and Tfie Slaughter- 
+House. Hence, tea-gardens, goguettes, caboulots, bouibuis, 
+mastroquets, bastringues, manezingnes, bibines of the rag- 
+pickers, caravanseries of the caliphs, I certify to yon, I am a 
+voluptuary, I eat at Richard's at forty sous a head, I must have 
+Persian carpets to roll naked Cleopatra in ! Where is Cleopatra ? 
+Ah ! So it is you, Louison. Good day." 
+
+Thus did Grantaire, more than intoxicated, launch into 
+speech, catching at tlie dish- washer in her passage, from his 
+corner in the back room of the Café Musain. 
+
+Bossuet, extending his hand towards him, tried to impose 
+silence on him, and Grantaire began again worse than ever: — 
+
+" Aigle de Meaux, down with your paws. You produce on 
+me no eflPoct with your gesture of Hippocrates refusing Arta- 
+xorxes' bric-à-brac. Î excuse you from 'the task of soothing me. 
+Moreover, I am sad. What do you wish me to say to you? 
+Man is evil, man is deformed ; the butterfly is a success, man 
+IS a failure. God made a mistiike with that animal. A crowd 
+offers a choice of ugliness. The first comer is a wretch. Femme 
+— woman — rhymes with infâme^ — infamous. Yes, I have the 
+spleen, complicated with melanchol}*, with homesickness, plus 
+hypochondria, and I am vexed and I rage, and I yawn, and I 
+am bored, and I am tired to death, and I am stupid ! Let Grod 
+go to the devil ! " 
+
+''Silence then, capital R!" resumed Bossuet, who was dis- 
+cussing a point of law behind the scenes, and who was plunged 
+more than waist high in a phrase of judicial slang, of which 
+this is the conclusion : — 
+
+" — And as for me, although I am hardly a legist, and 
+at the most, an amateur attorney, I maintain this: that, in 
+accordance with the terms of the customs of Normandy, at 
+Saint-Michel, and for each year, an equivalent must be paid 
+to the profit of the lord of the manor, saving the rights of 
+others, and by all and several, the proprietors as well as those 
+seized with inheritance, and that, for all emphyteuses, leasee, 
+freeholds, contracts of domain, mortgages — " 
+
+" Echo, plaintive nymph," hummed Grantaire. 
+
+Near Grantaire, an almost silent table, a Pheet of paper, an 
+inkstand and a pen between two glasses of brandy, announced 
+that a vaudeville was bein£ sketched out 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+MA1UU8, 8? 
+
+This great afifair was being discussed in a low vdfce, and the 
+two heads at work touched each other: '' Let us begin by find 
+ing names. When one has the names, one finds th» subject '* 
+
+** That is true. Dictate. I will write." 
+
+* ' Monsieur Dorimon . ' ' 
+
+** An independent gentleman?" 
+
+**Of coarse." 
+
+** His daughter, Célestine.*' 
+
+" — tine. What next?" 
+
+" Colonel Sainval." 
+
+^^ Sain val is stale. I should say Yalsin." 
+
+Beside the vaudeville aspirants, another group, which was 
+also taking advantage of the uproar to talk low, was discussing 
+a duel. An old follow of thirty was counselling a young one 
+of eighteen, and explaining to him what sort of an adversary 
+be had to deal with. 
+
+" The deuce ! Look out for yourself. He is a fine swords- 
+man. His play is neat. He has the attack, no wasted feints, 
+wrist, dash, lightning, a just parade, mathematical parries, 
+bigrel and lie is left-handed." 
+
+In the angle /)pposite Grantaire, Joly and Bahorel were play- 
+ing dominoes, and talking of love. 
+
+'' You are in luck, that you ai-e," Joly was saying. " You 
+have a mistress who is alwa3's laughing*" 
+
+'* That is a fault of hers," returned Bahorel. ''One's mis- 
+tress does wrong to laugh. That encourages one to deceive her. 
+To see her gay removes your remorse ; if you see her sad, your 
+conscience pricks you." 
+
+'' Ingrate ! a woman who laughs is such a good thing ! And 
+you never quarrel ! " 
+
+*' That is because of the treaty which we have made. On 
+forming our little Holy Alliance we assigned ourselves each 
+our frontier, which we never cross. What is situated on the 
+aide of winter belongs to Vand, on the side of the wind to Gex. 
+Heuce the peace." 
+
+** Peace is happiness digesting." 
+
+*' And yon, Jolllly, where do you stand in your entanglement 
+irith Mamselle — you know whom I mean." 
+
+*' She sulks at me with cruel patience." 
+
+** Yet you are a lover to soften the heart with gauntness." 
+
+** Alas ! '• 
+
+'* In your place, I would let her a^one." 
+
+** That is easy enough to say." 
+
+•* And to do. Is not her name Musichetta?** 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+18 bes misérables. 
+
+**Ye8. Ah! my poor Bahorel, she is a superb girl, vet} 
+jterary, with tiny feet, little hands, she dresses well, and ifl 
+white and dimpled, with the eyes of a fortune-teller. I am 
+wild over her." 
+
+^^ My dear fellow, then in o^ âer to please her, you must be 
+elegant, and produce effects with your knees. Buy a good pair 
+of trousers of double-milled cloth at Staub's. That will assist." 
+
+'* At what price?" shouted Grantaire. 
+
+The third corner was delivered up to a poetical discussion» 
+Pagan mythology was giving battle to Christian mythology. 
+The question was about Olympus, whose part was taken by 
+Jean Prouvaire, out of pure romanticism. 
+
+Jean Prouvaire was timid only in repose. Once excited, he 
+burst forth, a sort of mirth accentuated his enthusiasm, and 
+be was at once both laughing and lyric. 
+
+*' Let us not insult the gods," said he. " The gods may not 
+have taken their departure. Jupiter does not impress me as 
+dead. The gods are dreams, you say. Well, even in nature, 
+such as it is to-day, after the flight of these dreams, we still 
+find all the grand old pagan myths. Such and such a mountain 
+with the profile of a citadel, like the Vignemale, for example, 
+is still to me the headdress of Cybele ; it has not been proved 
+to me that Pan does not come at night to breathe into the hol- 
+low trunks of the willows, stopping up the holes in turn with 
+his fingers, and I have always believed that lo had something to 
+do with the cascade of Pissevache." 
+
+In the last corner, they were talking politics. The Charter 
+which had been granted was getting roughly handled. Combe- 
+ferre was upholding it weakly. Courfeyrac was energetically 
+making a breach in it. On the table lay an unfortunate copy 
+of the famous Touquet Charter. Courfeyrac had seized it, and 
+was brandishing it, mingling with his arguments the rattling of 
+this sheet of paper. 
+
+" In the first place, I won*t have any kings ; if it were only 
+from an economical point of view, I don't want any ; a king is 
+a parasite. One does not have kings gratis. Listen to this : 
+the dearness of kings. At the death of François I., the 
+national debt of France amounted to an income of thirty 
+thousand livres ; at the death of Louis XIV. it was two mil- 
+liards, six hundred millions, at twenty-eight livres the mark, 
+which was equivalent in 1760, according to Desmarets, to fou? 
+milliards, ^ve hundred millions, wliich would to-day be equiva- 
+lent to twelve milliards. In the second place, and no offence to 
+Combeferre, a charter granted is but a poor expedient of civili: 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 89 
+
+nation. To save the transitioD, to soften the passage, to deaden 
+the shock, to caase the nation to pass insensibly from the mon- 
+archy to democracy by the practice of constitutional fictions, — 
+what detestable reasons all those are ! No ! no ! let ns never 
+enlighten the people with false daylight. Principles dwindle 
+and pale in your constitutional cellar. No illegitimacy, no com- 
+promise, no grant from the king to the people. In aC such 
+grants there is an Article 14. By the side of the hand which 
+gives there is the claw which snatches back. I refuse yoar 
+charter point-Hblank. A charter is a mask ; the lie lurks beneath 
+it. A people which accepts a charter abdicates. The law is 
+only the law when entire. No ! no charter ! " 
+
+It was winter ; a couple of fagots were crackling in the fire- 
+place. This was tempting, and Courfeyrac could not resist. 
+He crumpled the poor Touquet Charter in his fist, and flung it 
+in the fire. The paper flashed up. Combeferre watched the 
+masterpiece of Louis XVIII. bum philosophically, and contented 
+himself with saying : — • 
+
+'* The charter metamorphosed into flame." 
+
+And sarcasms, sallies, jests, that French thing which is called 
+entrain^ and that English thing which is called humor, good and 
+bad taste, good and bad reasons, all the wild pyrotechnics of di- 
+alogue, mounting together and crossing from all points of the 
+room, produced a sort of merry bombardment over their heads. 
+
+
+
+V. — Enlargement of Horizon. 
+
+The shocks of youthful minds among themselves have this 
+admirable property, that one can never foresee the spark, nor 
+divine the lightning flash. What will dart out presently ? No 
+one knows. The burst of laughter starts from a tender feeling. 
+
+At the moment of jest, the serious makes its entry. Im- 
+pulses depend on the first chance word. The spirit of each is 
+sovereign, jest suffices to open the field to the unezpectec^ 
+These are conversations with abrubt turns, in which the per- 
+jpective changes suddenly. Chance is the stage-manager of 
+such conversations. 
+
+A severe thought, starting oddly from a clash of words, 
+suddenly traversed the conflict of quips in which Gran taire, 
+Bahorel, Prouvaire, Bossuet, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac were 
+oonfusedl}' fencing. 
+
+How does a phrase crop up in a dialogue ? Whence comes it 
+that it suddenly impresses itself on the attention of those whtf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+90 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+hear it ? We hare just said, that no one knows anything abont 
+it. In the midst of the uproar, Bossuet all at once terminated 
+iome aposti'ophe to Combeferre, with this date: — 
+
+" June 18tb, 1815 : Waterloo." 
+
+At this name of Waterloo, Marius, who was leaning his e^« 
+bows on a table, beside a glass of water, removed his wrist from 
+beneath his chin, and began to gaze fixedly at the audience. 
+
+'* Pardieu 1 " exclaimed Courfeyrac ('' Parbleu " was falling 
+into disuse at this period) , ^' that number 18 is stiange and strikes 
+me. It is Bonaparte's fatal number. . Place Louis in front and 
+Brumaire behind, you have the whole destiny of the man, with 
+this significant peculiarity, that the end treads close on the heels 
+of the commencement." 
+
+Enjolras, who Imd remained mute up to that point, broke the 
+silence and addressed this remark to CJombeferre : — 
+
+^^ You mean to say, the crime and the expiation." 
+
+Tliis word crime overpassed the measure of what Marius, who 
+was already greatly agitated by the abrupt evocation of Water- 
+loo, could accept. 
+
+He rose, walked slowly to the map of France spread out on 
+the wall^ and at whose base an island was visible in a separate 
+compartment, laid his finger on this compartment and said : — 
+
+^^ Corsica, a little island whieh has rendered France very 
+great." 
+
+This was like a breath of icy air. All ceased talking. They 
+felt that something was on the point of occurring. 
+
+Bahorel, replying to Bossuet, was just assuming an attitude 
+of the torso to which he was addicted. He gave it up to listen. 
+
+Enjolras, whose blue eye was not fixed on any one, and who 
+seemed to be gazing at space, replied, without glancing at Ma- 
+rius : — . 
+
+"France needs no Corsica to be great. France is great be- 
+cause she is France. Quia nominaleo." 
+
+Marius felt no desire to retreat ; he turned towards Enjolras, 
+and his voice burst forth with a vibration which came from a 
+quiver of his very being : — 
+
+" God forbid that I should diminish France ! But amalga- 
+mating Napoleon with her is not diminishing her. Come ! let us 
+ai^ue the question. I am a new comer among you, but 1 will 
+confess that you amaze me. Where do we stand ? Who are 
+we ? Who are you? Who am 1 ? Let us come to an explan- 
+ation about tlie Emperor. I hear you say Buonaparte^ accenting 
+the u like the Royalists. I warn you that my grandfather does 
+better still; he says Buonaparte, I thought you were yonnir 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. * 91 
+
+«len. Where, then, is your enthusiasm? And what are you 
+doing with it? Whom ilo you admire? if you do not admire the 
+Emperor? And what more do you want? If you will have 
+none of that great man, what great men would you like? He 
+had everything. He was complete. He had in his brain the 
+sum of human faculties. He made codes like Justinian, he dic- 
+tated like Cœsar, his conversation was mingled with the light- 
+ning flash of Pascal, with the thunder-clap of Tacitus, he made 
+history and he wrote it, his bulletins are Iliads, he combined the 
+cipher of Newton with the metaphor of Mahomet, he left behind 
+him in the East words as great as the pyramids, at Tilsit he 
+taught Emperoi-s majesty, at the Academy of Sciences he re- 
+plied to Laplace, in the Council of State he held his own against 
+Merlin, he gave a soul to the geometry of the first, and to the 
+chicanery of the last, he was a legist with the attorneys and side- 
+real with the astronomers ; like Cromwell blowing out one of two 
+candles, he went to the Temple to bargain for a curtain tassel ; 
+he saw everything ; he knew everything ; which did not prevent 
+liim from laughing good-naturedly beside the cradle of his little 
+child ; and all at once, frightened Europe lent an ear, armies 
+put themselves in motion, parks of artillery rumbled, pontoons 
+stretched over the rivers, clouds of cavalry galloped in the storm, 
+cries, trumpets, a trembling of thrones in every direction, the 
+frontiers of kingdoms oscillated on the map, the sound of a su- 
+perhuman sword was heaixl, as it was drawn from its sheath ; 
+they beheld him, him, rise erect on the horizon with a blazing 
+brand in his hand, and a glow in his eyes, unfolding amid the 
+thunder, his two wings, the grand army and the old guard, and 
+he was the archangel of war ! " 
+
+All held their peace, and Enjolras bowed his head. Silence 
+always produces somewhat the effect of acquiescence, of the 
+enemy being driven to the wall. Marius continued with increased 
+enthusiasm, and almost without pausing for breath : — 
+
+*' Let us be just, my friends ! What a splendid destiny for a 
+nation to be the Empire of such an P^mperor, when that nation 
+Ib France and when it adds its own genius to the genius of that 
+man ! To appear and to reign, to march and to triumph, to have 
+for lialting-places all capitals, to take his grenadiera and to make 
+kings of them, to decree the falls of dynasties, and to trans- 
+figure Europe at the pace of a charge ; to make you feel that 
+when you threaten you lay your band on the hilt of the sword 
+of God; to follow in a single man, Hannibal, Cœsar, Charle* 
+magne; to be the people of some one who minj^les with yout 
+dawns the startling announcement of a battle won, to have thp 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+îioysses or iigiii pnxugious woras wmcn name lorever, jn.ar- 
+çngo. Areola, Austerlitz, Jena, Wagrara ! To cause coDBtel* 
+latious of victories to flash forth at each instant from the zenith 
+of the centuries, to make the French Empire a pendant to the 
+Roman Empire, to be the great nation and to give birth to the 
+grand army, to make its legions fly forth over all the earth, as a 
+mountain sends out its eagles on all sides to conquer, to domi 
+nate, to strike with lightning, to be in Europe a sort of nation 
+gilded through glory, to sound athwart the centuries a trumpet- 
+blast of Titans, to conquer the world twice, by conquest and by 
+dazzling, that is sublime ; and what greater thing is there?*' 
+
+" To be free," said Combeferre. 
+
+Marins lowered his head in his turn ; that cold and simple 
+word had traversed his epic effusion like a blade of steel, and 
+he felt it vanishing within him. When he raised his eyes, 
+Combeferre was no longer there. Probably satisfied with his 
+reply to the apotheosis, he had just taken his departure, and 
+all, with the exception of Enjolras, had followed him. The 
+room had been emptied. Enjolras, left alone with Maiius, was 
+gazing gravely at him. Marius, however, having rallied his 
+ideas to some extent, did not consider himself beaten ; there 
+lingered in him a trace of inward fermentation which was on tlie 
+point, no doubt, of translating itself into s.vllogisms arrayed 
+against Enjolras, when all of a sudden, they heard some ouè 
+flinging on the stairs as he went. It was Combeferre, and thhs 
+is what he was singing : — 
+
+" Si Cesar m'avait donnée 
+
+Lh gloire et la guerre, 
+Et qu'il me fallait quitter 
+
+L'amour de ma mère. 
+Je dirais au grand Ceear : 
+
+Reprends ton sceptre et ton char, 
+J'aime mieu"c ma mère, ô gue! 
+
+J'aime mieux ma mère I " 
+
+The wild and tender accents with which Combeferre sang 
+communicated to this couplet a sort of strange grandeur. 
+Marius, thoughtfully, and with his eyes diked on the ceiling. 
+repcatt'd almost mechanically: "My mother? — " 
+
+At that moment, he felt Enjolras' hand on his shoulder. 
+
+"Citizen," said Enjolras to him, "my mother is the Re- 
+public." 
+
+1 If CsBsar had given me glory and war, and I were obliged to quit mj 
+mother's love, I would say to great Caesar, " Take back thy sceptre and th| 
+ehariot ; I prefer the love of my mother." 
+
+
+
+iilARIUS. U3 
+
+
+
+VL — Res Angusta. 
+
+
+
+That eyening left Marius profoundly shaken, and with a 
+melancholy shadow in his soul. He felt what the eiirth nui}? 
+possibly feel, at the moment when it is torn open with tlie iron, 
+in order that grain may be deposited within it ; it feel ; onl^y the 
+woand ; the quiver of the germ and the joy of the fruit only 
+arrive later. 
+
+Marias was gloomy. He had but just acquired a faith ; must 
+he then reject it already ? He affirmed to himself that he would 
+not. He declared to himself that he would not doubt, and he 
+began to doubt in spite of himself. To stand between two re- 
+ligionst from one of which you have not as yet emerged, and 
+another into which you have not yet entered, is intolerable ; and 
+twilight is pleasing only to bat-like souls. Marius was clear- 
+eyed, and he required the true light. The half-lights of doubt 
+pained him. Whatever may have been his desire to remain 
+where he was, he could not halt there, he was irresistibly con- 
+strained to continue, to advance, to examine, to think, to march 
+further. Whither would this lead him ? He feared, after hav- 
+ing taken so many steps which had brought him nearer to his 
+father, to now take a step which should estrange him from that 
+father. His discomfort was augmented by all the reflectious 
+which occurred to him. An escarpment rose around him. He 
+was in accord neither with his grandfather nor with his friends ; 
+daring in the eyes of the one, he was behind the times in the 
+eyes of the others; and he recognized the fact that he was 
+doubly isolated, on the side of age and on the side of youth. 
+He ceased to go to the Café Musain. 
+
+In the troubled state of his conscience, he no longer thought 
+of certain serious sides of. existence. The realities of life do 
+not allow themselves to be forgotten. They soon elbowed him 
+, abruptly. 
+
+One morning, the proprietor of the hotel entered Marius' 
+rooin and said to him : — 
+
+** Monsieur Courfeyrac answered for you." 
+
+** Yes." 
+
+*' But I must have my money." 
+
+" Request Courfeyrac to come and talk to me," said Marins. 
+
+ConrfejTac having made his appearance, the host left them. 
+Marias then told him what it had not before occurred to him to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+94 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+relate, that he was the same as aloae in the world, and had na 
+relatives. 
+
+" What is to become of you? " said Courfeyrac 
+
+^^ I do not know in the leafit," replied Marius. 
+
+*' What are you going to do?" 
+
+** I do not know." 
+
+*' Have you any money?'* 
+
+*' Fifteen francs." 
+
+*' Do vou want me to lend you some?** 
+
+" Never." 
+
+" Have you clothes?" 
+
+** Here is what I have.** 
+
+*' Have yon trinkets?'* 
+
+" A watch." 
+
+''Silver?" 
+
+"Gold; here it is." 
+
+" I know a clothes-dealer who will take your frock*ooat and 
+a pair of trousers." 
+
+" That is good." 
+
+" You will then have only a pair of trousers, a waistooat, a 
+hat and a coat." 
+
+" And my boots." 
+
+*' What ! you will not go barefoot? What opulence 1 ** 
+
+" That will be enough." 
+
+" I know a watchmaker who will buy your watch/' 
+
+" That is good." 
+
+*' No ; it is not good. What will you do after that? " 
+
+" Whatever is necessary. Anything honest, that is to say." 
+
+*' Do you know English ?** 
+
+" No." 
+
+" Do you know German?" 
+
+" No." 
+
+" So much the worse/* 
+
+"Why?" 
+
+" Because one of my friends, a publisher, is getting tip a sort 
+of an encyclopaedia, for which you might have translated Eng- , 
+lish or German articles. It is badly paid work, but one car 
+live by it." 
+
+" I will learn English and German/* 
+
+" And in the meanwhile?" 
+
+" In the meanwhile I will live on my clothes and my watch." 
+
+The clothes-dealer was sent for. He paid twenty francs fof 
+the cast-oflf garments. They went to the watchmaker'a. He 
+bought the watch for forty-five francs/' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MA RI us, 95 
+
+•* That is not bad," said Marius to Courfeyruc, on the\r re- 
+turn to the hotel, '' with my fifteen francs, that makes eighty." 
+
+*' And the hotel bill?" observed Courfeyrac. 
+
+** Hello, I had forgotten that," said Marius. 
+
+The landlord presented his bill, which had to be paid on the 
+spot. It amounted to seventy francs. 
+
+** I have ten francs left," said Marius. 
+
+"The deuce," exclaimed Courfeyrac, "30U will eat up five 
+francs while you are learning ïinglish, and five while learning 
+German. That will be swallowing a tongue very fast, or & 
+hundred sous very slowly." 
+
+In the meantime Aunt Gillenormand, a rather good-hearted 
+person at bottom in difl3culties, had finally hunted up Marius' 
+abode. 
+
+One morning, on his return from the law-school, Marius 
+found a letter from his aunt and the sixty pistoles^ that is to 
+say, six hundred francs in gold, in a sealed box. 
+
+Marius sent back the thirty lonis to his aunt, with a respect- 
+ful letter, in which he stated that he had suflicient means of 
+subsistence and that he should be able thencefortli to supply all 
+his needs. At that moment, he had throe francs left. 
+
+His aunt did not inform his grandfather of this refusal, for 
+fear of exasperating him. Besides, had he not said : " Let me 
+never hear the name of that blood-drinker again ! " 
+
+Marius left the hotel de la Porte Saint- Jacques, as he did not 
+vrish to run in debt there. 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIFTH.— THE EXCELLENCE OF MISFOR- 
+TUNE. 
+
+I. — Marius Ikdigekt. 
+
+Life became hard for Marius. It was nothing to eat his 
+clothes and his watch. He ate of that terrible, inexpressible 
+tiling that is called de la vache enragé; that is to say, he 
+endured great hardships and privations. A terrible thing it is, 
+containing days without bread, nights without sleep, evenings 
+without a candle, a hearth without a fire, weeks without work, 
+a future without hope, a coat out at the ellwws, an old hat 
+which evokes the laughter of young girls, a door which one 
+finds locked on one at night because one's rent is not paid, the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+#6 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Insolence of the (K>rter and the cook-shop man, the sneers o\ 
+neighbora, humiliations, dignity trampled on, work of whatevei 
+nature accepted, disgusts, bitterness, despondency. Marius 
+learned how all this is eaten, and how such are often the only 
+things which one has to devour. At that moment of his exist 
+ence when a man needs his pride, because he needs love, he 
+felt that he was jeered at because he was badly dressed, and 
+ridiculous because he was poor. At the age when youth swells 
+the heart with imperial pride, he dropped his eyes more than 
+once on his dilapidated boots, and he knew the unjust shame 
+and the poignant blushes of wretchedness. Admirable and 
+terrible trial from which the feeble emerge base, from which 
+the strong emerge sublime. A crucible into which destiny casts 
+a man, whenever it desires a scoundrel or a demi-god. 
+
+For many great deeds are performed in petty combats. 
+There are instances of bravery ignored and obstinate, which 
+defend themselves step by step in that fatal onslaught of neces- 
+sities and turpitudes. Noble and mysterious triumphs which no 
+eye beholds, which are requited with no renown, which are 
+saluted with no trumpet blast. Life, misfortune, isolation, 
+abandonment, poverty, are the fields of battle which have tlieir 
+heroes ; obscure heroes, who are, sometimes, grander than 
+the heroes who win renown. 
+
+Firm and rare natures are thus created ; misery, almost 
+always a step-mother, is sometimes a mother ; destitution gives 
+birth to might of soul and spirit ; distress is the nurse of pride ; 
+unhappiness is a good milk for the magnanimous. 
+
+Tliere came a moment in Marins' life, when he swept his 
+own landing, when he bought his sou's worth of Brie cheese at 
+the fruiterer's, when he waited until twilight had fallen to slip 
+into tfie baker's and purchase a loaf, which he carried off fur- 
+tively to his attic as though he had stolen it. Sometimes there 
+could be seen gliding into the butcher's shop on the corner, in 
+tlie midst of the bantering cooks who elbowed him, an awkward 
+young man, carrying his books under his arm, who had a timid 
+yet angry air, who, on entering, removed his hat from a brow 
+whereon stood drops of perspiration, made a profound bow to 
+the butcher's astonished wife, asked for a mutton cutlet, paid 
+six or seven sous for it, wrapped it up in a paper, put it under 
+his arm, between two books, and went away. It was Marius. 
+On this cutlet, which he cooked for himself, he lived for three 
+days. 
+
+On the first day he ate the meat, on the second he ate the 
+fat, on the third be gnawed the bone. Aunt Gillenormand made 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. Vk 
+
+repeated > «impts, and s^tit bim the sixty pidtoles severs, 
+times. Ms^rfrts returned them on every occasiou, saying that 
+be needed noching. 
+
+He was still in mourning for his father when the revolution 
+which we have just described was effected within him. From 
+that time forth, he had not put off his black garments. But 
+his garments were quitting him. The day came when he had 
+no longer a coat. The trousers would go next. What was to 
+be done? Courfeyrac, to whom he had, on his side, done some 
+good turns, gave him an old coat. For thirty sous, Marius got 
+it turned by some porter or other, and it was a new coat. But 
+this coat was green. Then Marius ceased to go out until after 
+nightfall. This made his coat black. As be wished always to 
+appear in mourning, he clothed himself with the night. 
+
+In spite of all this, he got admitted to practice as a lawyer. 
+He was supposed to live in Courfeyrac's room, which was de- 
+cent, and where a certain number of law-books backed up and 
+completed by several dilapidated volumes of romance, passed 
+as the library required by the regulations. He had his letters 
+addressed to Courfeyrac's quarters. 
+
+When Marius became a lawyer, he informed his grandfather 
+of the fact in a letter which was cold but full of submission and 
+respect. M. Gillenormand trembled as he took the letter, read 
+it, tore it in four pieces, and threw it into the waste-basket. 
+Two or three days later. Mademoiselle Gillenormand beard her 
+father, who was alone in his room, talking aloud to himself. 
+He always did this whenever he was greatly agitated. She 
+listened, and the old man was saying: "If you were not a 
+fool, you would know that one cannot be a baron and a lawyer 
+at the same time/' 
+
+n. — Marius Pooe. 
+
+It is the same with wretchedness as with everything else. It 
+ends by becoming bearable. It finally assumes a form, and 
+adjusts itself. One vegetates, that is to say, one develops in 8 
+certain meagre fashion, which is, however, sufficient for life. 
+This is the mode in which the existence of Marius Fontmercy 
+was arranged : 
+
+He had passed the worst straits ; the narrow pass was open- 
+ing out a little in front of him. By dint of toil, perseverance, 
+courage, and will, he had managed to draw from his work about 
+seven hundred francs a year. He had learned German and 
+English ; thanks to Courfeyrac, who had put him in communK 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+98 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+cation with his friend the publisher, Marins filled the modest 
+post of utilit}' man in the literature of the publishing house 
+He drew ui) prospectuses, translated newspapers, annotate<) 
+editions, compiled biographies, etc. ; net product, year in an<1 
+year out, seven hundred francs. He lived on it. How? Not 
+so badly. We will explain. 
+
+Marins occupied in the Gorbeau house, for an annual sum of 
+thirty francs, a den minus a fireplace, called a cabinet, which 
+contained only the most indispensable articles of furniture 
+This furniture belonged to him. He gave three francs a montl. 
+to the old prindpcd tenant to come and sweep his hole, and to 
+bring him a little hot water every morning, a fresh egg, and a 
+penny roll. He breakfasted on this egg and roll. His breaks 
+fast varied in cost from two to four sous, according as egg« 
+were dear or cheap. At six o'clock in the evening he descended 
+Ihe Rue Saint-Jacques to dine at Rousseau's, opposite Basset's^ 
+the stamp-dealer's, on the corner of the Rue des Mathurins. 
+He ate no soup. He took a six-sou plate of meat, a half -por- 
+tion of vegetables for three sous, and a three-sou dessert. 
+For three sous he got as much bread as he wished. As for 
+wine, he drank water. When he paid at the desk where Madam 
+Rousseau, at that period still plump and rosy, majestically pre- 
+sided, he gave a sou to the waiter, and Madam Rousseau gave 
+him a smile. Then he went away. For sixteen sous he had a 
+smile and a dinner. 
+
+This Restaurant Rousseau, where so few bottles and so many 
+water carafes were emptied, was a calming potion rather than a 
+restaurant. It no longer exists. The proprietor had a fine 
+nickname : he was called Rousseau the Aquatic. 
+
+Thus, breakfast four sous, dinner sixteen sous ; his food cost 
+him twenty sous a day ; which made three hundred and sixty- 
+five francs a year. Add the tliirty francs for rent, and the 
+thirty-six francs to the old woman, plus a few trifling expenses ; 
+for four hundred and fifty francs. Marins was fed, lodged, and 
+waited on. His clothing cost him a hundred francs, his linen 
+fifty francs, his washing fifty francs ; the whole did not exceed 
+six hundred and fifty francs. He was rich. He sometimes 
+lent ten francs to a friend. Courfeyrac had once been able to 
+borrow sixty francs of him. As far as fire wag concerned; as 
+Marins had no fireplace, he had " simplified matters." 
+
+Marins always had two complete suits of clothes, the one 
+old, "for every day"; the other, brand new for special ooea- 
+sions. Both were black. He had but three shirts, one on his 
+person, the second in the commode, and the third in the waab 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MA RI us. 99 
+
+erwoman's hands. He renewed them as they wore oat. They 
+were always ragged, which caused him to button his coat to thic 
+chin. 
+
+It had required years for Marius to attain to this flourishing 
+condition. Hard years; difficult, some of them to traverse, 
+others to climb. Marias had not failed for a single day. He 
+had endnred everything in the way of destitution ; he had done 
+everything except contract debts. He did himself the justice 
+to say that he had never owed any one a sou. A debt was, to 
+bim, the beginning of slavery. He even said to himself, that a 
+creditor is worse than a master ; for the master possesses only 
+your person, a creditor possesses your dignity and can admin* 
+ister to it a box on the ear. Rather than borrow, he went 
+without food. He had passed many a day fasting. Feeling 
+that all extremes meet, and that, if one is not on one's guard, 
+lowered fortunes may lead to baseness of soul, he kept a jeal« 
+ous watch on his pride. Such and such a formality or action, 
+which, in any other situation would have appeared merely a 
+deference to him, now seemed insipidity, and he nerved himself 
+against it. His face wore a sort of severe flush. He was timid 
+even to rudeness. 
+
+During all these trials he had felt himself encouraged and 
+even uplifted, at times, by a secret force that he possessed with- 
+in himself. The soul aids the body, and at certain moments, 
+raises it. It is the only bird which bears up its own cage. 
+
+Besides his father's name, another name was graven in Ma- 
+rias' heart, the name of Thénardier. Marius, with his grave 
+and enthusiastic nature, surrounded with a sort of aureole the 
+man to whom, in his thoughts, he owed his father's life, — that 
+intrepid sergeant who had saved the colonel amid the ballets 
+and the cannon-balls of Waterloo. He never separated the 
+memory of this man from the memory of his father, and he 
+associated them in his veneration. It was a sort of worship in 
+two steps, with the grand altar for the colonel and the lesser 
+one for Thénardier. What redoubled the tenderness of his 
+gratitude towards Thénardier, was the idea of the distress into 
+which he knew that Thénardier had fallen, and which had en- 
+gulfed the latter. Marius had learned at Montfermeil of the 
+ruin and bankruptcy of the nn fortunate inn-keeper. Since that 
+time, he had made unheard-of efforts to find traces of him and 
+to reach him in that dark abyss of misery in which Thénardier 
+had disappeared. Marius had beaten the whole country ; he 
+hfid gone to Chelles, to Bondy, to Gourney, to Nogont, to 
+Lagny. He had persisted for three years, expending in these 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+supposed to bave goue abroad. His creditors had also sought 
+him, with less love than MaHus, but with as much afisidaity, 
+and had not been able to lay their hands on him. Marias 
+blamed himself, and was almost angry with himself for his 
+lack of success in his researches. It was the only debt left 
+him by the colonel, and Marius made it a matter of honor to 
+pay it. '"What," he thought, '*when my father lay dying on 
+the field of battle, did Thénardier contrive to find him amid 
+the smoke and the grape-shot, and bear him off on his shonl- 
+ders, and yet he owed him nothing, and I, who owe so much to 
+Thénardier, cannot join him in this shadow where he is lying 
+in the pangs of death, and in mv turn bring him back from 
+death to life ! Oil ! I will find him ! " To find Thénardier, in 
+fact, Marius would have given one of his arms, to rescue him 
+from his misery, he would have sacrificed all his blood. To see 
+Thénardier, to render Thénardier some service, to say to him : 
+''You do not know me; well, I do know you! Here I am. 
+Dispose of me ! " This was MariuB* sweetest and most most 
+magnificent dream. 
+
+
+
+in. — Marius Grown Up* 
+
+At this epoch, Marius was twenty years of age. It was 
+three years since he had left his grandfather. Both parties had 
+remained on tlie same terms, without attempting to approach 
+each other, and without seeking to see each other. Besides, 
+what was the use of seeing each other? Marius was the brass 
+vase, while Father (illlenormand was the iron pot. 
+
+We adroit that Marius was mistaken as to his grandfather's 
+heart. He had imagined that M. Gillenormand bad never loved 
+him, and that that crusty, harsh, and smiling old fellow who 
+cursed, shouted, and stormed and brandished his' cane, cherished 
+for him, at the most, only that affection, which is at once slight 
+and severe, of the dotards of comedy. Marius was in error. 
+There are fathers who do not love their children ; there exists 
+no grandfather who does not adore his grandson. At bottom, as 
+we have said, M. Gillenormand idolized Marius. He idolized 
+him after his own fashion, with an accompaniment of snappish* 
+ness and boxes on the ear ; but, this child once gone, he felt a 
+black void in his heart ; he would allow no one to mention the 
+child to him, and all the while secretly regretted that he was so 
+
+
+
+MARIUH. 101 
+
+irell obeyed. At first, he hoçed that this Buonapartist, thia 
+5acobin, this terrorist, this Septembrist, would return. Bat 
+(he weeks passed by, years passed ; to M. GillenoriDaQd's great 
+despair, the ^^ blood-drinker" did not make his appearance. '^ I 
+could not do othei-wise than turn him out," said the grand- 
+father to himself, and he asked himself : ^^ If the thing were 
+to do over again, would I do it?" His pride instantly an< 
+Bwered ^^ yes/' but his aged head, which he shook in silence, 
+replied sadly '^ no." He had his hours of depression. He 
+missed Marius. Old men need affection as they need the sun. 
+It is warmth. Strong as his nature was, the absence of Marias 
+had wrought some change in him. Nothing in the world could 
+have induced him to take a step towards '^ that rogue " ; but he 
+suffered. He never inquired about him, but he thought of him 
+incessantly. He lived in the Marais in a more and more retired 
+manner ; he was still merry and violent as of old, but his merri« 
+ment had a convulsive harshness, and his violences always ter<i 
+minated in a sort of gentle and gloomy dejection. He sometimes 
+said : '^ Oh ! if he only would return, what a good box on the 
+ear I would give him ! " 
+
+As for his aunt, she thought too little to love much ; Marius 
+was no longer for her much more than a vague black form; 
+and she eventually came to occupy herself with him much lebS' 
+than with the cat or the paroquet which she probably had. 
+What augmented Father Gillenormand's secret suffering was, 
+chat he locked it all up within his breast, and did not allow its 
+existence to be divined. His sorrow was like those recently 
+n vented furnaces which consnme their own smoke. It some- 
+âmes happened that officious busybodies spoke to him of Marine, 
+ind asked him : " What is your grandson doing? " *' What has 
+become of him?*' The old bourgeois replied with a sigh, that 
+3e was a sad case, and giving a fillip to his cuff, if he wished to 
+tppear gay: ^^ Monsieur le Baron de Pontmercy is practising 
+pettifogging in some corner or other." 
+
+While the old man regretted, Marius applauded himself* Aa 
+\r the case with all good-hearted people, misfortune had eradi- 
+cated his bitterness. He only thought of M. Gillenormand in 
+an amiable light, but he had set his mind on not receiving any- 
+thing more from the man who had been unkind to his father* 
+This was the mitigated translation of his first indignation. 
+Moreover, he was happy at having suffered, and at suffering 
+still. It was for hiq father's sake. The hardness of his life 
+satisfied and pleased him. He said to himself with a sort of 
+Joy that — U was certainly the least lie could do; that it was an 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+
+102 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+expiation ; — that, had it not been for that, he woald havis been 
+puuiBhed in some other way and later on for his impious indif- 
+ference towards his father, and such a father ! that it would not 
+have been just that his father should have all the suffering, and 
+he none of it ; and, that, in any case, what were his toils and 
+his destitution compared with the colonel's heroic life? that, in 
+sliort, the only way for him to approach his father and resemble 
+him, was to be brave in the face of indigence, as the other had 
+been valiant before the enemy ; and that that was, no doubts 
+what the colonel had meant to imply by the words : ^^ He will 
+be worthy of it." Words which Marias continued to wear, not 
+on his breast, since the colonel's writing had disappeared, but 
+in his heart. 
+
+And then, on the day when his grandfather had turned him 
+out of doors, he had been only a child, now he was a man. 
+He felt it. Misery, we repeat, had been good for him. Pov- 
+erty in youth, when it succeeds, has this magnificent property 
+about it, that it turns the whole will towards effort, and the 
+wliole soul towards aspiration. Poverty instantly la3-8 material 
+life bare and renders it hideous ; hence inexpressible bounds 
+towards the ideal life. The wealthy young man has a hundi*ed 
+coarse and brilliant distractions, horse races, hunting, dc^s, 
+tobacco, gaming, good repasts, and all the rest of it ; occupa* 
+tions for the baser side of the soul, at the expense of the loftier 
+and more delicate sides. The poor young man wins his bread 
+with difficulty ; he eats ; when he has eaten, he has nothing more 
+but meditation. He goes to the spectacles which God furnishes 
+gratis ; he gazes at the sky, space, the stars, flowers, children, 
+the humanity among which he is suffering, the creation amid 
+which he beams. He gazes so much on humanity that he per^ 
+ceives its soul, he gazes upon creation to such an extent that 
+he beholds God. He dreams, he feels himself great; be 
+dreams on, and feels himself tender. From the egotism of the 
+man who suffers he passes to the compassion of the man*who 
+meditates. An admirable sentiment breaks forth in him, for- 
+gctfulness of self and pity for all. As he thinks of the inuu- 
+merable enjoyments which nature offers, gives, and lavishes to 
+souls which stand open, and refuses to souls that are closed, he 
+comes to pity, he the millionnaire of the mind, the millionnaire ol 
+money. All hatred departs from his heart, in proportion as 
+light penetrates his spirit. And is he unhappy? No. The 
+misery of a young man is never miserable. The first young lad 
+who comes to hand, however poor he may \>e, with his strenprth, 
+his healthy his rapid walk, his brilliant eyes» his warmly circula- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS, 108 
+
+ting blood, ûis black hair, his red lips, his white teeth, his pure 
+breath, wilî always arouse the envy of an aged emporor. And 
+then, every morning, he sets himself afresh to the task of earn- 
+ing his 1)read ; and while his hands earn his bread, his dorsal 
+column gains pride, his brain gathers ideas. His task finished, 
+he returns to ineffable ecstasies, to contemplation, to joys ; he 
+beiiolds his feet set in afflictions, in obstacles, on the pavement, 
+in the nettles, sometimes in the mire; his head in the light. 
+He is firm, serene, gentle, peaceful, attentive, serious, content 
+with little, kindly ; and he thanks God for having bestowed on 
+faini those two forms of riches which many a rich man lacks : 
+work, which makes him free; and thought, which makes him 
+dignified. 
+
+This is what had happened with Marius. To tell the truth, 
+he inclined a little too much to the side of contemplation. 
+From the day when he had succeeded in earning his living with 
+some approach to certainty, he had stopped, thinking it good 
+to be poor, and retrenching time from his work to give to 
+thought; that is to say, he sometimes passed entire days in 
+meditation, absorbed, engulfed, like a visionary, in the mute 
+voluptuousness of ecstasy and inward radiance. He had thus 
+propounded the problem of his life : to toil as little as possible 
+at material labor, in order to toil as much as possible at the 
+labor which is impalpable ; in other words, to bestow a few 
+hours on real life, and to cast the rest to the infinite. As he 
+believed that he lacked nothing, he did not perceive that con- 
+templation, thus understood, ends by becoming one of the 
+forms of idleness ; that he was contenting himself with con- 
+quering the first necessities of life, and that he was resting 
+from his labors too soon. 
+
+It was evident that, for this energetic and enthusiastic nature, 
+this could only be a transitory state, and that, at the first shock 
+against the inevitable complications of destiny, Marius would 
+awaken. 
+
+In the meantime, although he was a lawyer, and whatever 
+Father Gillenormand thought about the matter, he was not 
+practising, he was not even pettifogging. Meditation had 
+turned him aside from pleading. To haunt attorneys, to follow 
+the court, to hunt up cases — what a bore ! Why should he do 
+it? He saw no reason for changing the mannar of gaining his 
+livelihood? The obscure and ill-paid publishing establishment 
+had come to mean for him a sure source of work which did not 
+involve too much labor, as we have explained, and which suf 
+Slced for his wants. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+juiun.) uiLi^icvi tu i>u.n.c uiui invj uio i^nu uuuac, \,u luu^u iiiuj wtru« 
+
+to furnish him with regular occupation, and to give him fifteen 
+hundred francs a 3ear. To be well lodged ! Fifteen hundred 
+francs ! No doubt. But renounce his liberty ! Be on fixed 
+wages! A sort of hired man of letters! According to 
+Marins' opinion, if he accepted, his position would be€x>me 
+both better and worse at the same time, he acquired comfort, 
+and lost his dignit}' ; it was a fine and complete unhappiness 
+converted into a repulsive and ridiculous state of torture : 
+Bomething like the case of a blind man who should recover the 
+sight of one eye. He refused. 
+
+Maiius dwelt in solitude. Owing to his taste for remaining 
+outside of everything, and through having been too much 
+alarmed, he had not entered decidedly into the group presided 
+over by Enjolras. They had remained good friends ; they were 
+ready to assist each other on occasion in every possible way ; 
+but nothing more. Marins had two friends : one young, Cour- 
+feyrac ; and one old, M. Mabeuf . He inclined more to the old 
+man. In the first place, he owed to him the revolution which 
+bad taken place within him ; to him he was indebted for having 
+known and loved his father. ^* He operated on me for a cata- 
+ract," he said. 
+
+Tlae churchwarden had certainly played a decisive part. 
+
+It was not, however, that M. Mabeuf had been anything but 
+the calm and impassive agent of l^ovideuce in this connection. 
+He had enlightened Marins by chance and without being aware 
+of the fact, as does a candle which some one brings ; he had 
+been the candle and not the some one. 
+
+As for Marins' inward political revolution, M. Mal>euf was 
+totally incapable of comprehending it, of willing or of direct- 
+ing it. 
+
+As we shall see M. Mabeuf again, later on, a few words will 
+not be superfluous. 
+
+
+
+IV. — M. Mabeuf. 
+
+On the day when M. Mabeuf said to Marins : '* Certainly I 
+approve of political opinions," he expressed the real state" of 
+his mind. All political opinions were matters of indifference to 
+him, and he approved them all, without distinction, provided 
+they loft him in peace, as the Greeks called the Furies *' the 
+beautiful, the. good, the charming," the Eumenides. M. Ma« 
+
+
+
+MARI us. 109 
+
+beaf s political opinion consisted in a passionate love for plants, 
+and, above all, for books. Like all the rest of the world, he 
+possessed the termination in ist^ witliout which no one could 
+exist at that time, but he was neither a Royalist, a Bouapartist, 
+a Chartist, an Orleanist, nor an Anarchist ; he was a bovquinist^ 
+a collector of old books. He did not understand how men 
+could busy themselves with hating each other because of silly 
+stuff like the charter, democracy, legitimacy, monarchy, the re- 
+public, etc., when there were in the world all sorts of mosses, 
+grasses, and shrubs which they might be looking at, and heaps 
+of folios, and even of d2mos, which they might turn over. 
+He took good care not to become useless; having books did 
+not prevent his reading, being a botanist did not prevent his 
+being a gardener. When he made Fontmercy's acquaintance, 
+this sympathy had existed between the colonel and himself — 
+that what the colonel did for flowers, he did for fruits. M. Ma« 
+beuf had succeeded in producing seedling pears as savory as 
+the pears of St. Germain ; it is fïrom one of his combinations, 
+apparently, that the October Mirabelle, now celebrated and 
+no less perfumed than the summer Mirabelle, owes its origin. 
+He went to mass rather from gentleness than from piety, and 
+because, as he loved the faces of men, but hated their noise, 
+he found them assembled and silent only in church. Feeling 
+that he must be something in the State, he had chosen the 
+career of warden. However, he had never succeeded in loving 
+any woman as much as a tulip bulb, nor any man as much as 
+an Elzevir. He had long passed sixty, when, one day, some 
+one asked him : "Have you never been married?" '* I have 
+forgotten," said he. When it sometimes happened to him — 
+and to whom does it not happen? — to say: "Oh! if I were 
+only rich ! " it was not when ogling a pretty girl, as was the 
+case with Father Gillenormand, but when contemplating an old 
+book. He lived alone with an old housekeeper. He was some* 
+what gout}*, and when he was asleep, his aged fingers, stiffened 
+with rheumatism, lay crooked up in the folds of his sheets. He 
+had composed and published a Fl(yi*a of the Environs of Cauteretz^ 
+with colored plates, a work which enjoyed a tolerable measure 
+of esteem and which sold well. People rang his bell, in the 
+Rue Mésières, two or three times a day, to ask for it. He drew 
+as much as two thousand francs a year from it ; this constituted 
+nearly the whole of his fortune. Although poor, he had had the 
+talent to form for himself, by dint of patience, privations, and 
+time, a precious collection of rare copies of every sort. He 
+never went out without a book under his arm, and he often 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+106 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+returned with two. The sole decoration of the four rooms on 
+the ground floor, which composed his lodgings, consisted ot 
+framed herbariums, and engravings of the old mastci's. The 
+sight of a sword or a gun chilled his blood. He had never 
+approached a cannon in his life, even at the Invalides. He had 
+a passable stomach, a brother who was a curé, perfectly white 
+'lair, no teeth, either in his mouth or his mind, a trembling in 
+3 7ery limb, a Picard accent, an infantile laugh, the air of an 
+jld sheep, and lie was easily frightened. Add to this, that he 
+had no other friendship, no other acquaintance among the living, 
+than an old bookseller of the Porte-Sain t-Jacques, named Royal. 
+His dream was to naturalize indigo in France. 
+
+His servant was also a sort of innocent. The poor gooiî oia 
+woman was a spinster. Sultan, her cat, which might have 
+mewed AUegii's miserere in the Sixtine Chapel, had filled her 
+heart and sulHced for the quantity of passion which existed in 
+her. None of her dreams bad ever proceeded as far as man. 
+She had never been able to get fiu'ther than her cat. Like him, 
+she had a ihustache. Her glory consisted in her caps, which 
+were always white. She passed her time, on Sundays, after 
+mass, in counting over the linen in her chest, and in spreading 
+out on her bed the dresses in the piece which she bought and 
+never had made up. She knew how to read. M. Mabeuf had 
+nicknamed her Mother Plutarque. 
+
+M. Mabeuf had taken a fancy to Marius, because Marias, 
+being young and gentle, warmed his age without startling his 
+timidity. Youth . combined with gentleness produces on old 
+people the effect of the sun witliout wind. When Marius was 
+saturated with military glory, with gunpowder, with marches 
+and countermarches, and with all those prodigious battles in 
+which his father had given and received such tremendous blows 
+of the sword, he went to see M. Mabeuf, and M. Mabeuf talked 
+to him of his hero from the point of view of flowers. 
+
+His brother the curé died about 1880, and almost immediately, 
+as when the night is drawing on, the whole horizon grew dark 
+for M. Mabeuf. A notary's failure deprived him of the sum of 
+ten thousand francs, which was all that he possessed in his 
+brother's right and his own. The Revolution of July brought a 
+crisis to publishing. In a period of embarrassment, the first 
+thing which does not sell is a Flora, The Flora of the Environs 
+of Cauteretz stopped short. Weeks passed by without a single 
+purchaser. Sometimes M. Mabeuf started at the sound of tiie 
+bell. *' Monsieur," said Mother Plutarqne sadly. 'Mt is the 
+water-carrier." la short, one day, M. Mabeuf quitted the Roe 
+
+
+
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+MA RI us. 107 
+
+Mésîères, abdicated the functions of warden, gave up Saint- 
+Sulpice, sold not a pai-t of his books, but of his prints, — that 
+to which he was the least attached, — and installed himself in a 
+little honse on the Rue Montparnasse, where, however, he re- 
+mained but one quarter for two reasons : in the first place, the 
+groond floor and the garden cost three hundred francs, and he 
+dared not spend more than two hundred francs on his rent; 
+in the second, being near Fatou's shooting-gallery, he could hear 
+the pistol-shots ; which was intolerable to him. 
+
+He carried off his Mora^ his copper-plates, his herbariums, 
+bis portfolios, and his books, and established himself near the 
+Salpêtrière, in a sort of thatched cottage of the village of Aus- 
+terlitz, where, for fifty crowns a year, he got three rooms and a 
+garden enclosed by a hedge, and containing a well. He took 
+advantage of this removal to sell off nearly all his furniture. 
+On the day of his entrance into his new quarters, he was very 
+gay, and drove the nails on which his engravings and herbariums 
+were to hang, with his own hands, dug ii: his garden the rest of 
+the day, and at night, perceiving that Mother Plutarque had a 
+melancholy air, and was very thoughtful, he tapped her on the 
+shoulder and said to her with a smile : ^^ We have the indigo ! " 
+
+Only two visitors, the bookseller of the Porte-Saint-Jacques 
+and Marius, were admitted to view the thatched cottage at 
+Ansterlitz, a brawling name which was, to tell the truth, ex- 
+tremely disagreeable to him. 
+
+However, as we have just pointed out, brains which are ab- 
+sorbed in some bit of wisdom, or folly, or, as it often happens, 
+in both at once, are but slowly accessible to the things of actual 
+life. Their own destiny is a far-off thing to them. There 
+results from such concentration a passivity, which, if it were the 
+outcome of reasoning, would resemble philosophy. One declines, 
+descends, trickles away, even crumbles away, and yet is hardly 
+conscious of it one's self. It always ends, it is true, in an awak- 
+ening, bot the awakening is tardy. In the meantime, it seems aa 
+though we held ourselves neutral in the game which is going on 
+between oar happiness and our unhappiness. We are the stake, 
+and we look on at the game with indifference. 
+
+It is thus that, athwart the cloud which formed about him, 
+when all his hopes were extingnished one after the other, M. 
+Mabenf remained rather puerilely, but profoundly serene. 
+His habits of mind had the regular swing of a pendulum. Once 
+mounted on an illusion, he went for a very long time, even after 
+the illusion had disappeared. A clock does not stop short al 
+tbe precise moment when the key is lost* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+108 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+M. Mabeuf had his innoceat pleasures. These pleasures 
+were inexpensive and unexpected ; the merest chance furnished 
+them. One day, Mother Piutarque was reading a romance in 
+one corner of the room. She was reading ' aloud, finding tha 
+she understood better thus. To read aloud is to assure one's sell 
+of what one is reading. There are people who read very load, 
+and who have the appearence of giving themselves their word of 
+honor as to what they are perusing. 
+
+It was with this sort of energy that Mother Piutarque was 
+leading the romance which she had in hand. M. Mabenf heard 
+her without listening to her. 
+
+In the course of her reading, Mother Piutarque came to thia 
+phrase. It was a question of an officer of dragoons and a 
+beauty : — 
+
+" — The beauty pouted, and the dragoon — *' 
+
+Here she interrupted herself to wi|)e her glasses. 
+
+^'Bouddha and the Drt^on," struck in M. Mabenf in a low 
+voice. ^^ Yes, it is true that there was a dragon, which, from 
+the depths of its cave, spouted flame through his maw and set 
+the heavens on fire. Many stars had already been consumed 
+by this monster, which, besides, had tlie claws of a tiger. 
+Bouddha went into its den and succeeded in converting the 
+dragon. That is a good book that you are reading. Mother 
+Piutarque. There is no more beautiful legend in existence.** 
+
+And M. Mabeuf fell into a delicious revery. 
+
+
+
+V. — Poverty a Good Nbighbob for Misert. 
+
+Marius liked this candid old man who saw himself gradually 
+falling into tbe clutches of indigence, and who came to feel 
+astonishment, little by little, without, however, being made 
+melancholy by it. Marius met Courfeyrac and sought out M. 
+Mabeuf. Very rarely, however ; twice a month at most. 
+
+Marius' pleasure consisted in taking long walks alone on the 
+outer boulevards, or in the Champs-de-Mars, or in the least 
+frequented alleys of the Luxembourg. He often spent half a 
+day in gazing at a market garden, the beds of lettuce, the chick- 
+ens on the dung-heap, the horse turning the water-wheel. The 
+passers-by stared at him in surprise, and some of them thought 
+his attire suspicious and his mien sinister. He was only a poor 
+young man dreaming in an objectless way. 
+
+It was during one of his strolls that he had hit upon the 
+Gorbeau house, and, tempted by its isolation and its cheapness. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+MARIUS. 1(H( 
+
+bAd taken up his abode there. He was known there only undet 
+tlie name of M. Marins. 
+
+Some of his father's old generals or old comrades had in 
+vited him to go and see them, when they learned about 
+him. Marius had not refused their invitations. They af- 
+forded opportunities of talking about his father. Thus he 
+^ent from time to time, to Comte Pajol, to General Bellavesne, 
+to General Fririon, to the Invalides. There was music and 
+iancing there. On such evenings, Marius put on his new 
+3oat. But he never went to these evening parties or balls 
+except on days when it was freezing cold, because he could not 
+afford a carriage, and he did not wish to arrive with boots other* 
+wise than like mirrors. 
+
+He said sometimes, but without bitterness: ^^Men are so 
+made that in a drawing-room you may be soiled everywhere 
+except on your shoes. In oi'der to insure a good reception 
+there, only one irreproachable thing is asked of you ; your con- 
+science? No, your boots." 
+
+All passions except those of the heart are dissipated by 
+revery- Marias' political fevers vanished thus. The Revolu- 
+tion of 1830 assisted in the process, by satisfying and calming 
+him. He remained the same, setting aside his fits of wrath. 
+He still held the same opinions. Only, they had been tempered. 
+To speak accurately, he had no longer any opinions, he had 
+sympathies. To what party did he belong? To the party of 
+humanity. Out of humanity he chose France ; out of the Nation 
+he chose the people ; out of the people he chose the woman. 
+It was to that point above all, that his pit}- was directed. Now 
+he preferred an idea to a deed, a poet to a hero, and he 
+admired a book like Job more than an event like Marengo. 
+And then, when, after a day spent in meditation, he returned 
+in the evening through the boulevards, and caught a glimpse 
+through the branches of the trees of the fathomless space be- 
+yond, the nameless gleams, the abyss, the shadow, the mystery, 
+all that which is only human seemed very petty indeed to him. 
+
+He thought that he had, and he really had, in fact, arrived 
+at the truth of life and of human philosophy, and he had ended 
+bj gazing at nothing but heaven, the only thing which Truth 
+oan perceive from the bottom of her well. 
+
+This did not prevent him from multiplying his plans, his com- 
+binations, his scaffoldings, his projects for tlie future. In this 
+state of reveiy, an eye which could have cast a glance into 
+Marius' interior would have been dazzled with the purity of 
+that soul. In fact, had it been given to our eyes of the flesb 
+
+
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+110 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+to gaze into the consciences of others, we should be able to 
+judge a man much more surely according to what he dreams^ 
+than according to what he thinks. There is will in thought.» 
+there is none in dreams. Revery, which is utterk spontaneous, 
+takes and keeps, even in the gigantic and the ideal, the form 
+of our spirit. Nothing proceeds more directl}' and more sin- 
+oerely from the very depth of our soul, than our unpremedi* 
+tated and boundless aspirations towards the splendors of des- 
+tiny. In these aspirations, much more than in deliberate, 
+rational co-onlinated ideas, is the real character of a man to be 
+found. Our chimœras are the things which the most resemble 
+us. Each one of us dreams of the unknown and the impossi- 
+ble in accordance with his nature. 
+
+Towards the middle of this 3'ear 1831, the old woman who 
+waited on Marius told him that his neighbors, the wretched 
+Jondrette family, had been turned out of doors. Marius, who 
+passed nearly the whole of his days out of the house, hardly knew 
+that he had any neighbors. 
+
+" Why are they turned out? " he asked. 
+
+^^ Because they do not pay their rent ; they owe for two quar- 
+ters." 
+
+"How much is it?" 
+
+'* Twenty francs," said the old woman. 
+
+Marius had thirty francs saved up in a drawer. 
+
+"Here," he said to the old woman," take these twenty-five 
+francs. Pay for the poor people and give them five francs, and 
+do not tell them that it was I." 
+
+
+
+VI. — Thb Substitute. 
+
+It chanced that the regiment to which Lieutenant Théodale 
+belonged came to perform garrison duty in Paris. This 
+inspired Aunt Gillenormand with a second idea. She had, on 
+the first occasion, hit upon the plan of having Marius spied 
+upon by Théodule : now she plotted to have Théodole take 
+Marius' place. 
+
+At all events and in case the grandfather should feel the 
+vague need of a young face in the house, — these rays of dawn 
+are sometimes sweet to ruin, — it -was expedient to find another 
+Murius. " Take it as a simple erratum," she thought, " such as 
+one sees in books. For Marius, read Théodule." 
+
+A grand nephew is almost the same as a grandson ; in default 
+Df a lawyer one takes a lancer. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS 111 
+
+One morning, when M. Gillenormand was about to read 
+Bomething in the Quotidienne^ his daughter entered and said to 
+him in her sweetest voice ; for the question concerned hei 
+favorite : — 
+
+^' Father, Théodule is coming to present his respects to yoa 
+this morning." 
+
+"Who's Théodule?" 
+
+" Your grandnephew." 
+
+** Ah ! " said the grandfather. 
+
+Then he went back to his reading, thought no more of bis 
+grandnephew, who was merely some Théodule or other, and 
+soon flew into a rage, which almost always happened when he 
+read. The ''sheet" which he held, although Royalist, of 
+course, announced for the following day, without any softening 
+phrases, one of these little events which were of daily occur- 
+rence at that date in Paris : ' ' That the students of the 
+schools of law and medicine were to assemble on the Place du 
+Panthéon, at midday, — to deliberate." The discussion con- 
+cerned one of the questions of the moment, the artillery of the 
+National Guard, and a conflict between the Minister of War 
+and " the citizen's militia," on the subject of the cannon 
+parked in the courtyard of the Louvre. The students were to 
+" deliberate" over this. It did not take much more than this 
+to swell M. Gillenormand's rage. 
+
+He thought of Marius, who was a student, and who would 
+probably go with the rest, to " deliberate, at middav, on the 
+Place du Panthéon. " 
+
+As he was indulging in this painful dream. Lieutenant Théo- 
+dale entered clad in plain clothes as a bourgeois, which was 
+clever of him, and was discreetly introduced by Mademoiselle 
+Gillenormand. The lancer had reasoned as follows : " The old 
+druid has not sunk all his money in a life pension. It is well 
+"o disguise one's self as a civilian from time to time.*' 
+
+Mademoiselle Gillenormand said aloud to her father:— 
+
+** Théodule, your grandnephew." 
+
+And in a Jow voice, to the lieutenant:*-* 
+
+** Approve of everything." 
+
+And she withdrew. 
+
+The lieutenant, who was but little accustomed to such ven* 
+arable encounters, stammered with some timidity : " Good day, 
+uncle," — and made a salute composed of the involuntary and 
+mechanical outline of the military salute finished off as a bour* 
+gtsois salute* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+That said, he totally forgot the lancer. 
+
+Théodule seated himself, and M. Gillenormand rose. 
+
+M. Gillenormand began to pace back and forth, his hands in 
+his pockets, talking aloud, and twitching, with his irritated old 
+fingers, at the two watches which he wore in his two fobs. 
+
+'' That pack of brats ! they convene on the Place du Pan- 
+théon ! by my life ! urchins who were with their nurses but yes- 
+terday ! If one were to squeeze their noses, milk would burst 
+out. And they deliberate to-morrow, at midday. What are 
+we coming to? What are we coming to? It is clear that 
+we are making for the abyss. That is what the desca- 
+misados have brought us to ! To deliberate on tiie citizen 
+artillery! To go and jabber in the open air over the jibes 
+of the National Guard ! And with whom are they to meet 
+there ? Just see whither Jacobinism leads. I will bet anything 
+you like, a million against a counter, that there will be no one 
+there but returned convicts and released galley-slaves. The 
+Republicans and the galley-slaves, — they form but one nose 
+and one handkerchief. Carnot used to say : ' Where would 
+you have me go, traitor?' Fouché replied: 'Wherever you 
+please, imbecile!' That's what the Republican? are like" 
+
+" That is true," said Théodule. 
+
+M. Gillenormand half turned his head, saw Théodule, and 
+went on : — 
+
+" When one reflects that that scoundrel was so vile as to turn 
+carbonaro I Why did you leave my house? To go and become 
+a Republican ! Pssst ! In the first place, the people want none 
+of your republic, they have common sense, they know well that 
+there always have been kings, and that there always will be ; they 
+know well that the people are only the people, after all, thej 
+make sport of it, of your republic — do you understand, idiot? 
+Is it not a horrible caprice ? To fall in love with Père Duchesne, 
+to make sheep's-eyes at the guillotine, to sing romances, and 
+play on the guitar under the balcony of '93 — it's enough to 
+make one spit ou all these young fellows, such fools are tiiey ! 
+They are all alike. Not one escapes. It suffices for them to 
+breathe the air which blows through the street to lose their 
+senses. The nineteenth century is poison. The first scamp 
+that happens along lets his beard gi-ow like a goat's, thinks 
+himself a real scoundrel, and abandons his old relatives. He's 
+a Roi)ublican, he's a romantic. What does that mean, romantic? 
+Do me the favor to tell me what it is. All possible follies. A 
+
+
+
+
+MARius. lia 
+
+year ago, they ran to Hemani. Now, I just ask you, Hemcmil 
+autitheses ! abominations which are not even written in French ! 
+And then, they have cannons in the courtyai*d of the Louvre. 
+Such are the rascalities of this age I " 
+
+*' You are right, uncle, " said Théodule. 
+
+M. Gillenormaud resumed : — 
+
+" Cannons in the courtyard of the Museum ! For what pur- 
+pose ? Do you want to fire grape-shot at the Apollo Belvedere ? 
+What have those cartridges to do with the Venus de Medici ? 
+Jh! the young men of the present day are all blackguards! 
+What a petty creature is their Benjamin Constant! And 
+those who are not rascals are simpletons ! They do all they 
+can to make themselves ugly, they are badly dressed, they are 
+afraid of women, in the presence of petticoats they have a mendi* 
+cant air which sets the girls into fits of laughter; on my word 
+of honor, one would say the poor creatures were ashamed of 
+love. They are deformed, and they complete themselves by 
+being stupid; they repeat the puns of Tiercelin and Potier, 
+they have sack coats, stablemen's waistcoats, shirts of coarse 
+linen, trousers of coarse cloth, boots of coarse leather, and 
+their ligmarole resembles their plumage. One might make use 
+of their jargon to put new soles on their old shoes. And all this 
+awkward batch of brats has political opinions, if you please. 
+Political opinions should be strictly forbidden. They fabricate 
+systems, they recast society, they demolish the monarchy, they 
+fling all laws to the earth, they put the attic in the cellar's place 
+and my porter in the place of the King, they turn Europe topsy- 
+turvy, they reconstruct the world, and all their love affairs 
+consist in staring slily at the ankles of the laundresses as these 
+women climb into their carts. Ah ! Marins ! Ah ! you black- 
+guard ! to go and vociferate on the public place ! to discuss, to 
+debate, to take measures ! They call that measures, just God ! 
+Disorder humbles itself and becomes silly. I have seen chaos, I 
+now see a mess. Students deliberating on the National Guard, 
+— such a thing could not be seen among the Ogibewas nor the 
+Cadodaches ! Savages who go naked, with their noddles dressed 
+like a shuttlecock, with a club in their paws, are less of brutes 
+than those bachelors of arts ! The four-penny monkeys ! And 
+they set up for judges ! Those creatures deliberate and ratioci- 
+nate ! The end of the world is come ! This is plainly the end 
+of this miserable ten-aqueous globe ! A final hiccough was 
+required, and France has emitted it. Deliberate, my rascals ! 
+Such things will happen so long as they go and read the news- 
+papers under the arcades of the Odéon. That costs them r 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+114 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+sou, and theit good sense, and their intelligence, and their heart 
+and their soul, and their wits. They euiei^e thence, and ed- 
+camp from their families. All newspai>ers are pests ; all, even 
+the Drapeau Blanc! At bottom, Martain ville was a Jacobin. 
+Ah ! just Heaven ! you may boast of having driven your grand- 
+father to despair, that you may ! " 
+
+*'That is evident," said Théodule. 
+
+And profiting by the fact that M. Gillenormand was taking 
+breath, the lancer added in a magisterial manner : — 
+
+" There should be no other newspaper than the Moniteur.^ 
+and no other book than the Amiuaire Militaire,'^ 
+
+M. Gillenormand continued : — 
+
+^'It is like their Sieves ! A regicide ending in a senator ; for 
+that is the way they always end. They give themselves a scar 
+with the address of thou as citizens, in oixler to get themselves 
+called, eventually. Monsieur le Conite. Monsieur le Comte as 
+big as my arm, assassins of September. The philosopher 
+Sieyès ! I will do myself the justice to say, that I have nevei 
+had any better opinion of the philosophies of all those philoso- 
+phers, than of the spectacles of the grimacer of Tivoli ! One 
+day I saw the Senators cross the Quai Malplaquet in mantles of 
+violet velvet sown with bees, with hats à la Henri IV. They 
+were hideous. One would have pronounced them monkeys 
+from the tiger's court. Citizens, I declare to you, that your 
+progress is madness, that your humanity is a dream, that your 
+revolution is a crime, that your republic is a monster, that your 
+young and virgin France comes from the brothel, and I main- 
+tain it against all, whoever you may be, whether journalists, econ- 
+omists, legists, or even were you better judges of liberty, of 
+equality, and fraternity than the knife of the guillotine ! And 
+that I announce to you, my fine fellows !" 
+
+*' Parbleu ! " cried the lieutenant, ''that is wonderfully true." 
+
+M. Gillenormand paused in a gesture which he had begun, 
+wheeled round, stared Lancer Théodule intently in the eyes- 
+and said to him : — 
+
+(^ Yoa are afoo^^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MA RI us. Hi 
+
+
+
+BOOK SIXTH.— THE CONJUNCTION OF TWO STARS 
+I, — The Sobriquet : Mode of Formation of Family Names, 
+
+Mari us was, at Ibis epoch, a handsome youug man, of 
+medium stature, with thick and intensely black hair, a lofty 
+and intelligent brow, well-opened and passionate nostrils, an 
+air of calmness and sincerity, and with something indescribably 
+proud, thoughtful, and innocent over his whole countenance. 
+His profile, all of whose lines were rounded, without thereby 
+losing their firmness, had a certain Germanic sweetness, which 
+has made its way into the French physiognomy by wa}- of 
+Alsace and Lorraine, and that complete absence of angles 
+which rendered the Sicambres so easily recognizable among the 
+Romans, and which distinguishes tlie leonine from the aquiline 
+race. He was at that period of life when the mind of men who 
+think is composed, in nearly equal parts, of depth and ingenu- 
+ousness. A grave situation being given, he had all that is re- 
+quired to be stupid : one more turn of the key, and he might be 
+sublime. His manners were reserved, cold, polished, not very 
+genial. As his mouth was charming, his lips the reddest, and 
+his teeth the whitest in the world, his smile corrected the se- 
+verity of his face, as a whole. At certain moments, that pure 
+brow and that voluptuous smile presented a singular contrast. 
+His eyes were small, but his glance was larsre. 
+
+At the period of his most abject misery, he had observed tliat 
+voung girls turned round when he passed by, and he fled or hid, 
+with death in his soul. He thought that they were staring at 
+him because of his old clothes, antl that they were laughing at 
+them ; the fact is, that they stared at him because of his grace, 
+and that they dreamed of him. 
+
+This mute misunderstanding between him and the pretty 
+passers-by had made him shy. He chose none of them for the 
+excellent reason that he fled from all of them. He lived thus 
+indefinitely, — stupidly, as Courfej'rac said. 
+
+Coorfeyrac also said to him: '' Do not aspire to be vener- 
+able " [they called each other thou; it is the tendency of youth- 
+ful friendships to slip into this mode of address]. '' Let me give 
+you a piece of advice, my dear fellow, l>on't read so many 
+books, and look a little more at the lasses. The jades havf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+116 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Bome good points about them, O Marius ! By dint of fleeing 
+and blushing, you will become brutalized." 
+
+On otlier occasions, Courfeyrac encountered him and said :— - 
+" Good morning, Monsieur TAbbé !" 
+
+When Courfeyrac had addressed to him some remark of this 
+nature, Marius avoided women, both young and old, more thao 
+ever for a week to come, and he avoided Courfeyrac to boot. 
+
+Nevertherlcss, there existed in all the immensity of creation., 
+iwo women whom Marius did not flee, and to whom he paid no 
+attention whatever. In truth, he would have been very much 
+amazed if be had been informed that they were women. One 
+was the bearded old woman who swept out his chamber, and 
+caused Courfeyrac to say: '^Seeing that bis servant woman 
+wears his beard, Marius does not wear his own beard. " The 
+other was a sort of little girl whom he saw very often, and whom 
+he never looked at. 
+
+For more than a year, Marius had noticed in one of the walks 
+of the Luxembourg, the one which skirts the parapet of the 
+Pépinière, a man and a ver}* 3'oung girl, who were almost always 
+seated side by side on the same bench, at the most solitary end 
+of the alley, ou the Rue de TOuest side. Ever}' time that that 
+chance which meddles with the strolls of persons whose gaze is 
+turned inwards, led Marius to that walk, — and it was nearly 
+every day, — he found this couple there. The man appeared to 
+be about sixty years of age ; he seemed sad and serious ; his 
+whole person presented the robust and weary aspect peculiar 
+to mihtary men who have retired from the service. If he had 
+worn a decoration, Marius would have said : '^ He is an ex- 
+officer." He had kindly but unapproachable air, and he never 
+let his glance linger on the eyes of any one. He wore blue trou* 
+sers, a blue frock coat and a broad -brimmed hat, which alwa^^s 
+appeared to be new, a black cravat, a quaker shirt, that is to say, 
+it was dazzlingly white, but of coarse linen. A grisette whc 
+passed near hira one day, said : '' Here's a very tidy widower/ 
+His hair was very white. 
+
+The first time that the young girl who accompanied him came 
+and seated herself on the bench which they seemed to have 
+adopted, she was a sort of child thirteen or fourteen years of 
+age, so thin as to be almost homely, awkward, insignificant, and 
+with a possible promise of handsome ej'es. Only, they were al- 
+ways raised with a sort of displeasing assurance. Her dress was 
+both aged and childish, like the dress of the scholars in a con- 
+vent ; it consisted of a badly cut gown of black merino. They 
+bad the air of being father and daughter. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIU3. 117 
+
+Marias scanned this old man, who was not yet aged, and this 
+little girl, who was not yet a person, for a few days, and there- 
+after paid no attention to them. They, on their side, did not 
+appear even to see him. They conversed together with a peace- 
+ful and indifferent air. The girl chattered incessantly and mer- 
+rily. The old man talked but little, and, at times, he fixed on 
+her eyes overflowing with an ineffable paternity. 
+
+MariuB had acquired the mechanical habit of strolling in that 
+walk. He invariably found them there. 
+
+This is the way things went : — 
+
+Marius liked to arrive by the end of the alley which was fur- 
+thest from their bench ; he walked the whole length of the alley, 
+passed in f^ont of them, then returned to the extremity whence 
+he bad come, and began again. This he did five or six times in 
+the cburse of his promenade, and the promenade was taken five 
+or six times a week, without its having occurred to him or to 
+these people to exchange a greeting. That personage, and that 
+young girl, although they appeared, — and perhaps because they 
+appeared,' — to shun all glances, had, naturally, caused some 
+attention on the part of the five or six students who strolled 
+along the Pépinière from time to time ; the studious after their 
+lectures, the others after their game of billiards. Courfeyrac, 
+who was among the last, had observed them several times, but, 
+finding the girl homely, he had speedily and carefully kept out 
+of the way. He had fied, discharging at them a sobriquet, like 
+a Parthian dart. Impressed solely with the child's gown and 
+the old man's hair, he had dubbed the daughter Mademoiselle 
+Lanoire, and the father. Monsieur Leblanc, so that, as no one 
+knew them under any other title, this nickname became a law i» 
+the default of any other name. The students said: '*Ahl 
+Monsieur Leblanc is on his bench." And Marius, like the restf 
+had found it convenient to call this unknown gentleman Mon* 
+sieur Ijc blanc. 
+
+We shall follow their example, and we shall say M. Leblanc, 
+in order to facilitate this tale. 
+
+So Marius saw them nearly every day, at the same hour, dur- 
+ing the first year. He found the man to his taste, but the girl 
+insipid. 
+
+n. — Ltrx Facta Est. 
+
+During the second year, precisely at the point in this history 
+which the reader has now reached, it chanced that this habit of 
+the Luxembourg was interrupted, without Marius himself being 
+quite aware why, and nearly six months elapsed, during which 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+tlntner once more ; it was a serene summer morning, ana Ma- 
+rins was in joyous mood, as one is when the weather is fine. It 
+seemed to him that he had in his heart aL the songs of the birds 
+that he was listening to, and all the bits of blue sky of which he 
+caught glimpses through the leaves of the trees. 
+
+He went straight to ^^his alley," and when he reached the 
+end of it he perceived, still on the same bench, that well-known 
+couple. Only, when he approached, it certainly was the same 
+man ; but it seemed to him that it was no longer the same girl. 
+The person whom he now beheld was a tall and beautiful 
+creature, possessed of all the most charming lines of a woman 
+at the precise moment when they are still combined with all the 
+most ingenuous graces of the child ; a pure and fugitive mo- 
+nent, which can be expressed only by these two worjfs, — 
+' fifteen years." She had wonderful brown hair, shaded with 
+threads of gold, a brow that seemed made of marble, cheeka 
+that seemed made of rose-leaf, a pale flush, an agitated 
+whiteness, an exquisite mouth, whence smiles darted like 
+(sunbeams, and words like music, a head such as Raphael 
+would have given to Mary, set upon a neck that Jean Goujon 
+would have attributed to a Venus. And, in order that nothing 
+*uight be lacking to this bewitching face, her nose was not 
+handsome — it^ was pretty ; neither straight nor curved, neither 
+Italian nor Greek ; it was the Parisian nose, that is to say, 
+spiritual, delicate, irregular, pure, — which drives painters to 
+despair, and charms poets. 
+
+When Marius passed near her, he could not sec her eyes, 
+which were constantly lowered. He saw only her long chestnut 
+lashes, permeated with shadow and modesty. 
+
+This did not prevent the beautiful child from smiling as she 
+listened to what the white-haired old man was saying to her, 
+and nothing could be more fascinating than that fresh smile, 
+combined with those drooping eyes. 
+
+For a moment, Marius thought that she was another daughter 
+of the same man, a sister of the former, no doubt. But when 
+the invariable habit of his stroll brought him, for the second 
+time, near the bench, and he had examined her attentively, he 
+recognized her as the same. In six months the little girl had 
+become a young maiden ; that was all. Nothing is more fre- 
+quent than this phenomenon. There is a moment when ^irla 
+blossom out in the twinkling of an eye, and become roses all at 
+once. One left them children but yesterday ; to-day, one finds 
+them disquieting to the feelings. 
+
+
+
+MARI us. 119 
+
+This child had not onl}' gi'own, she had become idealized 
+As three days in April suffice to cover certain trees with flowers, 
+six months had sufficed to clothe her with beauty. Her April 
+had arrived. 
+
+One sometimes sees people, who, poor and mean, seem to 
+wake up, pass suddenly from indigence to luxury, indulge in 
+expenditures of all sorts, and become dazzling, prodigal, magnifi 
+cent, all of a sudden. That is the result of having pocketed 
+an income ; a note fell due yesterday. The young girl had 
+received her quarterly income. 
+
+And then, she was no longer the school-girl with her felt 
+bat, her merino, gown, her scholar's shoes, and red hands ; taste 
+had o6me to her with beauty ; she was a well-dressed person, 
+clad with a sort of rich and simple elegance, and without affec- 
+tation. She wore a dress of black damask, a cape of the same 
+material, and bonnet of white crape. Her white gloves dis- 
+played the delicacy of the hand which toyed with the carved, 
+Chinese ivory handle of a parasol, and her silken shoe out- 
+lined the smallness of her foot. When one passed near her, 
+her whole toilette exhaled a youthful and penetrating perfume. 
+
+As for the man, he was the same as usual. 
+
+The second time that Marius approached her, the young girl 
+raised her eyelids ; her eyes were of a deep, celestial blue, but 
+in that veiled azure, there was, as yet, nothing but the glance of 
+a child. She looked at Marius indifferently, as she would have 
+stared at the brat running beneath the sycamores, or the marble 
+vase which cast a shadow on the bench, and Marius, on his 
+side, continued his promenade, and thought about something 
+else. 
+
+He passed near the bench where the young girl sat, five or 
+8ÎX times, but without even turning his eyes in her direction. 
+
+On the following days, he returned, as was his wont, to the 
+Luxembourg ; as usual, he found there " the father and daugh- 
+ter"; but he paid no further attention to them. He thought 
+no more about the girl now that she was beautiful, than he had 
+when she was homely. He passed very near the bench where 
+she sat, because such was his habit. 
+
+
+
+HI. — Effect of the Sprino. 
+
+Owe da}', the air was warm, the Luxembourg was inundated 
+with light and shade, the sky was as pure as though the angels 
+had washed it that morning, the sparrows were eiving vent to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+120 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+little twittera in the depths of the chestnut-trees. Marins had 
+thrown open his whole soul to nature, he was not thinking of 
+anything, he simply lived and breathed, he passed near the 
+bench, the young girl raised her eyes to him, the two glances 
+met. 
+
+What was there in the young girl's glance on this occasion? 
+Marius could not have told. There was nothing and there was 
+everything. It was a strange flash. 
+
+She dropped her eyes, and he pursued his way. 
+
+What he had just seen was no longer the ingenuous and sin: 
+pie eye of a child; it was a mysterious gulf which had half 
+opened, then abruptly closed again. 
+
+There comes a day when the young girl glances In this 
+manner. Woe to him who chances to be there 1 
+
+That first gaze of a soul which does not, as yet, know itself, 
+is like the dawn in the sky. It is the awakening of something 
+radiant and strange. Notliing can give any idea of the danger- 
+ous charm of that unexpected gleam, which flashes suddenly and 
+vaguely forth from adorable shadows, and which is composed 
+of all the innocence of the present, and of all the passion of the 
+future. It is a sort of undecided tenderness which reveals 
+itself by chance, and which waits. It is a snare which the in- 
+nocent maiden sets unknown to heraelf , and in which she cap- 
+tures hearts without either wishing or knowing it. It is a vir- 
+gin looking like a woman. 
+
+It is rare that a profound revery does not spring from that 
+glance, where it falls. All purities and all candore meet in 
+that celestial and fatal gleam which, more than all the best- 
+planned tender glances of coquettes, possesses the magic power 
+of causing the sudden blossoming, in the depths of the soul, of 
+that sombre flower, impregnated with perfume and with poison, 
+which is called love. 
+
+That evening, on his return to his garret, Marius cast his eyes 
+over his garments, and preceived, for the fii'st time, that he had 
+been so slovenly, indecorous, and inconceivabh' stupid as to go 
+for his walk in the Luxembourg with his '^every-day clothes," 
+that is to say, with a hat battered near the band, coarse car- 
+ter's boots, black trousers which showed white at the knees, 
+and a black coat which was pale at the elbows. 
+
+IV. — Beginning op a Great Malady. 
+
+On the following day, at the accustomed hour, Marius dren 
+from his wardrobe his new coat, his new trousers, his new hat| 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUH. 121 
+
+and his new boots ; he clothed himself in this comi>'lete panoply, 
+pat on his gloves, a tremendous luxury, and set off for thfl 
+Luxembourg. 
+
+On the way thither, he encountered Courfeyrac, and pre- 
+tended not to see him. Courfeyrac, on his return home, said 
+to his friends : — 
+
+'* I have just met Marius' new hat and new coat, with 
+Marias inside them. He was going to pass an examination, 
+no doubt. He looked utterly stupid." 
+
+On arriving at the Luxembourg, Marias made the tour of tne 
+fountain basin, and stared at the swans ; then he remained for a 
+long time in contemplation before a statue whose head was 
+perfecth' black with mould, and one of whose hips was miss- 
+ing. Near the basin there was a bourgeois forty years of age, 
+with a prominent stomach, who was holding by the hand a little 
+archin of five, and saying to him : ** Shun excess, my son, keep 
+at an equal distance from despotism and from anarchy." 
+Marius listened to this bourgeois. Then he made the circuit 
+of the basin once more. At last he directed his course towards 
+*'his alley," slowly, and as if with regret. One would have 
+said that he was both forced to go there and withheld from doing 
+so. He did not perceive it himself, and thought that he was 
+doing as he always did. 
+
+On turning into the walk, he saw M. Leblanc and the young 
+^*rl at the other end, " on their bench." He buttoned his coat 
+up to the very top, pulled it down on his body so that there 
+might be no wrinkles, examined, with a certain complaisance, 
+the lustrous gleams of his trousers, and marched on the bench. 
+This march savored of an attack, and certainly of a desire 
+for conquest. So I say tliat he marched on the bench, as I 
+should say: "Hannibal marched on Rome." 
+
+However, all his movements were purely mechanical, and 
+he had interrupted none of the habitual preoccupations of his 
+mind and labors. At that moment, he was thinking that the 
+Manuel du Baccalauréat was a stupid book, and that it must 
+have been drawn up by rare idiots, to allow of three tragedies 
+of Racine and only one comedy of Molière being analyzed 
+therein as masterpieces of the human mind. There was a 
+piercing whistling going on in his ears. As he ap{)roached the 
+bench, he held fast to the folds in his coat, and fixed his eyes 
+on the young girl. It seemed to him that she filled the entire 
+extremity of the alley with a vague blue light. 
+
+In proportion as he drew near, his pace slackened more and 
+more. On arriving at some little distance from the bench, and 
+
+
+
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+
+
+
+by Google 
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+
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+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Marius betook bimself to the Luxembourg. 
+
+The young girl was there with M. Leblanc. Marina ap- 
+proached as near as he could, pretending to be busy reading a 
+book, but he halted afar off, then returned and seated himself 
+on his bench, where he spent four hours in watching the house- 
+sparrows who were skipping about the walk, and who produced 
+on him the impression that they were making sport of him. 
+
+A fortnight passed thus. Marius went to the Luxembourg 
+no longer for the sake of strolling there, but to seat himself 
+always in tlie same spot, and that without knowing why. Once 
+arrived there, he did not stir. He put on his new coat every 
+morning, for the purpose of not showing himself, and he began 
+all over again on the morrow. 
+
+She was decidedly a marvellous beauty. The only remark 
+approaching a criticism, that could be made, was, that the con- 
+tradiction between her gaze, which was melancholy, and her 
+smile, which was merry, gave a rather wild effect to her face, 
+which sometimes caused this sweet countenance to beconM 
+strange without ceasing to be charming. 
+
+
+
+VI. — Taken Prisonsb. 
+
+On one of the last days of the second week, Marios wa» 
+seated on his bench, as usual, holding in Ills hand an open book, 
+• of which he had not turned a page for the last two hours. All 
+at once, he started. An event was taking place at the other 
+extremity of the walk. Leblanc and his daughter had just 
+left their seat, and the daughter had taken her father's arm, 
+and both were advancing slowly, towards the middle of the 
+alley where Marius was. Marius closed his book, then opened 
+it again, then forced himself to read ; he trembled ; the aureole 
+was coming straight towards him. *'Ah! good Heavens!" 
+thought he, *^ I shall not have time to strike an attitade.** 
+Still the white-haired man and the girl advanced. It seemed to 
+him that this lasted for a century, and that it was but a second. 
+*' What are they coming in this direction for ? *' he asked himself. 
+*'What! She will pass here? Her feet will tread this sand, 
+this walk, two paces from me? " He was utterly upset, he would 
+have liked to be very handsome, he would have liked to own 
+the cross. He heard the soft and measured sound of tbeir 
+approaching footsteps. He imagined that M. Leblanc was dsi^ 
+
+
+
+when he raised it again, they were very near him. The young 
+girl passed, and as she passed, she glanced at him. She 
+gazed steadily at him, with a pensive sweetness whioh thrilled 
+Marias from head to foot. It seemed to him that she was 
+reproaching him for having allowed so long a time to elapse 
+without coming as far as her, and that she was saying to him : 
+^^I am coming myself." Marius was dazzled by those eyes 
+fraught with rays and abysses. 
+
+He felt his brain on fire. She had come to him, what joyli 
+And then, how she had looked at him ! She appeared to him 
+more beautiful than he had ever seen her yet. Beautiful with 
+a beauty which was wholly feminine and angelic, with a com* 
+plete beauty which would have made Petrarch sing and Dante 
+kneel. It seemed to him that he was floating free in the azure 
+heavens. At the same time, he was horribly vexed because 
+there was dust on his boots. • 
+
+He tliought he felt sure that she had looked at his boots too. 
+
+He followed her with his eyes, until she disappeared. Then 
+he started up and walked about the Luxembourg garden like a 
+madman. It is probable that, at times, he laughed to himself 
+and talked aloud. He was so dreamy when he came near the 
+children's nurses, that each one of them thought him in love 
+with her. 
+
+He quitted the Luxembourg, hoping to find her again in thtt 
+street. 
+
+He encountered Courfeyrac under the arcades of the Odéon, 
+and said to him: "Come and dine with me." They went off 
+to Rousseau's and spent six francs. Marins ate like an ogre. 
+He gave the waiter six sous. At dessert, he said to Cour- 
+feyrac. *'Have you read the paper? What a fine discourse 
+Audry de Puyraveau delivered 1 " 
+
+He was desperately in love. 
+
+After dinner, he said to Courfeyrac: '* I will treat yon 
+to the play." They went to the Porte-Saint-Martin to see 
+Frederick in r Auberge des Adrets. Marius was enormouslj 
+amused. 
+
+At the same time, he had a redoubled attack of shyness. 
+On emerging from the theatre, he refused to look at the gartei 
+of a modiste who was stepping across a gutter, and Cour- 
+feyrac, who said : ''I should like to put that woman in m^ 
+collection," almost horrified him. 
+
+Courfeyrac Invited him to breakfast at the Café Voltaire 
+
+
+
+
+Google 
+
+
+
+and very merry. One would have said that he was taking 
+advantage of evei*y occasion to laugh uproariously. He ten- 
+derly embraced some man or other from the provinces, who was 
+presented to him. A circle of students formed round the 
+table, and they spoke of the nonsense paid for by the State 
+whicii was uttered from the rostrum in the Sorbonne, then the 
+conversation fell upon the faults and omissions in Guichcrat's 
+dictionaries and grammars. Marius interrupted the discussion 
+to exclaim: ^^ But it is very agreeable, all the same to have 
+the cross ! " 
+
+" That's queer ! " whispered Courfeyrac to Jean Prouvaire. 
+
+" No," responded Prouvaire " that's serious." 
+
+It was serious ; in fact, Marius had reached that first riolent 
+and chaiming hour with which grand passions begin. 
+
+A glance had wrought all this. 
+
+When the mine is charged, when the conflagration ia ready, 
+nothing is more simple. A glance is a spark. 
+
+It was all over with him. Marius loved a woman. His 
+fate was entering the unknown. 
+
+The glance of women resembles certain combinations ol 
+wheels, which are tranquil in appearance yet formidable. You 
+pass close to them every day, peaceably and with impunity, and 
+without a suspicion of anything. A moment arrives when jou 
+forget that the thmg is there. You go and oome, dream, 
+speak, laugh. All at once you feel yourself clutched ; all is 
+over. The wheels hold you fast, the glance has ensnared you. 
+It has taught you, no matter where or how, by some portion of 
+your thought which was fluttering loose, by some distraction 
+which had attacked you. You are lost. The whole of you 
+passes into it. A chain of mysterious foi*ces takes possession 
+of you. You struggle in vain ; no more human succor is possi- 
+ble. You go on falling from gearing to gearing, from agony 
+•jo agony, from torture to torture, you, your mijid, your fortune, 
+your future, your soul ; and, according to whether you are in 
+the power of a wicked creature, or of a noble heart, you will 
+not escape from this terrifying machine otherwise tban di»* 
+6p9ired with shame, or transfigured by pasuon. 
+
+
+
+VII. — Advenitjres of the Letter U delivered over to 
+Conjectures. 
+
+Isolation, detachment from everything, pride, independence, 
+the taste of nature, the absence of daily and material activity, 
+the life within himself, the secret conflicts of chastity, a benevo- 
+lent ecstasy towards all creation, had prepared Marins for this 
+possession which is called passion. His worship of his father 
+had gradually become a religion, and, like all religions, it had 
+retreated to the depths of his soul. Something was required 
+in the foreground. Love came. 
+
+A full month elapsed, during which Marins went every day to 
+the Luxembourg. When the hour arrived, nothing could hold 
+him back. — *' He is on duty," said Courfeyrac. Marius lived 
+in a state of delight. It is certain that the young girl did look 
+at him. 
+
+He had finally grown bold, and approached the bench. Still, 
+he did not pass in front of it any more, in obedience to the 
+instinct of timidity and to the instinct of prudence common to 
+lovers. He considered it better not to attract " the attention 
+of the father." He combined his stations behind the trees 
+and the pedestals of the statues with a profound diplomacy, 
+80 that he might be seen as much as possible by the young girl 
+and as little as possible by the old gentleman. Sometimes, he 
+remained motionless by the half-hour together in the shade of 
+a Leonidas or a Spartacus, holding in his hand a book, above 
+which his eyes, gently raised, sought the beautiful girl, and she, 
+on her side, turned her charming profile towards him with a 
+vague smile. While conversing in the most natural and tran- 
+quil manner in the world with the white-haired man, she bent 
+upon Marius all the reveries of a virginal and passionate eye. 
+Ancient and time-honored manœuvre which Eve understood from 
+the very first day of the world, and which every woman under- 
+stands from the ver}- first day of her life ! her mouth replied to 
+one, and her glance replied to another. 
+
+It must be supposed, that M. Leblanc finally noticed some- 
+thing, for often, when Marius arrived, he rose and began to 
+walk abont. He had abandoned their accustomed place and 
+had adopted the bench by the Gladiator, near the other end of 
+the walk, as though with the object of seeing whether Marius 
+would pursue them thither. Marius did not understand, and 
+committed this error. *'The father" began to grow inexact, 
+
+
+
+opeci tne young girl in a delicious shiver, worthy of Virgirs 
+nymphs, and the fawns of Theocritus, and lifted her dress, 
+the rohc more sacred than that of Isis, almost to the height of 
+her garter. A leg of exquisite shape appeared. Marius saw it. 
+He was exasperated and furious. 
+
+The young girl had hastily thrust down her dress, with a 
+divinely troubled motion, but he was none the less angry for all 
+that. He was alone in the alley, it is true. But there might 
+have been some one there. And what if there had been some 
+one there ! Can any one comprehend such a thing ? What she 
+has just done is horrible ! — Alas ! the poor child had done noth- 
+ing ; there had been but one culprit, the wind ; but Marius, in 
+whom quivered the Bartholo who exists in Chérubin, was deter- 
+mined to be vexed, and was jealous of his own shadow. It is 
+thus, inVact, that the harsh and capricious jealousy of the flesh 
+awakens in the human heart, and takes possession of it, even 
+without any right. Moreover, setting aside even tliat jealousy, 
+the sight of that charming leg had contained nothing agreeable 
+for him ; the white stocking of the first woman he chanced to 
+meet would have afforded him more pleasure. 
+
+When " his Ursule," after having reached the end of the 
+walk, retraced her steps with M. Leblanc, and passed in front 
+of the bench on which Marius kad seated himself once more, 
+Marius darted a sullen and ferocious glance at her. The young 
+girl gave way to that slight straightening up with a backward 
+movement, accompanied by a raising of the eyelids, which 
+signifies: "Well, what is the matter?" 
+
+This was ''their first quaiTel." 
+
+Marius bad hardly made this scene at her with his eyes, when 
+some one crossed the walk. It was a veteran, very much bent, 
+extremely- wrinkled, and pale, in a uniform of the Louis XV. 
+pattern, bearijig on his breast the little oval plaque of red cloth, 
+with the crossed swords, the soldier's cross of Saint-Louis, and 
+adorned, in addition, with a coat^sleeve, which liad no arm 
+within it, with a silver chin and a wooden leg. Marius thought 
+he perceived that this man had an extremely well satisfied air. 
+It even struck him that the aged cynic, as he hobbled along 
+past him, addressed to him a very fraternal and very merry 
+wink, as though some chance had created an understanding 
+between them, and as though they had shared some piece of 
+good luck together. Wliat did that relic of Mars mean hy 
+being so contented? What had passed between that wooden leg 
+
+
+
+
+"Are you a police spy, sir?" 
+
+Marius went off quite abashed, but delighted. He waa get* 
+tiug on. 
+
+"Good," thought he, "I know that her name is Ursule, that 
+she is the daughter of a gentleman who lives on his inoome, 
+and that she lives there, on the third floor, in the Rue de 
+rOuest." 
+
+On the following day, M. Leblanc and his daughter made only 
+a very brief stay in the Luxembourg ; they went away while it 
+was still broad daylight. Marius followed them to the Rue de 
+rOuest, as he had taken up the habit of doing. On arriving at 
+the carriage entrance, M. Leblanc made his daughter pass in 
+first, then paused, before crossing the threshold, and stared in- 
+tently at Marius. 
+
+On the next day they did not come to the Luxembourg. 
+Marius waited for them all day in vain. 
+
+At nightfall, he went to the Rue de TOuest, and saw a light 
+in the windows of the third story. 
+
+He walked about beneath the windows until the light was ex- 
+tinguished. 
+
+The next day, no one at the Luxembourg. Marius waited all 
+day, then went and did sentinel duty under their windows. 
+This carried him on to ten o'clock in the evening. 
+
+His dinner took care of itself. Fever nourishes the sick man, 
+and love the lover. 
+
+He spent a week in this manner. M. Leblanc no longer ap- 
+peared at the Luxembourg. 
+
+Marius indulged in melancholy conjectures; he dared not 
+watch the porte cochère during the day ; he contented himself 
+with going at night to gaze upon the red light of the windows. 
+Ât times, he saw shadows flit across them, and his heart began 
+to beat. 
+
+On the eighth day, when he arrived under the windows, there 
+was no light in them. 
+
+" Hello!" he said, "the lamp is not lighted yet. But it is 
+dark. Can they have gone out? " He waited until ten o'clock. 
+Until midnight. Until one in the morning. Not a light ap- 
+peared in the windows of the third story, and no one entered the 
+house. 
+
+He went away in a very gloomy frame of mind. 
+
+On the morrow, — for he only existed from morrow to mor» 
+fow, there was, so to speak, no to-day for him, — on the mon-ow, 
+
+
+
+d by Google 
+
+
+
+No light iu the windows ; the shades were drawn ; the third 
+floor was totally dark. 
+
+Marius rapped at the porte eochère, entered, and said to tlie 
+porter : — 
+
+'* The gentleman on the third floor?" 
+
+"Has moved away," replied the porter. 
+
+Marius reelod and said feebly : — 
+
+" How long ago ? " 
+
+"Yesterday." 
+
+"Where is he living now?" 
+
+"I don't know anything about it," 
+
+" So he has not left his new address?" 
+
+"No." 
+
+And the porter, raising his eyes, recognized Marius. 
+
+"Come ! So it's you !" said he ; "but you are decidedly a 
+spy then ? " 
+
+
+
+BOOK SEVENTH, — PATRON MINETTE. 
+I. — Mines and Miners. 
+
+Human societies all have what is called iu theatrical parlance, 
+a third lower floor. The social soil is everywhere undermined, 
+sometimes for good, sometimes for evil. These works are 
+superposed one upon the other. There are superior mines and 
+inferior mines. There is a top and a bottom in this obscure 
+sub-soil, which sometimes gives way beneath civilization, and 
+which our indifference and heedlessness trample under foot. 
+riie P^ncyclo[)edia, in the last century, was a mine that was 
+almost open to the sky. The shades, those sombre hatchers of 
+primitive Christianity, only awaited an opportunity to bring 
+about an explosion under the Caesars and to inundate the hu 
+man race with light. P'or in the sacred shadows there lies 
+latent light. Volcanoes are full of a shadow that is capable of 
+flashing forth. Every form begins by being night. The cata- 
+combs, in which the first mass was said, were not alone the 
+cellar of Rome, there were the vaults of the world. 
+
+Beneath the social construction, that complicated marvel of a 
+structure, there are excavations of all sorts. There ia the 
+
+
+
+a pick with ciphers. Such another with wrath. People hail and 
+answer each other from one catacomb to another. Utopias travel 
+about underground, in the pipes. There they branch out in 
+ever^ direction. They sometimes meet, and fraternize there. 
+Jean-Jacques lends his pick to Diogenes, who lends him his 
+iantern. Sometimes they enter into combat there. Calvin seizes 
+Socinius by the hair. But nothing arrests nor interrupts the ten- 
+sion of all these energies toward the goal, and the vast, simulta- 
+neous activity, which goes and comes, mounts, descends, and 
+mounts again in these obscurities, and which immense unknown 
+swarming slowlj* transforms the top and the bottom and the 
+inside and the outside. Society hardly even suspects this dig- 
+ging which leaves its surface intact and changes its bowels. 
+There are as many difiPereut subterranean stages as there are 
+varying works, as there are extractions. What emerges from . 
+these deep excavations ? The future. 
+
+The deeper one goes, the more mysterious are the toilers. 
+The work is good, up to a degree which the social philosophies 
+are able to recognize; beyond that degree it is doubtful and 
+mixed; lower down, it becomes terrible. At a certain depth, 
+the excavations are no longer penetrable by the spirit of civili- 
+zation, the limit breathable by man has been passed ; a beginning 
+of monsters is possible. 
+
+The descending scale is a strange one ; and each one of the 
+rungs of this ladder corresponds to a stage where philosophy 
+tun find footUokl, and where outJ t'lieoiuitt^rs uuc of these vvork^ 
+men, sometimes divine, sometime?* miàôliuinm* Below Ji>hn 
+Ouiis, there is Luther ; below T.uilier, tli^re is Descurteô ; below 
+Descartes, there i» Voltaire ; below Voltaire, chcre is Coudoreet; 
+b«low Condoreet, there m Rob eg pierre ; bcluw Robespierre, there 
+is Marat; below ^larat there is B.ibeuf, And so it j^oes on. 
+Lower down, conruse<lU% at the limit whieh se|>:irutes the iritlis- 
+rfriut from Lîie invbilïle, ona peiceiw^s other glooiuy men, who 
+t^erhnps do not exist as yet The inen of yi^êjterdiiy are 8[jec* 
+très ; those of to* morrow are forms. The eye of tlie spirit distiu- 
+^aishe» them but obBcurely, The erabryouic work of the future 
+ia oniî of the visions of plnlosophy. 
+
+k world in limbo, m the state of fo&tus, what an unheard-of 
+Ȕ>ectre ! 
+
+Saint-Simon, Owen^ Fourier, are tluTc also^ in lateral gatleneSp 
+
+Surely, although a divine and iiiviaible chain unknown to 
+^«tneielves, binds together all thèse subterranean pititieer? 
+
+
+
+with the blaze of others. The first are paradisiacal, the last are 
+tragic. Nevertheless, whatever may be the contrast, all these 
+toilers, from the highest to the most nocturnal, from the wisest 
+to the most foolish, possess one likeness, and this is it : disinter* 
+estedness. Marat forgets himself like Jesus. They throw them- 
+selves on one side, they omit themselves, they think not of 
+themselves. They have a glance, and that glance seeks the ab- 
+solute. The first has the whole heavens in his eyes ; the last, 
+enigmatical though he may be, has still, beneath his eyelids, the 
+pale beam of the infinite. Venerate the man, whoever he may 
+be, who has this sign — the starry eye. 
+
+The shadowy eye is the other sign. . 
+
+With it, evil commences. Reflect and tremble in the presence 
+of any one who has no glance at all. The social order has its 
+black miners. 
+
+There is a point where depth is tantamount to burial, and 
+where light becomes extinct. 
+
+Below all these mines which we have just mentioned, below 
+all these galleries, below this whole immense, subterranean, 
+venous system of progress and Utopia, much further on in the 
+earth, much lower than Marat, lower than Babeuf, lower, much 
+lower, and without any connection with the upper levels, there 
+lies the last mine. A formidable spot. This is what we have 
+designated as the le troisième dessous. It is the grave of shad- 
+ows. It is the cellar of the blind. Inferi. 
+
+This communicates with the abyss. 
+
+II. — The Lowest Depths. 
+
+There disinterestedness vanishes. The demon is vi^aely 
+outlined ; each one is for himself. The / in the eyes howls 
+seeks, fumbles, and gnaws. The social Ugolino is in this gulf. 
+
+The wild spectres who roam in this grave, almost beasts, 
+almost phantoms, are not occupied with universal progress, 
+they are ignorant both of the idea and of the word ; they take 
+no thought for anything but the satisfaction of their individua, 
+desires. They are almost unconscious, and there exists within 
+them a sort of terrible obliteration. They have two mothers- 
+both step-mothers, ignorance and misery. They have a giiide^ 
+necessity; and for all forms of satisfaction, appetite. They 
+are brutally voracious, that is to say, ferocious, not after tlie 
+fashion of the tyrant, but after the fashion of the tiger. Proni 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 135 
+
+luffering these spectres pass to crime ; fatal affiliation, dizzy créa- 
+tiou, logic of darkness. That vvhich crawls in the social third 
+lower level is no longer complaint stifled by the absolute ; it is 
+the protest of matter. Man there becomes a dnigon. To be 
+hungry, to be thirsty — that is the point of departure ; to be 
+Satan — that is the point reached. From that vault Lacenaire 
+emerges. 
+
+We have just seen, in Book Fourth, one of the compartments 
+af tlie upper mine, of the great political, revolutionaiy, and 
+philosophical excavation. There, as we have just said, all is 
+pure, noble, dignified, honest. There, assuredly, one might be 
+misled ; but eiTor is worthy of veneration there, so thoroughly 
+does it imply heroism. The work there effected, taken as a 
+whole, has a name : Progress. 
+
+The moment has now come when we must take a look at 
+other depths, hideous depths. There exists beneath society, 
+ire insist upon this point, and there will exist, until that day 
+wben ignorance shall be dissipated, the great cavern of evil. 
+
+This cavern is below all, and is the foe of all. It is hatred, 
+without exception. This cavern knows no philosophers; its 
+dagger has never cut a pen. Its blackness has no connection 
+with the sublime blackness of the inkstand. Never have the 
+fingers of night which contract beneath this stifling ceiling, 
+turned the leaves of a book nor unfolded a newspaper. Babeuf 
+is a speculator to Cartouche ; Marat is an aristocrat to Schinder- 
+hannes. This cavern has for its object the destruction of 
+everything. 
+
+Of everything. Including the upper superior mines, which it 
+execrates. It not only undermines, in its hideous swarming, 
+the actual social order ; it undermines philosophy, it undermines 
+human thought, it undermines civilization, it undermines revo- 
+lution, it undermines progress. Its name is simply theft, pros- 
+titution, murder, assassination. It is darkness, and it desires 
+chaos. Its vault is formed of ignorance. 
+
+All the others, those above it, have but one object — to sup- 
+press it. It is to this point that philosophy and progress tend, 
+with all their organs simultaneously, by their amelioration of 
+the real, as well as by their contemplation of the absolute. 
+Destroy the cavern Ignorance and you destroy the lair Crime. 
+
+Let OS condense, in a few words, a part of what we have just 
+written. The only social peril is darkness. 
+
+Humanity is identity. All men are made of the same clay. 
+There is no différence, here below, at lenst, in predestination. 
+^e same shadow in front* the same flesh in the present, the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+of the interior of a man and is there converted into evil. 
+
+
+
+III. — Babet, Gueulemer, Claquesous, and Montpabnassr 
+
+A QUARTETTE of ruffians, Claquesous, Guculemer, Babet, and 
+Montparnasse governed the third lower floor of Paris, from 183C 
+to 1835. 
+
+Gueulemer was a Hercules of no defined position. For his 
+lair he had the sewer of the Arche-Marion. He was six feet 
+high, his pectoral muscles were of marble, his biceps of brass, 
+his breath was that of a cavern, his torso that of a colossas, 
+his head that of a bird. One thought one beheld the Farnese 
+Hercules clad in duck trousers and a cotton velvet waistcoat. 
+Gueulemer, built after this sculptural fashion, might have sub- 
+dued monsters ; he had found it more expeditious to be one. 
+A low brow, large temples, less than forty 3ears of age, but 
+with crows' -feet, harsh, short hair, cheeks like a brush, a beard 
+like that of a wild boar; the reader can see the man before 
+him. His muscles called for work, his stupidity would have 
+none of it. He was a great, idle force. He was an assassin 
+through coolness. He was thought to be a créole. He had, 
+probably, somewhat to do with Marshal Brune, having been a 
+porter at Avignon in 1815. After this stage, he had turned 
+rufllan. 
+
+The diaphaneity of Babet contrasted with the grossness of 
+Gueulemer. Babet was thin and learned. He was transparent 
+but impenetrable. Daylight was visible through his bones, but 
+nothing through his eyes. He declared that he was a chemist. 
+He had been a jack of all trades. He had played in vaudeville 
+at Saint-Mihiel. He was a man of purpose, a fine talker, who 
+underlined his smiles and accentuated his gestures. His occu- 
+pation consisted in selling, in the open air, plaster busts and 
+portraits of ^^ the head of the State." In addition to this, he 
+extracted teeth. He had exhibited phenomena at fairs, and he 
+had owned a booth with a trumpet and this poster : ^^ Babet, 
+Dental Artist, Member of the Academies, makes physical ex- 
+periments on metals and metalloids, extracts teeth, undertakes 
+stumps abandoned by his brother practitioners. Price : one 
+tooth, one franc, fifty centimes ; two teeth, two francs ; three 
+t^eth, two francs, fifty. Take advantage of this opportunity-** 
+This Take advantage of this opportunity meant: Have sê 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 137 
+
+many teeth extracted as possible. He had been married and 
+had had children. He did not know what had become of his 
+wife and children. He had lost^^hem as one loses his handker- 
+chief. Babet read the papers, a striking exception in the world 
+to which he belonged. One day, at the period when he had his 
+family with him in his booth on wheels, he had read in the Me&- 
+S(iger, that a woman had just given birth to a child, who was 
+doing well, and had a calf s muzzle, and he exclaimed : ^^ There's 
+a fortune I my wife has not the wit to present me with a child 
+like that ! " 
+
+Later on he had abandoned everything, in order to ^^ under* 
+take Paris." This was his expression. 
+
+Who was Claquesous ? He was night. He waited until the 
+8ky was daubed with black, before he showed himself. At 
+nightfall he emerged from the hole whither he returned before 
+daylight. Where was this hole? No one knew. He only 
+addressed his accomplices in the most absolute darkness, and 
+with his back tum^ to them. Was his name Claquesous? 
+Certainly not. If a candle was brought, he put on a mask. 
+He was a ventriloquist. Babet said: ^^ Claquesous is a noc- 
+turne for two voices." Claquesous was vague, terrible, and a 
+roamer. No one was sure whether he had a name, Claquesous 
+being a sobriquet ; none was sure that he had a voice, as his 
+stomach spoke more frequently than his voice ; no one was sure 
+that he had a face, as he was never seen without his mask. He 
+disappeared as though he had vanished into thin air ; when he 
+appeared, it was as though he sprang from the earth. 
+
+A Ingubrious being was Montparnasse. Montparnasse was a 
+child ; less than twenty years of age, with a handsome face, 
+lips like cherries, charming black hair, the brilliant light of 
+springtime in his eyes; he had all vices and aspired to all 
+crimes. 
+
+The digestion of evil aroused in him an appetite for worse. 
+£t was the street boy turned pickpocket, and a pickpocket 
+turned garroter. He was genteel, effeminate, graceful, robust, 
+sluggish, ferocious. T^e rim of his hat was curled up on the 
+left side, in order to make room for a tuft of hair, after tiie 
+style of 1829. He lived by robbery with violence. His coat 
+was of the best cut, but threadbare. Montparnasse was a 
+fashion-plate in misery and given to the commission of mur« 
+ders. The cause of ail this youth's crimes was the desire to be 
+well-dressed. The firat grisette who had said to him : *' Yoq 
+are handsome ! " had cast the stain of darkness into his heart 
+and bad made a Cain of this Abel. Finding that he was hand 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+were so dreaded as Moutparuasse. At eighteen, he bad alread}' 
+numerous corpses in his past. More than one passer-by lay 
+with outstretched arms in the presence of this wretch, with bis 
+face in a pool of blood. Curled, pomaded, with laced waist, 
+the hips of a woman, the bust of a Prussian officer, the murmui 
+of admiration from the boulevard wenches surrounding him, bis 
+cravat knowingly tied, a bludgeon in his pocket, a flower in bi£ 
+buttonhole ; such was this dandy of the sepulchre. 
+
+IV. — Composition of the Trodpe. 
+
+These four ruffians formed a sort of Proteus, wmding like a 
+serpent among the police, and striving to escape Vidocq's indis- 
+creet glances '^ under divers forms, tree, flame, fountain," 
+lending each other their names and their traps, biding in their 
+own shadows, boxes with secret compartments and refuges for 
+each other, stripping off their personalities, as one removes his 
+false nose at a masked ball, sometimes simplifying matters to 
+the point of consisting of but one indivirlual, sometimes multi- 
+plying themselves to such a point that Coco-Latour himself took 
+them for a whole throng. 
+
+These four men were not four men ; they were a sort of 
+mysterious robber with four heads, operating on a grand scale 
+on Paris ; they were that monstrous polyp of evil, which in- 
+habits the crypt of society. 
+
+Thanks to their ramifications, and to the network underl3'lng 
+their relations, Babet, Gueulemer, Claquesous, and Montpar- 
+nasse were charged with the general enterprise of the ambushes 
+of the department of the Seine. The inventors of ideas of that 
+nature, men with nocturnal imaginations, applied to them to 
+have their ideas executed. They furnished the canvas to the 
+four rascals, and the latter undertook the preparation of the 
+scenery. They labored at the stage setting. They were always 
+in a condition to lend a force proportioned and suitable to all 
+crimes which demanded a lift of the shoulder, and which were 
+sufficiently lucrative. When a crime was in quest of arms, they 
+under-let their accomplices. They kept a troupe of actors of 
+the shadows at the disposition of all underground tragedies. 
+
+They were in the habit of assembling at nightfall, the hour 
+when they woke up, on the plains which adjoin the Salpétrière. 
+There they held their conforoneos. They had twelve black houn 
+before them ) they r^ulated their employment accordingly. 
+
+
+
+men. lu the fantastic, ancient, popular parlance, which is van- 
+ishing day by day, Patron-Minette signifies the morning, the same 
+as entre chien et loup — between dog and wolf — signifies the 
+evening. This appellation, PcUron^Minette^ was probably de« 
+rived from the hour at which their work ended, the dawn being 
+the vanishing moment for phantoms and for the separation of 
+rufi9ans. These four men were known under this title. When 
+the President of the Assizes visited Lacenaire in his prison, 
+and questioned him concerning a misdeed which Lacenaire de- 
+nied, "Who did it?" demanded the President. Lacenaire 
+made this response, enigmatical so far as the magistrate was 
+concerned, but dear to the police: ''Perhaps it was Patron- 
+Minette." 
+
+A piece can sometimes be divined on the enunciation of the 
+personages ; in the same manner a band can almost be judged 
+from the list of ruffians composing it. Here are the appellations 
+to which the principal members of Patron-Minette answered, --* 
+for the names have survived in special memoirs. 
+
+Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille. 
+
+Brujon. [There was a Brujon dynasty ; we cannot refraip 
+from interpolating this word.] 
+
+Boftlatruelle, the road-mender already introduced. 
+
+Laveuve. 
+
+Finistère. 
+
+Homère-Hogu, a negro. 
+
+Mardisoir. (Tuesday evening.) 
+
+Dép^he. (Make haste.) 
+
+Fauntleroy, alias Bouquetière (the Flower Girl). 
+
+Glorieux, a discharged convict. 
+
+Barrecarrosse (Stop-carriage) , called Monsieur Dupout. 
+
+L'£splanade-du-Sad. 
+
+Foussagrtve. 
+
+Carmagnolet. 
+
+Kruideniers, called Bizarro. 
+
+Mangeden telle. (Lace-eater.) 
+
+Les-pieda-enTAir. (Feet in the air.) 
+
+Demi-Liard, called Dcux-MilHanïs, 
+
+Eté., etc. 
+
+We pass over some, and not the worst of them* These 
+oatnes have faces iittfiched, Tlicy do tmi pxpre&s merely lu'- 
+ingfi, but species. Kach one nf these names corresponds to 
+a vftripty of those fnis»iia[^en fungi frorn the under Bide oi>' 
+«avihy^atlott* 
+
+
+
+
+the streets. Fatigued by the wild nights which they passed, 
+they went off by day to sleep, sometimes in the lime-kilns, 
+sometimes in the abandoned quarries of Montmatre or Mont< 
+rouge, sometimes in the sewers. They ran to earth. 
+
+What became of these men ? They still exist. They have al- 
+ways existed. Horace speaks of them : Aynbvbaiarum collegia^ 
+phai-Triacopolce, mendici^ mimœ; and so long as society remains 
+what it is, they will remain what they are. Beneath the ob- 
+scure roof of their cavern, they are continually bom again from 
+the social ooze. They return, spectres, but always identical ; 
+only, they no longer bear the same names and they are no 
+longer in the same skins. The individuals extirpated, the tribe 
+subsists. 
+
+They always have the same faculties. From the vagrant to 
+the tramp, the race is maintained in its purity. They divine 
+purses in pockets, they scent out watches in fobs. G<)ld and 
+silver possess an odor for them. There exist ingenuous bour- 
+geois, of whom it might be said, that they have a *' stealable" 
+air. These men patiently pursue these bourgeois. They ex- 
+j^erience the quivers of a spider at the passage of a stranger 
+or of a man from the country. 
+
+These men are terrible, when one encounters them, or catches 
+a glimpse of them, towards midnight, on a deserted boulevard. 
+They do not seem to be men, but forms composed of living 
+mists ; one would say that they habitually constitute one mass 
+with the shadows, that they are in no wise distinct from them, 
+that they possess no other soul than the darkness, and that it 
+is only momentarily and for the purpose of living for a few 
+minutes a monstrous life, that they have separate from the 
+nigh^ 
+
+Wnat is necessary to cause these spectres to vanish? Light. 
+Light in floods. Not a single bat can resist the dawn. light 
+ap KXàety from below. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+singing creatures on their way home from the feast, which 
+passed close to him, as he, in his discouragement, breathed io 
+the acrid scent of the wahmt-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 ooming in his 
+pain like the wolf in the trap, seeking the absent one every- 
+where, 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 tlie 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 w.ns 
+effaced. ''After all," he said to himself, " it was probably 
+only a resemblance." 
+
+II. — Treasure Trove. 
+
+Marius had not left the Gorbeau house. He paid no atten- 
+tion to any one there. 
+
+At that epoch, to tell the truth, there were no other inhabitants 
+in the house, except himself and those Jondrettes whose rent 
+he had once paid, without, moreover, ever having spoken to 
+either father, mother, or daughters. The other lodgers had 
+moved away or had died, or had been turned out in default oi 
+payment. . 
+
+One day during that winter, the sun had shown itself a little 
+in the afternoon, but it was the 2d of February, that ancient 
+
+
+
+k 
+
+
+
+lines, w I 
+
+
+
+Marin I 
+was the 
+dining a i 
+
+He ha | 
+sweeping , 
+logae : — 
+
+''Whi 
+There is 
+can get t i 
+
+Mario; i 
+order to : 
+with dro( 
+
+AU at : 
+wheeled i i 
+tall and i 
+rapidly, i I 
+of fleeing 
+hitn, and 
+light, Mi 
+heads, tl I 
+ragged p( 
+thev ran. 
+
+'' The I 
+the half.( 
+bolted, bo 
+
+Througl 
+armes or 
+children, î 
+
+They pi 
+and there 
+vague whil 
+
+Marias 1 
+
+He was 
+iittle grayi 
+stooped an 
+appeared ti 
+
+^ Whelhei 
+
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+He retraced his steps, he called, he did not find them ; he 
+reflected tiiat they must already be far away, put the package 
+in his pocket, and went off to dine. 
+
+On the wa}', he saw in an alley of the Rue Mouffetard, a 
+child's coffin, covered with a black cloth, resting on three 
+chairs, and illuminated by a candle. The two girls of the 
+twilight recurred to his mind. 
+
+'' Poor mothers ! " he thought. " There is one thing sadder 
+than to see one's children die ; it is to see them leading an evil 
+.ife." 
+
+Then those shadows which had varied his melancholy 
+vanished from his thoughts, and he fell back once more 
+into his habitual preoccupations. He fell to thinking once 
+more of his six months of love and happin/ess in the open 
+air and the broad daylight, beneath the beautiful trees of 
+Luxembourg. 
+
+'' How gloom}' my life has become !" he said to himself. 
+" Young girls are always appearing to me, only formerly they 
+were angels and now they are ghouls." 
+
+
+
+III. — QUADRIFRONS. 
+
+That evening, as he was undressing preparatory* to going to 
+bed, his hand came in contact, in the pocket of his coat, with 
+the packet which he had picked up on the boulevard. He had 
+forgotten it. He thought that it would be well to open it, and 
+that this package might possibly contain the address of the 
+young girls, if it really belonged to them, and, in any case, 
+the information necessary to a restitution to the person who 
+had lost it. 
+
+He opened the envelope. 
+
+It was not sealed, and contained four letters, also unsealed. 
+
+They bore addresses. 
+
+All four exhaled a horrible odor of tobacco. 
+
+The first was addressed : " Tb Madame^ Madame la Marquise 
+de Chrucheray^ the place opposite the Chamber of Deputies^ 
+No. — " 
+
+Marins said to himself, that he should probably find in it the 
+Information which he sought, and that, moreover, the letu*r 
+being open, it was probable that it could be read without irapro- 
+prietiy. 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+■^--SS?SS|iii|' 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+^^^*»^«^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+In spite of these qualities I have reason to fear that jealousy, the 
+egotism of priviliged authors, may obtaine my exclusion from the theatre, 
+for I am not ignorant of the mortificateoni with which new-comers are 
+treated. 
+
+Monsiuer Pabourgeot, your just reputation as an enlightened protector 
+of men of litters emboldens me to send you my daughter who will explain 
+our indigant situation to you, lacking bread and fire in this wynter seasoa 
+When I say to you that I beg you to accept the dedication of my drama 
+whicli I desire to make to you and of all those that I shall make, is to 
+prove to you how great is my ambition to have the honor of sheltering 
+myself under your protection, and of adorning my writings with your name. 
+If you deign to honor me with the most modest offering, I shall immedi- 
+ately occupy myself in making a piesse of verse to pay you my tribute of 
+gratitude. Which I shall endeavor to render this piesse as perfect as poa- 
+iible, will be sent to you before it is inserted at the beginning of the drama 
+and delivered on the stage. 
+
+To Monsieur 
+and Madame Pabourgeot, 
+
+My most respectful complements, 
+
+Genflot, man of letters. 
+
+P.S. Even if it is only forty sous. 
+
+Excuse me for sending my daughter and not presenting myself, but sad 
+votives connected with the toilet do not permit me, alas ! to go out. 
+
+Finally, Marius opened the fourth letter. The address ran : 
+To the benevolent Gentleman of the church of Saint- Jacques^u- 
+haiU'Pa^, It contained the following lines : — 
+
+Benevolent man : If you deign to accompany my daughter, you will 
+behold a misserable calamity, and I will show you my certificates. 
+
+At the aspect of these writings your generous soul will be moved with a 
+sentiment of obvious benevolence, for true philosophers always feel livelj 
+emotions. 
+
+Admll, compassionate man, that it is necessary to sufter the most cruel 
+need, and that it is very painful, for the sake of obtaining a little relief, to 
+get oneself attested, by the authorities as though one were not free to suffer 
+and to die of inanition while waiting to have our misery relieved. Dcsti 
+aies are very fatal for several and too prodigal or too protecting for others. 
+I await your presence or your offering, if you deign to make one, and I 
+beseech you to accept the respectful sentiments with wliich I have the 
+honor to be, 
+
+truly magnanimous man, 
+your very humble 
+
+and very obedient servant, 
+
+P. Fabantou, dramatic artist. 
+
+After perusing these four letters, Marius did not find himself 
+much further advanced than before. 
+
+In the first place, not one of the signers gave his address. 
+Then, they seemed to come from four different individuals, Don 
+
+
+
+*e /.„5"«'oo w.^' **e saii;''*, «boo*";?' «"drf^o 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+'Oore 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+*4etn 
+
+
+
+t^i 
+
+
+
+tie 
+
+
+
+■>"«& 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+^<'^«^ 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+"^ *."^, " 
+
+
+
+J*': ft^'^^^^e^ïî!'. ''M 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+cVootVL''Ve7rt^- Af. 
+
+
+
+«'•/«s 
+
+
+
+to 
+van/. 
+
+
+
+i-e. 
+
+
+
+.«otue 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Of""'«''' 
+
+
+
+«u^o«. *Y 'o t/,; 
+
+
+
+»ot 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+, «Ver *L '*""• nX '«e /« . 
+
+
+
+.*Sïâ>s^««-. 
+
+
+
+t/ie 
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+'^•^' and 2>"oi-. ' ^''e ^o/o» 
+
+
+
+* J'OllOl! 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+I4S LES MISERABLES. 
+
+
+
+IV. — A Rose in Misery. 
+
+A VERT young girl was standing in the half-open door. Th^ 
+dormor window of the garret, through which the light fell, was 
+precisel}* opposite the door, and illuminated the figure with a 
+wan light. She was a frail, emaciated, slender creature ; there 
+was nothing but a chemise and a petticoat upon that chilled and 
+shivering nakedness. Her girdle was a string, her head ribbon 
+a string, her pointed shoulders emerged from her chemise, a 
+blond and lymphatic pallor, earth-colored collar-bones, red 
+hands, a half-open and degraded mouth, missing teeth, dull, 
+bold, base eyes; she had the form of a young girl who has 
+missed her youtli, and the look of a corrupt old woman ; fifty 
+years mingled with fifteen ; one of those beings which are both 
+feeble and horrible, and which cause those to shudder whom 
+they do not cause to weep. 
+
+Marins had risen, and was staring in a sort of stupor at this 
+being, who was almost like the forms of the shadows which 
+traverse dreams. 
+
+The most heart-breaking thing of all was, that this young girl 
+had not come into the world to be homely. In her early child- 
+hood she must even have been pretty. The grace of her age 
+was still struggling against the hideous, premature decrepitude 
+of debauchery and poverty. The remains of beauty were dying 
+away in that face of sixteen, like the pale sunlight which is 
+extinguished under hideous clouds at dawn on a winter's 
+day. 
+
+That face was not wholly unknown to Marins. He tiiought 
+he remembered having seen it somewhere. 
+
+'* What do you wish, Mademoiselle?" he asked. 
+
+The young girl replied in her voice of a drunken convict : — 
+
+'' Here is a letter for you. Monsieur Marins." 
+
+She called Marins by his name ; he could not doubt that he 
+was the person whom she wanted ; but who was this girl? How 
+did she know his name? 
+
+Without waiting for him to tell her to advance, she entered. 
+She entered resolutely, staring, with a sort of assurance that 
+made the heart -bleed, at the whole room and the unmade bed. 
+Her feet were bare. Large holes in her petticoat permitted 
+glimpses of her long legs and her thin knees. She was 
+shivering. 
+
+She held a letter Cn her hand, which she presented to Marius. 
+
+Marins, as he opened the letter, noticed that the enormous 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIU8. 14t 
+
+wafer which sealed it was still moist* The message ooald nol 
+have come from a distance. He read : — 
+
+Mt Amiablb Nsighbob, Young Man : I have learned of your good* 
+
+nc88 to me, that you paid my rent six months ago. I bless you, 
+young man. My eldest daughter will tell you that we have been without 
+a morsel of bread for two days, four persons and my spouse ill. If I am 
+not deseayed in my opinion, I think I may hope that yoiir generous heart 
+will melt at this statement and the desire will subjugate you to be propi- 
+tious to me by daigning to lavish on me a slight favor. 
+
+I am «rith the distinguished consideration which is due to the benefac* 
+tors of humanity, — Jondrette. 
+
+F.S. My eldest daughter will await your orders, dear Monsieur Marius. 
+
+This letter, coming in the very midst of the mysterious adveo'* 
+ture which had occupied Marius' thoughts ever since the pre* 
+ceding evening, was like a candle in a cellar. All was sud- 
+denly illuminated. 
+
+This letter came from the same place as the other four. 
+There was the same writing, the same style, the same orthog- 
+raphy, the same paper, the same odor of tobacco. 
+
+There were five missives, five histories, five signatures, and 
+a single signer. The Spanish Captain Don Alvarés, the un- 
+happy Mistress Balizard, the dramatic poet Genflot, the old 
+comedian Fahantou, were all four named Jondrette, if, indeed, 
+Jondrette himself were named Jondrette. 
+
+Marius had lived in the house for a tolerably long time, and he 
+had had, as we have said, but very rare occasion to see, to even 
+catch a glimpse of, his extremely mean neighbors. His mind 
+was elsewhere, and where the mind is, there the eyes are also. 
+He had been obliged more than once to pass the Jondrettes in the 
+corridor or on the stairs ; but they were mere forms to him ; he 
+liad paid so little heed to them, that, on the preceding evening, 
+he hiid jostled the Jondrette girls on the boulevard, without 
+recc^nizing them, for it had evidently been they, and it was 
+with great difficulty that the one who had just entered his room 
+had awakened in him, in spite of disgust and pity, a vague 
+recollection of having met her elsewhere. 
+
+Now he saw everything clearly. He understood that his 
+neighbor Jondrette, in his distress, exercised the industry of 
+speculating on the charity of benevolent persons, that he pro- 
+cared addresses, and that be wrote under feigned names to 
+people whom he judged to be wealthy and compassionate, 
+letters which his daughters delivered at their risk and peril, 
+for this father had come to such a pass, that he risked his 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+150 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+iaughters ; he was playing a game with fate, and he used tihem 
+as the stake. Marius understood that probably, judging from 
+their flight on the evening before, from their breathless condi- 
+tion, from their terror and from the words of slang which 
+he had overheard, these unfortunate creatures were plying 
+some inexplicably sad profession, and that the result of the 
+whole was, in the midst of human societ}^ as it is now con* 
+stituted, two miserable beings who were neither girls noi 
+women, a species of impure and innocent monsters produced 
+by mi8er3'. 
+
+Sad creatures, without name, or sex, or age, to whom neither 
+good nor evil were any longer possible, and who, on emerging 
+from childhood, have already nothing in this world, neither 
+liberty, nor virtue, nor responsibility. Souls which blossomed 
+out yesterday, and are faded to-day, like those flowers let fall 
+in the streets, which are soiled with every soit of mire, while 
+waiting for some wheel to crush them. Nevertheless, while 
+Marius bent a pained and astonished gaze on her, the young 
+girl was wandering back and forth in the garret with the audac- 
+ity of a spectre. She kicked about, without troubling herself 
+as to her nakedness. Occasionally, her chemise, which was 
+untied and torn, fell almost to her waist. She moved the 
+chairs about, she disarranged the toilet articles which stood 
+on the commode, she handled Marius' clothes, she rammaged 
+about to see what there was in the corners. 
+
+*' Hullo ! " said she, *' you have a mirror ! " 
+
+And she hummed scraps of vaudevilles, as though she had 
+been alone, frolicsome refrains which her hoarse and guttural 
+voice rendered lugubrious. 
+
+An indescribable constraint, weariness, and humiliation 
+were })erceptible beneath this hardihood. Effrontery is a 
+disgrace. 
+
+Nothing could be more melancholy than to see her sport 
+about the room, and, so to speak, flit with the movements of a 
+bird which is frightened by the daylight, or which has broken 
+its wing. One felt that under other conditions of education and 
+destiny, the gay and over-free mien of this young girl might 
+have turned out sweet and charming. Never, even among 
+animals, does the creature born to be a dove change into an 
+osprey. That is only to be seen among men. 
+
+Marius reflected, and allowed her to have her way. 
+
+She approached the table. 
+
+*' Ah ! " said she, *' books ! " 
+
+A flash picfoid her glassy eye. She resumed, and ber aocebt 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 161 
+
+expressed the happiness which she felt in boasting of some* 
+thing, to which no human creature is insensible : — 
+
+** I know how to read, I do ! " 
+
+She eagerly seized a book which lay open on the table, and 
+read with tolerable fluency : — 
+
+^^ — General Bauduin received orders to take the chateau of 
+Hougomout which stands in the middle of the plain of Water- 
+loo, with five battalions of his brigade." 
+
+She paused. 
+
+'^ Ah ! Waterloo! I know about that. It was a battle long 
+Ago. My father was there. My father has served in the armies. 
+We are fine Bonapartists in our house, that we are I Waterloo 
+was against the English." 
+
+She laid down the book, caught up a pen, and exclaimed : — 
+
+♦* And I know how to write, too ! " 
+
+She dipped her pen in the ink, and turning to Marius : — 
+
+*' Do you want to see? Look here, I'm going to write a word 
+to show you." 
+
+And before he had time to answer, she wrote on a sheet of 
+white paper, which lay in the middle of the table : '^ The bob- 
+bies are here." 
+
+Then throwing down the pen : — 
+
+*' There are no faults of orthography. You can look. We 
+have received an education, my sister and I. We have not 
+alwa3's been as we are now. We were not made — " 
+
+Here she paused, fixed her dull eyes on Marius, and burst 
+oat laughing, saying, with an intonation which contained ever^ 
+form of anguish, stifled bv every form of cynicism : — 
+
+" Bah ! " 
+
+And she began to hum these words to a gay air : -^ 
+
+" J*ai faim, mon père. " I am hungry, father. 
+
+Pas de fricot. I have no food. 
+
+J'ai froid, ma mère. I am cold, mother. 
+
+Paa de tricot. I have no clothee 
+
+Grelotte, Shiver, 
+
+Lolotte ! Lolotte 1 
+
+Sanglote, Sob, 
+
+JacquotI"* • Jacquotl* 
+
+She had hardly finished this couplet, when she exclaimed : — 
+*' Do you ever go the play, Monsieur Marius? I do. I have 
+B little brother who is a friend of the artists, and who gives me 
+tickets sometimes. But I don't like the benches in the galleries. 
+One is cramped and uncomfortable there. There are rough 
+people there sometimes ; and people who smell bad." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+152 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Then she scratiiiized Marius, assomed a singular air aat 
+
+said : — 
+
+^' Do you know, Mr. Marias, that joa are a very handsome 
+fellow?" 
+
+And at the same moment the same idea occnrred to them 
+both, and made her smile and him blush. She stepped up to * 
+him, and laid her hand on his shoulder: '^ You pay uo heed 
+to me, but I know you, Mr. Marius. I meet you here on the 
+staircase, and then I often see you going to a person named 
+Father Mabeuf who lives in the direction of Austerlitz, some- 
+times when I have been strolling in that quarter. It is very 
+becoming to you to have your hair tumbled thus." 
+
+She tried to render her voice soft, *»it only succeeded in mak- 
+ing it very deep. A portion of htr words was lost in the transit 
+from her larynx to her lips, as though on a piano where some 
+notes are missing. 
+
+Marius had retreated gently. 
+
+" Mademoiselle," said he, with his cool gravity, " I have here 
+a package which belongs to you, I think. Permit me to return 
+it to you." 
+
+And he held out the envelope containing the four letters. 
+
+She clapped her hands and exclaimed : — 
+
+*' We have been looking everj'where for that! " 
+
+Then she eagerly seized the package, and opened the enyelope, 
+saying as she did so : — 
+
+^^ Dieu de Dieu ! how my sister and I have hunted! And it 
+was you who found it 1 On the boulevard, was- it not? It must 
+have been on the boulevard? You see, we let it fall when we 
+were running. It was tliat brat of a sister of mine who was so 
+stupid. When we got home, we could not find it anywhere. 
+As we did not wish to be beaten, as that is useless, as that is 
+entirely useless, as that is absolutely useless, we said that we 
+had carried the letters to the proper persons, and that they had 
+said to us : ' Nix.' So here they are, those poor letters 1 And 
+how did you find out that they belonged to me? Ah ! yes, the 
+writing. So it was you that we jostled as we passed last night 
+We couldn't see. I said to my sister : 'Is it a gentleman ? * 
+My sister said to me : 'I think it is a gentleman.' " 
+
+In the meanwhile, she had unfolded the petition addressed to 
+*' the benevolent gentleman of the church of Saint-Jaoques-du- 
+Haut-Pas." 
+
+'^ Here ! " said she, '^ this is for that old fellow who goes to 
+mass. By the way, this is his hour. I'll go and carry it to him. 
+Perhaps he will give us something to breakfast on. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIU8. 153 
+
+Then slie began to laagh again, and added : — 
+
+'* Do you know what it will mean if we get a breakfast to-day? 
+It will mean that we shall have had our breakfast of the day 
+before yesterday, onr breakfast of yesterday, our dinner of 
+to-day, and all that at once, and this morning. Come I Parbleu ! 
+if you are not satisfied, dogs, burst ! " 
+
+This reminded Marius of the wretched girl's eiTand to him- 
+self. He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket, and found nothing 
+there. 
+
+The young girl went on, and seemed to have no consciousness 
+of Marius' presence. 
+
+*' I often go oif in the evening. Sometimes I don't come 
+home again. Last winter, before we came here, we lived under 
+the arches of the bridges. We huddled together to keep from 
+freezing. My little sister cried. How melancholy the water is I 
+When I thought of drowning myself, I said to myself: 'No, 
+it's too cold.' I go out alone, whenever I choose, I sometimes 
+sleep in the ditches. Do you know, at night, when I walk 
+along the boulevard, I see the trees like forks, I see houses, all 
+black and as big as Notre Dame, I fancy that the white walls 
+are the river, I say to myself: 'Why, there's water there!' 
+The stars are like the lamps in illuminations, one would say that 
+they smoked and that the wind blew them out, I am bewildered, 
+as though horses were breathing in my ears ; although it is night, 
+I hear hand-organs and spinning-machines, and I don't know 
+what all. I think people are flinging stones at me, I flee with- 
+out knowing whither, everything whirls and whirls. You feel 
+Tery queer when you have had no food." 
+
+And then she stared at him with a bewildered air. 
+
+By dint of searching and ransacking his pockets, Marius had 
+finally collected five francs sixteen sous. This was all he 
+owned in the world for the moment. '* At all events," he 
+thought, " there is my dinner for to-da}', and to-morrow we will 
+see." He kept the sixteen sous, and handed the five francs to 
+the young girl. 
+
+She seized the coin. 
+
+•* Good ! " said she, «' the sun is shining ! " 
+
+And, as though the sun had possessed the property of melting 
+the avalanches of slang in her brain, she went on : — 
+
+** Five francs ! the shiner ! a monarch ! in tliis hole ! Ain't 
+this fine! You're a jolly thief! I'm your humble ser^'ant! 
+Bravo for the good fellows ! Two days' wine ! and meat ! and 
+3tew ! we'll have a royal feast ! and a good fill ! " 
+
+She pulled her chemise up on her shoulders, made a low bow 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+'^ Good morning, sir. It's all right. Fll go and find my old 
+man." 
+
+As she passed, she caught sight of a dry crust of bread on 
+the commode, which was moulding there amid the dust; she 
+flung herself upon it and bit into it, muttering: — 
+
+" That's good ! it's hard I it breaks my teeth 1 " 
+
+Then she departed. 
+
+V. — A Providential Peep-Hole. 
+
+Marius bad lived for five years in poverty, in destitution, 
+even in distress, but he now perceived that he had not known 
+real misery. True misery he had but just had a view of. It 
+was its spectre which had just passed before his eyes. In /act, 
+he who has only beheld the misery of man has seen nothing ; 
+the misery of woman is what he must see ; he who has seen 
+onl}' the misery of woman has seen nothing ; he mast see the 
+misery of the child. 
+
+When a man has reached his last extremity, he has reached 
+his last resources at the same time. Woe to the defenceless 
+beings who surround him ! Work, wages, bread, fire, courage, 
+good will, all fail him simultaneously. The light of day seems 
+extinguished without, the moral light within ; in these shadows 
+man encounters the feebleness of the woman and the child, and 
+bends them violently to ignominy. 
+
+Then all horrors become possible. Despair is suiTOunded 
+with fragile partitions which all open on either vice or crime. 
+
+Health, youth, honor, all the shy delicacies of the young 
+body, the heart, virginity, modesty, that epidermis of the soul, 
+are manipulated in sinister wise by that fumbling which seeks 
+resources, which encounters opprobrium, and which accomo- 
+dates itself to it. Fathers, mothers, children, brothers, sisters, 
+men, women, daughters, adhere and become incorporated, 
+almost like a mineral formation, in that dusky promiscuousness 
+of sexes, relationships, ages, infamies, and innocences. They 
+crouch, back to back, in a sort of hut of fate. They exchange 
+woe-begone glances. Oh, the unfortunate wretches ! How pale 
+they are ! How cold they are ! It seems as though they dwelt 
+in a planet much further from the sun than ours. 
+
+This young girl was to Marius a sort of messenger from the 
+realm of sad shadows. She revealed to him a hideous side ol 
+the night. 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+ceiveu, uear tue lA^p, ciusu lu uie. ceuiu^; » irmu^ruiar uuie. 
+^hicli resulted from the space between tliree lathes. The plastei 
+which should have filled this cavity was missing, and by mount- 
+ing on the commode, a view could be had through this aper 
+ture into the Jondrettes' attic. Commiseration has, and should 
+have, its curiosity. This aperture formed a sort of peep-hole. 
+It is permissible to gaze at misfortune like a traitor in order tc 
+succor it.^ 
+
+" Let us get some little idea of what these people are like," 
+thought Marius, *' and in what condition they are." 
+
+He climbed upon the commode, put his eye to the crerice, and 
+looked. 
+
+VI. — The Wild Man in his Laib. 
+
+Cities, like forests, have their caverns in which all the most 
+wicked and formidable creatures which they contain conceal 
+themselves. Only, in cities, that which thus conceals itself is 
+ferocious, unclean, and petty, that is to say, ugly; in forests 
+that which conceals itself is ferocious, savage, and grand, that 
+is to say, beautiful. Taking one lair with another, the beast's 
+is preferable to the man's. Caverns are better than hovels. 
+
+What Marius now beheld was a hovel. 
+
+Marius was poor, and his chamber was poverty-stricken, but 
+as his poverty was noble, his garret was neat. The den upon 
+which his eye now rested was abject, dirty, fetid, pestiferous, 
+mean, sordid. Thé only furniture consisted of a straw chair, 
+an infirm table, some old bits of crockery, and in two of the 
+corners, two indescribable pallets ; all the light was furnished 
+by a dormer window of four panes, draped with spiders' wçbs. 
+Through this aperture there penetrated just enough light to 
+make the face of a man appear like the face of a phantom. 
+The walls had a leprous aspect, and were covered with seams 
+and scars, like a visage disfigured by some horrible malady ; a 
+repulsive moisture exuded from them. Obscene sketches 
+roughly sketched with charcoal could be distinguished upon 
+them. , 
+
+The ciiamber which Marius occupied had a dilapidated brick 
+pavement ; this one was neither tiled nor planked ; its inhabi- 
+tants stepped directl}' on the antique plaster of the hovel, which 
+bad grown black under the long-continued pressure of feet. 
+Upon this uneven floor, where the dirt seemed to be fairlj 
+
+1 The peep-hole is a Judas in French. Hence the half-panning «llniioa 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+TbiB man had a long gray beard. 'He was clad in a woman's 
+chemise, which allowed his hairy breast and his bare arms, bris- 
+tling with gray hair, to be seen. Beneath this chemise, mudd^ 
+trousers and boots through which his toes projected were visible. 
+
+He had a pipe in his month and was smoking. There was dc 
+bread-in the hovel, but there was still tobacco. 
+
+He was writing probably some more letters like those whicL 
+Marius had read. 
+
+On the corner of the table lay an ancient, dilapidated, reddish 
+volume, and the size, which was the antique 12mo of reading- 
+rooms, betrayed a romance. On the cover sprawled the fol- 
+lowing title, printed in large capitals : GOD ; THE KING ; 
+HONOR AND THE LADIES ; BY DUCRA Y DUMINIL, 
+1814. 
+
+As the man wrote, be talked aloud, and Marius heard his 
+words : — 
+
+*•*• The idea that there is no equality, even when you are dead ! 
+Just look ai Pere Lachaise ! The great, those who are rich, are 
+up above, in the acacia alley, which is paved. They can reach it 
+in a carriage. The little people, the poor, the unhappy, well, 
+what of them? the}' are put down below, where the mud is up 
+to your knees, in the damp places. They are put there so that 
+they will decay the sooner ! You cannot go to see them with- 
+out sinking into the earth." 
+
+He paused, smote the table with his fist, and added, as he 
+ground his teeth : — 
+
+'* Oh ! I could eat the whole world ! " 
+
+A big woman, who might be fort}* 3'ear8 of age, or a hundredf 
+was crouching near the fireplace on her bare heels. 
+
+She, too, was clad only in a chemise and a knitted pettiooat 
+patched with bits of old cloth. A coarse linen apron concealed 
+the half of her petticoat. Although this woman was doubled 
+up and bent together, it could be seen that she was of very lofty 
+stature. She was a sort of giant, beside her husband. She 
+had hideous hair, of a reddish blond which was turning gray, 
+and which she thrust back from time to time, with her enormous 
+shining hands, with their flat nails. 
+
+Beside her, on the floor, wide open, lay a book of the same 
+form as the other, and probably a volume of the same romance. 
+
+On one of the pallets, Marius caught a glimpse of a sort of 
+tall pale young girl, who sat there half naked and with |>eiidant 
+feet, and who did not seem to be listening or seeing or living. 
+
+
+
+caressing appellations bad survived, as is often the case. She 
+called him : My dear, my little friend^ my good man, etc., with 
+her mouth while her heart was silent. 
+The man resumed his writing. 
+
+VII. — Strategy and Tactics. 
+
+Marius, with a load upon his breast, was on the point of 
+descending from the species of observatory which he had im- 
+provised, when a sound attracted his attention and caused him 
+to remain at his post. 
+
+The door of the attic had just burst open abruptly. The 
+eldest girl made her appearance on the threshold. On her feet, 
+she had large, coarse, men's shoes, bespattered with mud, which 
+had splashed even to her red ankles, and she was wrapped in 
+an old mantle which hung in tatters. Marius had not seen ii 
+on her an hour previously, but she had probably deposited it at 
+his door, in order that she might inspire the more pity, and had 
+picked it up again on emerging. She entered, pushed the dix)r 
+to behind her, paused to take breath, for she was completely 
+breathless, then exclaimed with an expression of triumph and 
+
+joy: — 
+
+** He is coming!" 
+
+The father turned his eyes towards her, the woman turned 
+her head, the little sister did not stir. 
+
+i' Who?" demanded her father. 
+
+*' The gentleman ! " 
+
+" The philanthropist? " 
+
+** Yes." 
+
+** From the church of Saint-Jacques?** 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+*'That old fellow?" 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+"And he is coming?" 
+
+** He is following me.'* 
+
+" You are sure?" 
+
+" I am sure." 
+
+*' There, truly, he is coming? ** 
+
+*' He is coming in a fiacre." 
+
+" In a fiacre. He is Rothschild.** 
+
+The father rose. 
+
+^^ How are you sure? If he is coming in a fiacre, bow m it 
+that you arrive before him You gave him our address at 
+
+
+
+[ 
+
+
+
+nosed jug which stood on the chimney, and flung the water oi 
+the brands. 
+
+Then, addressing his eldest daughter: — 
+
+*' Here 3'ou ! Pull the straw off that chair I " 
+
+His daughter did not understand. 
+
+He seized the chair, and with one kick he rendered it seat 
+less. His leg passed through it. 
+
+As he withdrew his leg, he asked his daughter : — 
+
+"Is it cold?" 
+
+"Very cold. It is snowing." 
+
+The father turned towards the younger girl who sat on the 
+bed near the window, and shouted to her in a thundering 
+voice : — 
+
+*' Quick ! get off that bed, you lazy thing ! will you never do 
+anything ! break a pane of glass ! " 
+
+The little girl jumped off the bed with a shiver. 
+
+" Break a pane !" he repeaited. 
+
+The child stood still in bewilderment. 
+
+" Do you hear me?" repeated her father, ** I tell you to break 
+a pane ! " 
+
+The child, with a sort of terrified obedience, rose on tiptoe, 
+and struck a pane with her fist. The glass broke and fell with 
+a loud clatter. 
+
+"Good," said the father. 
+
+He was grave and abrupt. His glance swept rapidly over all 
+the crannies of the garret. One would have said that he was a 
+general making the final preparation at the moment when tlie 
+battle is on the point of beginning. 
+
+The mother, who had not said a word so far, now rose and 
+demanded in a dull, slow, languid voice, whence her words 
+seemed to emerge in a congealed state : — 
+
+" What do you mean to do, my dear?" 
+
+"Get into bed," replied the man. 
+
+His intonation admitted of no deliberation. The mother 
+obeyed, and threw herself heavily on one of the pallets. 
+
+In the meantime, a sob became audible in. one comer. 
+
+" What's that? *' cried the father. 
+
+The younger daughter exhibited her bleeding fist, without 
+quitting the corner in which she was cowering. She had 
+wounded herself while breaking the window ; she went off, neai 
+her mother's pallet and wept silentlv. 
+
+It was now the mother's turn to start up and exclaim : — 
+
+
+
+Then turning to the elder : — 
+
+'^ There now ! He is not coming ! What if he were not to 
+oome ! I shall have extinguished my fire, wrecked my chair, 
+torn my shirt, and broken my pane all for nothing." 
+
+'^ And wounded the child ! " murmured the mother. 
+
+*' Do you know," went on the father, '* that it's beastly cold 
+in this devil's garret! What if that man should not oome! 
+Oh ! See there, you ! He makes us wait ! He says to him- 
+self : ' Well ! they will wait for me ! That's what they're 
+there for.' Oh ! how I hate them, and with what joy, jubi* 
+lation, enthusiasm, and satisfaction I could strangle all those rich 
+folks ! all thos<i rich folks ! These men who pretend to be 
+charitable, who put on airs, who go to mass, who make presents 
+to the priesthood, preachy^ preachy^ in their sknll-caps, and who 
+think themselves above us, and who come for the purpose of 
+humiliating us, and to bring us ' clothes,' as they say ! old 
+duds that are not worth four sous ! And bread ! That's not 
+what I want, pack of rascals that they are, it's money ! Ah ! 
+money ! Never ! Because they say that we would go off and 
+drink it up, and that we are drunkards and idlers ! And they ! 
+What are they, then, and what have they been in their time ! 
+Thieves ! They never could have become rich otherwise ! Oh ! 
+Society ought to be grasped by the four corners of the doth 
+and tossed into the air, all of it! It would all be smashed, 
+very likely, but at least, no one would have anything, and there 
+would be that much gained ! But what is that blockhead of a 
+benevolent gentleman doing? Will he come? Perhaps the ani- 
+mal has foi^otten the address ! I'll bet tiiat that old beast — ** 
+
+At that moment there came a light tap at the door, the man 
+rushed to it and opened it, exclaiming, amid profound bows and 
+smiles of adoration : — 
+
+^' Enter, sir! Deign to enter, most respected benefactor, 
+and your charming young lady, also." 
+
+A man of ripe age and a young girl made their appearance 
+on the threshold of the attic. 
+
+Marius had not quitted his post. His feelings for the moment 
+surpassed the powers of the human tongue. 
+
+It was She ! 
+
+Whoever has loved knows all the radiant meanings contained 
+In those three letters of that word : She. 
+
+It was certainly she. Marius could hardly distingaish her 
+Shrough the luminous vapor which had suddenly spread before 
+
+
+
+À 
+
+
+
+*' Fabantou," replied the girL 
+
+*' The dramatic artist, good ! '* 
+
+It was lucky for Jondrette, that this had occurred to him, fot 
+at the very moment, M. Leblanc turned to him, and said to him 
+with the air of a person who is seeking to recall a name : — 
+
+*' I see that you are greatly to be pitied, Monsieur — ** 
+
+*' Fabantou," replied ïondrette quickly. 
+
+" Monsieur Fabantou, yes, that is it. I remember.** 
+
+*' Dramatic artist, sir, and one who has had some snccesB." 
+
+Here Jondrette evidently judged the moment propitious for 
+capturing the ^^ philanthropist." He exclaimed with an aocent 
+which smacked at the same time of the vainglory of the 
+mountebank at fairs, and the humility of the mendicant on th« 
+highway : — 
+
+*' A pupil of Talma! Sir! I am a pupil of Talma! For- 
+tune formerly smiled on me — Alas ! Now it is misfortune's 
+turn. You see, my benefactor, no bread, no fire. My poor 
+babes have no fire ! My only chair has no seat ! A broken 
+pane ! And in such weather ! My spouse in bed ! HI ! " 
+
+'' Poor woman ! " said M. Leblanc. 
+
+*' My child wounded I " added Jondrette. 
+
+The child, diverted by the arrival of the strangers, had fal- 
+^n to contemplating ^^ the young lady/' and had ceased to 
+sob. 
+
+" Cry ! bawl ! " said Jondrette to her in a low voice. 
+
+At the same time he pinched her sore hand. All this was 
+done with the talent of a juggler. 
+
+The little girl gave vent to loud shrieks. 
+
+The adorable young girl, whom Marius, in his heart, called 
+'* his Ursule," approached her hastily. 
+
+" Poor, dear child ! " said she. 
+
+•*You see, my beautiful young lady," pursued Jondrette, 
+"^ her bleeding wrist ! It came through an accident while work- 
+ing at a machine to earn six sous a day. It may be necessary 
+to cut off her arm." 
+
+^^ Really?" said the old gentleman, in alarm. 
+
+The little girl, taking this seriously, fell to sobbing more 
+violently than ever. 
+
+'* Alas ! yes, my benefactor!" replied the father. 
+
+For several minutes, Jondrette had been scrutinizing **the 
+benefactor" in a singular fashion. As he spoke, he soemed to 
+be examining the other attentively, as though seeking to sum* 
+
+
+
+mxzy irancs. 
+
+Jondrette lied. Four quarters would have amounted to only 
+forty francs, and he could not owe four, because six months bad 
+not elapsed since Marius had paid tor two. 
+
+M. Leblanc drew five francs from his pocket and threw tfaea 
+on the table. 
+
+Jondrette found time to mutter in the ear of his eldest 
+daughter : — 
+
+^^ The scoundrel I What does he think I can do with his five 
+francs? That won't pay me for my chair and pane of glass! 
+That's what comes of incurring expenses ! " 
+
+In the meanwhile, M. Leblanc had removed the large brown 
+great-coat which he wore over his blue coat, and had thrown it 
+over the back of tlie chair. 
+
+^^ Monsieur Fabantou," he said, ^^ these five francs are all that 
+I have about me, but I shall now take my daughter home, and I 
+will return this evening, — it is this evening that you must pay, 
+is it not?" 
+
+Jondrette's face lighted up with a strange expression. He re- 
+plied vivaciously : — 
+
+^^ Yes, respected sur. At eight o'clock, I must be at my lane 
+lord's." 
+
+^^ I will be here at six, and I will fetch you the sixty francs." 
+
+" My benefactor ! " exclaimed Jondiette, overwhelmed. And 
+he added, in a low tone : " Take a good look at him, wife ! " 
+
+M. Leblanc had taken the arm of the young girl, once more, 
+and had turned towards the door. 
+
+" Farewell until this evening, my friends I " said he. 
+
+** Six o'clock?" said Jondrette. 
+
+'* Six o'clock precisely." 
+
+At that moment, the overcoat lying on the chair canght the 
+eye of the elder Jondrette girl. 
+
+'' You are forgetting your coat, sir," said she. 
+
+Jondrette darted an annihilating look at bis daughter, acoonh 
+panied by a formidable shrug of the shoulders. 
+
+M. Leblanc turned back and said, with a smile : — 
+
+*' I have not forgotten it, I am leaving it." 
+
+" O my protector ! " said Jondrette, " my august benefactor, 
+I melt into tears ! Permit me to accompany you to your car- 
+riage." 
+
+" If you come out," answered M. Leblanc, " put on this coat 
+(t really is very cold." 
+
+Jondrette did not need to be told twice. He hasti^ donned 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+14*^ L li\i «%^WUIJIrl.\4 %/H\j A Ifl^fV «AU^l U<iélklA;VA 1*141 ^\J\AHl' 
+
+
+
+There was no one in the coniilof . He hastened to the stairs. 
+There was no one on the staircase. He descended in all haate, 
+mid icacJied the boulevard in time to see a fincre turning the 
+Orner of the Rue du Petit-Banquier, on its waj back to 
+Ï arift. 
+
+Marins inished headlong in that direction» On arriving at thf 
+^-igle of the boulevard, he cauglit sight of the flacre again, rai)i<iK 
+ai*3C ending the Rue Moufïi^tard ; the carriage was already a lono 
+way olT^ and there wae no means of overtaking it; what! run 
+after it? Impossible; and besides, the i>eople ïji the carriage 
+would assuretlly notice an individual running at fuli six^ed in 
+pursuit of a fiacre^j and the father would recognize him. At t bit 
+moment, wouderfnl and nn [>re cede u ted good luck, Marins per- 
+ceived an empty cab passing along the honlevard. There waa 
+but one thing to he doue» to jump into this rîdi and follow the 
+fiacre, that was sure, efflcacions^ and free from danger. 
+
+Marins mnde tlie driver a aign to halt) and called to him : — 
+
+''By the hour?" 
+
+Maritïs wore no cravat* he had ou his working^coat, which was 
+destitute of buttons, his shirt was ttjrD along one of the plait© no 
+the bosom. 
+
+The driver Ivalted, winked, and held ont his left hand to Mariu^i 
+■fibbing his forefinger gently witli his thumbs 
+
+''''What is it?" said Marins. 
+
+" Pay in advance*'' said the coachman. 
+
+Marins recollected tliat he but sixteen sous about bim* 
+
+'' How ranch?*' he demanded- 
+
+'' Forty sous." 
+
+'* I will pay on ray return." 
+
+The diiver's only reply was to whistle the atr of La Palisse 
+and to whip [ip his horse. 
+
+Marins stared at the retreating cabriolet with a liewilderwi 
+îiir. For tiie lack of four and twenty mous, lie wjis losing his 
+Joy, his imppiness, his love ! Ht? hatl seen, and he was I becom- 
+ing blintl again. He reflected l)jtterly, and it must be confessfih 
+with profound regret, on the five francs whicli he liad bestowed* 
+that very morniiig, on tliat miserable girl. If he had had tlH*se 
+five francs, he would have been saved, he would have been bom 
+ugain, he would have emerged from the limbo and darkm*ss* he 
+wijuld ha%'C made his escape from isolation and sj)leen, from hh 
+Widowt'd stale ; he niijiht hrivc re-knntfcd the lilack thrcïul of liia 
+destiny to that beautiful golden thread, which Uati just floats 
+
+
+
+178 LES MISERABLES 
+
+
+
+XI* — OfFKBS of SeBTICB from MiSBRT to WRKICHEDlfBaB« 
+
+Marius ascended the ataire of the bovel with slow steps; al 
+the moment when he was about to re-enter his cell, he caught 
+sight of the elder Jondrette girl following hiui through the oorn< 
+dor. The very sight of this girl was odious to him ; it was she 
+who had his five francs, it was too late to demand them bai*k, 
+the cab was no longer there, the fiacre was far away. Moreover, 
+she would not liave given them back. As for questioning her 
+about the residence of the persons who had jnst been there, that 
+was useless ; it was evident that she did not know, since the let- 
+ter si|rned Fabantou had been addressed ^^ to tlie iK'nevolent 
+gentleman of tbe church of Saint-^Jacques-du^Hant-Fas." 
+
+Marius entered his room and pushed the door to after him. 
+
+It did not close ; he turned round and beheld a hand which 
+held the door half open. 
+
+'' What is it?" he asked^ '' who is thera?" 
+
+It was the Jondrette girl. 
+
+''Is it you?" resumed Marius almost harshly, *^ still yon! 
+What do you want with me? " 
+
+She appeared to be thoughtful and did not look at him. She 
+no longer had the air of assurance which had characterized her 
+that morning. She did not enter, but held back in the darkness 
+of the corridor, where Marius could see her through the half- 
+open door. 
+
+*' Come now? will you answer,'' cried Marius, '* What do 
+you want with me ? " 
+
+She raised her dull eyes, in which a sort of gleam seemed to 
+flicker vaguely, and said : — 
+
+'' Monsieur Marins, you loc^ sad. What is the matter with 
+you?" 
+
+*' With me ! " said Marias. 
+
+*' Yes, you." 
+
+**> There is nothing the matter with me** 
+
+** Yes, there is!" 
+
+** No." 
+
+«a tell you there is!" 
+
+** Let me alone I " 
+
+Marius gave the door another push, bat she rstaiiied her bold 
+CD it. 
+
+" Stop," said she, ** you are in the wrong. Although you are 
+not rich, you were kind this morniniç. Be so again now. You 
+gave me something to eat, now tell me what ails you. Yoa arf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. m 
+
+grieved, that is plain. I do not wantyoa to be grieved. What 
+can be done for it? Can I be of an}- service? Employ me. I 
+do not ask for your secrets, you need not tell them to me, but 
+I may be of use, nevertheless. I may be able to help you, 
+since I help my father. When it is necessary to carry letters, 
+to go to houses, to inquire from door to door, to find out at 
+address, to follow any one, I am of service. Well, you may 
+assuredly tell me what is the matter with you, and I will go and 
+apeak to the persons; sometimes it is enough if sone one 
+9p3aks to the persons, that suffices to let them understand mat 
+ters, and everything comes right. Make use of me." 
+
+An idea flashed across Marins' mind. What branch does one 
+disdain when one feels that one is falling ? 
+
+He drew near to the Jondrette girl. 
+
+*' Listen — " he said to her. 
+
+She interrupted him with a glean; of joy in her eyes. 
+
+^^ Oh yes, do call me thou! I like that better." 
+
+^^ Well," he*resumed, ^^ thou hast brought hither that old gen* 
+tleman and his daughter ! " 
+
+*'Ye8." 
+
+^^ Dost thou know their address?" 
+
+''No." 
+
+" Find it for me." 
+
+The Jondrette's dull eyes had grown joyous, and they now 
+became gloomy. 
+
+*' Is that what you want? " she demanded. 
+
+**Yes." 
+
+** Do you know them ? " 
+
+** No." 
+
+**That is to say," she resumed quickly, ^'you do not know 
+ûer, but you wish to know her." 
+
+This them which had turned into her had something inde- 
+scribably significant and bitter about it. 
+
+** Well, can you do it? " said Marius. 
+
+" You shall have the beautiful lady's address." 
+
+There was still a shade in the words ^^the beautiful lady** 
+which troubled Marius. He resumed : — 
+
+** Never mind, after all, the address of the father and daugb 
+ter. Their address, indeed ! " 
+
+She gazed fixedly at him. 
+
+*• What will you give me?" 
+
+" Anvthing you like." 
+
+"Anything I like?" 
+
+** Yea.-' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+She dropped her head ; then, with a brusque movement, she 
+pulled to the door, which closed behind her. 
+
+Marios found himself alone. 
+
+He dropped into a chair, with his head and both elbows on 
+his bed, absorbed in thoughts which he could not grasp, and as 
+though a prey to vertigo. All that had taken place since the 
+morning, the appearance of the angel, her disappearance, what 
+that creature had just said to him, a gleam of hope floating ir 
+an immense despair, — this was what filled his brain confusedly 
+
+All at once he was violently aroused from his revery. 
+
+He heard the shrill, hard voice of Jondrette utter these words, 
+which were fraught with a strange interest for him : — 
+
+" I tell you that I am sure of it, and that I recognized him." 
+
+Of whom was Jondrette speaking? Whom had he recog- 
+nized? M. Leblanc? Tha father of "his Ursule"? What! 
+Did Jondrette know him? Was Marins about to obtain in this 
+abrupt and unexpected fashion all the informatioif without which 
+his life was so dark to him? Was he about to learn at last 
+who it was that he loved, who that young girl was? Who hei 
+father was ? Was the dense shadow which enwrapped them on 
+the point of being dispelled? Was the veil about to be rent? 
+All ! Heavens ! 
+
+He boimded rather than climbed upon his commode, and 
+resumed his post near the little peep-hole in the pai-tition wall. 
+
+Again he beheld the interior of Jondrette's hovel. 
+
+XII. — The Use made of M. Leblano's Five-Franc Piece. 
+
+Nothing in the aspect of the family was altered, except that 
+the wife and daughters had levied on the package and put on 
+woollen stockings and jackets. Two new blankets were thrown 
+across the two beds. 
+
+Jondrette had evidently just returned. He still had the 
+breathlessness of out of doors. His daughters were seated on 
+the floor near the fireplace, the elder engaged in dressing the 
+younger's wounded hand. His wife had sunk back on the bed 
+near the fireplace, with a face indicative of astonishment. Jon- 
+drette was pacing up and down the garret with long strides. 
+His eyes were extraordinary. 
+
+The woman, who seemed timid and overwhelmed with stapof 
+in the presence of her husband, turned to say : — 
+
+'* What, really? You are sure?" 
+
+*^Sure! Eight years have passed! But I recognize himl 
+
+
+
+"It is not possible!" she cried. "When I think that my 
+daughters are going barefoot, and have not a gown to theii 
+backs ! What ! A satin pelisse, a velvet bonnet, boots, and 
+everything ; more than two hundred francs' worth of clothes ! 
+so that one would think she was a lady ! No, joa are mis- 
+taken ! Why, in the first place, the other was hideous, and this 
+one is not so bad-looking ! She really is not bad-looking 1 It 
+can't be she ! " 
+
+'' I tell you that it is she. You will see." 
+
+At this absolute assertion, tlie Jondrette woman raised her 
+large, red, blonde face and stared at the ceiling with a horrible 
+expression. At that moment, she seemed to Marius even more 
+to be feared than her husband. She was a sow with the look of 
+a tigress. 
+
+** What ! " she resumed, '' that horrible, beautiful young lady, 
+who gazed at my daughters with an air of pity, — she is that beg- 
+gar brat ! Oh ! I should like to kick her stomach in for her ! '* 
+
+She sprang off of the bed, and remained standing for a mo- 
+ment, her hair in disorder, her nostrils dilating, her mouth halt 
+open, her fists clenched and drawn back. Then she fell back 
+on the bed once more. The man paced to and fro and paid no 
+attention to his female. 
+
+After a silence lasting several minutes, he approached the 
+female Jondrette, and halted in front of her, with folded arms, 
+as he had done a moment before : — 
+
+" And shall I tell you another thing?" 
+
+''What is it?" she asked. 
+
+He answered in a low, curt voice : — 
+
+'* My fortune is made." 
+
+The woman stared at him with the look that signifies : " lé 
+the person who is addressing me on the point of going mad?** 
+
+He went on : — 
+
+*' Thunder ! It was not so very long ago that I was a parishionci 
+of the parish of die-of-hunger-if-you-have-a-fire,-die-of-cold-if- 
+you-have-bread ! I have had enough of misery ! my share and 
+other people's share ! I am not joking any longer, I don't find 
+it comic any more, I 've had enough of puns, good God ! no 
+more farces, Eternal Father ! I want to eat till I am full, I want 
+to drink my fill ! to gormandize \ to sleep ! to do nothing ! 1 
+want to have my turn, so I do, come now ! before I die ! I want 
+to be a bit of a millionnaire ! " 
+
+He took a turn round the hove^ and added: — 
+
+
+
+not have come back again. He would have slipped through our 
+fingers! It was my beard that saved us! my romantic bsardl 
+my pretty little romantic beard ! " 
+
+And again he broke into a laugh. 
+
+He stepped to the window. The snow was still faUing, and 
+rttreaking the gray of the sk}'. 
+
+*' What beastly weather ! " said he. 
+
+Then lapping his overcoat across his breast : — 
+
+'* This rind is too large for me. Never mind," he added, *' he 
+did a devilish good thing in leaving it for me, the old scoundrel ! 
+If it hadn't been for that, I couldn't have gone out, and every- 
+thing would have gone wrong ! What small points things hang 
+on, an}' way ! " 
+
+And pulling his cap down over his eves, he quitted the room. 
+
+He had barely had time to take half a dozen steps from the 
+door, when the door opened again, and his savage but intelligent 
+face made its appearance once more in the ooening. 
+
+** I came near forgetting," said he. " You are to have a bra- 
+zier of charcoal ready." 
+
+And he flung into his wife's apron the ûve-fratic piece whk^lr 
+the *' philanthropist" had left with him. 
+
+** A brazier of charcoal ? " asked his wife. 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+** How many bushels?" 
+
+** Two good ones." 
+
+*^ That will come to thirty sous. With the res» L wjii ti<* 
+something for dinner." 
+
+*' The devil, no." 
+
+"Why?" 
+
+" Don't go and spend the hundred-son piece."* 
+
+'*Why?" 
+
+" Because I shall have to buy something, too.** 
+
+*^What?" 
+
+" Somethii^." 
+
+** How much shall you need?" 
+
+*^ Whereabouts in the neighborhood is there an ironmonger*! 
+shop?" 
+
+" Rue Mouffetard." 
+
+"Ah ! yes, at the corner of a street ; I can see the shop." 
+
+" But tell me how much you will need for what yoa have U 
+purchase ? " 
+
+" Fifty sous — three francs." 
+
+
+
+instant before his eyes, and had then plunged back again into 
+the immense depths of Paris. Should he wait for M. Leblanc 
+at the door that evening at six o'clock, at the moment of his 
+arrival, and warn him of the trap? But Jondrette and his men 
+would see him on the watch, the 8i)ot was lonely, they were 
+stronger than he, they would devise means to seize him or tc 
+get him away, and the man whom Mari us was anxious to save 
+would be lost. One o'clock had just struck, the trap was to be 
+sprung at six. Marius had five hours before him. 
+
+There was but one tiling to be done. 
+
+He put on his decent coat, knotted a silk handkerchief round 
+his neck, took his hat, and went out, without making any more 
+noise than if he had been treading on moss with bare feet. 
+
+Moreover, the Jondrette woman continued to rummage among 
+her old iron. 
+
+Once outside of the house, he made for the Rue da Petit- 
+Banquier. 
+
+He had almost reached the middle of this street, near a very 
+low wall which a man can easily step over at certain points, and 
+which abuts on a waste space, and was walking slowly, in con- 
+sequence of his preoccupied condition, and the snow deadened 
+the sound of his steps ; all at once he heard voices talking very 
+close by. He turned his head, the street was deserted, there 
+was not a soul in it', it was broad daylight, and j'et he distiDetly 
+heard voices. 
+
+It occurred to him to glance over the wall which he was 
+skirting. 
+
+There, in fact, sat two men, flat on the snow, with their backs 
+against the wall, talking together in subdued tones. 
+
+These two persons were strangers to him ; one was a bearded 
+man in a blouse, and the other a long-haired individual in rags. 
+The bearded man had on a fez, the other's head was bare, and 
+^he snow had lodged in his hair. 
+
+By thrusting his head over the wall, Marius could hear their 
+remarks. 
+
+The hairy one jogged the other man's elbow and said : — 
+
+*' — With the assistance of Patron-Minette, it can't fail." 
+
+'' Do you think so? " said the bearded man. 
+
+And the long-haired one began again : — 
+
+'* It's as good as a warrant for each one, of five hundred balls, 
+and the worst that can happen is five years, six years, ten years 
+at the most I ** 
+
+
+
+182 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+might have been well said, not that it penetrated, bat thai II 
+
+'searched. 
+
+This man's air was not much less ferocious nor less terrible 
+than Jondrette's ; the dog is, at times, no less temble to meet 
+than the wolf. 
+
+^^ What do you want?" he said to Manus, without adding 
+** monsieur." 
+
+*' Is this Monsieur le Commissaire de Police?" 
+
+*^ He is absent. I am licre in liis stead.^ 
+
+*' The matter is very private." 
+
+" Then speak." 
+
+*^ And great haste is required.'' 
+
+*' Then speak quick." 
+
+This calm, abrupt man was both terrifying and reassaring 
+at one and the same time. He inspire<l foar and confidence. 
+Marius related the adventure to him: That a person with 
+wliom he was not acquainted otiierwise than by siglit, was to 
+be inveigled into a trap that very evening ; tliat, as he occapied 
+the room adjoining tlie den, lie, Marius Pontmercy, a lawyer, 
+had heard the whole plot througli the partition ; that the wrctc'h 
+who had planned the trap was a certain Jondrette ; that tliore 
+would be accomplices, probably some prowlers of the barriers, 
+among others a certain Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigre- 
+naille ; that Jondrette's dunohters were to lie in wait ; that 
+there was no wa}' of warning the tiireatencd man, since he did 
+not even know his name ; and tiiat. finally, all this was to be 
+carried out at six o'clock thîit evening, at the most deserted 
+point of the Boulevard de rn/^pit;il, in house No. 50-52. 
+
+At the sound of this numbei-, the inspector raised his head, 
+and said coldly : — 
+
+" So it is in the room at the end of the corridor? " 
+
+''Precisely," answered Marins, and he added: "Are you 
+acquainted with that house ? " 
+
+The inspector remained silent for a moment, then replietl, 
+siS he warmed the heel of his boot at the door of the 
+stove : — 
+
+** Apparently." 
+
+He went on, muttering between his teeth, and not addressing 
+Marins so much as his cravat : — 
+
+'' Patron- Minette must have had a hand in this." 
+
+This word struck Marius. 
+
+'* Patron-Minette," said he, "I did hear that word pro 
+bounced, in fact." 
+
+And he repeated to the inspector the dial(^ue between the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 183 
+
+long-haired man and the bearded man in the snow behind the 
+wall of the Rue du Petit-Banquier. 
+
+The inspector muttered : — 
+
+^^ The long-haired man must be Brujon, and the bearded one 
+Demi-Liard, alias Deux-Milliards." 
+
+He had dropped his eyelids again, and became absorbed in 
+thought. 
+
+" As for Father What's-his-name, I think I recognize him. 
+Here, I've burned my coat. They always have too much fire in 
+these cursed stoves. Ndmber 50-62. Former property of 
+Gorbeau." 
+
+Then he glanced at Marins. 
+
+^* You saw only that bearded and that long-haired man ? '* 
+
+** And Panchaud." 
+
+*^ You didn't see a little imp of a dandy prowling about the 
+premises?" 
+
+*' No." 
+
+^^ Nor a big lump of matter, resembling an elephant in the 
+Jardin des Plantes ? " 
+
+" No." 
+
+** Nor a scamp with the air an old red tail." 
+
+** No." 
+
+^^ As for the fourth, no one sees him, not even his adjutants, 
+clerks, and employees. It is not surprising that you did not 
+Bee him." 
+
+*' No. Who are all those persons?" asked Marias. 
+
+The inspector answered : — 
+
+*^ Besides, this is not the time for them.** 
+
+He relapsed into silence, then resumed : — 
+
+*' 50-52. I know that barrack. Impossible to conceal our- 
+selves inside it without the artists seeing us, and then they will 
+get off simply by countermanding the vaudeville. They are so 
+modest I An audience embarrasses them. None of that, none 
+JÎ that. I want to hear them sing and make them dance." 
+
+This monologue concluded, he turned to Marins, and 
+demanded, gazing at him intently the while : — 
+
+*' Are 3'ou afraid?" 
+
+** Of what? " said Marins. 
+
+"Of these men?" 
+
+'- No more than yourself ! " retorted Marins mdely, %1io had 
+began to notice that this police agent had not yet said " mon- 
+sieur " to him. 
+
+The inspector stared still more intently at Marius, and con 
+tinned with sententious solemnity : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+184 ^ LES MlaBHABLBS. 
+
+''There yoa speak like a brave inan, and like an honest 
+man. Com age does not fear crimen and honesty does not feai 
+authority.** 
+
+j^arius interrupted him : — 
+
+** That is well, but what do you intend to do? ■* 
+
+The inspector contented himself with the remark : — 
+
+'' The lodgers have pass-keys with which to get in at night 
+You must have one." 
+
+*' Yes," said Marius. 
+
+" Have you it about you? ** 
+
+** Yes." 
+
+** Give it to me," said the inspector. 
+
+Marius took his key from his waistcoat pocket, banded It to 
+the inspector and added : — 
+
+*' If you will take my advice, you will come in force.** 
+
+The inspector cast on Marius such a glauce as Voltaire might 
+have bestowed on a provincial academician who had suggested 
+\ rhyme to him ; with one movement he plunged his hands, 
+which were enormous, into the two immense pockets of his top- 
+coat, and pulled out two small steel pistols, of the sort called 
+*' knock-me-downs." Then he presented them to Marios, say- 
+ing rapidly, in a curt tone : — 
+
+^^ Take these. Go home. Hide in your chamber, so that yop 
+may be supposed to have gone out. They are loaded. EW 
+one carries two balls. You will keep watch ; tliere is a hole ik 
+the wall, as yon have informed me. These men will come. 
+Leave them to their own devices for a time. When you think 
+matters have reached a crisis, and that it is time to put a stop 
+to tliem, fire a shot. Not too soon. The rest concerns me. A 
+shot into the ceiling, the air, no matter where. Above all things, 
+not too soon. Wait until they begin to put their project into 
+execution ; you are a lawyer ; you know the proper point." 
+
+Marius took the pistols and put them in the side pocket of his 
+coat. 
+
+^^ That makes a lump that can be seen,** said the inspector 
+*' Put them in your trousera pocket.'* 
+
+Marius hid the pistols in his trousers pockets. 
+
+" Now," pursîied the inspector, '' there is not a minnte mors 
+to be lost by any one. What time is it? Half-past two. Seveo 
+o'clock is the hour?" 
+
+'' Six o'clock," answered Marins. 
+
+*' I have plenty of time," said the inspector, **bnt no mow 
+than enough. Don't forget anything that I have said to yoa 
+Bang. A pistol shot.** 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 185 
+
+^^ Best easy,** said MaHus. 
+
+And as Marius laid his hand on the handle of the door cm hii 
+If ay out, the inspector called to him : -^ 
+
+*-*• By the way, if you have occasion for my services betweei 
+now and then, come or send here. Yon will ask for Inspected 
+Jijivert-'* 
+
+XV. — Join>RBTTE JfAKES HIS PCRCHASBS. 
+
+A FEW moments later, about three o'clock, Courfeyrac chanced 
+to be passing along the Rue Mouffetaixl in company with Bos- 
+saet. The snow had redoubled in violence, and filled the air. 
+BosBuet was just saying to Courfeyrac : — 
+
+^^ One would say, to see all these snow-flakes fall, that there 
+was a plague of white butterflies in heaven." All at once, Bos- 
+saet caught sight of Marins coming up the street towards the 
+barrier with a peculiar air. 
+
+" Hold ! " said Bossuet. " There's Marius." 
+
+** I saw him," said Courfeyrac. *^ I>on't lef s speak to him." 
+
+"Why?" 
+
+♦* He is busy." 
+
+"With what?" 
+
+*• Don't you see his air? ** 
+
+"What air?" 
+
+** He has the air of a man who is following some one.** 
+
+" That's true," said Bossuet 
+
+*^ Just see the eyes he is making 1 " said Courfeyrac. 
+
+** But who the deuce is he following?" 
+
+" Some fine, flowery bonneted wench I He's in love." 
+
+^^ But," observed Bossuet, ^' I don't see any wench nor any 
+flowery bonnet in the street. There's not a woman round." 
+
+Courfeyrac took a survey, and exclaimed : — 
+
+** He's following a man ! " 
+
+A man, In fact, wearing a gray cap, and whose gray beard 
+9onld be distinguished, although they only saw his back, waa 
+walking along about twenty paces in advance of Marius. 
+
+This man was dressed in a great-coat which was perfectly 
+new and too lai^e for him, and in a frightful pair of trousers 
+%11 hanging in rags and black with mud. 
+
+Bossuet burst out laughing. 
+
+"Who is that man?" 
+
+"He?" retorted Courfeyrac, "He's a poet. Poets are very 
+fond of wearing the trousers of dealers in rabbit skins and th< 
+overcoats of peers of France." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+186 USS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+^^ Let's see where Marius will go," said Bossaet; ^^letTs tei 
+where the niaii is going, let's follow tiiem, hej'?" 
+
+*^ Bossuet ! " exclaimed Coarfeyrac, ^^ eagle of Meaax I Tos 
+are a prodigious brute. Follow a man who is following another 
+man, indeed I " 
+
+They retraced their steps. 
+
+Marius had, in fact, seen Jondrette passing along the Rue 
+Mouffetard, and was spying on his proceedings. 
+
+Jondrette wallced straight ahead, without a suspicion that he 
+was already held by a glance. 
+
+He quitted the Rue Mouffetard, and Marins saw him enter 
+one of the most ten*ible hovels in the Rue Gracieuse ; he remained 
+there about a quarter of an hour, then returned to the Rue 
+Mouffetard. He halted at an ironmonger's shop, which then 
+stood at the corner of the Rue Pierre-Lombard, and a few min- 
+utes later, Marius saw him emerge from the shop, holding ia 
+his hand a huge cold chisel with a white wood handle, which he 
+concealed beneath his great-coat. At the top of the Rue 
+Petit-Gen tiUy, he turned to the left and proceeded rapidly to the 
+Rue du Petit-Banquier. The day was declining; the snow, 
+which had ceased for a moment, had just begun again. Manns 
+posted himself on the watch at the very corner of the Rue du 
+Petit- Banquier, which was deserted, as usual, and did not follow 
+Jondrette into it. It was lucky that he did so, for, on arriving 
+in the vicinity of tlie wall where Marius had heard the long- 
+haired man and the bearded man conversing, Jondrette turned 
+round, made sure that no one was following him, did not see 
+him, then sprang across the wall and disappeared. 
+
+The waste land bordered by this wall communicated with 
+the back yard of an ex-livery stable-keeper of -bad repute, who 
+had failed and who still kept a few old single-seated berlins 
+under his sheds. 
+
+Marius thought that it would be wise to profit by Jondrette'i 
+absence to return home ; moreover, it was growing late ; ever^ 
+evening. Ma'am Burgon when she set out for her dish-washing 
+in town, had a habit of locking the door, which was always 
+closed at dusk. Marius had given his key to the inspector of 
+police ; it was important, therefore, that he should make haste. 
+
+Evening had arrived, night had almost closed in; on the 
+horizon and in the immensity of space, there remained but ont 
+i^pot still illuminated by the sun, and that was the moon. 
+
+It was rising in a ruddy glow behind the low dome o* 
+ftal()etrière. 
+
+Marius returned to No. 50-52 with great strides. The dooi 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIU8. Wl 
+
+waa still open when he arrived. He mounted the stairs on tip« 
+toe and glided along the wall of the corridor to his chamber. 
+Y'his corridor, as the reader will remember, was bordered on 
+both sides by attics, all of which were, for the moment, empty 
+and to let. Ma'am Burgon was in the habit of leaving all the 
+doors open. As he passed one of these attics. Marins thought he 
+perceived in the uninhabited cell, the motionless heads of four 
+men, vaguely lighted up by a remnant of daylight, falling 
+through a dormer window. Marins made no attempt to see, 
+not wishing to be seen himself. He succeeded in reaching his 
+chamber without being seen and without making any noise. It 
+waH liigh time. A moment later he heard Ma'am Burgon take 
+her departure, locking the door of the house behind her. 
+
+
+
+XVI. — In which will be found the Words to an Eng- 
+lish Am which was in Fashion in 1832. 
+
+Mabius seated himself on his bed. It might have been half- 
+past five o'clock. Only half an hour separated him from what 
+was about to happen. He heard the beating of his arteries as 
+one hears the ticking of a watch in the dark. He thought of the 
+doable march which was going on at that moment in the dark, 
+— crime advancing on one side, justice coming up on the other. 
+He was not afraid, but he could not think without a shudder of 
+what was about to take place. As is the case with all those who 
+are suddenly assailed b}- an unforeseen adventure, the entire day 
+produced upon him the effect of a dream, and, in oixler to per- 
+suade himself that he was not the prey of a nightmare, he had to 
+feel the cold barrels of the steel pistols in his trousers pockets. 
+
+It was no longer snowing ; the moon disengaged itself more 
+and more clearly from the mist, and its light, mingled with the 
+white reflection of the snow which had fallen, communicated to 
+the chamber a sort of twilight aspect. 
+
+'there was a light in the Jondrette den. Marins saw the hole 
+in the wall shiniug with a reddish glow which seemed bloody 
+to him. 
+
+It was true that the light could not be produced by a candle. 
+However, there was not a sound in the Jondrette quarters, not 
+a soul was moving there, not a soul speaking, not a breath ; the 
+silence was glacial and profound, and had it not been for that 
+liirht, he might have thought himself next door to a sepulchre. 
+
+Marins softly removed his boots and pushed them under his 
+bed. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+188 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Several minutes elapsed. Marins heard the lower door tarn 
+on its hinges ; a heavy step mounted the staircase, and hastened 
+along the corridor ; the latch of the hovel was noisily lifted ; it 
+was Jondrette returning. 
+
+Instantly, several voices arose. The whole family was in the 
+garret. Only, it had been silent in the master's absence, like 
+wolf whelps in the absence of the wolf. 
+
+" It's I," said he. 
+
+•* Good evening, daddy," yelped the girls. 
+
+"Well?" said the mother. 
+
+''All's going first-rate," responded Jondrette, "but my feet 
+are beastly cold. Good ! You have dressed up. You have 
+done well ! You must inspire confidence." 
+
+** All ready to go out. 
+
+
+
+i( 
+
+
+
+Don't forget what I told you ? You will do everything sure? 
+
+
+
+Rest easy. 
+
+'^ Because — " said Jondrette. And he left the phrase un- 
+finished. 
+
+Marins heard him lay something heav}* on the table, proba- 
+bly the chisel which he had purchased. 
+
+♦* By the way," said Jondrette, *' have you been eating here?" 
+
+*'Ye8," said the mother, "I got three large potatoes and 
+some salt. I took advantage of the fire to cook them." 
+
+" Good," returned Jondrette. '* To-morrow I will take yon 
+out to dine with me. We will have a duck and fixings. Yon 
+shall dine like Charles the Tenth ; all is going well ! " 
+
+Then he added : — 
+
+*' The mouse-trap is open. The cats are there." 
+
+He lowered his voice still further, and said : — 
+
+'' Put this in the fire." 
+
+Marius heard a sound of charcoal being knocked with the 
+tongs or some iron utensil, and Jondrette continued : — 
+
+'' Have you greased the hinges of the door so that they will 
+not squeak ? " 
+
+*' Yes," replied the mother. 
+
+"What time is it?" 
+
+" Nearly six. The half -hour struck from Saint-Médard a 
+while ago." 
+
+" The devil ! " ejaculated Jondrette ; "the children must go 
+^nd watch. Come you, do you listen here." 
+
+A whispering ensued. 
+
+Jondrette's voice became audible again : — 
+
+"Has old Burgon left?" 
+
+" Yes," said the mother. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 189 
+
+*^Are yoa sure that there is no one in our neighbor's 
+room ? " 
+
+^' He has not been in all day, and you know very well that 
+this is his dinner hour.'' 
+
+*• You are sure?" 
+
+'' Sure." 
+
+^^ All the same," said Jondrette, ^^ there's no harm in going 
+to see whether he is there. Here, my girl, take the candle and 
+go there." 
+
+Marins fell on his hands and knees and crawled silently undei 
+his bed. 
+
+Hardly had he concealed himself, when he perceived a light 
+through the crack of his door. 
+
+^' P'pa," cried a voice, " he is not in here." 
+
+He recognized the voice of the eldest daughter. 
+
+*' Did you go in?" demanded her father. 
+
+**No," replied the girl, ''but as his key is in the door, he 
+must be out." 
+
+The father exclaimed : — 
+
+** Go in, nevertheless." 
+
+The door opened, and Marius saw the tall Jondrette come in 
+with a candle in her hand. She was as she had been in the 
+morning, only still more repulsive in this light. 
+
+She walked straight up to the bed. Marius endured an in- 
+describable moment of anxiety ; but near the bed there was a 
+mirror nailed to the wall, and it was thither that she was direct- 
+mg her steps. She raised herself on tiptoe and looked at her- 
+self in it. In the neighboring room, the sound of iron articles 
+being moved was audible. 
+
+She smoothed her hair with the palm of her hand, and smiled 
+into the mirror, humming with her cracked and sepulchral 
+voice : — 
+
+No6 amours ont duré toute une semaine, ^ 
+Mais que du bonheur les instants sont courte ! 
+S'adorer huit jours, c' e'tait bien la peine ! 
+Le temps des amours devait durer toujours ! 
+Devrait durer toujours! devrait durer toujours! 
+
+In the meantime, Marius trembled. It seemed impossible to 
+him that she should not hear his breathing. 
+
+She stepped to the window and looked out with the half- 
+foolish way she had. 
+
+1 Our love has lasted a whole week, but how short are the instants of hap- 
+piness! To adore ^ach other for eight days was hardly worth the while I The 
+tiiro of k»ve should last forever. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+190 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+'^ How ugly Paris is when it has put on a white cheiuise!" 
+said she. 
+
+She returned to the mirror and began again to pat on airs 
+before it, scrutinizing herself full-face and three-quarters fane in 
+turn. 
+
+" Well ! " cried her father, '' what are you about there? '' 
+
+" I am looking under the bed and the furniture," she replied, 
+continuing to arrange her hair ; '* there's no one here." 
+
+''Booby!" yelled her father. "Come here this minute! 
+And don't waste any time about it 1 " 
+
+'' Coming ! Coming I " said she. " One has no time for any- 
+thing in this hovel ! " 
+
+She hummed : — 
+
+Vous mc qaittez pour aller à la gloire ; ^ 
+Mon triste cœur suivra partout. 
+
+She cast a parting glance in the mirror and went out, shutting 
+the door behind her. 
+
+A moment more, and Marius heard the sound of the two 
+young girls* bare feet in the corridor, and Jondrette's voice 
+shouting to them : — 
+
+'^ Pay strict heed ! One on the side of the barrier, the other 
+at the corner of the Rue du Petit- Banquier. Don't lose sight 
+for a moment of the door of this house, and the moment you 
+see anything, rush here on the instant ! as hard as you can go I 
+You have a key to get in." 
+
+The eldest girl grumbled : — 
+
+''The idea of standing watch in the snow barefoot!" 
+
+''To-morrow you shall have some dainty little green silk 
+boots ! " said the fatiier. 
+
+They ran down stairs, and a few seconds later the shock of 
+the outer door as it banged to announced that they were outside. 
+
+There now remained in the house only Marius, the Jondrettes 
+and probably, also, the mysterious persons of whom Marius had 
+cauifht a glimpse in the twilight, behind the door of the unused 
+attic. 
+
+XVU. — The Use made op Marius' Five-Frano Piece. 
+
+Marius decided that the moment had now arrived when he 
+must resume his post at his observatory. In a twinkling, and 
+with the s^ility of his age, he had reached the hole in the par- 
+tition. 
+
+He looked. 
+
+I You leave me to go to glory ; my sad heart will foUow you tvorywherfr 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MAHiVS. 191 
+
+The interior of the Joodrette apartment presented a curious 
+aspect, and Miirius found an explanation of the singular light 
+which he had noticed. A candle was burning in a candlestick 
+covered with verdigris, but that was not what really lighted the 
+chamber. The hovel was completely illuminated, as it were, by 
+the reflection from a rather large sheet-iron brazier standing in 
+the fireplace, and filled with burning charcoal, the brazier pre- 
+pared by the Jondrette woman that morning. The charcoal was 
+glowing hot, and the brazier was red ; a blue flame flickered over 
+it, and helped him to make out the form of the chisel purchased 
+by Jondrette in the Rue Pierre-Lombard, where it had been 
+thrust into the brazier to heat. In one corner, near the door, 
+and as though prepared for s^me definite use, two heaps were 
+visible, which appeared to be, the one a heap of old iron, the 
+other a heap of ropes. All this would have caused the mind 
+of a person who knew nothing of what was in preparation, to 
+waver between a very sinister and a very simple idea. The 
+lair thus lighted up more resembled a forge than a mouth of 
+hell, but Jondrette, in this light, had rather the air of a demon 
+than of a smith. 
+
+The heat of the brazier was so great, that the candle on the 
+table was melting on the side next the chafing-dish, and was 
+drooping over. An old dark-lantern of copper, worthy of 
+Diogenes turned Cartouche, stood on the chimney-piece. 
+
+The brazier, placed in the fireplace itself, beside the nearly 
+extinct brands, sent its vapors up the chimney, and gave out 
+no odor. 
+
+The moon, entering through the four panes of tlie window, 
+cast its whiteness into the crimson and flaming garret ; and to 
+the iM)etic spirit of Marius, who was dreamy even in the 
+moment of action, it was like a thought of heaven mingled 
+with the misshapen reveries of earth. 
+
+A breath of air which made its way in through the open pane, 
+helped to dissipate the smell of the charcoal and to conceal the 
+presence of the brazier. 
+
+The Jondrette lair was, if the reader recalls what we have 
+said of the Gorbeau building, admirably chosen to serve as the 
+theatre of a violent and sombre deed, and as the envelope for a 
+crime. It was the most retired chamber in the most isolated 
+house on the most deserted boulevard in Paris. If the system 
+of ambush and traps had not already existed, they would have 
+been invented there. 
+
+The whole thickness of a house and a multitude of unin- 
+habited rooms separated this den from the boulevard, and the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+192 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+only window that existed opened on waste lands enclused ^ iili 
+walls and palisudes. 
+
+Jondretto had lighted his pipe, seated himself on the seatless 
+chair, and was engaged in smoking. His wife was talking to 
+him in a low tone. 
+
+If Marias had been CoiirfejTac, that is to say, one of tboee 
+men who laugh on- every occasion in life, he would have burst 
+with laughter when his gaze fell on the Jondrette woman. 8hv: 
+had on a black bonnet with plumes not unlike the hats of the 
+heralds-at-arms at the coronation of Charles X., an immense 
+tartan shawl over her knitted petticoat, and the man's 8h<>e^ 
+which her daughter had scorne^l in the morning. It was this 
+toilette which had extracted from Jondrette the exclamation : 
+'' Good ! You have dressed up. You have done well. You 
+must ins[)ire confidence ! " 
+
+As for Jondrette, he had not taken off the new surtout, which 
+was too large for him, and which M. Leblanc had given him, 
+and his costume continued to present that contrast of coat and 
+trousers which constituted the ideal of a poet in Courfeyrac's 
+eyes. 
+
+All at once, Jondrette lifted up his voice : — 
+
+'' By the way ! Now that I think of it. In this weather, he 
+will come in a carriage. Light the lantern, take it and go down 
+stairs. You will stand behind the lower door. The very uk>- 
+ment that you hear the carriage stop, you will open the door, 
+instantly, he will come up, you will light the staii-case and the 
+corridor, and when he enters here, you will go down stairs a^ain 
+as speedily as possible, 3'ou will pay the coachman, and dismiss 
+the fiacre. 
+
+" And the money?" inquired the woman. 
+
+Jondrette fumbled in his trousers pocket and handed her £▼€ 
+francs. 
+
+'* Whafs this?" she exclaimed. 
+
+Jondrette replied with dignity : — 
+
+'' That is the monarch which our neighbor gave us this morning.*' 
+
+And he added.: — 
+
+'' Do you know what? Two chairs will be needed here.** 
+
+** What for?" 
+
+'* To sit on." 
+
+Marius felt a cold chill pass through his limbs at hearing this 
+mild answer from Jondrette. 
+
+" Pardieu ! Til go and get one of our neighbor's." 
+
+And with a rapid movement, she opened t^e door of the dan» 
+and went out into the corridor. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS, 193 
+
+Marius abBolutely had not the time to descend from the com* 
+'mode, reach his bed, and conceal himself beneath it. 
+
+^* Take the candle," cried Jondrette. 
+
+" No," said she, " it would embai-rass me, I have the two 
+chairs to carry. There is moonlight." 
+
+Marius heaid Mother Jondrette's heavy hand fumbling at his 
+lock in the dark. The door opened. He remained nailed to the 
+spot with the shock and with horror. 
+
+The Jondrette entered. 
+
+The dormer window permitted the entrance of a ray of moon- 
+light between two blocks of shadow. One of these blocks of 
+shadow entirely covered the wall against which Marius was 
+leaning, so that he disappeared within it. 
+
+Mother Jondrette raised her eyes, did not see Marius, took 
+the two chairS) the only ones which Marius possessed, and went 
+away, letting the door fall heavilj' to behind her. 
+
+She re-entered the lair. 
+
+*' Here are the two chairs." 
+
+*' And here is the lantern. Go down as quick as you can." 
+
+She hastily obeyed, and Jondrette was left alone. 
+
+He placed the two chairs on opposite sides of the table, turned 
+the chisel in the brazier, set in front of the fireplace an old 
+screen which masked the chafing-dish, then went to the corner 
+where lay the pile of rope, and bent down as though to examine 
+something. Maiîus then recognized the fact, that what he had 
+taken for a shapeless mass was a very well-made rope-ladder, 
+with wooden rungs and two hooks with which to attach it. 
+
+This ladder, and some large tools, veritable masses of iron, 
+which were mingled with the old iron piled up behind the door, 
+had not been in the Jondrette hovel in the morning, and had 
+evidently been brought thither in the afternoon, during Marius' 
+absence. 
+
+^^ Those are the utensils of an edge-tool maker," thought 
+èlarius. 
+
+Had Marius been a little more learned in this line, he would 
+have recognized in what he took for the engines of an edge-t4)ol 
+maker, certain instruments which will force a lock or pick a 
+lock, and others which will cut or slice, the two families of tools 
+which burglars call cadets and fauchants. 
+
+The fireplace and the two chairs were exactly opposite Mariug. 
+The brazier being concealed, the only light in the room was now 
+furnished by the candle ; the smallest bit of crockery on thi 
+table or on the chimney-piece cast a large shadow. There wab 
+something indescribably calm, threatening, and hideous about 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+294 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+this chamber. One felt that there existed in it the anticipatioi 
+of soniethiiig terrible. 
+
+Joudretto had allowed his pipe to go out, a serious sign of pre- 
+occupation, and had again seated himself. The candle brought 
+out the fierce and the fine angles of his countenance. He in- 
+dulged in scowls and in abrupt unfoldiugs of the right hand, as 
+.though he were responding to the last counsels of a sombre 
+inward monologue. In the course of one of there dark replies 
+which he was making to himself, he pulled the table drawer 
+rapidly towards him, took out a long kitchen knife which wa^^ 
+concealed there, and tried the edge of its blade on his nail. 
+That done, he put the knife back in the drawer and shut it. 
+
+Marius, on his side, grasped the pistol in his right pocket, 
+drew it out and cocked it. 
+
+The pistol emitted a sharp, clear click, as he cocked it. 
+
+Jondrette started, half rose, listened a moment, then began 
+io laugh and said : — 
+
+" What a fool I am ! It's the partition cracking I ** 
+
+Marins kept the pistol in his hand. 
+
+XVIII.— Mabius' Two Chairs form a Vis-l-Vis. 
+
+Suddenly, the distant and melancholy vibration of a clock 
+shook the panes. Six o'clock was striking from SaintrMédard. 
+
+Jondrette marked off each stroke with a toss of his head. 
+When the sixth had struck, he snuffed the candle with bis 
+fingers. 
+
+Then he began to pace up and down the room, listened at the 
+corridor, walked on again, then listened once more. 
+
+" Provided only that he comes ! " he muttered, then he re- 
+turned to his chair. 
+
+He had hardly reseated himself when the door opened. 
+
+Mother Jondrette had opened it, and now remained in the 
+corridor making a horrible, amiable grimace, which one of the 
+holes of the dark-lantern illuminated from below. 
+
+*' Enter, sir," she said. 
+
+*' Enter, my benefactor," repeated Jondrette, rising hastily. 
+
+M. Leblanc made his appearance. 
+
+He wore an air of serenity which rendered him singularly 
+venerable. 
+
+He laid four louis on the table. 
+
+*' Monsieur Fabantou," said he, *' this is for your rent and 
+your most pressing necessities. We will attend to the rcsJ 
+hereafter. " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARItrS. IM 
+
+^* May God reqnite H to you, my gênerons benefactor I" said 
+Jondrette. 
+
+And rapidly approaeliing his wife : — 
+
+" Dismiss the carriage ! " 
+
+She slipped oat while her husband was lavishing salutes and 
+offering M. Leblanc a chair. An instant later she returned and 
+whispered in his ear : — 
+
+" 'Tis done." 
+
+The snow, which had not ceased falling since the morning, 
+was so deep that the arrival of the fiacre had not been audible, 
+and they did not now hear its departure. 
+
+Meanwhile, M. Leblanc had seated himself. 
+
+Jondrette had taken possession of the other chair, facing 
+Bl. Leblanc. 
+
+Now, in" order to form an idea of the scene which is to follow, 
+let the reader picture to himself in his own mind, a cold night, 
+the solitudes of the Salpêtrière covered with snow and white as 
+^wiDding-sheets in the moonlight, the taper-like lights of the 
+street lanterns which shone redly here and there along those 
+tragic boulevards, and the long rows of black elms, not a 
+passer-by for perhaps a quarter of a league around, the Gorbeau 
+hovel, at its highest pitch of silence, of horror, and of darkness ; 
+in that building, in the midst of those solitudes, in the midst of 
+that darkness, the vast Jondrette garret lighted by a single can- 
+dle, and in that den two men seated at a table, M. Leblanc tran- 
+quil, Jondrette smiling and alarming, the Jondrette woman, the 
+female wolf, in one corner, and, behind the partition, Mari us, 
+invisible, erect, not losing a word, not missing a single move- 
+ment, his eye on the watch, and pistol in hand. 
+
+However, Marius experienced only an emotion of horror, but 
+no fear. He clasped tJie stock of the pistol firmly and felt reas- 
+sured. *' I shall be able to stop that wretch whenever I please," 
+he thought. 
+
+He felt that the police were there somewhere in ambuscade, 
+i^aiting for the signal n^eed upon and ready to stretch out their 
+arm. 
+
+Moreover, he was in hopes, that this violent encounter between 
+Jondrette and M. Leblanc would cast some light on all the things 
+
+hidi he was interested in learning. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+196 l'Es MISERABLES. 
+
+
+
+XTK. — OœuPTiNG One's Self with Obscure Depths. 
+
+Hakdly was M. Leblanc seated, when he turued his ejesi 
+towards the pallets, which were empty. 
+
+'^ How is the poor little wounded girl?" he inquired. 
+
+^^ Bad," replied Jondrette with a heart>broken and grateful 
+smile, '" very bad, my worthy sir. Her elder sister has taken 
+her to the Bourbe to have her hurt dressed. Yon will see them 
+presently ; they will be back immediatel}'." 
+
+'^ Madame Fabantou seems to me to be better," went on 
+M. Leblanc, casting his eyes on the eccentric costume of the 
+Jondrette woman, as she stood between him and the door, as 
+though already guarding the exit, and gazed at him in an atti- 
+tude of menace and almost of combat. 
+
+^^ She is dying," said Jondrette. ^^ But what do you expect, 
+sir I She has so much courage, that woman has ! She's not a 
+woman, she's an ox." 
+
+The Jondrette, touched by this compliment, deprecated it with 
+the affected airs of a flattered monster. 
+
+'^ You are always too good to me. Monsieur Jondrette I " 
+
+'^ Jondrette ! " said M. Leblanc, *^ I thought your name was 
+Fabantou?" 
+
+^^ Fabantou, alias Jondrette I " replied the husband hurriedly. 
+^^ An artistic sobriquet ! " 
+
+And launching at his wife a shrug of the shoulders wtuch 
+M. Leblanc did not catch, he continued with an emphatic and 
+caressing inflection of voice : — 
+
+^' Ah! we have had a happy life together, this poor darling 
+and I ! What would there be left for us if we had not that? 
+We are so wretched, my respectable sir ! We have arms, but 
+there is no work I We have the will, no work ! I don't know 
+how the government arranges that, but, on my word of honor, 
+sir, I am not Jacobin, sir, I am not a bousingot.^ I don't wish 
+them any evil, but if I were the ministers, on my most sacred 
+word, things would be different. Here, for instance, I wanted to 
+have my girls taught the trade of paper-box makers. You will 
+say to me : ' What ! a trade ? ' Yes ! A trade ! A simple 
+trade ! A bread-winner ! What a fall, my benefactor ! What 
+a degradation, when one has been what we have been ! Alas ! 
+There is nothing left to us of our days of prosperity ! One 
+thing only, a picture, of whioh 1 think a great deal, but which! 
+am willing to part with, for I must live ! Item, one must live ! * 
+
+1 A democrat. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARius. van 
+
+While Jondrette thus talked, with an apparent inooherenee 
+which detracted nothing from the thoughtful and sagacious ex- 
+pression of his physiognomy, Marius raised his eyes, and per- 
+ceived at the other end of the room a person whom he had not 
+seen before. A man had just entered, so softly that the door 
+had not been heard to turn on its hinges. This man wore a 
+violet knitted vest, which was old, worn, spotted, cut and 
+gaping at every fold, wide trousers of cotton velvet, wooden 
+shoes on his feet, no shirt, had his neck bare, his bare arms 
+tattooed, and his face smeared with black. He had seated him- 
+self in silence on the nearest bed, and, as he was behind 
+Jondrette, he could only be indistinctly seen. 
+
+That sort of magnetic instinct which turns aside the gaze, 
+caused M. Leblanc to turn round almost at the same moment as 
+Marius. He could not refrain from a gesture of surprise which 
+did not escape Jondrette. 
+
+*^Ah! I see !" exclaimed Jondrette, buttoning up his coat 
+with an air of complaisance, *^you are looking at your over- 
+coat? It fits me ! My faith, but it fits me ! " 
+
+'* Who is that man?" said M. Leblanc. 
+
+" Him?" ejaculated Jondrette, *' he's a neighbor of mine. 
+Don't pay any attention to him." 
+
+The neighbor was a singular-looking individuals However, 
+manufactories of chemical products abound in the Faubourg 
+8aint-Marceau. Many of the workmen might have bladk faces. 
+Besides this, M. Leblanc's whole person was expressive of 
+candid and intrepid confidence. 
+
+He went on : — 
+
+'* Excuse me ; what were you saying, M. Fabantou?" 
+
+" I was telling you, sir, and dear protector," replied Jon- 
+drette, placing his elbows on the table and contemplating M. 
+Leblanc with steady and tender eyes, not unlike the eyes of the 
+boa-constrictor, ^^ I was telling you, that I have a picture to 
+îell." 
+
+A slight sound came from the door. A second man had just 
+dntered and seated himself on the bed, behind Jondrette. 
+
+Like the first, his arms were bare, and he had a mask of ink 
+or lampblack. 
+
+Although this man bad, literally, glided into the room, he 
+had not been able to prevent M. Leblanc catching sight of him. 
+
+" Don't mind them," said Jondrette, ** they are people who 
+belong in the house. So I was saying, that there remains in 
+my possession a valuable picture. But stop, sir, take a look at 
+It.'' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+196 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+He rose, went to the wall at the foot of which stood the 
+panel which we have already mentioned, and turned it round, 
+Btill leaving it supi)orted against the wall. It really was some 
+thing which resembled a picture, and which the candle illumi- 
+nated, somewhat. Marins could make nothing out of it, aa 
+Jondrette stood between the picture and him ; he only saw a 
+coarse daub, and a sort of principal personage colored with the 
+harsh crudity of foreign canvasses and screen paintings. 
+
+♦' What is that?" asked M. Leblanc. 
+
+Jondrette exclaimed : — 
+
+^^ A painting by a master, a picture of great value, my bene» 
+factor! I am as much attached to it as I am to my two 
+daughters ; it recallc souvenirs to me ! But I have told you, 
+and I will not take it back, that I am so wretched tliat I will 
+part with it. 
+
+Either by chance, or because he had begun to feel a dawning 
+uneasiness, M. Leblanc's glance returned to the bottom of the 
+room as he examined the picture. 
+
+There were now four men, three seated on the bed, one stand- 
+ing near the door-post, all four with bare arms and motionless, 
+with faces smeared with black. One of those on the bed was 
+leaning against the wall, with closed eyes, and it might have 
+been supposed that he was asleep. He was old ; his white hair 
+contrasting with his blackened face produced a horrible effect. 
+The other two seemed to be young ; one wore a beard, the other 
+wore his hair long. None of them had on shoes ; Uiose who 
+did not wear socks were barefooted. 
+
+Jondrette noticed that M. Leblanc's eye was ûxed on these 
+'men. 
+
+*' They are friends. They are neighbors," said he. " Their 
+faces are black because they work in charcoal. They are chim- 
+ney-builders. Don't trouble yourself about them, my benefactoi'i 
+but buy my picture. Have pity on my misery. I will not ask 
+you much for it. How much do you think it is worth ? " 
+
+*' Well," said M. Leblanc, looking Jondrette full in the eye, 
+and with the manner of a man who is on his guard, ^' it is some 
+signboard for a tavern, and is worth about three francs." 
+
+Jondrette replied sweetly : — 
+
+" Have you your pocket-book with you? I should be satis- 
+fied with a thousand crowns." 
+
+M. I^blanc sprang up, placed his back against the wall, and 
+
+cast a rapid glance around the room. He had Jondrette on hia 
+
+left, on the side next the window, and the Jondrette woman 
+
+nd the four men on his right, on the side next the door. Thr 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 199 
+
+four men did not stir, and did not even seem to be looking 
+an. 
+
+Joudrette had again begun to speak in a plaintive tone, with 
+so vj^ue an eye, and so lamentable an intonation, that M. 
+Leblanc might have supposed that what he had before him was 
+a man who had simply gone mad with misery. 
+
+" If you do not buy my picture, my dear benefactor/' said 
+Joudrette, "I shall be left without resources; there will be 
+nothing left for me but to throw myself into the river. When 
+I think that I wanted to have my two girls taught the middle- 
+class paper-box trade, the making of boxes for New Year's 
+gifts ! Well ! A tal)le with a board at the end to keep the 
+glasses from falling off is required, then a special stove is needed, 
+a pot with three compartments for the different degrees of 
+strength of the paste, according as it is to be used for wood, 
+paper, or stuff, a paring-knife to cut the cardboard, a mould to 
+adjust it, a hammer to nail the steels, pincers, how the devil do 
+I know what all ? And all that in order to earn four sous a 
+day ! And you have to work fourteen hours a day ! And each 
+box passes through the workwoman's hands thirteen times! 
+And you can't wet the paper ! And you mustn't spot anything ! 
+And you must keep the paste hot! The devil, I tell you I 
+Four sous a day ! How do you suppose a man is to live ? " 
+
+As he spoke, Joudrette did not look at M. Leblanc, who was 
+observing him. M. Leblanc's eye was fixed on Joudrette, and 
+Jondrette's eye was fixed on the door. Marius' eager attention 
+was transferred from one to the other. M. Leblanc seemed to 
+be asking himself : " Is this man an idiot? " Jondrette repeated 
+two or three distinct times, with all manner of varying inflections 
+of the whining and supplicating order: ''There is nothing left 
+for me but to throw myself into the river ! I went down three 
+steps at the side of the bridge of Austerlitz the other day for 
+that purpose." 
+
+All at once his dull eyes lighted up with a hideous flash ; the 
+little man drew himself up and became terrible, took a step 
+toward M. Leblanc and cried in a voice of thunder : " That has 
+nothing to do with the question ! Do you know me?" 
+
+XX. — The Trap. 
+
+The door of the garret had just opened abruptly, and allowed 
+a view of three men clad in blue linen blouses, and masked 
+with masks of black paper. The first was thin, and had a long, 
+>«»n-tipped cudgel ; the second, who was a sort of colossuSf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+20a LES MISERABLES. 
+
+carried, by the middle of the handle, with the blade downward 
+a butcher's pole-axe fur slaughtering cattle. The third, a ma* 
+with thick-set shoulders, not so slender as the first, held in his 
+hand an enormous key stolen from the door of some prison. 
+
+It appeared that the arrival of these men was what Jondrette 
+had been waiting for. A rapid dialogue ensued between him 
+and the man witii the cudgel, the thin one. 
+
+'' Is everything ready?" said Jondrette* 
+
+" Yes," replied the thin man. 
+
+*' Where is Montparnasse?" 
+
+" The young principal actor stopped to chat with your girl " 
+
+•'Which?" 
+
+•'The eldest." 
+
+'' Is there a carriage at the door?** 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+^' Is the team harnessed?'* 
+
+•' Yes." 
+
+*' With two good horses?" 
+
+" Excellent." 
+
+*• Is it waiting where I ordered?** 
+
+••Yes." 
+
+" Good," said Jondrette. 
+
+M. Leblanc was very pale. He was scrutinizing eTer3rthing 
+around him in the den, like a man who understands what he has 
+fallen into, and his head, directed in turn toward all the heads 
+which surrounded him, moved on his neck with an astonished 
+and attentive slowness, but there was nothing in his air which 
+resembled fear. He had improvised an intrenchment out of the 
+table ; and the man, who but an instant previously, had borne 
+merely the appearance of a kindly old man, had suddenly be- 
+come a sort of athlete, and placed his robust fist on the back 
+of his chair, with a formidable and surprising gesture. 
+
+This old man, who was so firm and so brave in the presence 
+of such a danger, seemed to possess one of those natures which 
+are as courageous as they are kind, both easily and simply. 
+The father of a woman whom we love is never a stranger to us- 
+Marius felt proud of that unknown man. 
+
+Three of the men, of whom Jondrette had said : " They are 
+chimney-builders," had armed themselves from the pile of old 
+iron, one with a heavy pair of shears, the second with weighing- 
+tongs, the third with a hammer, and had placed themselves 
+across the entrance without uttering a syllable. The old man 
+had remained on the bed, and had merely opened his eyes 
+The Jondrette woman had seated herself beside him. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARïUS. 201 
+
+Marias decided that in a few seconds more the moment Tot 
+intervention would arrive, and he raised his right hand towards 
+the ceiling, in the direction of the corridor, in readiness to dis- 
+charge his pistol. 
+
+Jondrette having terminated his colloquy with the man with 
+the cudgel, turned once more to M. Leblanc, and repeated his 
+question, accompanying it with that low, repressed, and terrible 
+(augh which was peculiar to him : — 
+
+" So you don't recognize me? " 
+
+M. Leblanc looked him full in the face, and replied : — * 
+
+** No." 
+
+Then Jondrette advanced to the table. He leaned across the 
+candle, crossing his arms, putting his angular and ferocious jaw 
+close to M. Leblanc's calm face, and advancing as far as possi- 
+ble without forcing M. Leblanc to reti*eat, and, in this posture 
+of a wild beast who is about to bite, he exclaimed : — 
+
+^^ My name is not Fabantou, my name is not Jondrette, my 
+name is Tbénardier! I am the inn-keeper of Montfermeil! 
+Do you understand ? Thénardier ! Now do you know me ? " 
+
+An almost imperceptible flush crossed M. Leblanc's brow, 
+and he replied with a voice which neiUier trembled nor rose 
+above its ordinary level, with his accustomed placidity : — 
+
+** No more than before." 
+
+Marius did not hear this reply. Any one who htid seen him 
+at that moment through the darkness, would have perceived that 
+he was haggard, stupid, thunder-struck. At the moment when 
+Jondrette said : ^' My name is Thénardier," Marius had trem- 
+bled in every limb, and had leaned against the wall, as though 
+be felt the cold of a steel blade through his heart. Then his 
+right arm, all ready to discharge the signal shot, dropped slowly, 
+and at the moment when Jondrette repeated, ^* Thénardier, do 
+you understand?" Marius's faltering fingers had come near 
+letting the pistol fall. Jondi*ette, by revealing his identity, had 
+not moved M. Leblanc, but he had quite upset Marius. That 
+name of Thénardier, with which M. Leblanc did not seem to be 
+acquainted, Marius knew well. Let the reader recall what that 
+name meant to him I That name He had worn on his heart, in- 
+scribed in his father's testament ! He bore it at the bottom of 
+his mind, in the depths of his memory, in that sacred injunction : 
+*^ A certain Thénardier saved my life. If my son encounters 
+him, he will do him all the good that lies in his power." That 
+name, it will be remembered, was one of the pieties of his soul ; 
+he mingled it with the name of his father in his worshif). What J 
+This man was that Thénardier, that inn-keeper of Monlferme» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+«02 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+wliom he had so long and so vainly sought ! He had f o*ind bin 
+ut last, and how ! His father's saviour was a ruffian ! That roan, 
+to whose service Mari us was burning to devote himself, was a 
+monster! That liberator of Colonel Poiitmercy was on the 
+point of committing a crime whose scope Marius did not, as 
+yet, clearly comprehend, but which resembled an assassination ! 
+And against whom, great God ! what a fatality ! What a bittei 
+mockery of fate ! His father had commanded him from the 
+depths of his coffin to do all the good in his power to this Thé- 
+nardier, and for four years Marius had cherished no other thought 
+than to acquit this debt of his father's, and at the moment when 
+he was on the eve of having a brigand seized in the very act of 
+crime by justice, destiny cried to him : **This is ThénaVdier !" 
+He could at last repay this man for his father's life, saved amid 
+a hail-stoi*m of grape-shot on the heroic field of Waterloo, and 
+repay it with the scaffold ! He had sworn to himself that if ever 
+he found that Thénardier, he would address him only by throw- 
+ing himself at his feet ; and now he actually had found him, bat 
+it was only to deliver him over to the executioner ! His father 
+said to him: "Succor Thénardier!" And he replied to that 
+adored and sainted voice by crushing Thénardier ! He was about 
+to offer to his father in his grave the spectacle of that man who 
+had torn him from death at the peril of his own life, executed 
+on the Place Saint-Jacques through the means of his son, o\ 
+that Marius to whom he had entrusted that man by his wilP 
+And what a mockery- to have so long worn on his breast his 
+father's last commands, written in his own hand, only to act io 
+so hoiTibly contrary a sense! But, on the other hand, now 
+look on at that trap and not prevent it ! What ! Condemn the 
+victim and to spare the assassin ! Could one be held to any 
+gratitude towards so miserable a wretch ? All the ideas which 
+Marius had cherished for the last four jears were pierced through 
+and through, as it were, by this unforeseen blow. 
+
+He shuddered. Everything depended on him. Unknown tc 
+themselves, he held in his hand all those beings who were mov- 
+ing about there before his eyes. If he fired his pistol, M. Le 
+blanc was saved, and Thénardier lost ; if he did not fire, M. 
+Leblanc would be sacrificed, and, who knows? Thénardiei 
+would escape. Should he dash down the one or allow the other 
+to fall ? Remorse awaited him in either case. 
+
+What was he to do? What should he choose? Be false to 
+the most imperions souvenirs, to all those solemn vows to him- 
+self, to the most sacred duty, to the most venerated text ! Should 
+he ignore his father's testament, or allow the perpetration of a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 201 
+
+^rlme I On the one hand, it seemed to him that he heard '^hia 
+Uraule'' supplicating for her fatlier, and on the other, the 
+colonel commending Thénardier to his care. lie felt that he 
+was going mad. His knees gave way beneath him. And he 
+oad not even the time for deliberation, so great was the fury 
+with which the scene before his eyes was hastening to its catas- 
+trophe. It was like a whirlwind of which he bad thought him- 
+self the master, and which was now sweeping him away. He ' 
+was on the verge of swooning. 
+
+In the meantime, Thénardier, whom we shall henceforth call 
+by no other name, was pacing up and down in front of the table 
+in a sort of frenzy and wild triumph. 
+
+He seized the candle in his list, and set it on the chimney- 
+piece with so violent a bang that the wick came near being extin- 
+guished, and the tallow bespattered the wall. 
+
+Then he turned to M. Leblanc, with a horrible look, and spit 
+out these words : — 
+
+^* Done for ! Smoked brown ! Cooked ! Spitchcocked ! *' 
+
+And again he began to march back and forth, in full eruption. 
+
+^^Ah!" he cried, ^^so Tve found you again at last, Mister 
+philanthropist ! Mister threadbare millionnaire ! Mister giver of 
+dolls ! you old ninny ! Ah ! so you don't recognize me ! No, 
+it wasn't you who came to Montfermeil, to my inn, eight years 
+ago, on Christmas eve, 1823 ! It wasn't you who carried off that 
+Fantine's child from me ! The Lark ! It wasn't you who had a 
+yellow great-coat ! No 1 Nor a package of duds in your hand, 
+as 3'ou had this morning here I Say, wife, it seems to be his 
+mania to carry packets of woollen stockings into houses ! Old 
+charity monger, get out with you ! Are you a hosier. Mister 
+millionnaire ? You give avmy your stock in trade to the poor, 
+holy man ! What bosh ! merry Andrew ! Ah ! and yon don't 
+recognize me? Well, I recognize you, that I do I I recognized 
+yon the very moment you poked your snout in here. Ah ! you'll 
+find out presently, that it isn't all roses to thrust yourself in that 
+fashion into the people's houses, under the pretext that they are 
+taverns, in wretched clothes, with the air of a poor man, to whom 
+one would give a sou, to deceive persons, to play the generous, 
+to take away their means of livelihood, and to make threats in 
+the woods, and you can't call things quits because afterwards, 
+when people are ruined, you bring a coat that is too large, and 
+two miserable hospital blankets, you old blackguard, you child- 
+stealer!" 
+
+He paused, and seemed to be talking to himself for a moment. 
+Oae would have said that bis wrath had fallen into some hole, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+204 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+like the Rhone ; then, as though he were concluding alond tb» 
+things which he had been saving to himself in a wiiisper, he 
+smote the table with his fist, and shouted : -^ 
+
+"And with his goody-goody air !" 
+
+And, apostrophizing M. Leblanc : -— 
+
+" Parbleu ! You made game of me in the past I You are tb« 
+cause of all my misfortunes ! For fifteen hundred francs you 
+got a girl whom I had, and who certainly belonged to rich peo- 
+ple, and who had already brought in a great deal of money, and 
+from whom I might have extracted enough to live on all my life ! 
+A girl who would have made up to me for everything that I lost 
+in that vile cook-shop, where there was nothing hut one continual 
+row, and where, like a fool, I ate up my last farthing ! Oh ! I 
+wish all the wine folks drank in my house had been })oi6on to 
+those who drank it ! Well, never mind ! Say, now ! You must 
+have thought me ridiculous when you went off with the Lark ! 
+You had your cudgel in the forest. You were the stronger. 
+Revenge. " I'm the one to hold the trumps to-day ! You're in a 
+sorry case, my good fellow ! Oh, but I can laugh ! Really, I 
+laugh ! Didn't he fall into the trap ! I told him that I was an 
+actor, that my name was Fahanton, that I had plaj-ed comedy 
+with Mamselle Mars, with Mamselle Muche, that my landlord 
+insisted on being paid to-morrow, the 4th of February, and 
+he didn't even notice that the 8th of January, and not the 4th 
+of February is the time when the quarter runs out ! Absurd 
+idiot ! And the four miserable Philippes which he has brought 
+me ! Scoundrel ! He hadn't the heart even to go as high as a 
+hundred fVancs ! And how he swallowed my platitudes ! That 
+did amuse me. I said to myself: 'Blockhead! Come, Fve 
+got you ! I lick your paws this morning, but I'll gnaw your 
+heart this evening ! ' " 
+
+Thénardier paused. He was out of breath. His little, narrow 
+chest panted like a forge bellows. His eyes were full of the 
+ignoble happiness of a feeble, cruel, and cowardly creature, 
+which finds that it can, at last, harsAs what it has feared, and 
+insult what it has flattered, the joy of a dwarf who should be 
+able to set his heel on tlte head of Goliath, the joy of a jackal 
+which is beginning to rend a sick bull, so nearly dead that be 
+can no longer defend himself, but suflSciently alive to suffer 
+still. 
+
+M. Leblanc did not interrupt him, but said to him when he 
+paused : — 
+
+'^ I do not know what you mean to say. You are mistaken 
+in me. lama very poor man, and anything but a millionnaire 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 205 
+
+I do not know yon. You are mistaking me for some other 
+person." 
+
+"Ah I" roared Thénardier hoarsel}', ''a pretty lie! Yon 
+stick to that pleasantrj', do you ! You're floundering, my old 
+buck ! Ah ! You don't remember 1 You don't see who I am ?" 
+
+" Excuse me, sir/' said M. Leblanc with a politeness of 
+accent, which at that moment seemed peculiarly strange and 
+powerful, '* I see that you are a villain I " 
+
+Who has not remarked the fact that odious creatures possess 
+a susceptibility of their own, that monsters are ticklish ! At 
+this word " villain," the female Thénardier sprang from the 
+bed, Thénardier grasped his chair as though he were about to 
+crush it in his hands. "Don't you stir I" he shouted to his 
+wife ; and, turning to M. Leblanc : — 
+
+" Villain ! Yes, I know that you call us that, you rich gen- 
+tlemen ! Stop ! it's true that I became bankrupt, that I am in 
+biding, that I have no bread, that I have not a single sou, that I 
+am a villain ! Ifs three days since I have had anything to eat, 
+so I'm a villain 1 Ah ! you folks warm your feet, you have 
+Sakoski boots, you have wadded great-coats, like archbishops, 
+you lodge on the first floor in houses that have porters, you eat 
+truffles, you eat asparagus at forty francs the bunch in the 
+month of January, and green peas, you gorge yourselves, and 
+when you want to know whether it is cold, yon look in the 
+papers to see what the engineer Chevalier's thermometer says 
+about it. We, it is we who are thermometers. We don't need 
+to go out and look on the quay at the comer of the Tour de 
+FHorologe, to find out the number of degrees of cold ; we feel 
+our blood congealing in our veins, and the ice forming round 
+our hearts, and we say : ' There is no God ! ' And you come 
+to our caverns, yes, our caverns, for the purpose of calling us 
+villains ! But we'll devour you ! But we'll devour you, poor 
+little things ! Just see here. Mister millionnaire : I have been a 
+solid man, I have held a license, I have been an elector, I am a 
+bourgeois, that I am! And it's quite possible that you are 
+not ! " 
+
+Here Thénardier took a step towards the men who stood near 
+the door, and added with a shudder : — 
+
+'^ When I think that he has dared to come here and talk to 
+me like a cobbler!" 
+
+Then, addressing M. Leblanc with a fresh outburst of 
+frenzy: — 
+
+'^ And listen to this also, Mister philanthropist! I'm not a 
+•Qspicioua character» not a bit of it! I'm not a man whose 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+206 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+name nobody knows, and who comes and abdacts children from 
+bouses ! l*iu uu old French soldier, I ought to have been deco< 
+rated ! I was at Waterloo, so I was ! And in tlie battle I saved 
+a general called the Comte of I don't know what. He told me 
+his name, but his beastly voice was so weak that I didn't hear. 
+All I caught was Merci [thanks]. I'd rather have had hifi 
+Qame than his thanks. That would have helped me to find him 
+again. The picture that you see here, and which was painted 
+by David at Bruqueselles, — do you know what it represents? 
+[t represents me. David wished to immoi-talize that feat of 
+prx>wess. I have that general on my back, and I am canying 
+him through the grape-shot. There's the histoiy of it I That 
+general never did a single thing for me ; he was no better than 
+the rest ! But none the less, I saved his life at the risk of mj 
+own, and I have the certificate of the fact in my (x>cket! I am 
+a soldier of Waterloo, by all the ftn*ies ! And now that I have 
+had the goodness to tell you all this, let's have an end of it. I 
+want money, I want a deal of money, I must have an enormoas 
+lot of money, or I'll exterminate you, by the thunder of the 
+good God!" 
+
+Marius had regained some measure of control over his an* 
+guish, and was listening. The last possibility of doubt had 
+just vanished. It certainly was the Thénardier of the will. 
+Marius shuddered at that reproach of ingratitude directed 
+i^ainst his father, and which he was on the point of so fatally 
+Justifying. His perplexity was redoubled. 
+
+Morover, there was in all these words of Thénardier, in his 
+accent, in his gesture, in his glance which darted flames at 
+every word, there was, in this explosion of an evil nature dis- 
+elosing everything, in that mixture of braggadocio and abject- 
+ness, of pride and pettiness, of rage and folly, in that chaos of 
+real griefs and false sentiments, in that immodesty of a mali- 
+cious man tasting the voluptuous delights of violence, in that 
+shameless nudity of a repulsive soul, in that conflagration of all 
+sufferings combined with all hatreds, something which was as 
+hideous as evil, and as heart-rending as the truth. 
+
+The picture of the master, the painting by David which be 
+had proposed that M. Leblanc should purchase, was nothing 
+else, as the reader has divined, than the sign of his taveini 
+painted, as it will be remembered, by himself, the only relic 
+which he had preserved from his shipwreck at Montfermeil. 
+
+As he had ceased to intercept Marius' visual ray, Marine 
+Qonld examine this thing, and in the daub, he aetualiy did rec- 
+ofi^nize a battle, a background of smoke, and a man carryiog 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MABiUS. BM 
+
+another man. It was the group composed of Pontmercy and 
+Théuardier; the sergeant the rescuer, the colonel rescued. 
+Marius was like a drunken man ; this picture restored his father 
+to life, in some sort ; it was no longer the signboard of the 
+wine-shop at Montfermeil) it was a resurrection ; a tomb had 
+yawned, a phantom had risen there. Marius heard his heart 
+beating in his temples, he had the cannon of Waterloo in his 
+^ars, his bleeding father, vaguely depicted on that sinister 
+panel terrified him, aud it seemed to him that the misshapeo 
+spectre was gazing intently at him. 
+
+When Thlnardier had recovered his breath, he turned his 
+bloodshot eyes on M. Leblanc, and said to him in a low, curt 
+voice : — 
+
+^^ What have yon to say before we put the handcuffs on 
+you?" 
+
+M. Leblanc held his peace. 
+
+In the midst of this silence, a cracked voice launched this 
+lugubrious sarcasm from the corridor : — 
+
+" If there's any wood to be split, Tm there ! " 
+
+It was the man with the axe, who was growing merry. 
+
+At the same moment, an enormous, bristling, and clayey face 
+made its appearance at the door, with a hideous laugh which 
+exhibited not teeth, but fangs. 
+
+It was the face of the man with the butcher's axe. 
+
+*' Why have you taken off your mask? " cried Théuardier in 
+a rage. 
+
+" For fbn," retorted the man. 
+
+For the last few minutes, M. Leblanc had appeared to be 
+watching and following all the movements of Théuardier, who, 
+blinded and dazzled by his own rage, was stalking to and fro in 
+the den with full confidence that aie door was guarded, and ol 
+holding an unarmed man fast, he being armed himself, of being 
+nine against onef supposing that the female Thénardier counted 
+for but one man. 
+
+During his address to the man with the pole*axe, he had 
+turned his back to M. Leblanc. 
+
+M. Leblanc seized this moment, overturned the chair with 
+his foot and the table with his fist, and with one bound, with 
+prodigious agility, before Thénardier had time to turn round, 
+he had reached the window. To open it, to scale the frame, 
+to bestride it, was the work of a second only. He was half 
+out when six robust fists seized him and dragged him back 
+energetically into the hovel. These were the three " chim- 
+aey-builders," who had flung themselves upon him. At ihfl 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+t08 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+same time the Thénardier woman had wound her hands in his 
+hair. 
+
+At the trampling which ensued, the other ruffians rushed op 
+from the corridor. The old man on the bed, who seemed under 
+the influence of wine, descended from the pallet and came reel- 
+ing up, with a stone-breaker's hammer in his hand. 
+
+One of the ^'chimney-buUders," whose smirched face was 
+lighted up by the candle, and in whom Marins recognized, in 
+spite of his daubing, Panchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigre- 
+naille, lifted above M. Leblanc*s head a sort of bludgeon made 
+of two balls of lead, at the two ends of a bar of iron. 
+
+Marius could not resist this sight. ^^ My father," he thought, 
+" forgive me ! " 
+
+And his finger sought the «trigger of his pistol. 
+
+The shot was on the point of being discharged when Tbénai* 
+dier's voice shouted : — 
+
+'* Don't harm him!" 
+
+This desperate attempt of the victim, far from exa^p^raung 
+Thénardier, had calmed him. There existed in him two men, the 
+ferocious man and the adroit man. Up to that motneut, in the 
+excess of his triumph in the presence of the prey which had 
+been brought down, and which did not stir, the ferocious roab 
+had prevailed ; when the victim struggled and tried to resist, 
+the adroit man reappeared and took the upper hand. 
+
+'* Don't hurt him ! " he repeated, and without suspecting it, 
+his first success was to arrest the pistol in the act of being dis- 
+charged, and to paralyze Marius, in whose opinion the ui*gency 
+of the case disappeared, and who, in the face of this new phase, 
+saw no inconvenience in waiting a while longer. 
+
+Who knows whether some chance would not arise which 
+would deliver him from the horrible alternative of allowing 
+Ursule's father to perish, or of destroying the coîoners saviour? 
+
+A herculean struggle had begun. With one blow full in tlie 
+chest, M. Leblanc had sent the old man tumbling, rolling in the 
+middle of the room, then with two backward sweeps of his 
+hand he had overthrown two more assailants, and he held one 
+under each of his knees; the wretches were rattling in the 
+throat beneath this pressure as under a granite millstone ; but 
+the other four had seized the formidable old man by both arms, 
+and the back of his neck, and were holding him doubled up over 
+the two *' chimney -builders " on the floor. 
+
+Thus, the master of some and mastered by the rest, crushing 
+those beneath him and stifling imder those on top of him, en- 
+deavoring in vain to shake off all the efforts which were heaped 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 209 
+
+upon him, M. Leblanc disappeared under the horrible group of 
+ruffians like the wild boar beneath a howling pile of dogs and 
+bounds. 
+
+They succeeded in overthrowing him upon the bed nearest 
+the window, and there they held him in awe. The Thénardier 
+woman had not released her clutch on his hair. 
+
+*^ Don't you mix yourself up in this affair," said Thénardier. 
+" You'll tear your shawl." 
+
+The Thénardier obeyed, as the female wolf obeys the mak 
+wolf, with a growl. 
+
+" Now," said Thénardier, " search him, you other fellows P 
+
+M. Leblanc seemed to have renounced the idea of resistance. 
+
+They searched him. 
+
+He had nothing on his person except a leather purse contain- 
+ing six francs, and his handkerchief. 
+
+Thénardier put the handkerchief into his own pocket. 
+
+'' What ! No pocket-book ?" he demanded. 
+
+'* No, nor watch," replied one of the " chimney-builders." 
+
+*' Never mind," murmured the masked man who carried the 
+big kejs in the voice of a ventriloquist, ^^he's a tough old 
+fellow." 
+
+Thénardier went to the corner near the door, picked up a 
+bundle of ropes and threw them at the men. 
+
+" Tie him to the leg of the bed," said he. 
+
+And, catching sight of the old man who had been stretched 
+across the room by the blow from M. Leblanc's fist, and who 
+made no movement, he added : — 
+
+*' Is Boulatruelle dead?" 
+
+*' No," replied Bigrenaille, ** he's drunk." 
+
+" Sweep him into a comer," said Thénardier. 
+
+Two of the ^^ chimney-builders " pushed the drunken man into 
+the corner near the heap of old iron with their feet. 
+
+^^ Babet," said Thénardier in a low tone to the man with the 
+cudgel, ** why did you bring so many ; they were not needed." 
+
+*' What can you do?" replied the man with the cudgel, '* they 
+all wanted to be in it. This is a bad season. There's no busi 
+oess going on." 
+
+The pallet on which M. Leblanc had been thrown was a sort 
+of hospital bed, elevated on four coarse wooden legs, roughly 
+hewn. 
+
+M. Leblanc let them take their own course. 
+
+The ruffians bound him securely, in an upright attitude, with 
+his feet on the ground at the head of the bed, the end which 
+wa& most remote from the window^ and nearest to the fireplace. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+210 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+When the last knot had been tied, Thénardier took a duui 
+aud seated himself almost facing M. I^blane. 
+
+Thénardier no longer looked like himself; in the course of a 
+few moments, his face had passed from unbridled violence to 
+tranquil and cunning sweetness. 
+
+Marins found it diftlcult to recognize in that polished smile ol 
+a man in official life, the almost bestial mouth which had been 
+foaming but a moment before ; he gazed with amazement oo 
+that fantastic and alarming metamorphosis, and he felt as i, 
+man might feel who should behold a tiger converted into & 
+lawyer. 
+
+''Monsieur — "said Thénardier. 
+
+And dismissing with a gesture the ruffians who still kept their 
+hands on M. Leblanc : — 
+
+'' Stand off a little, and let me have a talk with the gentle- 
+man." 
+
+All retired towards the door. 
+
+He went on : — 
+
+*' Monsieur, you did wrong to try to jump out of the window. 
+You might have broken your leg. Now, if you will permit me, 
+we will converse quietly. In the first place, I must commaoi- 
+cate to you an observation which I have made, which is, diat 
+you have not uttered the faintest cry." 
+
+Thénardier was right, this detail was correct, although it had 
+escaped Marins in his agitation. M. Leblanc had barely pro- 
+nounced a few words, without raising his voice, and even dur- 
+ing his struggle with the six ruffians near the window, he had 
+preserved the most profound and singular silence. 
+
+Thénardier continued : — 
+
+*^ Mon Dieu! You might have shouted "stop thief " a bit, 
+and I should not have thought it improper. ' Murder ! ' That, 
+too, is said occasionally, and, so far as I am concerned, I should 
+not have taken it in bad part. It is very natural that you should 
+make a little row when you find yourself with persons who don't 
+inspire you with sufficient confidence. You might have done 
+that, and no one would have troubled you on that account. 
+You would not even have been gagged. And I will tell you 
+why. This room is very private. That's its only recommenda- 
+tion, but it has that in its favor. You might fire oflP a mortar 
+and it would produce about as much noise at the nearest police 
+station as the snores of a drunken man. Here a cannon would 
+make a hovm^ and the thunder would make a ptmf. It's a 
+handy lodging. But, in short, you did not shout, and it is 
+better so. I present you my compliments, and I will tell yoQ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MAniuas, 211 
+
+the conclosion that I draw from that fact : M3' dear sir, when a 
+mail shouts, who conies? The police. And after the police? 
+Justice. Well ! You have not made an outcry ; that is because 
+you don't care to have the police and the courts come in any 
+more than we do. It is because, — I have long suspected it, 
+— you have some interest in hiding something. On our side 
+we have the same interest. So we can come to an understand- 
+ing." 
+
+As he spoke thus, it seemed as though Thénardier, who kept 
+his eyes fixed on M. Leblanc, were trying to plunge the sharp 
+points which darted from the pupils into. the very conscience of 
+his prisoner. Moreover, his language, which was stamped with 
+a sort of moderated, subdued insolence and crafty insolence, 
+was reserved and almost choice, and in that rascal, who had 
+been nothing but a robber a short time previously, one now felt 
+*' the man who had studied for the priesthood." 
+
+The silence preserved by the prisoner, that precaution which 
+bad been cai'ried to the point of forgetting all anxiety for his 
+own life, that resistance opposed to the first impulse of nature, 
+which is to utter a cry, all this, it must be confessed, now 
+that his attention had been called to it, troubled Marius, an(f 
+affected him with painful astonishment. 
+
+Thénardier*s well-grounded observation still further obscureo 
+for Marius the dense mystery which enveloped that grave an(j 
+Biagolar person on whom Courf eyrac . had bestowed the sobri^ 
+quet of Monsieur Leblanc. 
+
+But whoever he was, bound with ropes, surrounded with e^« 
+eoationers, half plunged, so to speak, in a grave which was 
+closing in upon him to the extent of a degree with every moment 
+that passed, in the presence of Thenardier's wrath, as in the 
+presence of his sweetness, this man remained impassive ; and 
+Marius oould not refrain from admiring at such a moment the 
+superbl}' melancholy visage. 
+
+Here, evidently, was a soul which was inaccessible to terror, 
+aad which did not know the meaning of despair. Here was one 
+of those men who command amazement in desperate circum- 
+stances. Extreme as was the crisis, inevitable as was the 
+catastrophe, there was notliing here of the agony of the drown* 
+ing man, who opens his horror-filled eyes under the water. 
+
+Thénardier rose in an unpretending manner, went to the fire- 
+place, shoved aside the screen, which he leaned against tlie 
+ncicrhboring pallet, and thus unmasked the brazier full of glow- 
+ing coals, in which the prisoner could plainly see the chise 
+white-hot and spotted here and there with tin}^ scarlet starg^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Let us arrange this matter in an amicable way. I was wrong to 
+lose my temper just now, I don't know what I was thinking 
+of, I went a great deal too far, I said extravagant things. Foi 
+example, because you are a millionnaire, I told you that I ex- 
+acted money, a lot of money, a deal of money. That would not 
+be reasonable. Mon Dieu, in spite of your riches, you have ex- 
+penses of your own — who has not ? 1 don't want to ruin you, I 
+am not a greedy fellow, after all. I am not one of those people, 
+who, because they have the advantage of the position, profit by 
+the fact to make themselves ridiculous. Why, I'm taking things 
+into consideration and making a sacrifice on my side. I only 
+want two hundred thousand francs." 
+
+M. Leblanc uttered not a word. 
+
+Thénardier went on : — 
+
+'' You see that I put not a little water in my wine ; I'm very 
+moderate. I don't know the state of your fortune, but I do 
+know that you don't stick at money, and a benevolent man like 
+yourself can certainly give two hundred thousand francs to the 
+father of a family who is out of luck. Certainly, you are rea« 
+sonable, too; you haven't imagined that I should take all the 
+trouble I have to-day and organized this affair this evening, 
+which has been labor well bestowed, in the opinion of these 
+gentlemen, merely to wind up by asking you for enough to go 
+and drink red wine at fifteen sous and eat veal at Desnoyers. 
+Two hundred thousand francs — it's surely worth all that. This 
+trifle once out of your pocket, I guarantee you that that's the 
+end of the matter, and that you have no further demands to 
+fear. You will say to me : * But I haven't two hundred thou- 
+sand francs about me.' Oh! I'm not extottionate. I don't 
+demand that. I only ask one thing of you. Have the good*' 
+ness to write what I am about to dictate to you." 
+
+Here Thénardier paused ; then he added, emphasizing his 
+irords, and casting a smile in the direction of the brazier : — 
+
+^^ I warn you that I shall not admit that you don't know tow 
+to write." 
+
+A grand inquisitor might have envied that smile. 
+
+Thénardier pushed the table close to M. Leblanc, and took 
+an inkstand, a pen, and a sheet of paper from the drawer which 
+be left half open, and in which gleamed the long blade of the 
+'fnife. 
+
+He placed the sheet of paper before M. Leblanc. 
+
+*' Write," said he. 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 213 
+
+The prisoner spoke at last. 
+
+'•* How do 3'ou expect me to write? I am bound.** 
+
+"That's trae, excuse me!" ejaculated Thénardier, "you 
+jure quite right." 
+
+And turning to Bigrenaille : — 
+
+" Untie the gentleman's right arm." 
+
+Panchaud, alias Frintanier, alias Bigrenaille, executed Thé« 
+nardier's order. 
+
+When the prisoner's right arm was free, Thénardier dipped 
+the pen in the ink and presented it to him. 
+
+^' Understand thoi*oughly, sir, that you are in our power, at 
+our discretion, that no human power can get you out of this, 
+and that we shall be really grieved if we are forced to proceed 
+to disagi*eeable extremities. I know neither your name, nor 
+your address, but I warn you, that you will remain bound until 
+the person charged with carrying the letter which you are about 
+to write shall have returned. Now, be so good as to write.'* 
+
+^* What? " demanded the prisoner. 
+
+" I will dictate." 
+
+M. Leblanc took the pen. 
+
+Thénardier began to dictate : -** 
+
+"My daughter— " 
+
+The prisoner shuddered, and raised his eyes to Thénardier. 
+
+" Put down ' My dear daughter' — " said Thénardier. 
+
+M. Leblanc obeyed. 
+
+Thénardier continued : — 
+
+*' Come instantly — " 
+
+He paused: — 
+
+" You address her as thou^ do you not? ** 
+
+" Who? " asked M. Leblanc. 
+
+" Parbleu ! " cried Thénardier, '' the little one, the Lark." 
+
+M. Leblanc replied without the slightest apparent emotion : — 
+
+" I do not know what you mean." 
+
+" Go on, nevertheless," ejaculated Thénardier, and he con- 
+tinued to dictate : — 
+
+"Come immediately, I am in absolute need of thee. The 
+person who will deliver this note to thee is instructed to con- 
+duct thee to me. I am waiting for thee. Come with confix 
+dence." 
+
+M. Leblanc had written the whole of this. 
+
+Thénardier resumed : — 
+
+** Ah ! erase ^ come with confidence ' ; that might lead her td 
+suppose that everyth«cg was not as it should be, and that di» 
+trust is possible." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+814 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+M. Leblanc erased the three words. 
+
+'' Now," pursued Thénardier, *' sign it. What's year name?* 
+
+The prisoner laid down the pen and demanded : — 
+
+" For whom is this letter?" 
+
+*' You know well," retorted Thénardier, *' for the little one» 
+I just told you so." 
+
+It was evident Uiat Thénardier avoided naming the youno 
+o[r\ in question, lie said ^^ the Lark," he said '' the little one," 
+hut he did not pronounce her name — the precaution of a 
+clever man guarding his secret from his accomplices. To men- 
+tion the name was to deliver the whole '' affair " into their liands, 
+and to tell them more about it than there was any need of their 
+knowing. 
+
+He went on : — . 
+
+" Sign. What is your name ? ** 
+
+*' Urbain Fabre," said the prisoner. 
+
+Tliénardier, with the movement of a cat, dashed his hand into 
+bis pocket and drew out the handkerchief which had been 
+seized on M. Leblanc. He looked for the mark on it, and held 
+it close to the candle. 
+
+*' U. F. That's it. Urbain Fabre. WeU, sign it U. F/' 
+
+The prisoner signed. 
+
+^^ As two hands are required to fold the letter, give it to me, 
+I will fold it." 
+
+That done, Thénardier resumed : — 
+
+'* Address it, ' Mademoiselle Fabre,' at your house. I knoir 
+that you live a long distance from here, near 8aint-Jaeques-du 
+Haut-Pas, because you go to mass there every day, but I don't 
+know in what street. I see that you understand your situation. 
+As 3'ou have not lied al)out your name, you will not lie about 
+your address. Writhe it yourself." 
+
+The prisoner pansed thoughtfully for a moment, then he took 
+the pen and wrote : — 
+
+'* Mademoiselle Fabre, at M. Urbain Fabre's, Roe Saint 
+Dorainique-D'Enfer, No. 17." 
+
+Thénardier seized the letter with a sort of feverish oonvulsion. 
+
+" Wife ! " he cried. 
+
+The Thénardier woman hastened to him. 
+
+*' Here's the letter. You know what you have to do. There 
+is a carriage at the door. Set out at once, and return ditto." 
+
+And addressing the man with the meat-axe : — 
+
+'* Since you have taken off your nose-screen, accompany the 
+mistress. You will get up behind the fiacre. You know wher* 
+vou left the team ? " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 215 
+
+'* Yes," said the man. 
+
+And depositing his axe in a comer, he followed Madame 
+rhénardier. 
+
+As they set off, Thénardier thrust his head throngh the half- 
+open door, and shouted into the corridor : — 
+
+^^ Above all things, don't lose the letter ! remember that you 
+carry two hundred thousand francs with you ! " 
+
+The Thénai'dier's hoarse voice replied : — 
+
+** Be easy. I have it in my bosom." 
+
+A minute had not elapsed, when the sound of the cracking of 
+a whip was heard, which rapidly retreated and died away. 
+
+"Good!" growled Thénardier. "They're going at a fine 
+pace. At such a gallop, the bourgeoise will be back inside 
+three-quarters of an hour." 
+
+He drew a chair close to the fireplace, folding his arms, and 
+presenting his muddy boots to the brazier. 
+
+*^ My feet are cold ! " said he. 
+
+Only five rufilans now remained in the den with Thénardier 
+and the prisoner. 
+
+These men, through the black masks or paste which covered 
+their faces, and made of them, at fear's pleasure, charcoal- 
+burners, negroes, or demons, had a stupid and gloomy air, and 
+it could be felt that they perpetrated a crime like a bit of work, 
+tranquilly, without either wrath or mercy, with a sort of ennui. 
+They were crowded together in one comer like brutes, and re- 
+mained silent. 
+
+Thénardier warmed his feet. 
+
+The prisoner had relapsed into his taciturnity. A sombre 
+calm had succeeded to the wild uproar which had filled the 
+garret but a few moments before. 
+
+The candle, on which a large '* stranger " had formed, cast 
+bat a dim light in the immense hovel, the brazier had grown 
+doll, and all those monstrous heads cast misshapen shadows 
+DD Xh% walls and ceiling. 
+
+No sound was audible except the quiet breathing of the old 
+Irunken man, who was fast asleep. 
+
+Marius waited in a state of anxiety that was augmented by 
+every trifle. The enigma was more impenetrable than ever. 
+
+Who was this "little one" whom Thénardier had called the 
+Lark ? Was she his " Ursule " ? The prisoner had not seemed 
+to be aflTected by that word, " the Lark," and had replied in the 
+most natural manner in the world : "I do not know what you 
+mean." On the other hand, the two letters U. F. were 
+explained; they meant Urbain Fabre; and Ursule was no 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+:ueariy oi au. 
+
+A sort of horrible fascination held him nailed to his post, from 
+which he was observing and commanding this whole scene 
+There he stood, almost incapable of movement or reflectioa, 
+as though annihilated by the abominable things viewed at sacb 
+close quarters. He waited, in the hope of some incident, no 
+matter of what nature, since he could not collect his thoughts 
+and did not know upon what course to decide. 
+
+*' In any case," he said, '^ if she is the Lark, I shall see her, 
+for the Thénardier woman is to bring her hither. That will 
+be the end, and then I will give my life and my blood if neces- 
+sary, but I wQl deliver her ! Nothing shall stop me." 
+
+Nearly half an hour passed in this manner. Thénardier 
+seemed to be absorbed in gloomy reflections, the prisoner did 
+not stir. Still, Marius fancied that at intervals, and for the 
+last few moments, he had heard a faint, dull noise in the direc- 
+tion of the prisoner. 
+
+All at once, Thénardier addressed the prisoner: — 
+
+'^ By the way, Monsieur Fabre, I might as weU say it to yoo 
+at once." 
+
+These few words appeared to be the beginning of an expiana» 
+tion. Marius strained his ears. 
+
+Thénardier continued : — 
+
+''My wife will be back shortly, don't get impatient. I think 
+that the Lark really is your daughter, and it seems to me quite 
+natural that you should keep her. Only, listen to me a bit. 
+My wife will go and hunt her up with your letter. I told my 
+wife to dress herself in the way she did, so that your youn^!; 
+lady might make no difficulty about following her. They will 
+both enter the carnage with my comrade behind. Somewhere, 
+outside the barrier, there is a trap harnessed to two very 
+good horses. Your young lady will be taken to it. She will 
+alight from the fiacre. My comrade will enter the other vehicle 
+with her, and my wife will come back here to tell us : ^ It*s 
+done.' As for the young lady, no harm will be done to her ; the 
+trap will conduct her to a place where she will be quiet, and just 
+as soon as you have handed over to me those little two hundreci 
+thousand francs, she will be returned to you. If yon have me 
+arrested, my comrade will give a turn of his thumb to the Lark, 
+that's all." 
+
+The prisoner uttered not a syllable. After a paase, Thénar- 
+dier continued : — 
+
+''It's very simple, as you see. There'll be no harm done 
+
+
+
+MARIU& Slf 
+
+unless you wish that there should be harm done. Fm telling 
+you how things stand. I warn you so that you may be pre 
+pared." 
+
+He paused : the prisoner did not break the silence, and Thé* 
+nardier resumed : — 
+
+^^As soou as my wife returns and says to me: ^The Lark 
+is on the way/ we will release you, and you will be free to 
+go and sleep at home. You see that our intentions are not 
+evil." 
+
+Terrible images passed through Marins' mind. What ! That 
+young girl whom they were abducting was not to be brought 
+back ? One of those monsters was to bear her off into the dark* 
+ness ? Whither ? And what if it were she I 
+
+It was clear that it was she. Marius felt his heart stop 
+beating. 
+
+What was he to do? Discharge the pistol? Place all those 
+scoundrels in the hands of justice ? But the horrible man with 
+the meat-axe would, none the less, be out of reach with the 
+young girl, and Marius reflected on Thénardier's words, of 
+which he preceived the bloody significance : ^' If you have me 
+arrested, my comrade will give a turn of his thumb to the 
+Lark." 
+
+Now, it was not alone by the colonel's testament, it was by 
+his own love, it was by the peril of the one he loved, that he 
+felt himself restrained. 
+
+This fright lui situation, which had already lasted above half 
+an* hour, was changing its aspect evei7 moment. 
+
+Marius had sufficient strength of mind to review in succes- 
+sion all the most heart-breaking conjectures, seeking hope and 
+finding none. 
+
+The tumult of his thoughts contrasted with the funereal 
+silence of the den. 
+
+In the midst of this silence, the door at the bottom of the 
+ataitxsase was heard to open and shut again. 
+
+The prisoner made a movement in his bonds. 
+
+*' Here's the bourgeoise," said Thénardier. 
+
+He had hardly uttered the words, when the Thénardier woman 
+cfid in fact rush hastily into the room, red, panting, breathless, 
+with flaming eyes, and cried, as she smote her huge hands on 
+her thighs simultaneously : — 
+
+*' False address!" 
+
+The ruffian who had gone with her made his appearance 
+behind her and picked up his axe again. 
+
+She resumed:*— 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+218 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+*^Nobodj there! Rue Saint-Dominique, No. 17, no Mon 
+BÎeur Urbain Fabre ! They know not what it means ! " 
+
+She paused, choking, then went on : — 
+
+^'Monsieur Thénardier! That old fellow has duped yon! 
+You are txx> good, you see ! If it had been me, I*d have 
+ohopi>ed the beast in four quarters to begin witii ! And if be 
+had acted ugly, I'd have boiled him alive ! He would have 
+been obliged to speak, and say where the girl is, and where he 
+keeps his shiners! That's the way I should have managed 
+matters ! People are perfectly right when they say that meo 
+are a deal stupider than women! Nobody at No. 17. It's 
+nothing but a big carriage gate ! No Monsieur Fabre in the 
+Rue Saint-Dominique! And after all that racing and fee to 
+the coachman and all! I spoke to both tlie porter and tbe 
+portress, a fine, stout woman, and they know nothing about 
+him ! '' 
+
+Marius breathed freely once more. 
+
+She, Ursule or the Lark, he no longer knew what to call her, 
+was safe. 
+
+While his exasperated wife vociferated, Thénardier htd 
+seated himself on the table. 
+
+For several minutes he uttered not a word, but swung his 
+right foot, which hung down, and stared at the brazier with an 
+air of savage revery. 
+
+Finally, he said to the prisoner, with a slow and singularly 
+ferocious tone : — 
+
+" A false address? What did you expect to gain by that? " 
+
+" To gain time ! " cried the prisoner in a thundering voice, 
+and at the same instant he shook off his bonds ; they were cot. 
+The prisoner was only attached to the bed now by one leg. 
+
+Before the sevei. men had time to collect their senses and 
+dash forward, he had bent down into the fireplace, had stretched 
+out his hand to the brazier, and had then straightened himself 
+up again, and now Thénardier, the female Thénardier, and the 
+ruffians, huddled in amazement at the extremity of the hovel, 
+stared at him in stupefaction, as almost free and in a formi- 
+dable attitude, he brandished above his head the red-hot chisel, 
+which emitted a threatening glow. 
+
+The judicial examination to which the ambush in the Gorbeaa 
+house eventually gave rise, established the fact that a large sou 
+piece, cut and worked in a peculiar fashion, was found in the 
+garret, when the police made their descent on it. This sou 
+piece was one of those marvels of industry, which are engen- 
+dered by the patience of the galleys in the shadows and for the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 219 
+
+shadows, marvels which are nothing else than instruments of 
+escape. These hideous and delicate products of wonderful art 
+are to jewellers' work what the metaphors of slang are to poetry. 
+There are Benvenuto Cellinis in the galleys, just as there are Vil- 
+lous in language. The unhappy wretch who aspires to deliver- 
+ance finds means sometimes without tools, sometimes with a com- 
+mon wooden-handled knife, to saw a sou into two thin plates, 
+to hollow out these plates without affecting the coinage stamp, 
+and to make a furrow on the edge of the sou in such a manner 
+that the plates will adhere again. This can be screwed to- 
+gether and unscrewed at will; it is a box. In this box he 
+bides a watch-spring, and this watch-spring, properly handled, 
+cuts good-sized chains and bars of iron. The unfortunate con- 
+vict is supposed to possess merely a sou ; not at all, he posses- 
+ses liberty. It was a large sou of this sort which, during the 
+subsequent search of the police, was found under the bed near 
+the window. They also found a tiny saw of blue steel which 
+would fit the sou. 
+
+It is probable that the prisoner had this sou piece on his per- 
+son at the moment when the ruffians searched him, that he con- 
+trived to conceal it in his hand, and that afterward, having his 
+right hand free, he unscrewed it, and used it as a saw to cut 
+tlie cords which fastened him, which would explain the faint 
+noise and almost imperceptible movements which Marins had 
+observed. 
+
+As he had not been able to bend down, for fear of betraying 
+himself, he had not cut the bonds of his left leg. 
+
+The ruffians had recovered from their first surprise. 
+
+'' Be easy," said Bigrenaille to Thénardier. '* He still holds 
+by one leg, and he can't get away. 1*11 answer for that. I 
+tied that paw for him." 
+
+In the meanwhile, the prisoner had begun to speak : — 
+
+*' You are wretches, but my life is not worth the trouble of 
+defending it. When you think that you can make me speak, 
+that you can make me write what I do not choose to write, that 
+you can make me say what I do not choose to say — " 
+
+He stripped up his left sleeve, and added : — 
+
+'' See here." 
+
+At the same moment, he extended his arm, and laid the 
+glowing chisel which he held in his left hand by its wooden 
+handle on his bare flesh. 
+
+The crackling of the burning flesh became audible, and the 
+odor peculiar to chambers of torture filled the hovel. 
+
+Marius reeled in utter horror, the very ruffians shuddered» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+220 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+hardly a jiuscle of the old mau's face contracted, and while 1h 
+red -hot irou sauk into the Hmoking wound, impassive and al- 
+most august, he fixed on Thénardier his beautiful glance, io 
+wltich ther3 was no hatred, and where suffering vanished in 
+serene majesty. 
+
+With grand and lofty natures, the revolts of the flesh and 
+the senses when subjected to physical suffering cause the seal 
+to spring forth, and make it appear on the brow, just as rebel- 
+lions among the soldiery force the captain to show himself. 
+
+'^ Wretches!" said he, ^^have no more fear of me than 1 
+have for you ! " 
+
+And, tearing the chisel from the wound, he hurled it throui^b 
+the window, which had beôn left open ; the horrible, glowing 
+tool disappeared into the night, whirling as it flew, and fell far 
+away on the snow. 
+
+The prisoner resumed : — 
+
+^^ Do what you please with me." He was disarmed* 
+
+*' Seize him ! " said Thénardier. 
+
+Two of the rufflaus laid their hands on his shoulder, and 
+the masked man with the ventriloquist's voice took up his atn* 
+tion in fh>nt of him, ready to smash his skull at the slightest 
+movement. 
+
+At the same time. Marins heard below him, at the base of the 
+partition, but so near that he could not see who was speaking, 
+this colloquy conducted in a low tone : — 
+
+*^ There is only one thing left to do.** 
+
+"Cut his throat?" 
+
+" That's it." 
+
+It was the husband and wife taking counsel together. 
+
+Thénardier walked slowly towards the table, opened ÛA 
+drawer, and took out the knife. Marius fretted with the handle 
+of his pistol. Unprecedented perplexity ! For the last hour 
+he had had two voices in his conscience, the one enjoining him 
+to respect his father's testament, the other crying to him to 
+rescue the prisoner. These two voices continued unintermpt- 
+cdly that struggle which tormented him to agony. Up to Uiat 
+moment he had cherished a vague hope that he should find some 
+means of reconciling these two duties, but nothing within the 
+limits of possibility had presented itself. 
+
+However, the peril was urgent, the last bounds of delay had 
+')een reached ; Thénardier was standing thoughtfully a few 
+paces distant from the prisoner. 
+
+Marins cast a wild glance about him. the last mechanical re 
+source of despair. All at once a shudder ran through him* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 221 
+
+At his feet, on the table, a bright ray of light from the fhlt 
+moon illnminated and seemed to point out to him a sheet of 
+paper. On this paper he read the following line written that 
+Yerj* morning, in large letters, by the eldest of the Thénardier 
+girls : — 
+
+"THE BOBBIES ARE HERE," 
+
+An idea, a flash, crossed Marins' mind ; this was the expedient 
+of which he was in search, the solution of that friglitful prob- 
+lem which was torturing him, of sparing the assassin and saving 
+the victim. 
+
+He knelt down on his commode, stretched out his arm, seized 
+the sheet of paper, softly detached a bit of plaster' from the 
+wall, wrapped tbe paper round it, and tossed the whole through 
+the crevice into the middle of the den. 
+
+It was high time. Thénardier had conquered his last fears or 
+his last scruples, and was advancing on the prisoner. 
+
+** Something is falling ! " cried the Thénardier woman. 
+
+** What is it?" asked her husband. 
+
+The woman darted forward and picked up the bit of plaster. 
+She handed it to her husband. 
+
+" Where did this come from?" demanded Thénardier. 
+
+"Pardie!" ejaculated his wife, ^^ where do you suppose it 
+came from ? Through the window, of course." 
+
+" I saw it pass," said Bigrenaille. 
+
+Thénardier rapidly unfolded the paper and held it dose to 
+the candle. 
+
+" It's in Éponine's handwriting. The devil ! " 
+
+He made a sign to his wife, who hastily drew near, and 
+showed her the line written on the sheet of paper, then he added 
+m a subdued voice : — 
+
+" Quick I The ladder I Let's leave the bacon in the mouse- 
+Tap and decamp ! " 
+
+^^ Without cutting that man's throat?" asked the Thénardiei 
+7oman. 
+
+" We haven't the time." 
+
+" Through what?" resumed Bigrenaille. 
+
+" Through the window," replied Thénardier. " Since Ponine 
+has thrown the stone through the window, it indicates that tlie 
+boase is not watched on that side." 
+
+The mask with the ventriloquist's voice deposited his huge 
+&ej on the floor, raised both arms in the air, and opened and 
+clenched his fists three times rapidly without uttering a word. 
+
+This was the signal like the signal for clearing the decks fol 
+action on board shin. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+128 LBS MISERABLES. 
+
+The rufllaos who were holding the prisoner released Urn; in 
+the twiukiiug of an eye the rope ladder was unrolled outtude cue 
+window, and solidly fiistened to the sill hy the two iron books. 
+
+The prisoner paid no attention to what was going on arouDd 
+him. He seemed to be dreaming or praying. 
+
+As soon as the ladder was arranged, Tiiénardîer cried : *- 
+
+*^ Ck)me ! the bourgeoise first ! '* 
+
+And he rushed headlong to the window. 
+
+But gust as he was about to throw his leg over, Bigrenailie 
+seized iiim roughly by tlie collar. 
+
+'^ Not much, come now, you old dog, after us I ** 
+
+'* After» us ! " yelled the ruffians. 
+
+^* You are children," said Thénardier, ^^we are losing time. 
+The {)olice are on our heels." 
+
+^' Well,'* said the ruffians, ^^ let's draw lota to see who shall 
+go down first." 
+
+Th^»nardier exclaimed : — 
+
+*' Are you mad ! Are you crazy I What a pack of boobies! 
+You want to waste time, <lo you? Draw lots, do 3*00? By a 
+wet finger, by a short straw ! With written names I Thrown 
+into a hat I — " 
+
+^^ Would you like my hat ! " cried a voice on the threshold. 
+
+All wheeled round. It was Javert. 
+
+He had his hat in his hand, and was holding it out to them 
+with a smile. 
+
+XXI. — OnB should always begin Bt ARRESTING THB VlCTIllS. 
+
+At nightfall, Javert had posted his men and had gone iotu 
+ambush himself between the trees of the Rue de la Barrière-des- 
+(Gobelins which faced the Gorbeau house, on the other side of 
+the boulevard. He had begun operations by opening ''his 
+|)ookets/' and dropping into it the two young girls who were 
+charged with keeping a watch on the approaches to the den. 
+Hut he had only ' ' caged " Azelma. As for Éix)nine, she was 
+not at her post, she had disappeared, and he had not been able 
+to seize her. Then Javert had made a point and had bent hi^^ 
+ear to waiting for the signal agreed upon. The comings and 
+goings of the fiacres had greatly agitated him. At last, he had 
+grown impatient, and, sure that there was a nest there, sure of 
+being in *'luck," having rec(^nizcd many of the ruffians who 
+had entered, he had finally decided to go npstairs withoat wait- 
+ing for the pistol-shot. 
+
+It will '^i remembered that he had Marius' paa»4ej. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MA RI us. 223 
+
+He had arrived jast in the Dick of time. 
+
+The terrified ruffians flung themselves on the arms which they 
+had abandoned in all the corners at the moment of flight. In 
+less than a second, these seven men, horrible to behold, had 
+grouped themselves in an attitude of defence, one with his 
+meat-axe, another with his key, another with his bludgeon, the 
+rest with shears, pincers, and hammers. Thénardier had his 
+kaife in his fist. The Thénardier woman snatched up an enor- 
+mous paving-stone which lay in the angle of the window and 
+served her daughter as an ottoman. 
+
+Javert put on his hat again, and advanced a couple of paces 
+into the room, with arms folded, his cane under one arm, his 
+sword in its sheath. 
+
+'* Halt there," said he. •* You shall not go out by the 
+window, you shall go through the door. It's less unhealthy. 
+There are seven of you, there are fifteen of us. Don't let's fall 
+to collaring each other like men of Auvergne." 
+
+Bigrenaille drew out a pistol which he had kept concealed 
+ander his blouse, and put it in Thénardier's hand, whispering in 
+the tatter's ear : — 
+
+*' It's Javert. I don't dare fire at that man. Do you dare? " 
+
+** Parbleu Î " replied Thénardier. 
+
+" WeU then, fire." 
+
+Thénardier took the pistol and aimed at Javert. 
+
+Javert, who was only three paces from him, stared intently 
+at him an<î contented himself with saying: — 
+
+** Come now, don't fire. You'll miss fire." 
+
+Thénardier pulled the trigger. The pistol missed fire. 
+
+" Didn't I tell you so Î " ejaculated Javert. 
+
+BiLçrenaille flung his bludgeon at Javert's feet. 
+
+*' You're the emperor of the fiends ! I surrender." 
+
+" And you ? " Javert asked the rest of the ruffians. 
+
+They replied: — 
+
+«So do we." 
+
+Javert began again calmly : — 
+
+"That's right, that's good, I said so, you are nice fellows." 
+
+"I only ask one thing," said Bigrenaille, '^ and that is, that 
+1 aiay not be denied tobacco while I am in confinement." 
+
+"GranUHÎ," said Javert. 
+
+And turning round and calling behind him : — 
+
+** Come in now ! " 
+
+A squad of policemen, sword in hand, and agents armed with 
+
+bludgeons and cudgels, rushed in at Javert's summons. Th^y 
+pinioned the rufiians. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+224 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+This throng of men, sparely lighted by the single candle 
+filled the den with shadows. 
+
+'' Handcuff them all ! " Bhouted Javert. 
+
+" Come on ! " cried a voice which was not the voice of a man, 
+but of which no one would ever have said: '' It is a woman's 
+voice." 
+
+The Thénardier woman had entrenched herself in one of the 
+angles of the window, and it was she who had just given vent 
+to this roar. 
+
+The policemen and agents recoiled. 
+
+She had thrown off her shawl, but retained her bonnet; her 
+husband, who was crouching behind her, was almost bidder* 
+under the discarded shawl, and she was shielding him with he' 
+body, as she elevated the paving-stone above her head with th» 
+gesture of a giantess on the point of hurling a rock. 
+
+'' Beware ! " she shouted. 
+
+All crowded back towards the corridor. A broad open spao^ 
+was cleared in the middle of the garret. 
+
+The Thénardier woman cast a glance at the ruffians who had 
+allowed themselves to be pinioned, and muttered in hoarse an(* 
+guttural accents : — 
+
+" The cowards ! " 
+
+Javert smiled, and advanced across the open space which tb^ 
+Thénardier was devouring with her eyes. 
+
+*' Don't come near me," she cried, '"or Fll crash you." 
+
+'* What a grenadier ! " ejaculated Javert ; ''you've got a beard 
+hke a man, mother, but I have claws like a woman." 
+
+And he continued to advance. 
+
+The Thénardier, dishevelled and terrible, set her feet far 
+apart, threw herself backwards, and hurled the paving-stone at 
+Javert's head. Javert ducked, the stone passed over him, strmk 
+the wall behind, knocked off a huge piece of plastering, and 
+rebounding from angle to angle across the hovel, now luckily 
+almost empty, rested at Javert's feet. 
+
+At that same moment, Javert reached the Thénardier couple. 
+One of his big hands descended on the woman's shoulder ; the 
+other on the husband's head. 
+
+*'The handcuffs! " he shouted. 
+
+The policemen trooped iti in force, and in a few seconds 
+Javert's order had been executed. 
+
+The Thénardier female, overwhelmed, stared at her pinioned 
+hands, and at those of her husband, who had dropped to the 
+floor, and exclaimed, weeping : — 
+
+*'My daughters!" 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+i 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 225 
+
+^ Tbey are in the Jag," said Javert. 
+
+la the meanwhile, the agents had caught sight of the drunken 
+oaau asleep behind the door, and were shaking hiin : — 
+
+He awoke, stammering : — 
+
+" Is it all over, Jondrette?" 
+
+*' Yes," replied Javert. 
+
+The six pinioned ruffians were standing, and still pi*eserved 
+their spectral mien ; all three besmeared with black, all three 
+masked. 
+
+*' Keep on your masks," said Javert. 
+
+And passing them in review with a glance of a Frederick lie 
+at a Potsdam parade, he said to the three '' chimney -builders " : — 
+
+*' Good day, Bigrenaille ! good day, Brujon ! good day, Deux- 
+milliards ! " 
+
+Then turning to the three masked men, be said to the man 
+with the meat-axe : — 
+
+** Good day, Gueulemer ! ** 
+
+And to the man with the cudgel: — 
+
+'' Good day, Babet!" 
+
+And to the ventriloquist : — 
+
+"Your health, Claquesous." 
+
+At that moment, he caught sight of the ruffians' prisoner, who, 
+ever since the entrance of the police, had not uttered a word, 
+and had held his head down. 
+
+** Untie the gentleman!" said Javert, "and let no one go 
+out ! " 
+
+That said, he seated himself with sovereign dignity before 
+the table, where the candle and the writing-materials stiU 
+remained, drew a stamped paper from his pocket, and began to 
+prepare his report. 
+
+When he had written the first lines, which are formulas that 
+never vary, he raised his eyes : — 
+
+'^ Let tlie gentleman whom these gentlemen bound step for- 
+ward." 
+
+The policemen glanced around them. 
+
+''Well," said Javert, " where is he?" 
+
+The prisoner of the ruffians, M. Leblanc, M. Urbain Fabre, 
+the father of Ursule or the Lark, had disappeared. 
+
+The door was guarded, but the window was not. As soon 
+as he had found himself released from his bonds, and while 
+Javert was drawing up his report, he had taken advantage of 
+confusion, the crowd, the darkness, and of a moment when the 
+general attention was diverted from him, to dash out of the 
+window. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+926 ^SS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+An agent sprang to the opening and looked out He saw m 
+one outside. 
+
+The rope ladder was still shaking. 
+
+^^The devil ! " ejaculated Javert between his teeth, ^* he must 
+have been the most valuable of the lot." 
+
+XXII. — Thk Little One who was crtimo im Volume Two 
+
+On the day following that on which tliese events took place 
+in the house on the Boulevaixl de l'Hôpital, a child, who seemeil 
+to be coming from the direction of tlie bridge of Aiisterlitz, wad 
+ascending the side-alley on the right in the direction of the Bar- 
+rière de Fontainebleau. 
+
+Night had fully come. 
+
+This lad was pale, thin, clad in rags, with linen trousers in 
+the month of February, and was singing at the top of his voice. 
+
+At the corner of the Rue du Petit- Banquier, a bent old woman 
+was rummaging in a heap of refuse bj* the light of a street lan- 
+tern ; tlie child Jostled her as he passed, then recoiled, exclaim- 
+ing : — 
+
+^^ Hello ! And I took it for an enormous, enormous dog ! " 
+
+He pronounced the word enormous the second time with é 
+Jeering swell of the voice which might be tolerably well repre 
+sented by capitals : '' an enormous, ENORMOUS dog." 
+
+The ofd woman straightened herself up in a fury. 
+
+" Nasty brat! " she grumbled. '' If I hadn't been bending 
+over, I know well where I would have planted my foot on you." 
+
+The boy was already far away. 
+
+'^ Kisss ! kisss ! " he cried. ^^ After that, I don't think I was 
+mistaken ! '* 
+
+The old woman, choking with indignation, now rose completely 
+upright, and the red gleam of the lautcrn fully lighted up her 
+livid face, all hollowed into angles and wrinkles, witli crow's 
+feet meeting the corners of her mouth. 
+
+Her body was lost in the darkness, and only her head was 
+visible. One would have pronounced her a mask of Decrepi 
+tude carved out by a light from the night. 
+
+The boy surveyed her. 
+
+^^ Madame," said he, ^^ does not possess that style of beauty 
+which pleases me." 
+
+He then pursued his road, and resumed his song : — 
+
+•* Le roi Coupdosabot 
+S'en allait k la crhaaae, 
+Â la oliRftsc uux corbeaux — " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+MARIUS. 227 
+
+At the end of these three lines be paused. He had arrived in 
+flront of No. 50-52, and finding the door fastened, he began to 
+assault it with resounding and heroic kicks, which betrayed 
+rather the man's shoes that he was wearing than the child's feet 
+which he owned. 
+
+In the meanwhile, the very old woman whom he had encoun- 
+tered at the corner of the Rue du Petit-Banquier hastened up 
+behind him, uttering clamorous cries and indulging in lavish 
+and exaggerated gestures. 
+
+*' What's this? What's this? Lord God! He's battering 
+the door down ! He's knocking the house down.'* 
+
+The kicks continued. 
+
+The old woman strained her lungs. 
+
+" Is that the way buildings are treated nowadays?^ 
+
+All at once she paused. 
+
+She had recognized the gamin. 
+
+" What ! so it's that imp ! " 
+
+" Why, it's the old lady," said the lad. "Good day, Bargon 
+tnnche. I have come to see my ancestors." 
+
+The old woman retorted with a composite grimace, and a won- 
+derful improvisation of hatred taking advantage of fceblenese 
+and ugliness, which was. unfortunately, wasted in* the dark: — 
+
+*' There's no one here." 
+
+" Bah !" retorted the boy, " where's my father?" 
+
+" At La Force.'* 
+
+*' Ck>me, now ! And my mother?" 
+
+**At Saint-Lazare." 
+
+*' Well ! And my sisters?" 
+
+" At the Madelonettes." 
+
+The lad scratched his head behind his ear, stared at Ma'am 
+Burgon, and said: — 
+
+*'Ah!" 
+
+Then he executed a pirouette on his heel ; a moment later, the 
+old woman, who had remained on the door-step, heard him 
+singing in his clear, young voice, as he plunged under the black 
+elm-trees, in the wintry wind : — 
+
+** Le roi Conpdesabot * 
+S'en allait a la chasse, 
+A la chasse aux corheanz» 
+Mont^ sur deux échasseti 
+Quand on passait dessouB, 
+On lui payait deux sous." 
+
+1 KfnfÇ Bootkick went a-huntin&; after crows, mounted ofk two stilts. When 
+one vMuBsed beneath them, one paid him two sous. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+
+SHE SET HER BACK AGAINST THE GATE AND FACED THE RUFFIANS. 
+
+
+
+•' What a gocxl little king was he! We have marebed since 
+daybreak, we have reached the evening of a long and toilsome 
+day; we made our first change with Mirabeau, the second with 
+Robespierre, the third with Bonaparte ; we are worn out. Each 
+one demands a bed. 
+
+Devotion which is weary, heroism which has grown old, am- 
+bitions which are sated, fortunes which are made, seek, demand, 
+implore, solicit, what? A shelter. They have it. They take 
+possession of peace, of tranquillity, of leisure ; behold, they are 
+content. But, at the same time certain facts arise, compel rec- 
+ognition, and knock at the door in thcit turn. These facts are 
+the products of revolutions and wars, they are, tîie^* exist, they 
+have the right to install themselves in society, and they do in- 
+stall themselves therein ; and most of the time, facts are the 
+stewards of the household and fouriers^ who do nothing but 
+prepare lodgings for principles. 
+
+This, then, is what appears to philosophical politicians : — 
+
+At the same time that weary men demand repose, accomplished 
+facts demand guarantees. Guarantees are the same to facts 
+that repose is to men. 
+
+This is wh. t England demanded of the Stuarts after the Protec- 
+tor; this is what France demanded of the Bourbons after the Empire. 
+
+These guarantees are a necessity of the times. They must 
+be accorded. Princes "grant" them, but in reality, it is the 
+force of things which gives them. A profound truth, and one 
+useful to know, which the Stuarts did not suspect in 1662, and 
+which the Bourbons did not even obtain a glimpse of in 1814. 
+
+The predestined family, which returned to France when Najw- 
+leon fell, had the fatal simplicity to believe that it was itself 
+which bestowed, and that what it had bestowed it could take 
+back again ; that the House of Bourbon possessed the right divine, 
+that France possessed nothing, and that the political right con- 
+ceded in the charter of Ijouis XVIII. was merely a branch of Ui« 
+right divine, was detached by the House of Bourbon and gra 
+ciously given to the people until such day as it should please the 
+King to reassume it. Still, the House of Bourbon should have 
+felt, from the displeasure created by the gift, that it did not 
+come from it. 
+
+This house wa« churlish to the nineteenth century. It pat on 
+an iU-temi>ered look at every development of the nation. To 
+
+1 In olden times, fcmriers were the officials wuo ^receded the Court and 
+aUotted tbe iodginga. 
+
+
+
+JJ — , ^w 
+
+Under the Restoration, the nation had grown accustomed to 
+CAlm discussion, which had been lacking under the Republic, 
+and to grandeur in peace, which had been wanting under the 
+Empire. France free and strong had offered an encouraging 
+spectacle to the other peoples of Europe. The Revolution had 
+had the word under Robespierre ; the cannon had iiad the won! 
+under Bonaparte; it was under Ix)uis XVIII. and Charles X. 
+that it was the turn of intelligence to have the word. T!u 
+wind ceased, the torch was lighted once more. On the lofty 
+heights, the pure light of mind could be seen flickering- À 
+mîignificent, useful, and charming spectacle. For a space M 
+fifteen years, those great principh^s which arc so old for tlie 
+thinker, so new for the statesman, could be seen at work in per- 
+fect peace, on the public square ; equality before the law, liberty 
+of conscience, liberty of speech, liberty of the press, the ac<'<s- 
+sibility of all aptitudes to all functions. Thus it proceeded 
+until 1830. The Bourbons were an instrument of civilization 
+which broke in the hands of Pi-ovidence. 
+
+The fall of the Bourbons was full of grandeur, not on their 
+side, but on the side of the nation. They quitted the throne 
+with gi'avity, but without authority ; their descent into the night 
+was not one of those solemn disappearances which leave a 
+sombre emotion in history ; it was neither the spectral calm 
+of Charles I., nor the eagle scream of Napoleon. They departed, 
+that is all. They laid down the crown, and retained no aui^eole. 
+They were worthy, but they were not august. They lacked, in 
+a certain measure, the majesty of their misfortune. Charles X. 
+during the voyage from Cherbourg, causing a round table to be 
+cut over into a square table, appeared to be more anxious about 
+imperilled etiquette than about the crumbling monarchy. Tliis 
+diminution saddened devoted men who loved their persons « and 
+serious men who honored their race. The populace was ad- 
+mirable. The nation, attacked one morning with weapons, by a 
+sort of royal insurrection, felt itself in the possession of so much 
+force that.it did not go into a rage. It defended itself, restrained 
+itself, restored things to their places, the government to law, the 
+Bourbons to exile, alas ! and then halted ! It took the old 
+king Charles X. from beneath that dais which had sheltered 
+TiOuis XIV. and sot him gently on the ground. It touched 
+the royal personages only with sadness and precaution. It 
+was not one man, it was not a few men, it was Franco, Fran<« 
+entire, France victorious and intoxicated with her victory, who 
+
+
+
+fact, the fact of the sixteenth century. He seems hideoua, 
+and so he is, in the presence of the moral idea of the nine- 
+teenth. 
+
+This conflict of right and fact has been going on ever since 
+the origin of society. To terminate this duel, to amalgamate 
+the pure idea with the human reality, to cause right to penetrate 
+pacifically into the fact and the fact into right, that is the task 
+of sages. 
+
+II. — Badly Sewed. 
+
+But the task of sages is one thing, the task of clever men 
+is another. The Revolution of 1830 came to a sudden halt. 
+
+As soon as a revolution has made the coast, the skilful make 
+haste to prepare the shipwreck. 
+
+The skilful in our century have conferred on themselves the 
+title of Statesmen ; so that this word, statesmen, has ended by 
+becoming somewhat of a slang word. It must be borne in mind, 
+in fact, that wherever there is nothing but skill, there is neces- 
+sarily pettiness. To say '* the skilful" amounts to saying 
+** the mediocre." 
+
+In the same way, to say ^^ statesmen" is sometimes equiv- 
+alent to saying '* traitors." If, then, we are to believe the 
+skilful, revolutions like the Revolution of July are severed 
+arteries; a prompt ligature is indispensable. The right, toe 
+grandly proclaimed, is shaken. Also, right once firmly fixed, 
+the state must be strengthened. Liberty once assured, atten- 
+tion must be directed to power. 
+
+Here the sages are not, as yet, separated from the skilfUl, 
+but they begin to be distrustful. Power, very good. But, in 
+the first place, what is power? In the second, whence comes it? 
+The skilful do not seem to hear the murmured objection, and 
+îhey continue their manœuvres. 
+
+According to the politicians, who are ingenious in putting the 
+mask of necessity on profitable fictions, the first requirement of 
+a people after a revolution, when this people forms part of a 
+monarchical continent, is to procure for itself a dynast}'. In 
+this way, say they, peace, that is to say, time to dress our 
+wounds, and to repair the house, can be had after a revolution. 
+The dynasty conceals the scaffolding and covers the ambulance. 
+Now, it is not always easy to procure a dynasty. 
+
+If it is absolutely necessary, ihe first man of genius or even the 
+
+
+
+or duty ; lettered, but not very sensitive to letters ; a gentle- 
+man, but not a chevalier ; sinnple, calm, and strong ; adored by 
+his family and his household; a fascinating talker, an unde- 
+ceived statesman, inwardly cold, dominated by immediate in- 
+terest, always governing at the shortest range, incapable of 
+rancor and of gratitude, making use without mercy of superi- 
+ority on mediocrity, clever in getting parliamentary majorities 
+^ put in the wrong those mysterious unanimities which mutter 
+dully under thrones; unreserved, sometimes imprudent in his 
+lack of reserve, but with marvellous address in that impru- 
+dence ; fertile in expedients, in countenances, in masks ; making 
+France fear Europe and Europe France ! Incontestably fond 
+of his country, but preferring his family ; assuming more domi- 
+nation than authority and more authority than dignity, a dis- 
+position which has this unfortunate property, that as it turns 
+everything to success, it admits of ruse and does not alisolutely 
+repudiate baseness, but which has this valuable side, that it 
+preserves politics from violent shocks, the state from fractures, 
+and society from catastrophes ; minute, coiTect, vigilant, atten- 
+tive, sagacious, indefatigable ; contradicting himself at times 
+and giving himself the lie ; bold against Au9t;ria at Ancona, 
+obstinate against England in Spain, bombarding Antwerp, and 
+paying off Pritchard ; singing the Marseillaise with conyiction, 
+inaccessible to despondency, to lassitude, to the taste for the 
+beautiful and the ideal, to daring generosity, to Utopia, to 
+chimeras, to wrath, to vanity, to fear ; possessing all the forma 
+of personal intrepidity ; a general at Valmy ; a soldier at Je- 
+mappes ; attacked eight times by regicides and always smiling ; 
+brave as a grenadier, courageous as a thinker ; uneasy only in 
+the face of the chances of a European shaking up, and unfitted 
+for great political adventures ; sJways ready to risk his life, 
+never his work ; disguising his will in influence, in order that 
+be might be obeyed as an intelligence rather than as a king ; 
+endowed with observation and not with divination; not ver}* 
+attentive to minds, but knowing men, that is to say, requiring 
+to see in order to judge ; prompt and penetrating good sense, 
+practical wisdom, easy speech, prodigious memory ; drawing 
+incessantly on this memory, his only point of resemblance with 
+CflBsar, Alexander, and Napoleon ; knowing deeds, facts, de- 
+tails, dates, proper names, ignorant of tendencies, passions, the 
+diverse geniuses of the crowd, the interior aspirations, the hid- 
+den and obscure uprisings of souls, in a word, all that can be 
+
+
+
+insurrections, the rising passed over by anus, the Rue Trans- 
+nonain, the counsels of war, the absorption of the real country 
+by the legal country, on half shares with three hundred thousand 
+privileged persons, — these are the deeds of royalty ; Belgiuin 
+recnsed, Algeria too harshly conquered, and. as in the case of 
+india by the English, with more barbarism than civilization, the 
+breach of faith, to Abd-el-Kader, Blaye, Deutz bought, Prit- 
+chard paid, — these are the doings of the reign ; the policy which 
+was more domestic than national was the doing of the King. 
+
+As will be seen, the proper deduction having been made, the 
+King's charge is decreased. 
+
+This is his great fault ; he was modest in the name of France. 
+
+Whence arises this fault? 
+
+We will state it. 
+
+Louis Philippe was rather too much of a paternal king ; that 
+incubation of a family with the object of founding a dynasty is 
+^ afraid of everything and does not like to be disturbed ; hence 
+excessive timidity, which is displeasing to the people, who have 
+the 14th of July in their civil and Austerlitz in their military 
+tradition. 
+
+Moreover, if we dednct the public duties which require to 
+be fulfilled first of all, that deep tenderness of Louis Philippe 
+towards his family was deserved by the family. That domestic 
+group was worthy of admiration. Virtues there dwelt side by 
+side with talents. One of Louis Philippe's daughters, Marie 
+d'Orléans, placed the name of her race among artists, as Chfwrles 
+d'Orléans had placed it among poets. She made of her soul a 
+marble which she named Jeanne d'Arc. Two of Louis Philippe's 
+daughters elicited from Metternich this eulogium : " They are 
+young people such as are rarely seen, and princes such as are 
+never seen." 
+
+This, without any dissimulation, and also without any exag 
+geration, is the truth about Louis Philippe. 
+
+To be Prince Equality, to bear in his own person the contra 
+diction of the Restoration and the Revolution, to have that dis- 
+quieting side of the revolutionary which becomes reassuring in 
+governing power, therein lay the fortune of Louis Philippe in 
+1 830 ; never was there a more complete adaptation of a man to 
+an event ; the one entered into the other, and the incarnation 
+took place. Louis Philip]>e is 1830 made man. Moreover, be 
+had in his favor that great recommendation to the throne, exile 
+He had been proscribed, a wanderer, poor. He had lived by 
+
+
+
+his first verdict; Louis Philippe was elected by those two 
+almosls which are called the 221 and 1830, that is to say. 
+by a half-Parliament, and a half-revolution ; and in any case, 
+from the superior point of view where philosophy must place 
+itself, we cannot judge him here, as the reader has seen above, 
+except with certain reservations in the name of the absolute 
+democratic principle ; in the eyes of the absolute, outside these 
+two rights, the right of man in the first place, the right of the 
+people in the second, all is usurpation ; but what we can say, 
+even at the present day, that after making these reserves is, 
+that to sum up the whole, and in whatever manner he is consid- 
+ered, Louis Philippe, taken in himself, and from the point of 
+view of human goodness, will remain, to use the antique lan- 
+guage of ancient history, one of the best princes who ever sat 
+on a throne. 
+
+What is there against him ? That throne. Take away Louis 
+Philippe the king, there remains the man. And the man is 
+good. He is good at times even to the point of being admira- 
+ble. Often, in the midst of his gravest souvenirs, after a day 
+of conflict with the whole diplomacy of the continent, he returned 
+at night to his apartments, and âiere, exhausted with fatigue, 
+overwhelmed with sleep, what did he do? He took a death 
+sentence and passed the night in revising a criminal suit, con- 
+sidering it something to hold his own against Europe, but that 
+it was a still greater matter to rescue a man from the execu- 
+tioner. He obstinately maintained his opinion against his 
+keeper of the seals ; he disputed the ground with the guillotine 
+foot by foot against the crown attorneys, those chatterers of the 
+lato, as he called them. Sometimes the pile of sentences cov- 
+ered his table ; he examined them all ; it was anguish to him to 
+abaudon these miserable, condemned heads. One day, he said 
+to the same witness to whom we have recently referred: *'I 
+won seven last night." During the early years of his reign, 
+the death penalty was as good as abolished, and the erection of 
+a scaffold was a violence committed against the King. The 
+Grève having disappeared with the elder branch, a bourgeois 
+place of executiou was instituted under the name of the Bar- 
+rière- Saint- Jacques ; '' practical men " felt the necessity of a 
+quasi-legitimate guillotine ; and this was one of the victories of 
+Casimir Périer, who represented the narrow sides of the bour- 
+geoisie, over Louis Philippe, who represented its libera] sides. 
+Louis Philippe annotated Beccaria with his own hand. After 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+the air, the King defends Royalty, the democrac}* defends the 
+people ; the relative, which is the monarch}', resists the abso- 
+lute, which is the republic ; society bleeds in this conflict, but 
+that which constitutes its suffering to-day will constitute its 
+safety later on ; and, in an}' case, those who combat are not to 
+be blamed ; one of the two parties is evidently mistaken ; the 
+the right is not, like the Colossus of Rhodes, on two shores at 
+once, with one foot on the republic, and one in Royalty ; it is 
+indivisible, and all on one side ; but those who are in error are 
+80 sincerely ; a blind man is no more a criminal than a Vendean 
+is a ruffian. Let us, then, impute to the fatality of things alone 
+these formidable collisions. Whatever the nature of these tem- 
+pests may be, human irresponsibility is mingled with them. 
+
+Let us complete this exposition. 
+
+The government of 1840 led a hard life immediately. Bom 
+yesterday, it was obliged to fight to-day. 
+
+Hardly installed, it was already everywhere conscious of 
+vague movements of traction on the apparatus of July so re- 
+cently laid, and so lacking in solidity. 
+
+Resistance was born on the morrow ; perhaps even, it was 
+born on the preceding evening. From month to month the 
+hostility increased, and from being concealed it became patent. 
+
+The Revolution of July, which gained but little acceptance 
+outside of France by kings, had been diversely interpreted in 
+France, as we have said. 
+
+God delivers over to men his visible will in events, an obscure 
+text written in a mysterious tongue." Men immediately make 
+translations of it ; translations hasty, incorrect, full of errors» 
+of gaps, and of nonsense. Very few minds comprehend the 
+divine language. The most sagacious, the calmest, the most 
+profound, decipher slowly, and when they arrive with their text, 
+tlie task has long been completed ; there are already twenty 
+translations on the public place. From each remaining springs 
+a party, and from each misinterpretation a faction ; and each 
+party thinks that it alone has the true text, and each faction 
+thinks that it posesses the light. 
+
+Power itself is often a faction. 
+
+There are, in revolutions, swimmers who go against the cur- 
+rent ; thvy are the old partie* 
+
+For the old parties who chng to heredity by the grace of G ou, 
+think that revolutions, having sprung from the right tc ••^•''.H, 
+one has the right to revolt against them. Error. For in thcM 
+
+
+
+masses ; in auother manner, but quite as much. 
+
+Thinkers meditated, wbile the soil, that is to say, the people, 
+traversed by revolutionary currents, trembled under them with in- 
+describably vague epileptic shocks. These dreamers, some iso- 
+lated, others united in families and almost in communion, turned 
+over social questions in a pacific but profound manner ; impassive 
+miners, who tranquilly pushed their galleries into the depths of 
+a volcano, hardly disturbed by the dull commotion and the fur- 
+naces of which the}' caught glimpses. 
+
+This tranquillity was not the least beautiful spectacle of this 
+agitated epoch. 
+
+These men left to political parties the question of rights, they 
+occupied themselves with the question of happiness. 
+
+The well-being of man, that was what they wanted to extract 
+from society. 
+
+They raised material questions, questions of agriculture, of 
+industry, of commerce, almost to the dignity of a religion. 
+In civilization, such as it has formed itself, a little by the com- 
+mand of God, a great deal l)y the agency of man, intereste 
+combine, unite, and amalgamate in a manner to form a verita- 
+ble hard rock, in accordance with a dynamic law, patitntly 
+studied by economists, those geologists o(* politics. These men 
+who grouped themselves under different appellations, hut wlio 
+may all be designated by the generic title of socialists, en- 
+deavored to pierce that rock and to cause it to spout forth the 
+living waters of human felicity. 
+
+From the question of the scaffold to the question of war, 
+their works embraced everything. To the rights of man, as 
+proclaimed by the French Revolution, they added the rights of 
+woman and the rights of the child. 
+
+The reader will not be 8urpris(»d if, for various reasons, we 
+do not here treat in a thorough manner, from the theoretic:^ 
+point of view, the questions raised by socialism. We confine 
+ourselves to indicating them. 
+
+All the problems that the socialists proposed in themsehes 
+cosmogonie visions, revery and mysticism being cast aside, can 
+be reduced to two principal problems. 
+
+First problem : To produce wealth. 
+
+Second problem : To share it. 
+
+The first problem contains the question of work. 
+• The second contiiins the question of salary. 
+
+In the first problem the employment of forces is in question. 
+
+
+
+out of the feeble by the strong, put a bridle on the iniquitous 
+jealousy of the man who is making his way against the man 
+who has reached the goal, adjust, mathematically and frater- 
+nally, salary to labor, mingle gratuitous and compulsory educa- 
+tion with the growth of childhood, and make of science the 
+base of manliness, develop minds while keeping arms bus}*, be 
+at one and the same time a powerful people and a family of 
+happy men, render property democratic, not by abolishing it. 
+but by making it universal, so that every citizen, without ex- 
+ception, may be a proprietor, an easier matter than is generally 
+supposed; in two words, learn how to produce wealth and how 
+to distribute it, and you will have at once moral and material 
+greatness ; and you will be worthy to call yourself France. 
+
+This is what socialism said outside and above a few sects 
+which have gone astray ; that is what it sought in facts, that is 
+what it sketched out in minds. 
+
+Efforts worthy of admiration ! Sacred attempts ! 
+
+These doctrines, these theories, these resistances, the unfore- 
+seen necessity for the statesman to take philosophers into ac- 
+count, conftised evidences of which we catch a glimpse, a new 
+system of politics to be created, which shall be in acxîord with 
+the old world without too much disaccord with the new revo- 
+lutionary ideal, a situation in which it became necessary to 
+use Lafayette to defend Polignac, the intuition of progress 
+transparent beneath the revolt, the chambers and streets, the 
+competitions to be brought into equilibrium around him, his 
+faith in the Revolution, perhaps an eventual indefinable resigna- 
+tion born of the vague acceptance of a superior definitive right, 
+his desire to remain of his race, his domestic spirit, his sincere 
+respect for the people, his own honesty, preoccupied Louis 
+Philippe almost painfully, and there were moments when, strong 
+and courageous as he was, he was overwhelmed by the diflUculties 
+of being a king. 
+
+He felt under his feet a formidable disaggregation, which was 
+not, nevertheless, a reduction to dust, France being more 
+France than ever. 
+
+Piles of shadows covered the horizon. A strange shade, 
+gradually drawing nearer, extended little by little over men, 
+over things, over ideas ; a shade which came from wraths and 
+S}stems. Everything which had been hastily stifled was mov- 
+ins; and fermenting. At times the conscience of the honest 
+man resumed its iireathing, so great was the discomfort of 
+
+
+
+sible revolution. France kept an eye on Paris ; Paris kept ao 
+eye on the Fauburg Saint-Antoine. 
+
+The Faubourg Saint-Antoine, which was in a dull glow, was 
+beginning its ebullition. 
+
+The wine-shops of the Rue de Charonne were, although the 
+anion of the two epithets seems singular when applied to wine- 
+shops, grave and stormy. 
+
+The government was tliere purely and simply called in ques- 
+tion. There people publicly discussed the question of fighting 
+or of keeping quiet. There were back shops where workingmen 
+were made to swear that they would hasten into the street at 
+the first cry of alarm, and " that they would fight without count- 
+ing the number of the enemy." This engagement once entered 
+into, a man seated in the corner of the wine-shop ^^ assumed a so- 
+norous tone," and said : " You understand ! You have sworn ! " 
+
+Sometimes they went up stairs, to a private room on the first 
+floor, and there scenes that were almost masonic were enacted. 
+They made the initiated take oaths to render service to MmselJ 
+cw loell CLS to the fathers of families. That was the formula. 
+
+In the tap-rooms, " subversive" pamphlets were read. They 
+treated tlie government with corUempty says a secret report of that 
+^ime. 
+
+Words like the following could be heard there : — 
+
+'' I don't know the names of the leadei-s. We folks shall not 
+know the day until two hours beforehand." One workman 
+said : *' There are three hundred of us, let each contribute ten 
+sous, that will make one hundred and fifty francs with which to 
+procure powder and shot." 
+
+Another said : ^^ I don't ask for six months, I don't ask for 
+even two. In less than a fortnight we shall be parallel with the 
+government. With twenty five thousand men we can face them." 
+Another said: ^^I don't sleep at night, because I make car- 
+tridges all night." From time to time, men '* of bourgeois ap- 
+pearance, and in good coats" came and "caused embarrass- 
+ment," and with the air of ''command," shook hands with the 
+most important^ and then went away. They never stayed more 
+than ten minutes. Significant remarks were exchanged in a 
+low tone : '' The plot is ripe, the matter is arranged." " It was 
+murmured by all who were there," to borrow the very expres- 
+sion of one of those who were present. The exaltation was 
+such that one day, a workingman exclaimed, before tiie whole 
+wine-shop : " We have no arms ! " One of his comrades replied: 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+lution or couiiter-revolutiou. For, at oar epoch, we no longer 
+believe either in inertia or in immobility. For the people against 
+the people, that is the question. There is no other." — 
+" On the day when we cease to suit you, break us, but up to that 
+day, help us to march on." All this in broad daylight. 
+
+Other deeds, more audacious still, were suspicious in the eyes 
+of the people by reason of their very audacit}- . On the 4th of 
+April, 1832, a passer-by mounted the post on the corner which 
+forms the angle of the Rue Sainte-Marguerite and shouted: 
+'^ I am a Babouvist ! ** But beneath Babeuf, the people scented 
+Gisquet. 
+
+Among other things, this man said : — 
+
+" Down with property ! The opposition of the left is cowardly 
+and treacherous. When it wants to be on the right side, it 
+preaches revolution, it is democratic in order to escape being 
+beaten, and royalist so that it may not have to fight. The re- 
+publicans are beasts with feathers. Distrust the republicans» 
+citizens of the laboring classes.*' 
+
+" Silence, citizen spy !" cried an artisan. 
+
+This shout put an end to the discourse. 
+
+Mysterious incidents occurred. 
+* At nightfall, a workingman encountered near the canal a 
+*' very well dressed man," who said to him : ^' Whither are you 
+bound, citizen?" "Sir," replied the workingman, ''I have 
+not the the honor of your acquaintance." *' 1 know you very 
+well, however." And the man added: '^ Don't be alarmed, 
+I am an agent of the committee. You are suspected of not 
+being quite faithful. You know that if you reveal anything, 
+there is an eye fixed on you." Then he shook hands with the 
+workingman and went away, saying: "We shall meet again 
+soon." 
+
+The police, who were on the alert, collected singular dia- 
+logues, not only in the wine-shops, but in the street. 
+
+" Get yourself received very soon," said a weaver to a caW- 
+net-maker. 
+
+"Why?" 
+
+" There is going to be a shot to fire." 
+
+Two ragged pedestrians exchanged these remarkable rwliei, 
+fraught with evident Jacquerie : — 
+
+" Who governs us? " 
+
+"M. Philippe." 
+
+" No, it is the bourgeoisie** 
+
+
+
+» 
+
+
+
+26 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+Q 
+
+
+c 
+
+
+D 
+
+
+£ 
+
+
+Leam thU list hy heart. After to doing 
+you fffill tear it up. 7%<j tneu admitted 
+Moill do the same when you have trans- 
+mitted their orders to them. 
+
+Health and Fraternity, 
+u Off a'/e L. 
+
+
+
+It was only later on that the persons who were in the secret 
+of this find at the time, learned the significance of those four 
+capital letters: quinturions^ centurions^' decurions, édaireurs 
+
+i scouts], and the sense of the letters: u og a'/e, which was a 
+ate, and meant April 15th, 1832. Under each capital letter 
+were inscribed names followed by very characteristic not**. 
+Thns : Q. Bannerel. 8 guns, 83 cartridges. A safe man. — C. 
+Bouhière. 1 pistol, 40 cartridges. — D. RoUet, 1 foil, 1 pi^y- 
+tol, 1 |X)und of powder. — E, Tesaier, 1 sword, 1 cartridge- 
+box. Exact. — Terreur, 8 guns. Brave, etc. 
+
+Finally, this carpenter found, still in the same enclosure, a 
+third paper on which was written in pencili but very legibly, 
+this sort of enigmatical list : — 
+
+Unité : Blanchard : Arbre-Sec. 6. 
+
+Barra. Seize. Salle-au-Comte. 
+
+Kosciusko. Aubiy the Butcher f 
+
+J. J. R. 
+
+Caius Gracchus. 
+
+Bight of revision. Pufond. Four. 
+
+Fall of the Girondists. Dcrhac. Maubuée. 
+
+Washington, llnson. 1 pistol, 86 cartridges. 
+
+Marseillaise. 
+
+Sovereignty of the people. MicheL Quincampoix. Sword. 
+
+Hoche. 
+
+Marceau. Plato. Arbre- Sec. 
+
+Warsaw. Tilly, crier of the Popul<iire. 
+
+The honest bourgeois into whose hands this list fell knew its 
+significance. It appears that this list was the complete nomen- 
+clature of the sections of the fourth arrondissement of the 
+Society of the Rights of Man, with the names and dwellings of 
+the chiefs of sections. To-day, when all these facts which wvre 
+obscure are nbtliing more than history, we may publish them. 
+It should be added, that the foundation of the Society of the 
+Rights of Man seems to have been posterior to the date when 
+this paper was found. Perhaps this was only a rough draft 
+
+Still, according to all the remarks and the words, according 
+to written notes, material facts begin to make their appeai^ce 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 27 
+
+In the Rue Popincourt, in the house of a dealer Iû brtc-à-brac. 
+there were seized seven sheets of gray paper, all folded alike 
+lengthwise and in four ; these sheets enclosed twenty-six 
+M^uares of this same gray paper folded in the form of a cart- 
+ridge, and a card, on which was written the following : — 
+
+Saltpetre 12 ounces. 
+
+Sulphur ....... 2 ounces. 
+
+Charcoal 2 ounces and a half. 
+
+Water 2 ounces. 
+
+The report of the seizure stated that the drawer exhaled a 
+strong smell of powder. 
+
+A mason returning from his day's work, left behind him a 
+little package on a bench near the bridge of Austerlitz. This 
+package was taken to the police station. It was opened, and in 
+it were found two printed dialogues, signed Ldkautîère^ a song 
+entitled: '^Workmen, band together," and a tin box full of 
+cartridges. 
+
+One artisan drinking with a comrade made the latter feel him 
+to see how warm he was ; the other man felt a pistol under hie 
+waistcoat. 
+
+In a ditch on the boulevard, between Père-Lachaise and the 
+Barrière du Trône, at the most deserted spot, some children ^ 
+while playing, discovered beneath a mass of shavings and refuse 
+bits of wood, a bag containing a bullet- mould, a wooden puncb 
+for the preparation of cartridges, a wooden bowl, in which theri» 
+were grains of hunting-powder, and a little cast-iron pot whose 
+interior presented evident traces of melted lead. 
+
+Police agents, making their way suddenly and unexpectedly 
+at five o'clock in the morning, into the dwelling of a certain 
+Pardon, who was afterwards a member of the Barricade-Merr^ 
+section and got himself killed in the insurrection of April, 1834. 
+found him standing near his bed, and holding in his band somf 
+cartridges which he was in the act of preparing. 
+
+Towards the hour when workingmen repose, two men were 
+ieen to meet between the Barrière Piepus and the Barrière 
+Charenton in a little lane between two walls, near a wine-shopt 
+in front of which there was a "Jeu de Siam."* One drew a 
+pistol from beneath his blouse and handed it to the other. As 
+he was handing it to him, he noticed that the perspiration of 
+his chest had made the powder damp. He primed the pistol 
+and added more powder to what was already in the pan. Then 
+the two men parted. 
+
+1 Â game of ninepins, in which the ball is smaller than the other, so that 
+It does not roll straight, but describes a curve on the ground. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+$S LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+A certain G allais, afterwards killed in the Rue Beaaboofg fn 
+the affair of April, boasted of having in his house seven hun« 
+dred cartridges and tweuty*fours flints. 
+
+The government one day received a warning that arms and 
+two hundred thousand cartridges had just been distributed in 
+the faubourg. On the following week thirty thousand cart- 
+ridges were distributed. The remarkable point about it was, 
+that the police were not able to seize a single one. 
+
+An intercepted letter read: ^^The day is not far distant 
+when, within four hours by the clock, eighty thousand patriots 
+will be under arms." 
+
+All this fermentation was public, one might almost say tran- 
+quil. The approaching insurrection was preparing its storm 
+calmly in the face of* the government. No singularity was 
+lacking to this still subterranean crisis, which was alread3' per- 
+ceptible. The bourgeois talked peaceably to the working- 
+classes of what was in preparation. They said : ** How is the 
+rising coming along ? " in the same tone in which they would 
+have said : '* How is your wife? " 
+
+A fbrniture-dcaler, of the Rue Moreau, inquired: "Well, 
+when are you going to make the attack?" 
+
+Another shop-keeper said : — 
+
+" The attack will be made soon." 
+
+''*■ I know it. A month ago, there were fifleen thousand of 
+you, now there are twenty -five thousand." He offered his gun, 
+and a neighbor offered a small pistol which he was willing to 
+sell for seven francs. 
+
+Moreover, the revolutionary fever was growing. Not a point 
+in Paris nor in France was exempt from it. The artery was 
+beating everywhere. Like those membranes which arise from 
+certain inflammations and form in the human lx)dy, the network 
+of secret societies began to spread all over the. country. From 
+the associations of the Friends of the People, which was at the 
+same time public and secret, sprang the Society of the Rights of 
+Man, which also dated from one of the orders of the day: 
+Pluviôse^ Year 40 of the republican era, which was destined to 
+survive even the mandate of the Court of Assizes which pra 
+nounced its dissolution, and which did not hesitate to bestow od 
+Its sections significant names like the following : — 
+
+Pikes. 
+
+Tocsin. 
+
+Signal cannon. 
+
+Plirygian cap. 
+
+January 31. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 2Ô 
+
+The beggars. 
+
+The vagabouds. 
+
+Forward march. 
+
+Robespierre. 
+
+Level. 
+
+Ça Ira. 
+
+The Society of the Rights of Man engendered the Society ot 
+Action. These were impatient individuals who broke away and 
+hastened ahead. Other associations sought to recruit them- 
+selves from the groat mother societies. The members of sec- 
+tions complained that they were torn asunder. Thus, the 
+Gallic Society, and the committee of organization of the Muni- 
+cipalities. Thus the associations for the liberty of the press, 
+for individual liberty, for the instruction of the people againe^t in- 
+direct taxes. Then the Society of Equal Workingmen which 
+was divided into three fractions, the levellers, the oommuuUits, 
+the reformers. Then the Army of the Bastilles, a sort of cohort 
+organized on a military footing, four men commanded bv b 
+corporal, ten by a sergeant, twenty by a sub-lieutenant, forty 
+by a lieutenant ; there were never more than five men who loia^ 
+each other. Creation where precaution is combined with au' 
+dacity and which seemed stamped with the genius of Venice. 
+
+The central committee, which was at the head, had two arms^ 
+the Society of Action, and the Army of the Bastilles. 
+
+A legitimist association, the Chevaliers of Fidelity, stirr«() 
+about among these the republican affiliations. It was denounced 
+and repudiated there. 
+
+The Parisian societies had ramifications in the principal cities^ 
+Lyons, Nantes, Lille, Marseilles, and each had its Society of Uie 
+Rights of Man, the Charl)onnière, and The Free Men. All had 
+a revolutionary society which was called the Cougourde. We 
+have already mentioned this word. 
+
+In Paris, the Faubourg Saint-Marceau kept up an equal buzz- 
+ing with the Faubourg Saint- Antoine, and the schools were no 
+less moved than the faubourgs. A café in the Rue Saint- 
+Hyacinthe and the wine-shop of the Seven Billiards j Rue des 
+Mathurins-Saint-Jacques, served as rallying points for the 
+students. The Society of the Friends of the A B C afllliated 
+to the Mutualists of Angers, and to the Cougourde of Aiz, met, 
+as we have seen, in the Café Musàin. These same young men 
+assembled also, as we have stated already, in a restaurant wine- 
+shop of the Rue Mondétour which was called Corinthe. Those 
+meetings were secret. Others were as public as possible, and 
+the reader can }udge ol their boldness from these fragmenta of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+30 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+an interrogatory undergone in one of the ulterior prosecutioas 
+'* Where was this meeting held?" " In the Rue de la Paix." "M 
+Those house ?" ^' In the street." " What sections were there ? " 
+''Only one." ''Which?" "The Manuel section." "Who 
+Vas its leader? " " I." " You are too young to have decided 
+Uone upon the bold course of attacking the government. 
+Where did 3'onr instructions come from? " " From the central 
+committee." 
+
+The army was mined at the same time as the population, as 
+was proved subsequently by the operations of Béford, Liinevilie, 
+and Épinard. They counted on the fifty-second regiment, on 
+the fifth, on the eighth, on the thirty-seventh, and on the 
+twentieth light cavalry. In Burgundy and in the southern 
+towns they planted the liberty tree ; that is to say, a pole sni^ 
+mounted by a red cap. 
+
+Such was the situation. 
+
+The Faubourg Saint-Antoine, more than any other group of 
+the population, as we stated in the beginning, accentuated this 
+«itiiation and made it felt. That was the sore point. This old 
+faubourg, peopled like an ant-hill, laborious, courageous, and 
+angry as a hive of bees, was quivering with expectation and 
+with the desire for a tumult. Everything was in a state of 
+agitation there, without any interruption, however, of the reg- 
+ular work. It is impossible to convey an idea of this lively yet 
+sombre physiognomy. In this faubourg exists poignant distress 
+hidden under attic roofs; there also exist rare and ardent 
+minds. It is particularly in the matter of distress and intelli- 
+gence that it is dangerous toViave extremes meet. 
+
+The Faubourg Saint-Antoine had also other causes to trem- 
+ble ; for it received the counter-shock of commercial crises, of 
+failures, strikes, slack seasons, all inherent to great political 
+disturbances. In times of revolution misery is both cause and 
+effect. The blow which it deals rebounds upon it. This pop- 
+ulation full of proud virtue, capable to the highest degree of 
+latent heat, always ready to fly to arms, prompt to explode, 
+irritated, deep, undermined, seemed to be only awaiting the 
+fall of a spark. Whenever certain sparks float on the horizon, 
+chased by the wind of events, it is impossible not to think of the 
+Faubourg Saint- Antoine and of the foi*midable chance which has 
+placed at the very gates of Paris that powder-house of suffering 
+and ideas. 
+
+The wine-shops of the Faubourg Antoine^ which have been 
+more than once drawn in the sketches which the reader has jost 
+perused, possess historical notoriety. In troublous times pea- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DEmS. 81 
+
+pie grow iQtoxicated theve more on words than on wine. A soit 
+of prophetic spirit and au afflatus of the future circulates there, 
+8 welling hearts aud enlarging souls. The cabarets of the Fau* 
+bourg Saint-Antoine resemble those taverns of Mont Aventine 
+erected on the cave of the Sibyl and communicating with the 
+profound and sacred breath; taverns where the tables were 
+almost tripods, and where was drunk what Ennius calls the 
+wibyUine wine. 
+
+The Faubourg Saint-Antoine is a reservoir of people. 
+Revolutionary agitations create fissures there, through which 
+trickles the popular sovereignty. This.sovereignt}- may do evil ; 
+it can be mistaken like any other ; but, even when led astray, it 
+remains great. We may say of it as of the blind cy clops. 
+
+In '93, according as the idea which was floating about was 
+good or evil, according as it was the day of fanaticism or of 
+entliusiasm, there leaped forth from the Faubourg Saint- Antoine 
+now savage liions, now heroic bands. 
+
+Savage. Let us explain this word. When these bristling 
+men, who in the early days of the revolutionary chaos, tattered, 
+howling, wild, with uplifted bludgeon, pike on high, hurled them- 
+selves upon ancient Paris in an uproar, what did they want? They 
+wanted an end to oppression, an end to tyranny, an end to the 
+sword, work for men, instruction for the child, social sweetness 
+for the woman, liberty, equality, fraternity, bread for all, the 
+idea for all, the Edenizing of the world. Progress ; and that 
+holy, sweet, and good thing, progress, they claimed in terrible 
+wise, driven to extremities as they were, half naked, club in fist, 
+a roar in their mouths. They were savages, yes ; but the sav- 
+ages of civilization. 
+
+They proclaimed right furiously ; they were desirous, if only 
+with fear and trembling, to force the human race to paradise. 
+They seemed barbarians, and they were saviours. They de- 
+manded light with the mask of night. 
+
+Facing these men, who were ferocious, we admit, and terri- 
+fying, but ferocious and terrifying for good ends, there are other 
+men, smiling, embroidered, gilded, beribboned, starred, in silk 
+stockings, in white plumes, in yellow gloves, in varnished shoes, 
+who, with their elbows on a velvet table, beside a marble chim- 
+ney-piece, insist gently on demeanor and the preservation of the 
+past, of the Middle Ages, of divine right, of fanaticism, of in- 
+nocence, of slavery, of the death penalty, of war, glorifying in 
+low tones and with politeness, the sword, the stake, and the scaf- 
+fold. For our part, if we were forced to make a choice be* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+barbarism, we should choose the barbarians. 
+
+But, thank Heaven, still another choice is possible. No per- 
+pendicalar fall is necessary, in front an}' more than in the rear. 
+
+Neither despotism nor terrorism. We desire progress with a 
+gentler slope. 
+
+. God takes care of that. God's whole policy consists in ren^ 
+iering slopes less steep. 
+
+VI. — ËNJOLRAS AND HIS LIEUTENANTS. 
+
+It was about this epoch that Enjolras, in view of a possibte 
+catastrophe, instituted a kind of mysterious census. 
+
+All were present at a secret meeting at the Café Musain. 
+
+Enjolras said, mixing his words with a few half-enigmatical 
+but significant metaphors : — 
+
+^^ It is proper that we should know where we stand and on 
+whom we may count. If combatants are required, they mnst 
+be provided. It can do no harm to have something with which 
+to strike. Passers-by always have more chance of being gored 
+when there are bulls on the road than when there are none. 
+Let us, therefore, reckon a little on the herd. How many of us 
+are there? There is no question of postponing this task until 
+to-morrow. Revolutionists should always be hunied ; progress 
+has no time to lose. Let us mistrust the unexpected. Let as 
+not be caught unprepared. We must go over all the seams that we 
+have made and see whether they hold fast. This business ought 
+to be concluded to-day. Coiirfeyrac, you will soe the poly- 
+technic students. It is their day to go out. To-day is Wed- 
+nesday. FeuiUy, you will see those of the Glacière, will you 
+not? Combeferre has promised me to go to Picpus. There 
+'s a perfect swarm and an excellent one there. Bahorel will 
+Tisit the Estrapade. Prouvairc, the masons are growing luke* 
+warm ; you will bring us news from tiie lodge of the Rue de 
+Grenelle-Saint-Honoré. Joly will go to Dupuytren's clinical 
+lecture, and feel the pulse of the medical school. Bossuet will 
+Uike a little turn in the court and talk with the young law licen- 
+tiates. I will take charge of the Cougourde myself." 
+
+** That arranges everything," said Courfeyrac* 
+
+** No." 
+
+"What else is there?" 
+
+•* A very important thing.** 
+
+«* What is that?" asked Courfeyrac. 
+
+**Ttie Barrière du Maine," replied Enjolras. 
+
+
+
+SAINT-^DËNIS. 33 
+
+Enjolras remained for a momeat as though absorbed in re 
+AectiOD, then he resumed : — 
+
+^^ At the Barrière du Maine there are marble- workers, paint- 
+ers, and journeymen in the studios of sculptors. They are an 
+enthusiastic family, but liable to cool off. I don't know what 
+has been the matter with them for some time past. They are 
+thinking of something else. They are becoming extinguished. 
+They pass their time playing dominos. There is urgent need 
+that some one should go and talk with them a little, but with 
+firmness. They meet at Bichefeu's. They are to be found 
+there between twelve and one o'clock. Those ashes must be 
+fanned into a glow. For that errand I had counted on that 
+abstracted Marius, who is a good fellow on the whole, but he 
+no longer comes to us. I need some one for the Barrière da 
+Maine. I have no one." 
+
+*' What about me?" said G-rantaire. '* Here am I.** 
+
+"You?" 
+
+*^ You indoctrinate republicans! yon warm up hearts that 
+liave grown cold in the name of piînciple ! " 
+
+*' Why not?" 
+
+*' Are you good for anything? " 
+
+^^ I have a vi^ue ambition in that dhrection," said Grantaire* 
+
+** You do not believe in everything." 
+
+*'I believe in you*' 
+
+** Grantaire, will you do me a service?" 
+
+** Anything. I'll black your boots." 
+
+"Well, don't meddle with our affairs. Sleep yourself sober 
+from your absinthe." 
+
+** You are an ingrate, Enjolras." 
+
+" You the man to go to the Barrière du Maine ! You capable 
+of it!" 
+
+" I am capable of descending the Rue de Grès, of crossing the 
+Place Saint-Mlchel, of sloping through the Rue Monsieur-le- 
+Prince, of taking the Rue de Vaugirard, of passing the Car- 
+melites, of turning into the Rue d'Assas, of reaching the Rue 
+da Cherche*Midi, of leaving behind me the Conseil de Guerre, 
+of pacing the Rue des Vielles Tuileries, of striding across the 
+boulevard, of following the Chaussée du Maine, of passing the 
+barrier, and entering Richefeu's. I am capable of that. My 
+shoes are capable of that." 
+
+^*Do you know anything of those comrades who meet at 
+Richefeu's?" 
+
+*« Not much. We only address each other as thou.*^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+^^ I will speak to them of Robespierre^ pardi ! Of Dsotol& 
+Of priociples." 
+
+•^You." 
+
+^^ I. But I don't receive justice. When I set about it, I am 
+terrible. I have read Prudhomme, I know the Social Contract, 
+I know my Constitution of the year Two by heart. ' 1 he liberty 
+of one citizen ends where the liberty of another citizen begins ' 
+Do you take me for a brute ? I have an old bank-bill of the Re- 
+public in my drawer. The Rights of Man, the sovereignty of 
+the people, sapristi ! I am even a bit of a Hébertist. I can 
+talk the most superb twaddle for six hours by tJie clock, watch 
+in hand." 
+
+"Be serious," said Enjolras. 
+
+" I am wild," replied Gran taire. 
+
+Enjolras meditated for a few moments, and made the gesture 
+of a man who has taken a resolution. 
+
+" Grantaire," he said gravely, "I consent to try you. You 
+shall go to the Barrière du Maine." 
+
+Grantaire lived in furnished lodgings very near the Café 
+Musain. He went out, and five minutes later he returned. He 
+had gone home to put on a Robespierre waistcoat. 
+
+" Red,'* said he as he entered, and he looked intently at 
+Enjolras. Then, with the palm of his energetic hand, he laid 
+tlie two scarlet points of the waistcoat acro&s his breast. 
+
+And stepping up to Enjolras, he whispered in his ear: — 
+
+*^ Be easy." 
+
+He jammed his hat on resolutely and departed. 
+
+A quarter of an hour later, the back room of the Café Musain 
+was deserted. All the friends of the ABC were gone, each in 
+his own direction, each to his own task. Eujolriâ, who had 
+reserved the Cougourde of Aix for himself, was the last to leave. 
+
+Those membera of the Cougourde of Aix who were in Paris 
+^len met on the plain of Issy, in one of the abandoned 
+quarries which are so numerous in that side of «Paris. 
+
+As Enjolras walked towards this place, he passed the whole 
+situation in review in his own mind. The gravity of events was 
+self-evident. When facts, the premonitory symptoms of latent 
+social malady, move heavily, the slightest complication stops 
+and entangles them. A phenomenon whence arises ruin and 
+new births. Enjolras descried a luminous uplifting beneath 
+the gloomy skirts of the future. Who knows? Perhaj)S the 
+moment was at hand. The pco[)le were again taking possession 
+of right, and what a fine spectacle I The revolution was am^aiii 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+"A two again. 
+"One." 
+
+** One ! Well, five." 
+** I haven't any." 
+** It was your play, I believe?" 
+"Yes." 
+" Blank." 
+
+" What luck he baa ! Ah I You are lucky ! [Long revery.] 
+rwo." 
+" One." 
+
+" Neitlier five nor one. That's bad for you." 
+" Domino." 
+
+
+
+Ci 
+
+
+
+Plague take it I ' 
+
+
+
+»:•»>« 
+
+
+
+BOOK SECOND.— ÉPONINE. 
+I. — The Lark's Meadow. 
+
+Marius had witnessed the unexpected termination of the 
+ambush upon whose track he had set Javert ; but Javert had 
+no sooner quitted the building, bearing off his prisoners in 
+three hackney-coaches, than Marius also glided out of the 
+house. It was only nine o'clock in the evening. Marius betook 
+himself to Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac was no longer the imper- 
+turbable inhabitant of the Latin Quarter, he had gone to live 
+in the Rue dr la Verrerie " for political reasons" ; this quarter 
+was one where, at that epoch, insurrection liked to install itself. 
+Marius said to Courfeyrac: '" I have come to sleep with you." 
+Courfeyrac dragged a mattress off his bed, which was furnished 
+with two, spread it out on the floor, and said : " There." 
+
+At seven o'clock on the following morning, Marius returned 
+to the hovel, paid the quarter's rent which he owed to Ma'am 
+Bougon, had his books, his bed, his table, his commode, and bis 
+two chairs loaded on a hand-cart and went off without leaving 
+his address, so that when Javert returned in the course of the 
+morning, for the purpose of questioning Marius as to the events 
+of the preceding evening, he found only Ma'am Bongon* who 
+ansrwered : ' ' Moved awav ! " 
+
+
+
+% 
+
+
+
+of moving firmly towards an}' fixed goal, bat he was endowed 
+with more elear-sighteduess and rectitude than ever. Marius 
+surveyed by a calm and real, although peculiar light, what passed 
+before his eyes, even the most indifferent deeds and men ; he 
+
+pronounced a just criticism on everything with a sort of honest 
+dt^jection and candid disinterestedness. His judgiiient, which 
+was almost wholly disassociated from hope, held itself aloof and 
+soared on higli. 
+
+Ill l\m state of mind nothing escaped him, nothing deceived 
+him, and tn-ery monient he was discfjvering the founfUition of 
+life, of hnmanity, and of destiny, Happy, even in tlic midst of 
+augninh, is lie to whom (rod has given a soul worthy of love 
+and of nnliappiness ! He who has not viewed the things of 
+this world and the heart of Tiiati under tliis double light has 
+seeti nothing and knows nothing of the true* 
+
+The Boul which loves nnd suffers is in a state of sublimity. 
+
+However, day followed day, and nothing new presented it- 
+self. It merely seemed to him, that the sombre space which 
+still remnined to be traversed by him was growing shorter with 
+every instant. He thought that he already distinctly perceived 
+the brink of the bottomlesa abyss. 
+
+*^ Willi t ! " he repeated to himself, *' shall I not see her again 
+before then! " 
+
+When you have ascended the Rue Saint-J&cques, left tht 
+barrier on one side and followed the old inner boulevard for 
+some distance, yon reach the Rue de la Sant6, then the Glacière^ 
+and, a little while before arriving at the little river of the Gobe- 
+lins, you come to a sort of field which is the only spot in the 
+long and monotouous chain of tlio jboulevartls of Paris, wkere 
+Rtiysdecl would be teinptt^d to sit down, 
+
+Tiioie is something indescribable there wliich exhales gra<^, 
+a green meadow traversed by tightly stretched lines, from which 
+flutter rags drying in the wind, and an t>ld tnarket-gsrdencr'a 
+house, built in the time of Louis XUL, with its great roof oddk 
+pierced with dormer windows, dilapidated palisades, a little 
+water amid po[)lar4reea, women, voices, ïanghter ; on the hori- 
+zon the Pîinth^*on, the pole of the Deaf -Mutes, the Val -dé- 
+fi rftce, black, squat, fantastic, anuising, magnificent, and in the 
+backgroimd, the severe square crests of the towers of Notre 
+Dame. 
+
+A^ the place is worth broking at, no one goes thithex 
+Hardly one cart or wai^oner passes in a quarter of an hour^ 
+
+
+
+fiacre was cracked, and he had fled ; all that they were ahle to say 
+was, that on arriving at the prison, there was no Claquesous. 
+Either the fairies or the police had had a hand in it. Had 
+Claqnesous melted into tlie shadows like a snow-flake iu water? 
+Had there been unavowed connivance of the police a^ent^r 
+Did this man belong to the double enigma of order and disor. 
+der? Was he concentric with infraction and repression? Had 
+this sphinx his fore paws in crime and his hind paws in author- 
+it j ? Javert did not accept such corominations, and would have 
+bristled up against such compromises ; but his squad included 
+other inspectors besides himself, who' were more initiated timn 
+he, perhaps, although they were his subordinates In tlie secrets 
+of the Prefecture, and Claqnesous had been such a villain that 
+he miglit make a very good agent. It is an excellent thing for 
+ruffianism and an admirable thing for the police to be on sucb 
+intimate juggling terms with the night. These double-etlged 
+rascals do exist. However that may be, Claqnesous had gone 
+astray and was not found again. Javert appeared to be more 
+irritated than amazed at this. 
+
+As for Marins, '* tliat boob}' of a lawyer," who had proba- 
+bly become frightened, and whose name Javert had forgotten, 
+Javert attached very little importance to him. Moreover, a 
+lawyer can be hunted up at any time. But was he a lawyer 
+after all? 
+
+The investigation had begun. 
+
+Tlie magistrate had thought it advisable not to put one of 
+these men of the band of Patron Minette in close conflnement, 
+in the hope that he would chatter. This man was Bnijon, tlie 
+long-haired man of the Rue du Petit-Banquier. He had beeu 
+let loose in the Charlemagne courtyard, and the eyes of the 
+watchers were fixed on him. 
+
+This name of Brujon is one of the souvenirs of Jjsl Force 
+In that hideous courtyard, called the court of the Bâtiment- 
+Neuf (New Building), which the administration called the court 
+Saint-Bernard, and which the robbers called the Fosse-aux 
+Lions (The Lions* Ditch), on that wall covered with scales and 
+leprosy, which rose on the left to a level with the roofs, near an 
+old diwr of rusty iron wliich led to the ancient chapel of the 
+ducal residence of La Force, then turned in a dormitory for 
+ruflians, there could still be seen, twelve years ago, a sort of 
+fortress roughly carved iu the stone with a nail, and beneath il 
+this signature : — 
+
+BKUJONa 1811. 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 45 
+
+The Brujon of 1811 was the father of the Brujon of 1882. . 
+
+The latter, of whom the reader caught but a glimpse at the 
+^srorbeau house, was a very cunaiog and very adroit young 
+spark, with a bewildered and plaintive air. It was in conso- 
+qaeace of this plaintive air that the magistrate had released 
+bim, thinking him more useful in the Charlemagne yard than in 
+3lose confinement. 
+
+Robbers do not interrupt their profession because they are in 
+the hands of justice. They do not let themselves be put out 
+by such a trifle as that. To be in prison for one crime is no 
+reason for not beginning on another crime. They are artists, 
+who have one picture in the salon, and who toil, none the less^ 
+on a new work in their studios. 
+
+Brujon seemed to be stupefied by prison. He could some- 
+times be seen standing by the hour together in front of the sut- 
+ler's window in the Charlemagne yard, staring like an idiot at 
+the sordid list of prices which began with : gadic, 62 centimes^ 
+«ind ended with : cigar^ 5 centimes. Or he passed his time in 
+trembling, chattering his teeth, saying that he had a fever, and 
+mquiring whether one of the eight and twenty beds in the fever 
+ward was vacant. 
+
+All at once, towards the end of February, 1832, it was dis- 
+covered that Brujon, that somnolent fellow, had had three differ- 
+ent commissions executed by the errand*men of the establish- 
+ment, not under his own name, but in the name of thi*ee of his 
+comrades ; and they had cost him in all fifty sous, an exorbitant 
+outlay which attracted the attention of the prison corporal. 
+
+Inquiries were instituted, and on consulting the tariff of com- 
+missions posted in the convicts' parlor, it was learned that the 
+fifty sous could be analyzed as follows : three commission ; one 
+to the Panthéon, ten sous; one to Val-de-Orâce, fifteen sous; 
+and one to the Barrière de Grenelle, twenty-five sous. This 
+last was the dearest of the whole tariff. Now, at the Panthéon, 
+at the Val-de-Grâce, and at the Barrière de Grenelle were situ- 
+ated the domiciles of the three ver^ -edoubtable prowlers of the 
+barriers, Kruideniers, alias Bizarro, Glorieux, an ex-convict, 
+and Barre-Carosse, upon whom the attention of the poliee was 
+directed by this incident. It was thought that these men were 
+members of Patron Minette ; two of Uiose leaders, Babet and 
+Gueulemer had been captured. It was supposed that the mes- 
+sages, which had been addressed, not to houses, but to people 
+who were waiting for them in the street, must have con- 
+tained information with regard to some crime that had been 
+plotted. They were in possession of other indications ; they 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+44 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+laid hand on the three prowlers, and supposed that they had 
+circumvented some one or other of Brujon's machinations. 
+
+About a week after these measures bad been taken, one 
+night, as the superintendent of the watch, who had been inspec- 
+ing the lower dormitory in the Bâtiment*Neaf , was about to 
+drop his chestnut in the box — this was the means adopted to 
+make sure that the watchmen performed their duties punctually ; 
+every hour a chestnut must be dropped into all the boxes nailed 
+to the doors of the doionitories — a watchman looked through the 
+peep-hole of the dormitory and beheld Brujon sitting on his bed 
+and writing something by the light of the hall-lamp. The guar- 
+dian entered, Brujon was put in a solitar}' cell for a month, but 
+they were not able to seize what he had written. The police 
+learned nothing further about it. 
+
+What is certain is, that on the following morning, a ^* postil- 
+ion" was flung from the Charlemagne yard into the Lions' 
+Ditch, over the five-story building which separated the two coart- 
+yards. 
+
+What prisoners call a ^^ postilion" is a pallet of bread artis- 
+tically moulded, which is sent ifUo Ireland^ that is to say, over 
+the roofs of a prison, from one courtyard to another. Etymol- 
+ogy: over England; from one land to another; into Ireland. 
+This little pellet falls in the yard. The man who picks it up 
+opens it and finds in it a note addressed to some prisoner in 
+that yard. If it is a prisoner who finds the treasure, he for- 
+wards the note to its destination ; if it is a keeper, or one of the 
+prisoners secretly sold who are called sheep in prisons and faxes 
+in the galleys, the note is taken to the ofiSce and handed over to 
+the police. 
+
+On this occasion, the postilion reached its address, although 
+the person to whom it was addressed was, at that moment, in 
+solitary confinement. This person was no other than Babet, 
+one of the four heads of Patron Minette. 
+
+The postilion contained a roll of paper on which only these 
+two lines were written : — 
+
+*' Babet. There is an affair in the Rue Plumet. A gate on 
+A garden." 
+
+This is what Bnijon had written the night before. 
+
+In spite of male and female searchers, Babet managed to pass 
+the note on from La Force to the Salpêtrière, to a *'goo<l 
+friend " whom he had and who was shut up there. This womat 
+in turn transmitted the note to another woman of her acquaint- 
+ance, a certain Mignon, who was stron<:jly suspected by the [k»- 
+lice, though not yet arrested. This Magnon, whose name the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'DENIS. 40 
+
+reader has already seen, had relations with the Thenardter» 
+which will be described in detail later on, and she could, by go- 
+ing to see Éponine, serve as a bridge between the Salpêtrière and 
+Les Madelonettes. 
+
+It happened, that at precisely that moment, as proofs were 
+wanting in the investigation directed against Thénardier ki the 
+matter of his daughters, Éponine and Azelma were released. 
+When Éponine came out, Magnon, who was watching the gate 
+of the Madelonettes, handed her Brujon's note to Babet, charg- 
+ing her to look into the matter. 
+
+Éponine went to the Rue Plumet, recognized the gate and 
+the garden, observed the house, spied, lurked, and, a few days 
+later, brought to Magnon, who delivers in the Rue Clocheperce, 
+a biscuit, which Magnon transmitted to Babet's mistress in the 
+Salpètnère. A biscuit, in the shady symbolism of prisons, 
+signifies : Nothing to be done. 
+
+80 that in less than a week from that time, as Brujon and 
+Babet met in the circle of La Force, the one on his way to the 
+examination, the other on his way from it : — 
+
+" WeU? " asked Brujon, *' the Rue P. ? " 
+
+^^ Biscuit," replied Babet. Thus did the fœtus of crime 
+engendered by Brujon in La Force miscan'y. 
+
+This miscarriage had its consequences, however, which were 
+perfectly distinct from Brujon's programme. The reader will 
+see what they were. 
+
+Often when we think we are knotting one thread, we are tying 
+quite another. 
+
+m. — Apparition to Father Mabeuf. 
+
+Marics no longer went to see any one, but he sometimes 
+tncountered Father Mabeuf by chance. 
+
+While Marins was slowly descending those melancholy step« 
+which may be called the cellar stairs, and which lead to places 
+without light, where the happy can be heard walking overhead, 
+M. Mabeuf was descending on his side. 
+
+The Flora of Cavieretz no longer sold at all. The experi- 
+ments on indigo had not been successful in the little garden of 
+Aasterlitz, which had a bad exposure. M. Mabeuf could cul- 
+tivate there only a few plants which love shade and dampness. 
+Nevertheless, he did not become discouraged. He had obtained 
+a comer in the Jardin de Plantes, with a good exposure, to 
+make his trials with iudigo ^^ at his own expense." For this 
+purpose he had pawned bis copperplates of the Flora. He had 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+46 LES MlSËRABLESi. 
+
+reduced his breakfast to two eggs, and he left one of these fot 
+his old servant, to whom he had paid no wages for the las^ 
+fifteen mouths. And often his breakfast was his oxAy meal 
+He no longer smiled with his infantile smile, he had grown 
+morose and no longer received visitors. Marias did well not to 
+dream of going thither. Sometimes, at the hour whea M. 
+Mabcuf was on his way to the Jardin des Plantes, the old man 
+and the young man passed each other on the Boulevard de 
+THôpital. They did not s|)eak, and only exchanged a melan- 
+choly sign of the head. A heart-breaking thing it is that there 
+comes a moment when misery looses bonds! Two men who 
+have been friends become two chance passers-by. 
+
+Royol the bookseller was dead. M. Mabeuf no longer knew 
+his books, his garden, or his indigo : these were the three forms 
+which hapi)iuess, pleasure, and hope had assumed for him. 
+This sufficed him for his living. He said tc himself : ** When 
+I shall have made my balls of blueing, I shall be rich, I will 
+withdraw my copperplates from the pawn-shop, I will pot my 
+Flora in vogue again with trickery, plenty of money, and ad- 
+vertisements in the newspapera and I will buy, I know well 
+where, a copy of Pierre de Mi^nline's Art de Xaviçuer^ with 
+wood-cuts, edition of 1605." In the meantime, be toiled all 
+day over his plot of indigo, and at night he returned home to 
+water his garden, and to read his books. At that epoch, M. 
+Mabeuf was nearly eighty years of age. 
+
+One evening he had a singular apparition. 
+
+He had returned home while it was still broad daylig^ht. 
+Mother Plutarque, whose health was declining, was ill and in bed. 
+He had dined on a bone, on which a little meat lingered, and a 
+bit of bread that he had found on the kitchen table, and had 
+seated himself on an overturned stone post, which took the 
+place of a bench in his garden. 
+
+Near this l)ench there rose, after the fashion in orchard- 
+gardenss a sort of large chest, of beams and planks, much 
+dilapidated, a rabbit-hutch on the ground floor, a fruit-closet on 
+the first. There was nothing in the hutch, but there were a few 
+apples in the fruit-closet, — the remains of the winter's pro- 
+vision. 
+
+M. Mabeuf had set himself to turning over and reading, with 
+the aid of bis glasses, two books of which he was passionately 
+fond and in which, a serious thing at his age, he was InterestedL 
+His natural timidity rendered him accessible to the acceptaD08 
+of superstitions in a certain degree. The first of these books 
+was the famous trt* atise of President Delancre, De rincanMcmcê 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINTE-DENIS. « 
+
+des Démons; the other was a quarto by Mutor de la Rubaùdière, 
+Sur les Diables de Vauvert et les Gobelins de la Bièvre. This 
+last-mentioned old volume interested him all the more, because 
+his garden had been one of the spots haunted by goblins in 
+former times. The twilight had begun to whiten wh^t was on 
+high and to blacken all below. As he read, over the top of the 
+book which he held in his hand. Father Mabeuf was surveying 
+his plants, and among others a magnificent rhododendron which 
+was one of his consolations ; four days of heat, wind, and sun 
+without a drop of rain, had passed ; the stalks were bending, 
+the buds drooping, the leaves falling ; all this needed water, thé 
+rhododendron was particularly sad. Father Mabeuf was one of 
+those persons for whom plants have souls. The old man had 
+toiled all day over his indigo plot, he was worn out with fatigue, 
+but he rose, laid his books on the bench, and walked, all bent 
+over and with tottering footsteps to the weD, but when he had 
+grasped the chain, he could not even draw it sufficiently to 
+unhook it. Then he turned round and cast a glance of anguish 
+toward heaven which was becoming studded with stars. 
+
+The evening had that serenity which overwhelms the troubles 
+of man beneath an indescribably mournful and eternal joy. 
+The night promised to be as arid as the day had been. 
+
+'' Stars everywhere ! " thought the old man ; '* not the tiniest 
+cloud ! Not a drop of water !" 
+
+And his head, which had been upraised for a moment, fell 
+back upon his breast. 
+
+He raised it again, and once more looked at the sky, mur- 
+muring : — 
+
+'* A tear of dew ! A little pity 1 " 
+
+He tried again to unhook the chain of the well, and could 
+not. 
+
+At that moment, he heard a voice saying : — 
+
+^' Father Mabeuf, would you like to have me water your 
+garden for you ? " 
+
+At the same time, a noise as of a wild animal passing became 
+audible in the hedge, and he beheld emerging from the shrubbery 
+a sort of tall, slender girl, who drew herself up in front of him 
+and stared boldly at him. She had less the air of a human 
+being than of a form which had just blossomed forth from the 
+twilight. 
+
+Before Father Mabeuf, who was easily terrified, and who 
+was, as we have said, quick to take alarm, was able to reply by 
+a single syllable, this being, whose movements had a sort of 
+odd abruptness in the darkness, had unhooked the chain, plunged 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+tattered petticoat, ninniDg about among the flower-beds di^ 
+tributiug life around her. The sound of the watering-pot od 
+the leaves filled Father Mabeuf's soul with ecstasy. It seemed 
+to him that the rhododendron was happy now. 
+
+The first bucketful emptied, the girl drew second, then a 
+third. She watered the whole garden. 
+
+There was something about her, as she thus ran about among 
+paths, where her outline appeared perfectly black, waving her 
+angular arms, and with her fichu all in rags, that resembled a 
+bat. 
+
+When she had finished. Father Mabeuf approached her with 
+tears in his eyes, and laid his hand on her brow. 
+
+" God will bless you," said he, "you are an angel since you 
+jake care of the flowers." 
+
+" No," she replied. " I am the devil, but that's all the same 
+to me." 
+
+The old man exclaimed, without either waiting for or hearing 
+her response : — 
+
+" What a pity that I am so unhappy and so poor, and that I 
+can do nothing for you ! " 
+
+" You can do something," said she. 
+
+"What?" 
+• *' Tell me where M. Marius lives." 
+
+The old man did not understand. "What Monsieur 
+Marius?" 
+
+He raised his glassy eyes and seemed to be seeking some* 
+thing that had vanished. 
+
+" A young man who used to come here." 
+
+In the meantime, M. Mabeuf had searched his memory. 
+
+"Ah! yes — " he exclaimed. "I know what you meao. 
+Wait! Monsieur Marius — the Baron Marius Pontmercy, par 
+bleu I He lives, — or rather, he no longer lives, —>- ah well, I 
+lon'i know." 
+
+As he spoke, he had bent over to train a branch of rhodo- 
+lendron, and he continued : — 
+
+" Hold, I know now. He very often passes along the boule- 
+vard, and goes in the direction of the Glacière, Rue Croulebarbe. 
+The meadow of the Lark. Go there. It is not hard to meet 
+him." 
+
+When M. Mabeuf straightened himself up, there was no 
+longer any one there ; the girl had disappeared. 
+
+He was decidedly teiTified* 
+
+
+
+^Nevertbeless , athwart this painful extrication of indistinct 
+ideas which was not even a monologue, so feeble had action be- 
+come in him, and he bad no longer the force to care to despair, 
+athwart this melancholy absorption, sensations from without did 
+reach bim. He heard behind him, beneath him, on both banks 
+of the river, the laundresses of the Gobelins beating their linen, 
+and above his head, the birds chattering and singing in the elm- 
+trees. On the one hand, the sound of liberty, the careless 
+happiness of the leisure which has wings ; on the other, the 
+sound of toil. What caused him to meditate deeply, and al- 
+most reflect, were two cheerful sounds. 
+
+All at once, in the midst of his dejected ecstasy, he heard a 
+familiar voice saying : — 
+
+*'Come! Here he is!" 
+
+He raised his eyes, and recognized that wretched child who 
+had come to him one morning, the elder of the Thénardier 
+daughters, Éponine ; he knew her name now. Strange to say, 
+she had grown poorer and prettier, two steps which it had not 
+seemed within her power to take. She had accomplished a 
+double progress, towards the light and towards distress. She 
+was barefooted and in rags, as on the day when she had so res- 
+olutely entered his chamber, only her rags were two months 
+older now, the holes were larger, the tatters more sordid. It 
+was tlie same harsh voice, the same brow dimmed and wrinkled 
+with tan, the same free, wild, and vacillatir^ glance. She had 
+besides, more than formerly, in her fece that indescribably ter- 
+rified and lamentable something which sojourn in a prison adds 
+to wretchedness. 
+
+She had bits of straw and hay in her hair, not like Ophelia 
+through having gone mad from the contagion of Hamlet's mad- 
+ness, but because she had slept in the loft of some stable. 
+
+And in spite of it all, she was beautiful. What a star art 
+chou, O youth! 
+
+In the meantime, she had halted in front of Marins with a 
+trace of joy on her livid countenance, and something which 
+resembled a smile. 
+
+She stood for several moments as though incapable of 
+speech. 
+
+'' So I have met you at last ! " she said at length. " Father 
+Mabeuf was right, it was on this boulevaixl ! How I have 
+hunted for you! If you only knew! Do you know? I have 
+been in the jug. A fortnight ! They let me out ! seeing that 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+
+" ut tnat young lady. 
+
+This word uttered, she sighed deeply. 
+
+Marius sprang from the parapet on which he had been sitting 
+and seized her hand distractedly. 
+
+"Oh ! Well ! lead me thither I Tell me ! Ask of me any 
+thing you wish ! Where is it?" 
+
+" Come with me," she responded. ** I don't know the street 
+or number very well ; it is in quite the other direction from 
+here, but I know the house well, I will take you to it." 
+
+She withdrew her hand and went on, in a tone which could 
+have rent the heart of an observer, but which did not even 
+graze Marius in his intoxicated and ecstatic state : — 
+
+'* Oh ! how glad you are ! " 
+
+A cloud swept across Marius' brow. He seized Éponine bj 
+the arm : — 
+
+" Swear one thing to me ! " 
+
+" Swear ! " said she, " what does that mean? Come ! You 
+want me to swear? " 
+
+And she laughed. 
+
+"Your father! promise me, Éponine I Swear to me that 
+you will not give this address to your father ! " 
+
+She turned to him with a stupefied air. 
+
+" Éponine ! How do you know that my name is Éponine?'* 
+
+*' Promise what I tell you I " 
+
+But she did not seem to hear him. 
+
+" That's nice ! You have called me Éponine I " 
+
+Marius grasped both her arms at once. 
+
+'* But answer me, in the name of Heaven I pay attention to 
+what I am saying to you, swear to me that you will not tell 
+your father this address that you know ! " 
+
+" My father ! " said she. " Ah yes, my father ! Be at ease. 
+He's in close confinement. Besides, what do I care for my 
+father ! " 
+
+" But you do not promise me I " exclaimed Marius. 
+
+" Let go of me ! " she said, bursting into a laugh, " how you 
+do shake me ! Yes ! Yes ! I promise that ! I swear that to 
+you ! What is that to me ? I will not tell my father the address. 
+There ! Is that right ? Is that it ? " 
+
+*' Nor to any one?" said Marius. 
+
+*' Nor to any one." 
+
+*' Now," resumed Marius, *'take me there. ** 
+
+"Immediately?" 
+
+" Immediately.'* 
+
+
+
+lofty walls, which, hidden with wonderful art, and lost as it 
+were between garden enclosures and cultivated land, all of 
+whose angles and detours it followed, ended in another door, 
+also with a secret lock which opened a quarter of a league away, 
+almost in another quarter, at the solitary extremity of the Rue 
+clu Babylone. 
+
+Through this the chief justice entered, so that even those wbc 
+were spying on him and following him would merely have ob- 
+served that the justice betook himself every day m a myste- 
+rious way somewhere, and would never have suspected that 
+to go to the Rue de Babylone was to go to the Rue Blomet. 
+Thanks to clever purchasers of land, the magistrate had been 
+able to make a secret, sewer-like passîige on his own property, 
+and consequently, without interference. Later on, he had sold 
+in little parcels, for gardens and market gardens, the lots ol 
+ground adjoining the corridor, and the pivprietoi-s of these 
+lots on both sides thought they had a party wall before their 
+eyes, and did not even suspect the long, paved ribbon winding 
+between two walls amid their flower-beds and their orchards. 
+Only the birds beheld this curiosity. It is probable that the 
+linnets and tomtits of the last century gossiped a great deal 
+about the chief justice. 
+
+The pavilion, built of stone in the taste of Mansard, wains- 
+coted and furnished in the Watteau style, rocaille on tiio 
+\nside, old-fashioned on the outside, wallod in with a triple 
+hedge of flowers, had something discreet, coquettish, and solemn 
+about it, as befits a caprice of love and magistracy. 
+
+This house and corridor, which have now disap}>eared, wen' 
+in existence fifteen years ago. In '93 a coppersmith had piu 
+chased the house with the idea of demolishing it, but had nci 
+been able to pay the price ; the nation made him bankrupt. So 
+that it was the house which demolished the coppersmith. After 
+that, the house remained uninhabited, and fell slowly to ruin, 
+as does every dwelling to which the presence of man does not 
+communicate life. It had remained fitted with its old fumitare, 
+was always for sale or to let, and the ten or a dozen people who 
+passed through the Rue Plumet were warned of the fact by a 
+yellow and illegible bit of writing which had hung on the garden 
+wall since 1819. 
+
+Towards the end of the Restoration, these same passers-by 
+might have noticed that the bill had disappeared, and even that 
+the shutters on the first Hoor were open. The house was OOCQ 
+
+
+
+life before renouncing it, that to deprive her in advance, and io 
+some Bort without consulting her, of all joys, under the pretext 
+of saving her from all trials, to take advantage of her ignorance 
+of her isolation, in order to make an artificial vocation germi- 
+nate in her, was to rob a human creature of its nature and to lie 
+to God. And who knows if, when she came to be aware of all 
+this some day, and found herself a nun to her sorrow, Cosette 
+would not come to hate him ? A last, almost selOsh thought, 
+and less heroic than the rest, but which was intolerable to him. 
+He resolved to quit the convent. 
+
+He resolved on this ; he recognized with anguish, the fact 
+that it was necessary. As for objections, there were none. 
+Five years' sojourn between these four walls and of disappearance 
+had necessarily destroyed or dispersed the elements of fear. 
+He could return tranquilly among men. He had grown old, and 
+all ha<l undergone a change. Who would recognize him now? 
+And then, to face the worst, there was danger only for himself, 
+and he had no right to condemn Cosette to the cloister for the 
+reason that he had been condemned to the galleys. Besides, 
+what is danger in comparison with the right? Finally, nothing 
+prevented his being piudent and taking his precautions. 
+
+As for Cosette's education, it was almost finished and complete. 
+
+His determination once taken, he awaited an opportunity. 
+It was not long in presenting itself. Old Fauchelevent died. 
+
+Jean Valjean demanded an audience with the revered prioress 
+and told her that, having come into a little inheritance at the 
+death of his brother, which permitted him henceforth to Uve 
+without working, he should leave the service of the convent and 
+take his daughter with him ; but that, as it was not jnst that 
+Cosette, since she had not taken the vows, should have received 
+her education gratuitously, he humbly begged the Reverend 
+Prioress to see fit that he should offer to the commonity, s% 
+indemnity, for the five years which Cosette had spent there, the 
+sum of five thousand francs. 
+
+It was thus that Jean Valjean quitted the convent of the 
+Perpetual Adoration. 
+
+On leaving the convent, he took in his own arms the little 
+valise the key to which he still wore on his person, and would 
+permit no porter to touch it. This puzzled Cosette, because 
+of the odor of embalming which proceeded from it. 
+
+Let us state at once, that this trunk never quitted him more. 
+He always had it in his chamber. It was tiie first and onij 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DEm& 57 
+
+thing sometimes, that he carried off in his moving when he 
+moved about. Cosette laughed at it, and called this valise hia 
+inseparable, sajing : " I am jealous of it." 
+
+Nevertheless, Jean Valjean did not reappear in the open air 
+without profound anxiety. 
+
+He discovered the house in the Rue Plumet, and hid himself 
+from sight there. Henceforth, he was in the possession of the 
+name : — Ultime Fauchelevent. 
+
+At the same time, he hired two other apartments in Paris, in 
+order that he might attract less attention than if he were to re** 
+main always in the same quarter, and so that he could, at need, 
+take himself off at the slightest disquietude which should assail 
+him, and in short, so that he might not again be caught unpro- 
+vided as on the night when he had so miraculously escaped from 
+Javert. These two apartments were very pitiable, poor in ap- 
+pearance, and in two quarters which were far remote from each 
+other, the one in the Rue de TOuest, the other in the Rue de 
+THomme Armé. 
+
+He went from time to time, now to the Rue de THomme 
+Armé, now to the Rue de TOuest, to pass a month or six weeks, 
+without taking Toussaint. He had himself served by the por- 
+ters, and gave himself out as a gentleman from the suburbs, 
+living on his funds, and having a little temporary resting-place 
+in town. This lofty virtue had three domiciles in Paris for the 
+Bake of escaping from the police. 
+
+II. — Jean Valjean as a National Guard. 
+
+However, properly speaking, he lived in the Rue Plumet, 
+and he had arranged his existence there in the following 
+fashion : — 
+
+Cosette and the servant occupied the pavilion ; she had the 
+big sleeping-room with the painted pier-glasses, the boudoir 
+with the gilded iiUets, the justice's drawing-room furnished 
+with tapestries and vast arm-chairs ; she had the garden. Jean 
+Valjean had a canopied bed of antique damask in three colors 
+and a beautiful Persian rug purchased in the Rue du Figuier- 
+Saint-Paul at Mother Gaucher's, put into Cosette's chamber, 
+and, in order to redeem the severity of these magnificent old 
+things, he had amalgamated with this bric-à-brac all the gay 
+and graceful little pieces of furniture suitable to young girls, 
+an étagère, a bookcase filled with gilt-edged books, an inkstand, 
+a blotting- book, paper, a work-table incrusted with mother of 
+pearl, a silver-gilt dressing-case, a toilet service in Japanese porce* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+58 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Iain. Long damask curtains with a red foundation and three odora^ 
+like those od the bed, liuug at the windows of the firsit floor. 
+On the ground floor, the curtaius were of tapestry. All wiut^ 
+long, Cosette's little house was heated from top to bottom. 
+Jeau Valjean inhabited the sort of porter's lodge which waa 
+situated at the end of the back courtyard, with a mattress on a 
+folding-bed, a white wood table, two straw Chairs, an earthen-» 
+ware water-jug, a few old volumes on a shelf, his beloved 
+valise in one corner, aud never any fire. He dined with Ck>sette, 
+and he bad a loaf of black bread on the table for his own use. 
+
+When Toussaint came, he had said to her: '^It is tb6 
+young lady who is the mistress of this house." — ^^ And you, 
+monsieur?" Toussaint had replied in amazement. — ^^ I* am 
+a much better thing than the master, I am the father." 
+
+Cosette had been taught housekeeping in the convent, and 
+she regulated their expenditure, which was very modest. Every 
+day, Jean Valjean put his arm through Cosette's aud took her 
+for a walk. He led her to the Luxemboui*g, to the least fre- 
+quented walk, and every Sunday he took her to mass at 8aint- 
+J acques-du -Haut-Pas, because that was a long way off. As it 
+was a very poor quarter, he bestowed alms largely there, and 
+the poor people surrounded him in church, which had drawn 
+down upon him Théuardier's epistle : *' To the benevolent gen- 
+tleman of the church of Saint-Jacques-du-Haut-Pas." He was 
+fond of taking Cosette to visit the poor and the sick. No 
+stranger ever entered the house in the Rue Plumet. Toussaint 
+brought their provisions, and Jean Valjean went himself for 
+water to a fountain near by on the boulevard. Their wood 
+and wine were put into a half -subterranean hollow lined with 
+rock-work which lay near the Rue de Babylone and which had 
+formerly served the chief-justice as a grotto ; for at tiie epoch 
+of follies and *' Little Houses" no love was without a grotto. 
+
+In the door opening on the Rue de Babylone, there was a box 
+destined for the reception of letters and papers ; only, as the 
+tliree inhabitants of the pavilion in the Rue Plumet received 
+neither papers nor letters, the entire usefulness of that box, 
+formerly the go-between of a love affair, and the confidant of a 
+love-lorn lawyer, was now limited to the tax-collector's notices^ 
+and the summons of the guard. For M. Fauebelevent, inde^ 
+pendent gentleman, belonged to the national guard ; he had not 
+been able to escape through the fine meshes of the census of 
+1831. The municipal information collected at that time had 
+even reached the convent of the Petit-Picpus, a sort of im|>ene- 
+trable and holy cloud, whence Jean Valjean bad emerged in 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-^DENIS. 5S 
+
+reiierable guise, and, consequently, worthy ojf mounting guard 
+in the eyes of the town-hall. 
+
+Three or four times a year, Jean Valjean donned his uniform 
+and mounted guard ; he did this willingly, however ; it was a 
+correct disguise which mixed him with every one, and yet left 
+him solitary. Jean Valjean had just attained his sixtieth birth- ' 
+day, the age of legal exemption ; but he did not appear to be 
+over fifty ; moreover, he had no desire to escape his sergeant- 
+major nor to quibble with Comte de Ix>bau ; he possessed no 
+civil status, he was concealing his name, he was concealing his 
+identity, so he concealed his age, he concealed everything ; and, 
+as we have just said, he willingly did his duty as a national 
+guard ; the sum of his ambition lay in resembling any other 
+man who paid his taxes. This man had for his ideal, within, 
+the angel, without, the bourgeois. 
+
+Let us note one detail, however ; when Jean Valjean went out 
+with Cosette, he dressed as the reader has already seen, and 
+had the air of a retired officer. When he went out alone, wliick 
+was generally at night, he was always dressed in a workingman's 
+trousers and blouse, and wore a cap which concealed his face. 
+Was this precaution or humility? Both. Cosette was accus- 
+tomed to the enigmatical side of her destiny, and hardly noticed 
+her father's peculiarities. As for Toussaint, she venerated 
+Jean Valjean, and thought everything he did right. 
+
+One day, her butcher, who had caught a glimpse of Jean Val- 
+jean, said to her : *' That's a queer fish.'* She replied : *' He's 
+a saint." 
+
+Neither Jean Valjean nor Cosette nor Toussaint ever entered 
+or emerged except by the door on the Rue de Babyloncî. Unless 
+seen through the garden gate it would have been difficult to 
+guess that they lived in the Rue Plumet. That gate was always 
+closed. Jean Valjean had left the garden uncultivated, in order 
+not to attract attention. 
+
+jQ tills, possibly, he made a mistake. 
+
+III. — FoLiis AC Frondibos. 
+
+The garden thus left to itself for more than half a century 
+hatl become extraordinary and charming. The j)as8ers-by of 
+forty years ago halted to gaze at it, without a suspicion of the 
+secrets which it hid in its fresh and verdant depths. More than 
+one dreamer of that epoch often allowed his thoughts and 
+his eyes to penetrato indiscreotly between the bars of that 
+ancient, padlocked gate, twisted> tottering, fastened to two 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+60 LBS MISERABLES. 
+
+green and moss-covered pillars, and oddly crowned with a pedl^ 
+meut of undeci[)heral)le arubi^sque. 
+
+There was a stone bench in one corner, one or two mouldy 
+Btatnes, several lattices which had lost their nails with time, 
+were rotting on the wall, and there were no walks nor turf ; but 
+there was enough grass everywhere. Gardening had Uikeu it* 
+departure, and nature had returned. Weeds abounded, whiob 
+was a great piece of luck for a poor corner of land. The fes- 
+tival of gilliflowers was something splondid. Nothing in tliis 
+garden obstructed the sacred effort of things towards life ; ven- 
+erable growth reigned there among them. The trees had bent 
+over towaixis the nettles, the plant had sprung upwani, the 
+branch had inclined, that which crawls on the earth had gone 
+in search of that which expands in the air, that which floats on 
+the wind had bent over towards that which trails in tlie moss ; 
+trunks, l)oughs, leaves, fibres, clusters, tendrils, shoots, spines, 
+thorns, had mingled, crossed, married, confounded themselves 
+in each other; vegetation in a deep and close embrace, had 
+celebrated and accomplished there, under the well-pleased eye 
+of the Creator, in that enclosure three hundred feet square, the 
+holy mystery of fraternity, symbol of the human fraternity. 
+This garden was no longer a garden, it was a colossal thicket, 
+that is to say, something as impenetrable as a forest, as peopled 
+as a city, quivering like a nest, sombre like a cathedral, fragrant 
+like a lx>iiquet, solitary as a tomb, living as a thiv>ng. 
+
+In Floréal ^ this enormous thicket, free behind its gate and 
+within its four walls, entered upon the secret lalx)r of germina- 
+tion, quivered in the rising sun, almost like an animal iw^hich 
+drinks in the breaths of cosmic love, and which feels the sap of 
+April rising and boiling in its veins, and shakes to the wind 
+its enormous wonderful green locks, spnnkled on the damp 
+earth, on the defaced statues, on the cnunbling steps of the 
+pavilion, and even on tlie pavement of the deserted street, 
+flowers like stars, dew like pearls, fecundity, beautj', life, joy, 
+perfumes. At midday, a thousand white butterflies took refuge 
+there, and it was a divine spectacle to see that living summer 
+snow whirling about there in flakes amid the shade. There, in 
+those gay shadows of verdure, a throng of innocent voices spoke 
+sweetly to the soul, and what the twittering forgot to sa3' the 
+humming completed. In the evening, a dreamy vapor exhaled 
+from the garden and enveloped it ; a shroud of mist, a calm and 
+celestial sadness covered it ; the intoxicating perfume of the 
+honeysuckles and convoi vubis poured out from every part nf 
+1 From April 19 to May 2a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. «] 
+
+It, like an exquisite and subtle poison ; the last appeals of the 
+w(x>dpeckers and the v^agtails were audible as they dozed among 
+tlio branches ; one felt the sacred intimacy of the birds and the 
+trees ; by day the wings rejoice the leaves, by night the leaves 
+protect the wings. 
+
+In winter the thicket was black, dripping, bristling, shiver- 
+ing, and allowed some glimpse of the house. Instead of flowers 
+on the branches and dew in the flowers, the long silvery tracks 
+of the snails were visible on the cold, thick carpet of yellow 
+leaves ; but in any fashion, under any aspect, at all seasons, 
+spring, winter, summer, autumn, this tiny enclosure breathed 
+forth melancholy, contemplation, solitude, liberty, the absence 
+of man, the presence of God ; and the rusty old gate had the 
+air of saying: *' This garden belongs to me." 
+
+It was of no avail that the pavements of Paris wçre there on 
+every side, the classic and splendid hotels of the Rue de Va- 
+rennes a couple of paces away, the dome of the Invalides close 
+at hand, the Chamber of Deputies not far ofif ; the carriages of 
+the Rue de Bourgogne and of che Rue Saint-Dominique rumbled 
+luxuriously, in vain, in the vicinity, in vain did the yellow, 
+brown, white, and red omnibuses cross each other's course at 
+the neighboring cross-roads ; the Rue Plumet was the desert ; 
+and the death of the former proprietors, the revolution which 
+iiad passed over it, the crumbling away of ancient fortunes, 
+absence, forgetful uess, forty years of abandonment and widow- 
+nood, had sufficed to restore to this privileged spot ferns, 
+mulleins, hemlock, yarrow, tall weeds, great crimped plants, 
+with lai^e leaves of pale green cloth, lizards, beetles, uneas}' 
+and rapid insects ; to cause to spring forth from the depths of 
+the earth and to reappear between these four walls a certain in- 
+describable and savage grandeur ; and for nature, which discon- 
+certs the petty arrangements of man, and which sheds herself 
+always thoroughly where she diffuses herself at all, in the ant as 
+well as in the eagle, to blossom out in a petty little Parisian 
+garden with as much rude force and majesty as in a virgin 
+forest of the New World. 
+
+Nothing is small, in fact ; any one who is subject to the pro- 
+foond and penetrating influence of nature knows this. Altiiough 
+no absolute satisfaction is given to philosophy, either to circum- 
+scribe the cause or to limit the effect, the contemplator falls into 
+those unfathomable ecstasies caused by these decompositions 
+of force terminating in unity. Everything toils at everything. 
+
+Algebra is applied to the clouds ; the radiation of the star 
+profits the rose ; no thinker would venture to affirm that the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+62 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+perfume of the hawthorn is useless to the constellations. Wba 
+fluMi, can cîileulato tlie course of a molccuU»? How do we 
+know that the iTcatiou of worUls is not «ietermined by the fall 
+of grains of sand? Who knows the reciprocal ebb and flow of 
+the infinitely great and the infinitely little, the reverberations of 
+causes in the precipices of being, and the avalanches of crea- 
+tion? The tiniest worm is of importance ; the great is little, the 
+little is great; everything is balanced in necessity; alarming 
+vision for the mind. There are marvellous relations between 
+beings and things ; in that inexhaustible whole, from the sun tc 
+the grub, nothing despises the other; all have need of each 
+other. The light does not bear away terrestrial [lerfumes intc 
+the azure depths, without knowing what it is doing ; the night 
+distributes stellar essences to the sleeping flowers. All birds 
+that fly have round their leg the thread of the infinite. Germi- 
+nation is complicated with the bursting forth of a meteor and 
+with the peck of a swallow cracking its egg, and it places on one 
+level the birth of an earthworm and the advent of Socrates. 
+Where the telescope ends, the microscope begins. Which of 
+the two possesses the larger field of vision? Choose. A bit 
+of mould is a pleiad of flowers ; a nebula is an ant-hill of stars. 
+The same promiscuousness, and yet more unprecedented, exists 
+between the things of the intelligence and the facts of sub- 
+stance. Elements and principles mingle, combine, wed, multi- 
+ply, with each other, to such a point that the material and the 
+moral world are brought eventually to the same clearness. 
+The phenomenon is perpetually returning upon itself. In the 
+vast cosmic exchanges the universal life goes and comes in un- 
+known quantities, rolling entirely in the invisible mystery of 
+eflfluvia, employing everything, not losing a single dream, not 
+a single slumber, sowing an animalcule here, crumbling to 
+bits a planet there, oscillating and winding, making of light a 
+force and of thought an element, disseminated and invisible, 
+dissolving all, except that geometrical point, the /; bringrîng 
+everything back to the soul-atom ; ex|)anding everything in 
+riod, entangling all activity, from summit to base, in tlie ob- 
+scurity of a dizzy mechanism, attaching the flight of an insect 
+to the movement of the earth, 8ul>ordinating, who knows? 
+Were it only by the identity of the law, the evolution of the 
+comet in the firmament to the whirling of the infusoria in the 
+drop of water. A machine made of mind. Enormous gearing:, 
+the prime motor of which is the gnat, and whose final wheel ifi 
+the zodiac. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 68 
+
+
+
+IV. — Chanqe op Gatb. 
+
+It seemed that this garden, created in olden days to conceal 
+«canton mysteries, had been transformed and become fitted to 
+shelter chaste mysteries. There were no longer either arbors, 
+or bowling greens, or tunnels, or grottos ; there was a mag- 
+nificent, dishevelled obscurity falling like a veil over all. Pa- 
+phos had been made over into Eden. It is impossible to say 
+what element of repentance had rendered this retreat whole- 
+some. This flower-girl now offered her blossom to the soul. 
+This coquettish garden, formerly decidedly compromi»ied, had 
+returned to virginity and modesty. A justice assisted by a 
+gardener, a goodman who thought that he was a continuation of 
+Lamoignon, and another goodman who thought that he was a 
+continuation of Lenôtre, had turned it about, cut, ruffled, 
+decked, moulded it to gallantry ; nature had taken possession 
+of it once more, had filled it with shade, and had arranged it 
+for love. 
+
+There was, also, in this solitude, a heart which was quite 
+ready. Love had only to show himself ; he had here a temple 
+composed of verdure, grass, moss, the sight of birds, teuder 
+shadows, agitated branches, and a soul made of sweetness, of 
+faith, of candor, of hope, of aspiration, and of illusion. 
+
+Cosette had left the convent when she was still almost a 
+child ; she was a little more than fourteen, and she was at the 
+** ungrateful age " ; we have already said, that with the excep- 
+tion of her eyes, she was homely rather than pretty ; she had 
+no ungraceful feature, but she was awkward, thin, timid and 
+bold at once, a grown-up little girl, in short. 
+
+Her education was finished, that is to say, she has been taught 
+religion, and even and above all, devotion ; then ^' history, ** that 
+ia to say the thing that bears that name in convents, geography, 
+çrrammar, the pai*ticiples, the kings of France, a little music, a 
+little drawing, etc. ; but in all other i*espects she was utterly 
+ignorant, which is a great charm and a great peiil. The soul 
+of a young girl should not be left in the dark ; later on, mirages 
+that are too abrupt and too lively are formed there, as in a dark 
+chamber. She should be gently and discreetly enlightened, 
+rather with the reflection of realities than with their harsh and 
+direct light. A useful and graciously austere half-light which 
+dissipates puerile fears and obviates falls. There is nothing 
+hut the maternal instinct, that admirable intuition coniposinl of 
+the memories of the virgia ai^d« (be experience of the woman» 
+
+
+
+.ogle 
+
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+
+64 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+which knows how this half-light is to be created and of what I 
+
+should cousist. 
+
+Nothing supplies the place of this instinct. All the nuns in 
+the world are not worth as much as one mother in the fonnation 
+of a young girl's soul. 
+
+Cosette had had no mother. She had only had many 
+mothers, in the plural. 
+
+As for Jean Val jean, he was, indeed, all tenderness, all solic- 
+itude ; but he was only an old man and he knew nothing at all. 
+
+Now, in this work of education, in this grave matter of prepar- 
+ing a woman for life, what science is required to combat that 
+vast ignorance which is called innocence ! 
+
+Nothing prepares a young girl for passions like the conyeot 
+The convent turns the thoughts in the direction of the unknown. 
+The heart, thus thrown back upon itself, works downward with- 
+iu itself, since it cannot overflow, and grows deep, since it can- 
+not expand. Hence visions, suppositions, conjectures, outlmes 
+of romances f a desire for adventures, fantastic constructions, 
+edifices built wholly in the inner obscurity of the mind, sombre 
+and secret abodes where the passions immediately find a lodge- 
+ment as soon as the open gate permits them to enter. The con- 
+vent is a compression which, in order to triumph over the humao 
+heart, should last during the whole life. 
+
+On quitting the convent, Cosette could have found nothing 
+more sweet and more dangerous than the house in the Rue 
+Plumet. It was the continuation of solitude with the beginning 
+of liberty ; a garden that was closed, but a nature that was acrid, 
+rich, voluptuous, and fragrant ; the same dreams as in the con- 
+vent, but with glimpses of young men ; a grating, but one that 
+opened on the street. 
+
+Still, when she arrived there, we repeat, she was only a child. 
+Jean Val jean gave this neglected gai*den over to her. ^^ Do what 
+you like with it, " he said to her. This amused Ck)8ette ; she 
+turned over all the clumps and all the stones, she hunted for 
+'^ beasts''; she played in it, while awaiting the time when she 
+would dream in it ; she loved this garden for the insects that she 
+found beneath her feet amid the grass, while awaiting the d^j 
+when she would love it for the stars that she would see through 
+the boughs above her head. 
+
+And then, she loved her father, that is to say, Jean Valjean, 
+with all her soul, with an innocent filial passion which made the 
+goodman a beloved and ehaiming companion to her. It will be 
+remembered that M. Madeleine had been in the habit of read- 
+*ng a great deal. Jean Valjean had continued this practice ; 1m 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+SAINT-^DENIS. 6i 
+
+had come to oonverse well ; he possessed the secret riches and 
+the eloquence of a true and humble mind which has sponta- 
+ncousl}' cultivated itself. He retained just enough sharpness 
+*to season his kindness ; his mind was rough and his heart was 
+soft. During their conversations in the Luxembourg, he gave 
+her explanations of everything, drawing on what he had read, 
+and also on what he had suffered. As she listened to him» 
+Cosett-e^s eyes wandered vaguely about. 
+
+This simple man sufficed for Cosette's thought, the same as 
+the wild garden sufficed for her eyes. When she had had a good 
+chase after the butterflies, she came panting up to him and said ; 
+'* Ah ! How I have run ! " He kissed her brow. 
+
+Cosette adored the goodman. She was always at his heels» 
+Where Jean Valjean was, there happiness was. Jean Valjean 
+lived neither in the pavilion nor the garden ; she took greater 
+pleasure in the paved back courtyard, than in the enclosure filled 
+with flowers, and in his little lodge furnished with straw-seated 
+chairs than in the great drawing-room hung with tapestry, 
+against which stood tufted easy -chairs. Jean Valjean some- 
+times said to her, smiling at his happiness in being importuned : 
+*' Do go to your own quarters ! Leave me alone a little ! " 
+
+She gave him those charming and tender scoldings which are 
+so graceful when they come from a daughter to her father. 
+
+*' Father, I am very cold in your rooms ; why don't you have 
+a carpet here and a stove?" 
+
+*' Dear child, there are so many people who are better than I 
+and who have not even a roof over their heads." 
+
+*' Then why is there a fire in my rooms, and everything that 
+is needed?" 
+
+'* Because you ai-e a woman and a child." 
+
+^^ Bah ! must men be cold and feel uncomfortable?" 
+
+*' Certain men/' 
+
+** That is good, I shall come here so often that yoa will be 
+'>bliged to have a fire." 
+
+And again she said to him : -* 
+
+*^ Father, why do you eat horrible bread like that? *' 
+
+** Because, my daughter." 
+
+*< Well, if you eat it, I will eat it too." 
+
+Then in order to prevetit Cosette eating black bread, Jean 
+Valjean ate white bread. 
+
+Cosette had bnt a confused recollection of her childhood. 
+She prayed morning and evening for her mother whom she had 
+never known. The Thénardiers liad remained with her as two 
+hideous figures in a dream. She remembered that she had gone 
+
+
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+M LES MISERABLES. 
+
+^^ ooe day, at night" to fetch water in a forest She thought 
+that it had been very far from Pari». It seemed to hi'r that she 
+had begun to live in an abyss, and that it was Jean Valjean who 
+had rescued her from it. Her childhood produced upon hei the' 
+effect of a time when there had been nothing around her but 
+millepeds, spiders, and serpents. When she meditated in the 
+evening, before falling asleep, as she had not a very clear idea 
+that she was Jean Valjean's daughter, and that he was hei 
+father, she fancied that the soul of her mother had passed mto 
+that good man and had come to dwell near her. 
+
+When he was seated, she leaned her cheek against his white 
+hair, and dropped a silent tear, saying (o herself : ^^ Perhaps 
+this man is my Brother. " 
+
+Cosette, although this is a strange statement to make, in the 
+profound ignorance of a girl brought up in a convent, — mater- 
+nity being also absolutely unintelligible to virginity, — had 
+ended by f anc3'ing that she had had as little mother as possi- 
+ble. She did not even know her mother's name. Whenever 
+she asked Jean Valjean, Jean Valjean remained silent. If she 
+repeated her question, he res|X)nded with a smile. Once she 
+insisted ; the smile ended in a tear. 
+
+This silence on the part of Jean Valjean covered Faaline 
+with darkness. 
+
+Was it prudence? Was it respect? Was it a fear that he 
+should deliver this name to the hazards of another memory than 
+bis own ? 
+
+So long as Cosette had been sn^M, Jean Valjean had been 
+willing to talk to her of her m' '* « j when she became a 3'oung 
+girl, it was imix>SBible for * ^ co do so. It seemed to him tliat 
+he no longer dared. Was it because of Cosette ? Was it be- 
+cause of Fantine ? He felt a certain religious horit>r at letting 
+that shadow enter Cosette's thought ; and of placing a ttiini in 
+vlieir destiny. The more sacred this shade was to him, the mor* 
+Jid it seem that it was to be feared. He thought of Fantine, 
+and felt himself overwhelmed with mienoe. 
+
+Through the darkness, he vaguely perceived something which 
+api>eared to have its finger on its lips. Had all the modeBty 
+which had been in Fantine, and which had violently quitted her 
+dnring her lifetime, returned to rest upon her after her death, 
+to watch in indignation over the peace of that dead woman, 
+and in its shyness, to keep her in her grave ? Was Jean Valjoan 
+nnconsciously submitting to the pressure? We who believe in 
+death, arc not among the number who will reject this mvsterioas 
+explanation. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+SAINT-DENIS. 67 
+
+Henoe the impoBsîbility of uttering, even for Ck>Bette, that 
+name of Fantine. 
+
+One day Coeette said to him : — 
+
+^^ Father, I saw my mother in a dream last night. She had 
+two big wings. My mother must have been ^most a saint 
+luring her life." 
+
+^^ Through martyrdom/' replied Jean Valjean. 
+
+However, Jean Valjean was happy. 
+
+When Cosette went out with him, she leaned on his arm, 
+^iroud and happy, in the plenitude of her heart. Jean Valjean 
+felt his heart melt within him with delight, at ail these sparks 
+of a tenderness so exclusive, so wholly satisfied with himself 
+alone. The poor man trembled, inundated with angelic joy ^ 
+he declared to himself ecstatically that this would last all theii 
+lives ; he told himself that he really had not suffered sufficiently 
+to merit so radiant a bliss, and he thanked God, in the depths 
+of his soul, for having permitted him to be loved thus, he, a 
+wretch, by that innocent being. 
+
+V. — The Rose percefves that rr is an Engine of Wab. 
+
+Onb day, Cosette chanced to look at herself in her mirror, 
+and she said to herself: '^Really!" it seemed to her almost 
+that she was pretty. This thiew her in a singularly troubled 
+state of mind. Up to that moment she had never thouglit of 
+her face. She saw herself in her mirror, but she did not look 
+at herself. And then, she had so often been told that she was 
+homel}'; Jean Valjean alone said gently: ^^ No indeed! no 
+indeed I " At all events, Cosette had always thought herself 
+homely, and had grown up in that belief with the easy resigna- 
+tion of childhood. And here, all at once, was her mirror say- 
+ing to her, as Jean Valjean had said : ^' No indeed ! " That 
+night, she did not sleep. "' What if I were pretty ! " she 
+thought. " How odd it would be if I were pretty ! " Aud she 
+recalled those of her companions whose beauty had produced a 
+iieoaatioii in the convent, and she said to herself: ^^What! 
+A.m I to be like Mademoiselle So-and-So 1 " 
+
+The next morning she looked at herself again, not by acci- 
+dent this time, and she was assailed with doubts: ^^ Where 
+did I get such an idea?'* said she ; ^^ no, I am ugly." She had 
+not slept well, that was all, her eyes were sunken and she was 
+pale. She had not felt very joyous on the preceding evening 
+in the belief that she was beautiful, but it made her very sad 
+not to be able to believe in it any longer. She did not look at 
+
+
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+es LES MISERABLES. 
+
+herself again, and for more than a fortoight, she tried to dresfl 
+her hair witi: her back turned to the mirror. 
+
+In the evening, after dinner, she generally embroidered in wooi 
+or did some convent needlework in the drawing-room, and Jeaa 
+Valjean read beside her. Once she raised her eyes from her 
+work, and was rendered qnite uneasy by the manner in which 
+iier father was gazing at lior. 
+
+On another occasion, she was passing along the street, and it 
+3eemed to her that some one behind her, whom she did not see, 
+said: "A pretty woman ! but badly dressed." "Bah!" she 
+thought, '* he does not mean me. I am well dressed and ugly." 
+She was then wearing a plnsh hat and her merino gown. 
+
+At last, one day when she was in the gardon, she heard poor 
+old Toussaint saying: '* Do yoa notice how pretty Cosette is 
+growing, sir?" Cosotte did not hear her father's reply, hat 
+Toussaint's words caused a sort of commotion within her. She 
+fled from the garden, ran up to her room, flew to the looking- 
+glass, — it was three months since she had looked at herself, — 
+and gave vent to a cry. She had just dazzled herself. 
+
+She was beautiful and lovely ; she could not help agreeing 
+with Toussaint and her mirror. Her figure was formed, her 
+skin had grown white, her hair was lustrous, an unaccus- 
+tomed splendor had been lighted in her blue eyes. The con- 
+sciousness of her beauty burst upon her in an instant, like the 
+sudden advent of daylight ; other people noticed it also, Tous- 
+saint had said so, it was evidently she of whom the passer-by 
+had spoken, there could no longer be any doubt of that; she 
+descended to the garden again, thinking herself a queen, imagin- 
+ing that she heard the birds singing, though it was winter, 
+seeing the sky gilded, the sun among the trees, flowers in the 
+thickets, distracted, wild, in inexpressible delight. 
+
+Jean Valjean, on his side, experienced a deep and undefinable 
+oppression at heart. 
+
+In fact, he had, for some time past, been contemplating 
+^ith terror that beauty which seemed to grow more radiant 
+every day on Cosettc*s sweet face. The dawn that waa smiling 
+for all was gloomy for him. 
+
+Cosette had been beautiful for a tolerably long time before 
+she became aware of it herself. But, from the very first day, 
+that unexpected light which was rising slowly and enveloping 
+the whole of the young girl's person, wounded Jean Valjean's 
+sombre eye. lie felt that it was a change, in a happy life, a 
+life so happy that \\v. did not dare to move for fear of disarrang- 
+ing something. This man, who had passed through all manner 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+SAINT^DENIS. 68 
+
+of dietreBses, wbo was still all bleeding from the bruises of fate« 
+who had been almost wicked and who had become almost a 
+saint, who, after having dragged the chain of the galleys, was 
+now dragging the invisible but heavy chain of indefinite misery, 
+this man whom the law had not released from its grasp and who 
+could be seized at any moment and brought back from the ob* 
+scurity of his virtue to the broad daylight of public opprobrium, 
+this man accepted all, excused all, pardoned all, and merely 
+asked of Providence, of man, of the law, of society, of nature, 
+of the world, one thing, that Cosette might love him ! 
+
+That Cosette might continue to Jove him ! That God would 
+not prevent the heart of the child from coming to him, and 
+from remaining with him ! Beloved by Cosette, he felt that he 
+was healed, rested, appeased, loaded with benefits, recompensed, 
+crowned. Beloved by Cosette, it was well with him 1 He 
+asked nothing more! Had any one said to him: '^ Do you 
+want anything better? " he would have answered : " No." God 
+might have said to him: *' Do you desire heaven?*' and he 
+would have replied : '* I should lose by it.*' 
+
+Everything which could affect this situation, if only on the 
+surface, made him shudder like the beginning of something new. 
+He had never known very distinctly himself what the beauty of 
+a woman means ; but he understood, instinctively, that it was 
+something teiTible. 
+
+He gazed with terror on this beauty, which was blossoming 
+out ever more triumphant and superb beside him, beneath his 
+very eyes, on the innocent and formidable brow of tliat child, 
+from the depths of her homeliness, of his old age, of his misery, 
+of his reprobation. 
+
+He said to himself : ^^ How beautiful she is ! What is to be- 
+come of me ? " 
+
+There, moreover, lay the difference between his tenderness 
+and the tenderness of a mother. What he beheld with anguish, 
+a mother would have gazed upon with joy. 
+
+The first symptoms were not long in making their appearance. 
+
+On the very morrow of the day on which she had said to her- 
+self : ^^ Decidedly I am beautiful ! " Cosette began to pay atten- 
+tion to her toilet. She recalled the remark of that passer-by : 
+'' Pretty, but badly dressed," the bi-eath of an oracle which had 
+passed beside her and had vanished, after depositing in her heart 
+one of the two germs which are destined, later on, to fill the 
+whole life of woman, coquetry. Love is the other. 
+
+With faith in her beauty, the whole feminine soul expanded 
+within her. She conceived a horror for her merinos, and shame 
+
+
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+70 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+for her plush hat. Her father had never refused her anything 
+She at once acquired the whole science of the bonnet, the gowu. 
+the mantle, the l>oot, the cuff, the stuff which is in fashion, the 
+color which is becoming, that science which makes of the Paris 
+ian woman something so charming, so deep, and so dangerous.^ 
+The words heady woman were invented for the Parisienne. 
+
+In less than a month, little Cosette, in that Thebaid of the Roe 
+de Babylone was not only one of the prettiest, but one of the 
+'' best dressed '* women in Paris, which means a great deal more. 
+
+She would have liked to encounter her *' passer-by," to see 
+what he would say, and to ''.teach him a lesson!" The tnith 
+is, that she was ravishing in every respect, and that she distÎD- 
+a:nished the difference between a bonnet from Gérard and one 
+from Herbaut in the most marvellous way. 
+
+Jean Valjean watched these ravages with anxiety. He who 
+felt that he could never do anything but crawl, walk at the most, 
+beheld wings sprouting on Cosette. 
+
+Moreover, ftx)m the mere inspection of Cosette's toilet, a tto- 
+man would have recognized the fact that she had no mother. 
+Certain little proprieties, certain special conventionalities, were 
+not observed by Cosette. A mother, for instance, would have 
+told her that a young girl does not dress in damask. 
+
+The first day that Cosette went out in her black damask gown 
+and mantle, and her white crape bonnet, she took Jean Valjean's 
+arm, gay, radiant, rosy, proud, dazzling. ''Father," she said, 
+"how do you like me in this guise?" Jean Valjean replied in 
+a voice which resembled the bitter voice of an envious man : 
+"Charming!" He was the same as usual during their walk. 
+On their return home, he asked Cosette : — 
+
+" Won't you put on that other gown and bonnet again, — you 
+know the ones I mean ? " 
+
+This took place in Cosette's chamber. Cosette turned to- 
+wards the wardrobe where her cast-off schoolgirl's clotlies were 
+hanging. 
+
+" That disguise ! " said she. "Father, what do you want me 
+to do with it ? Oh no, the idea ! I shall never put on those hor- 
+rors again. With that machine on my head, I have the air of 
+Madame Mad-dog." 
+
+Jean Valjean heaved a deep sigh. 
+
+From that moment forth, he noticed that Cosette, who b<d 
+always heretofore asked to remain at home, saying: "Father, 
+I enjoy myself more here with you," now was always asking 
+to ^o out. In fact, what is the use of having a handsome face 
+and a delicious costume if one does not display them? 
+
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+SAINT^DENIS. 71 
+
+He also noticed that Cosette had no longer the same taste 
+for the back garden. Now she preferred the garden, and did 
+not dislike to promenade back and forth in front of the railed 
+fence. Jean Valjean, who was sh}^ never set foot in the gar- 
+den. He kept to his back yard, like a dog. 
+
+Cosette, in gaining the knowledge that she was beautiful, 
+lost the grace of ignoring it. An exquisite grace, for beauty 
+enhanced by ingenuousness is ineffable, and nothing is so ador- 
+able as a dazzling and innocent creature who walks along, hold- 
+ing in her hand the key to paradise without being conscious of 
+it. But what she had lost in ingenuous grace, she gained in 
+pensive and serious charm. Her whole person, permeated with 
+the joy of youth, of innocence, and of beauty, breathed forth 
+a splendid melancholy. 
+
+It was at this epoch that Marins, after the lapse of six months, 
+saw her once more at the Luxembourg. 
+
+VI. — The Battle Begxtn. 
+
+Cosette in her shadow, like Marins in his, was all ready to 
+take fire. Destiny, with its mysterious and fatal patience, 
+slowly drew together these two beings, all charged and all lan- 
+guishing with the stormy electricity of passion, these two souls 
+which were laden with love as two clouds are laden with light- 
+ning, and which were bound to overflow and mingle in a look 
+like the clouds in a flash of fire. 
+
+The glance has been so much abused in love romances that it 
+has finally fallen into disrepute. One hardly dares to say, now- 
+adays, that two beings fell in love because they looked at each 
+other. That is the way people do fall in love, nevertheless, 
+and the only way. The rest is nothing, but the rest comes 
+afterwards. Nothing is more real than these great shocks 
+which two souls convey to each other by the exchange of that 
+spark. 
+
+At that particular hour when Cosette unconsciously darted 
+that glance which troubled Marius, Marins had no suspicion 
+that he had also launched a look which disturbed Cosette. 
+
+He caused her the same good and the same evil. 
+
+She had been in the habit of seeing him for a long time, and 
+she had scrutinized him as girls scrutinize and see, while looking 
+elsewhere. Marius still considered Cosette ugly, when she hnd 
+already begun to think Marius handsome. But as he paid no 
+attention to her, the young man was nothing to her. 
+
+Still, she could not refmîn from saying to herself that he had 
+
+
+
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+n LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+beautiful bair, beautiful eyes, handaome teeth, a cbanmng toiie 
+of voice when s lie beard liiui conversing with his coiu rades, 
+that he held liimself badly when he walked, if you like, but 
+with a grace tliat waa all his own, tliat be did not appear to be 
+at all stupid, that his whole person was noble, gentle, simple, 
+proud, and that, in short, though be seemed to be poor, yet his 
+air was fine. 
+
+On the day when their eyes met at last, and said to each 
+other those first, obscure, and ineffable things which the glance 
+lisps, C'Osette did not immediately understand. She returned 
+thoughtfully to the house in Uie Kue de l'Ouest, where Jean 
+Valjean, according to his custom, had come to spend six weeks. 
+The next morning, on waking, she thought of that strange 
+young man, so long indifferent and icy, who now seemed to 
+pay attention to her, and it did not appear to her that this at- 
+tention was the least in the world agreeable to her. She was, 
+on the contrary, somewhat incensed at thiâ handsome and dis- 
+dainful individual. A substratum of war stirred within her. 
+It struck her, and the idea caused her a wlwUy childish Joy, 
+that she was going to take her revenge at last. 
+
+Knowing tliat she was beautiful, she was «thoroughly con- 
+scious, though in an indistinct fashion, that she possessed a 
+weapon. Women play with their beauty as children do with a 
+knife. They wound themselves. 
+
+The reader will recall Marins' hesitations, his palpitations, 
+bis terrors. He remained on his bench and did not approach. 
+This vexed Cosette. One day, she said to Jean Valjean: 
+^' Father, let us stroll about a little in that direction." Seeing 
+that Marins did not come to her, she went to him. In such 
+cases, all women resemble Mahomet. And then, strange to 
+say, the first symptom of true love in a young man is timidity; 
+in a young girl it is boldness. This is surprising, and yet 
+nothing is more simple. It is the two sexes tending to 
+approach each other and assuming, each the other's qualities. 
+
+That day, Cosetto's glance (hove Marins beside himself, and 
+Marius' glance set Cosette to trembling. Marius went away 
+confident, and Cosette uneasy. From that day foiili, thev 
+adored each other. 
+
+The first thing that Cosette felt was a confused and profound 
+melancholy. It seemed to her that her soul had become black 
+since the day before. She no longer recognized it. The white- 
+ness of soul in young girls, which is composed of coldnes* 
+and gayety. resembles snow. It melts in love, which is its sun. 
+
+Cosette did not know what love was. She had never beard 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+SAINT-DENIS, 78 
+
+the word uttered in ite terrestrial sense. On the books of 
+profane music which entereil the convent, amour (love) was 
+replaced by tambour (di'um) or pandoxir. This created enig< 
+mas which exercised the imaginations of the big girls ^ such as : 
+AIi^ how deligJUful is the drum ! or, Pity is not a pandour. But 
+Cosette had left the convent too early to have occupied herself 
+much with the "drum." Therefore, she did not know what 
+name to give to what she now felt. Is any one the less ill be- 
+cause one does not know the name of one's malady ? 
+
+She loved with all the more passion because she loved 
+ignorantly. She did not know whether it was a good thing or 
+a bad thing, useful or dangerous, cteinal or temporary, allow- 
+able or prohibited ; she loved. She would have been greatly 
+astonished, had any one said to her: "You do not sleep? 
+But that is forbidden ! You do not eat? Why, that is very 
+bad! You have oppressions and palpitations of the heart! 
+That must not be ! You blush and turn pale, when a certein 
+being clad in black appears at the end of a certain green 
+walk ? But that is abominable ! '^ She would not have under- 
+stood, and she would have replied: "What fault is there of 
+mine in a matter in which I have no power and of which I 
+know nothing?" 
+
+It turned out that the love which presented itself was ex- 
+actly suited to the state of her soul. It was a sort of admira^ 
+tion at a distance, a mute contemplation, the deification of a 
+stranger. It was the apparition of youth to youth, the dream 
+of nights become a reality yet remaining a dream, the longed- 
+for phantom realised and made flesh at last, but having as 
+yet, neither name, nor fault, nor spot, nor exigence, nor de- 
+fect ; in a woi*d, the distant lover who lingered in the ideal, a 
+chimaBra with a form. A<ny nearer and more palpable meeting 
+would have alarmed Cosette at this first stage, wlien she .was 
+still half immersed in the exaggerated mists of the cloister. 
+She had all the fears of children and all the fears of nuns com- 
+bined. The spirit of the convent, with which she had been 
+permeated for the space of five years, was still in the process 
+of slow evaporation from her person, and made everything 
+tremble around her. In this situation he was not a lover, he 
+was not even an admirer, he was a vision. She set herself to 
+adoring Marins as something charming, luminous, and im- 
+possible. 
+
+As extreme innocence borders on extreme coquetry, she 
+smiled at him with all frankness. 
+
+Every day, she looked forward to the hour for their walk 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+pressing her whole thought when she said to Jean Val jean : — 
+'* What a delicious garden that Luxemboui^ is ! " 
+Marius and Cosette were in the dark as to one another. 
+They did not address each other, they did not salute each 
+other, they did not know each other ; they saw each other ; and 
+like stara of heaven which are separated by millions of leagues, 
+iiey lived by gazing at each other. 
+
+It was thus that Cosette gradually became a woman and 
+ieveloped, beautiful and loving, with a consciousness of her 
+beauty, and in ignorance of her love. She was a coquette to 
+boot Uirough her ignorance. 
+
+
+
+VII. — To One Sadness oppose a Sadness and a Half. 
+
+All situations have the r instincts. Old and eternal Mother 
+Nature warned Jean Valje \n in a dim way of the presence of 
+Marius. Jean Valjean shuddered to the very bottom of his soul. 
+Jean Valjean saw nothing, knew nothing, and yet he scanned witii 
+obstinate attention, tlie darkness in which he walked, as though 
+he felt on one side of him something in process of construc- 
+tion, and on the other, something which was crumbling away. 
+Marius, also warned, and, in accordance with the deep law ol 
+God, by that same Mother Nature, did all he could to keep ont 
+of sight of "the father." Nevertheless, it came to pass that 
+Jean Valjean sometimes espied him. Marius' manners were no 
+longer in the least natural. He exhibited ambiguous prudence 
+and awkward daring. He no longer came quite close to them 
+as formerly. He seated himself at a distance and pretended to 
+be reading; why did he pretend that? Formerly he had come 
+In his old coat, now he wore his new one every day ; Jean 
+Valjean was not sure that he did not have his hair curled, his 
+îyes were very queer, he wore gloves ; in short, Jean Valjean 
+3ordially detested this young man. 
+
+Cosette allowed nothing to be divined. Without knowing 
+just what was the matter with her she was convinced that there 
+was something in it, and that it must be concealed. 
+
+There was a coincidence between the taste for the toilet 
+which had recently come to Cosette, and the habit of new 
+clothes developed by that stranger which was very repugnant 
+to Jean Valjean. It might be accidental, no doubt, certainly, 
+but it was a menacing accident. 
+
+
+
+SAINT'DENIS. 76 
+
+He never opened his mouth to Cosette abont this stmnger 
+' One day, however, he could not refrain from so doing, aii(i, 
+with that vague despair which suddenly casts the lead into tiie 
+depths of its despair, he said to her : " What a very pedan- 
+tic air that young man has ! " 
+
+Cosette, but a year before only an indifferent little girl, would 
+have replied : " Why, no, he is charming." Ten years later, 
+with the love of Marius in her heart, she would have answered ; 
+'* A pedant, and insufferable to the sight ! You are right ! " — 
+At the moment in life and the heart which she had then attained, 
+she contented herself with replying, with supreme calmness : 
+'' That young man !" 
+
+As though she now beheld him for the first time in her life. 
+
+*' How stupid I am ! " thought Jean Valjean. " She had not 
+noticed him. It is I who have pointed him out to her." 
+
+Oh, simplicity of the old ! oh, the depth of children I 
+
+It is one of the laws of those fresh yen^rs of suffering and 
+trouble, of those vivacious conflicts between a first love and the 
+first obstacles, that the young girl does not allow herself to be 
+caaght in any trap whatever, and that the young man falls into 
+ever}' one. Jean Valjean had instituted an undeclared war 
+i^ainst Marius, which Marins, with the sublime stupidity of his 
+passion and his age, did qot divine. Jean Valjean laid a host 
+of ambushes for him; he changed his hour, he changed his 
+bench, he forgot his handkerchief, he came alone to the Luxem- 
+bourg ; Marius dashed headlong into all these snares ; and to 
+all the interrogation marks planted by Jean Valjean in his path- 
+waj-, he ingenuously answered *'yes." But Cosette remained 
+immured in her apparent unconcern and in her imperturbable 
+tranquillity, so that Jean Valjean arrived at the following con- 
+clusion : "That ninny is madly in love with Cosette, but 
+Cosette does not even know that he exists." 
+
+None the less did he bear in his heart a mournful tremor. 
+The minute when Cosette would love might strike at any mo- 
+ment. Does not everything begin with indifference? 
+
+Only once did Cosette make a mistake and alarm him. He 
+rose from his seat to depart, after a stay of three hours, and 
+Bhe said : " What, already f^" 
+
+Jean Va^ean had not discontinued his trips to the Luxem- 
+bourg, as he did not wish to do anything out of the way, and as, 
+above all things, he feared to arouse Cosette ; but during the 
+hours which were so sweet to the lovers, while Cosette was send- 
+ing her smile to the intoxicated Marius, wlio perceived nothing 
+tise now, and who now saw nothing in all the world but an 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+believe himself incapable of a malevoleut feeling, experienmi 
+moments when Marius was present, in which he thought he was 
+becoming savage and ferocious once more, and he felt the old 
+depths of his soul, which had formerly contained so much 
+wrath, opening once more and rising up against that young man 
+It almost seemed to him that unknown craters were forming is 
+his bosom. 
+
+What 1 he was there, that creature ! What was he there fori 
+Ue came creeping about, smelling out, examining, trying ! He 
+came, saying: ''Hey! Why not?" He came to prowl about 
+uis, Jean Valjean's, life ! to prowl about his happiness, with the 
+purpose of seizing it and bearing it away ! 
+
+Jean Valjean added : ' ' Yes, that's it ! What is he in search of? 
+An adventure! What does he want? A love affair I A love 
+affair 1 And I ? What 1 I have been first, the most wretched 
+of men, and then the most unhappy, and I have traversed sixty 
+years of life on my knees, I have suffered everything that man cao 
+suffer, I have grown old without having been young, I have 
+lived without a family, without relatives, without friends, with- 
+out life, without children, I have left my blood on every stone, 
+on every bramble, on every mile-post, along ever}* wall, I have 
+been gentle, though others have been hard to me, and kind, al- 
+though others have been malicious, I have become an honest 
+man once more, in spite of everything, I have repented of the 
+evil that I have done and have forgiven the evil that has been 
+done to me, and at the moment when I receive my recompense, 
+at the moment when it is all over, at the moment when I am 
+}ust touching the goal, at the moment when I have what I de- 
+sire, it is well, it is good, I have paid, I have earned it, all 
+this is to take flight, all this will vanish, and I shall lose Co- 
+sette, and I shall lose my life, my joy, my soul, because it has 
+pleased a great booby to come and lounge at the Luxembourg." 
+
+Then his eyes were filled with a sad and extraordinary 
+gleam. 
+
+It was no longer a man gazing at a man ; it was no longer 
+an enemy surveying an enemy. It was a dog scanning a 
+thief. 
+
+The reader knows the rest. Marius pursued his senseless 
+ooui'se. One day he followed Cosette to the Rue de TOuest. 
+Another day he spoke to the porter. The porter, on his side, 
+spoke, and said to Jean Valjean : " Monsieur, who is that 
+curions young man who is asking for you ? *' On tlie morroiv 
+
+
+
+However, nothing of all this was perceptible to Cosette. No 
+ill-temper, no harshness. His face was always serene and kind. 
+Jean Valjean's manners were more tender and more paternal 
+than ever. If anything could have betrayed his lack of }oy, it 
+was his increased suavity. 
+
+On her side, Cosette languished. She suffered from the ab- 
+sence of Marius as she had rejoiced in his presence, peculiarly, 
+without exactly being conscious of it. When Jean Valjean 
+ceased to take her on their customary strolls, a feminine in- 
+stinct murmured confusedly, at the bottom of her heart, that 
+she must not seem to set store on the Luxembourg gaixlen, and 
+that if this proved to be a matter of indifference to her, her 
+father would take her thither once more. But days, weeks, 
+months, elapsed. Jean Valjean had tacitly accepted" Cosette's 
+tacit consent. She regretted it. It was too late. So Marias 
+had disappeared ; all was over. The day on which she returned 
+to the Luxembourg, Marius was no longer there. What was to 
+be done? Should she ever find him again? She felt an an- 
+guish at her heart, which nothing relieved, and which augmented 
+evtry day ; she no longer knew whether it was winter or summer, 
+whether it was raining or shining, whether the birds were sing- 
+ing, whether it was the season for dahlias or daisies, whether the 
+Luxembourg was more chaiming than the Tuileries, whether 
+the linen which the laundress brought home was starched too 
+much or not enough, whether Toussaint had done ^^ her market- 
+ing " well or ill ; and she remained dejected, absorbed, attentive 
+to but a single thought, her eyes vague and staring, as when 
+one gazes by night at a black and fathomless spot where an 
+apparition has vanished. 
+
+However, she did not allow Jean Valjean to perceive any- 
+thing of this, except her pallor. 
+
+She still wore her sweet face for him. 
+
+This pallor sufficed but too thoroughly to trouble Jean Valjean. 
+Sometimes he asked her : — 
+
+" What is the matter with you?" 
+
+She replied : " There is nothing the matter with me.** 
+
+And after a silence, when she divined that he was sad alsot 
+she would add:' — 
+
+*' And you, father — is there anything wrong with you?** 
+
+" With me? Nothing,'' said he. 
+
+These two beings who had loved each other so exclusively, 
+and with so touchin^^ an affection, and who had lived so long 
+
+
+
+these fields. Cosette was not bored there. It meant solitude to 
+him and liberty to her. There, she became a little girl once 
+more, she could run and almost play ; she took off her hat, laid it 
+on Jean Valjean's knees, and gathered bunches of flowers. She 
+gazed at the butterflies on the flowers, but did not catch them ; 
+gentleness and tenderness are born with love, and the yoong 
+girl who cherishes within her breast a trembling and fragile ideal 
+has mercy on the wing of a butterfly. She wove garlands of 
+poppies, which she placed on her head, and which, crossed and 
+penetrated with sunlight, glowing until they flamed, formed for 
+her rosy face a crown of burning embers. 
+
+Even after their life had grown sad, they kept up their cus- 
+tom of early strolls. 
+
+One morning in October, therefore, tempted by the serene 
+perfection of the autumn of 1831, they set out, and found 
+themselves at break of day near the Barrière du Maine. It 
+was not dawn, it was daybreak; a delightful and stem mo- 
+ment. A few constellations here and there in the «deep, pale 
+azure, the earth all black, the hea^'ens all white, a quiver amid 
+the blades of grass, everywhere the mysterious chill of twilight 
+A lark, which seemed mingled with the stars, was carolling at a 
+prodigious height, and one would have declared that that hymn 
+of pettiness calmed immensity. In the East, the Val-de-Grâce 
+projected its dark mass on the clear horizon with the sharpness 
+of steel ; Venus dazzlingly brilliant was rising behind that dome 
+and had the air of a soul making its escape from a gloomy edi- 
+fice. 
+
+AH was peace and silence ; there was no one on the road ; a 
+few stray laborers, of whom they caught barely a glimpse, were 
+on their way to their work along the side-paths. 
+
+Juan Valjean was sitting in a cross-walk on some planks de» 
+posittid at the gate of a timber-yard. His face was turned 
+towards the highway, his back towards the light ; he had forgot- 
+ten the sun which was on the point of rising ; he had sunk iutoone 
+of those profound absorptions in which the mind becomes con- 
+centrated, which imprison even the eye, and which are equiva- 
+lent to four walls. There are meditations which may be called 
+vertical ; when one is at tlie bottom of them, time is required 
+to return to earth. Jean Valjean had plunged into one of these 
+reveries, lie was thinking of Cosette, of the happiness that 
+was possible if nothing came between him and her, of the light 
+with which she filled his life, a light which was but the emana- 
+
+
+
+wb'u^li waB a chain, and on their necks something which shone, 
+and whi(;h was an iron collar. P^ach raan had his collar, but the 
+chain was for all ; so that if these four and twenty men had 
+oc(5asion to alight from the dray and walk, they were seizeii with 
+a sort of inexorable unity, and were obliged to wind over Uie 
+ground with the chain for a backbone, somewhat after the fash 
+ion of millepcds. In the back and front of each vehicle, twc 
+men armed with muskets stood erect, each holding one end of the 
+chain under his foot. The iron necklets were square. The 
+seventh vehicle, a huge rack-sided baggage wagon, without a 
+hood, had four wheels and six horses, and carried a sonorous 
+pile of iron boilers, cast-iron pots, braziers, and chains, among 
+which were mingled several men who were pinioned and stretched 
+at full length, and who seemed to be ill. This wagon, all lat- 
+tice-work, was garnished with dilapidated hurdles which api)eared 
+to have served for former punishments. These vehicles kept to 
+the middle of the road. On each side marched a double hedjre 
+of guards of infamous aspect, wearing three-cornered hats, like 
+the soldiers under the Directory, shabby, covered with spots and 
+holes, muffled in uniforms of veterans and the trousers of under- 
+takers' men, half gi'ay, half blue, which were almost hanging iu 
+rags, with red epaulets, yellow shoulder-belts, short sabres, mus- 
+kets, and cudgels ; they were a species of soldier- blackgnanls. 
+These myrmidons seemed composed of the abjectness of the beg- 
+gar and the authority of the executioner. The one who appeare<l to 
+be their chief held a postilion's whip in his hand. All theaedeLails, 
+blurred by the dimne^ of dawn, became more and more clearly 
+outlined as the light increased. At the head and in the rear of the 
+convoy rode mounted gendarmes, serious and with sword in fist. 
+
+This procession was so long that when the fii-st vehicle reached 
+the barrier, the last was barely debouching from the boulevani. 
+A throng, sprung it is impossible to say whence, and formeo 
+in a twinkling, as is frequently the case in Paris, pressed for- 
+ward from both sides of the road and looked on. In the neighbor- 
+ing lanes the shouts of people calling to each other and the wooden 
+shoes of market-gardeners hastening up to gaze were audible. 
+
+The men massed upon the drays allowed themselves to be 
+jolted along in silence. They were livid with the chill of morn- 
+ing. They all wore linen trousers, and their bare feet were 
+thrust into wooden shoes. The rest of their costume was a 
+fantasy of wretchedness. Their accoutrements were horribly 
+incongruous ; nothing is more funereal than tJie harlequin in rag». 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+illuuiinating heads aud bodies, leavmg feet and wheels in Die 
+obscurity. Thoughts made their appearance on these faces ; it 
+was a terrible moment; visible demons with their masks re 
+moved, fierce souls laid bear. Though lighted up, this wild 
+throng remained in gloom. Some, who were gay, had in theii 
+mouths quills through which they blew vermin over the crowd 
+picking out the women ; the dawn accentuated these lamentable 
+profiles with the blackness of its shadows ; there was not one of 
+these creatures who was not deformed by reason of wretched- 
+ness ; and the whole was so monstrous that one would have 
+said that the sun's brilliancy had been changed into the glare of 
+the lightning. The wagon-load which headed the line had 
+struck up a song, and were shouting at the top of their voices 
+with a haggard joviality, a pot-pourri by Desaugiers, then fa- 
+mous, called Tlie Vestal; the trees shivered mournfully; in the 
+cross-lanes, countenances of boui^eois listened in Idiotic de- 
+light to these coarse strains droned by spectres. 
+
+All sorts of distress met in this procession as in chaos ; here 
+were to be found the facial angles of every sort of beast, old 
+men, youths, bald heads, gray beards, cynical monstrosities, 
+sour resignation, savage grins, senseless attitudes, snouts sur- 
+mounted by caps, heads like those of young girls with cockscrew 
+curls on the temples, infantile vist^es, and by reason of that, 
+horrible thin skeleton faces, to which death alone was lacking. 
+On the first cart was a negro, who had been a slave, in all prob- 
+ability, and who could make a oompainson of his chains. The 
+friglitful leveller from below, shame, had passed over these brows ; 
+at that degree of abasement, the last transformations were snfifered 
+by all in their extremest depths, and ignorance, converted into 
+ddlness, was the equal of intelligence converted into despair. 
+There was no choice possible between these men who appeared 
+to the eye as the fiower of the mud. It was evident that the 
+person who had had the ordering of that unclean procession 
+had not classified them. These beings had been fettered and 
+coupled pell-mell, in alphabetical disorder, probabh', and loaded 
+hap-hazard on those carts. Nevertheless, horrors, when grouped 
+together, always end by evolving a result; all additions of 
+wretched men give a sum total, each chain exhaled a com- 
+mon soul, and each dray-load had its own physiognomy. By the 
+side of the one where they were singing, there was one where 
+they were howling ; a third where they wei-e begging; one could 
+be seen in which they were gnashing their teeth ; another load 
+
+
+
+^ 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+convicts bent before it, a hideous obedience was evoked by the 
+torture, and all held their peace, darting glances like chtiiieâ 
+irolves. 
+
+Cosette trembled in every limb ; she resumed :— 
+
+" Father, are they still men ? " 
+
+'* Sometimes," answered the unhappy man. 
+
+It was the chain-gang, in fact, which had set out before day 
+break from Bicetre, and had taken the road to Mans in order to 
+avoid Fontainebleau, where the King then was. This caused 
+the horrible journey to last three or four days longer ; bnt tor- 
+ture ma3' surely be prolonged with the object of sparing the 
+royal personage a sight of it. 
+
+Jean Valjean returned home utterly overwhelmed. Such en- 
+counters are shocks, and the memory that they leave behind 
+them resembles a thorough shaking up. 
+
+Nevertheless, Jean Valjean did not observe that, on his way 
+back to the Rue de Baby lone with Cosette, the latter was ply- 
+ing him with other questions on the subject of what they had just 
+seen ; perhaps he was too much absorbed in his own dejection 
+to notice her words and reply to them. But when Cosette was 
+leaving him in the evening, to betake herself to bed, he heard 
+her say in a low voice, and as tliough talking to herself : *' It 
+seems to me, that if I were to find one of those men in my path- 
+way, oh, my God, I should die merely from the sight of him 
+close at hand." 
+
+Fortunately, chance ordained that on the morrow of that 
+tragic day, there was some official solemnity* apropos of I know 
+not what, — fetes in Paris, a review in the Champ de Mars, 
+jousts on the Seine, theatrical performances in the Champs- 
+Elysées, fireworks at the Arc de TEtoile, illuminations every- 
+where. Jean Valjean did violence to his habits, and took 
+Cosette to see these rejoicings, for the purpose of diverting her 
+from the memory of the day before, and of effacing, beneath 
+the smiling tumult of all Paris, the abominable thing which had 
+passed before her. The review with which the festival was 
+spiced made tlie presence of uniforms perfectly natural ; Jean 
+Valjean donned his uniform of a national guard with the vague 
+inward feeling of a man who is betaking himself to shelter. 
+However, this trip seemed to attain its object. Cosette, who 
+made it her law to please her father, and to whom, moreover, 
+all spectacles were a novelty, acc(»ptod this diversion with the 
+light and easy good grace of voutb. and did not Dout too disdain* 
+
+
+
+:> 
+
+
+
+and sometimes, when the day had been a good one, and they 
+'jad assisted many in distress, and cheered and warmed many 
+little children, Cosette was rather merry in the evening. It 
+was at this epoch that they paid their visit to the Jondrette 
+den. 
+
+On the day following that visit, Jean Valjean made his ap 
+pearance in the pavilion in the morning, calm as was his wodU 
+but with a large wound on his left arm which was much in- 
+flamed, and very angry, which resembled a burn^ and which he 
+explained in some way or other. This wound resulted in his 
+being detained in the house for a month with fever. He would 
+not call in a doctor. When Cosette ui^ed him *' Call the 
+d(^-doctor," said he. 
+
+Cosette dressed the wound morning and evening with so di- 
+vine an air and such angelic happiness at being of use to him, 
+that Jean Valjean felt all his former joy returning, his feara 
+and anxieties dissipating, and he gazed at Cosette, saying: 
+"Oh ! what a kindly wound ! Oh ! what a good misfortune ! " 
+
+Cosette on perceiving that her father was ill, had deseited 
+the pavilion and again taken a fancy to the little lodging and 
+the back courtyard. She passed nearly all her days beside 
+Jean Valjean and read to him the books which he desired. 
+Generally, they were books of travel. Jean Valjean was 
+undergoing a new birth ; his happiness was reviving in these 
+ineffable rays ; the Luxembonrg, the prowling young stranger, 
+Cosette's coldness, — all these clouds upon his soul were grow- 
+ing dim. He had reached the point where he said to himself: 
+" I imagined all that. I am an old fool." 
+
+His happiness was so great that the horrible discovery of the 
+Thénardiers made in the Jondrette hovel, unexpected as it was, 
+had, after a fashion, glided over him unnoticed. He had suc- 
+ceeded in making his escape; all trace of him was lost — what 
+more did he care for ! he only thought of those wretched beings 
+to pity them. ''.Here they are in prison, and henceforth they 
+will be incapacitated for doing any harm," he thought, *' bui 
+what a lamentable family in distress ! " 
+
+As for tlie hideous vision of the Barrière du Maine, Cosette 
+had not referred to it again. 
+
+Sister Sainte-Meehtilde had taught Cosette music in the con- 
+vent ; Cosette had the voice of a linnet with a soul, and some- 
+times, in the evening, in the wounded man's humble abode, she 
+warbled melancholy songs which delighted Jean Valjean. 
+
+
+
+II.—- MOTHEB PlUTARQUE FINDS NO DlFFICULTT IN KXPLAII 
+
+ING A Phenomenon. 
+
+One evening, little Gavroche had had nothing to eat ; he re- 
+membered that he had not dined on the preceding day either; 
+this was becoming tiresome. He resolved to make an effort t(» 
+secure some supper. He strolled out beyond the Salpêtrière 
+into deserted regions ; that is where windfalls are to be found ; 
+where there is no one, one always finds something. He 
+reached a settlement which appeared to him to be the village of 
+Austerlitz. 
+
+In one of his preceding lounges he had noticed tliere an old 
+garden haunted by an old man and an old woman, and in that 
+garden, a passable apple-tree. Beside the apple-tree stood a 
+sort of fruit-house, which was not securely fastened, and where 
+one might contrive to get an apple. One apple is a sup^ïer; 
+one apple is life. That which .was Adam's ruin might prove 
+Gavroche's salvation. The garden abutted on a solitary, un- 
+paved lane, bordered with brushwood while awaiting the arrival 
+of houses ; the garden was separated from it by a hedge. 
+
+Gavroche directed his steps towards this garden ; he found 
+the lane, he recognized the apple-tree, he verified the fruit 
+house, he examined the hedge ; a hedge means merely one 
+stride. The day was declining, there was not even a cat in tiie 
+lane, the hour was propitious. Gavroche began the operation 
+of scaling the hedge, then suddenly paused. Some one was 
+talking in the garden. Gavroche peeped through one of the 
+breaks in the hedge. 
+
+A coup] (J of paces distant, at the foot of the hedge on thf 
+other side, exactly at the point where the gap which he wsu> 
+meditating would have been made, there was a sort of re- 
+cumbent stone which formed a bench, and on this bench wa^ 
+seated the old man of the garden, while the old woman wu> 
+standing in fVont of him. The old woman was grumbling. 
+Gavroche, who was not very discreet, listened. 
+
+*' Monsieur Mabeuf ! " said the old woman. 
+
+"Mabeuf!" thought Gavroche, "that name is a perfect 
+farce." 
+
+The old man who was thus addressed, did not stir. The 
+old woman repeated : — 
+
+*' Monsieur Mabeuf ! " 
+
+The old man, without raising his eyes from the ground, made 
+up his mind to answer : — 
+
+
+
+"There come two creatures," muttered Gavroche. 
+
+The first form seemed to be some elderly bourgeois who was 
+bent and thoughtful, dressed more than plainly, and who was 
+walking slowly because of his age, and strolling about in the 
+open evening air. 
+
+The second was straight, firm, slender. It regulated its pace 
+hy that of the first ; but in the voluntary slowness of its gait, 
+suppleness and agility were discernible. This figure had also 
+<»omething fierce and disquieting about it, the whole shape was 
+that of what was then called an elegant; the hat was of good 
+shape, the coat black, well cut, probably of fine cloth, and well 
+fitted in at the waist. The head was held erect with a sort o( 
+robust grace, and beneath the hat the pale profile of a young 
+man could be made out in the dim light. This profile had a 
+rose in its mouth. This second form was well known tc 
+Gavroche ; it was Montparnasse. 
+
+He could have told nothing about the other, except that b>3 
+was a respectable old man. 
+
+Gavroche immediately began to take observations. 
+
+One of these two pedestrians evidently had a project connected 
+with the other. Gavroche was well placed to watch the coaràc 
+of events. The bedroom had turned into a hiding-place at a 
+very opportune moment. 
+
+Montparnasse on the hunt at such an hour, in such a pla:«. 
+betokened something threatening. Gavroche felt his gamin's 
+heart moved with compassion for the old man. 
+
+What was he to do? Interfere? One weakness coning 
+to the aid of another ! It would be merely a laughing matter 
+for Montparnasse. Gavroche did not shut his eyes to the fad 
+that, the old man in the first place, and the child in the second, 
+would make but two mouthfuls for that redoubtable ruffian 
+eighteen years of age. 
+
+While Gavroche was deliberating, the attack took place, 
+abruptly and hideously. The attack of the tiger on the wild 
+ass, the attack of the spider on the fiy. Montparnasse suddenly 
+tossed away his rose, bounded upon the old man, seized hun l)y 
+the collar, grasped and clung to him, and Gavroche with ditli- 
+culty restrained a scream. A moment later one of these men 
+was underneath the other, groaning, struggling, with a knee of 
+marble upon his breast. Only, it was not just what Gavroche 
+had expected. The one who lay on the earth was MontpamMse ; 
+
+
+
+1 
+
+
+
+steadily at Montparnasse, he addressed to him in a gentle 
+voice, in the midst of the darkness where they stood, a soiemo 
+harangue, of which Gavroche did not lose a single syllable : — 
+
+*'My child, you are entering, through indolence, on one 
+of the most laborious of lives. Ah ! You declare yourself to 
+be an idler! prepare to toil. There is a certain formidable 
+machine, have you seen it? It is the rolling-mill. You must 
+be on yom* guaixl against it, it is crafty and ferocious; if it 
+catches hold of the skirt of your coat, you will be drawn in 
+bodily. That machine is laziness. Stop while there is yet 
+time, and save 3'ourself ! Otherwise, it is all over with you ; in 
+^ short time you will be among the gearing. Once entangled, 
+>ope for nothing more. ToS, lazybones! there is no more 
+repose for you ! The iron hand of implacable toil has seized 
+you. You do not wish to earn your living, to have a task, to 
+fulfil a duty ! It bores you to be like other men ? Well ! Yoo 
+will be different. Labor is the law ; he who rejects it will find 
+ennui his torment. You do not wish to be a workingman, yov 
+will be a slave. Toil lets go of you on one side only to grasf 
+you again on the other. You do not desire to be its friend, yoi 
+shall be its negro slave. Ah ! You would have none of the 
+honest weariness of men, you shall have the sweat of the 
+damned. Where others sing, you will rattle in your throat 
+You will see afar off, from below, other men at work ; it will 
+seem to you tliat they are resting. The laîx)rer, the harvester, 
+the sailor, the blacksmith, will appear to you in glory like thi 
+blessed spirits m paradise. What radiance surrounds the 
+rV)i'i<e! To guide the plough, to bind the sheaves, is joy. The 
+biirk at liberty in tlie wind, what delight! Do you, lazy idler, 
+delve, drag on, roll, march ! Drag your halter. You are a 
+beast of burden in the team of hell ! Ah ! To do nothing 
+is your object. Well, not a week, not a day, not an hour shall 
+you have free from oppression. You will be able to lifl nothing 
+without anguish. Every minute that passes will make your 
+muscles crack. What is a feather to others will be a rock to 
+you. The simplest things will become steep acclivities. Life 
+will become monstrous all about you. To go, to come, U) 
+breathe, will be just so many terrible labors. Your lungs will 
+produce on you the effect of weighing a hundred pounds. 
+Whether you shall walk here rather than there, will become a 
+problem that must be solved. Any one who wants to go oat 
+• simply gives his door a push, and there he is in the oi)en air. 
+If you ^ish to go out, you will be ojt)liged to pierce your wall. 
+
+
+
+What does every one who wants to step into the street do? He 
+goes down sUiirs ; you will tear up your sheets, little by little you 
+will make of them a rope, then you will climb out of your win- 
+dow, and you will suspend yourself by that thread over an abyss, 
+and it will be night, amid storm, rain, and the hurricane, and if 
+the rope is too short, but one way of descending will remain to 
+you, to fall. To drop hap-hazard into the gulf, from an uu- 
+known height, on what? On what is beneath, on the unknown. 
+Or you will crawl up a chimney-flue, at the risk of burning ; or 
+you will creep through a sewer-pipe, at the risk of drowning ; 
+I do not speak of the holes that you will be obliged to mask, 
+of the stones which you will have to take up and replace twenty 
+times a day, of the plaster that you will have to hide in your 
+straw pallet. A lock presents itself; the bourgeois has in his 
+pocket a key made by a locksmith. If you wish to pass out, 
+you will be condemned to execute a terrible work of art ; you 
+will take a large sou, you will cut it in two plates ; witli what 
+tools ? You will have to invent them. That is your business. 
+Then you will hollow out the interior of these plates, taking 
+great care of the outside, and you will make on the edges a 
+thread, so that they can be adjusted one upon the other like 
+a box and its cover. The top and bottom thus screwed to- 
+gether^ nothing will be suspected. To the overseers it will be 
+only a 6on ; to you it will be a box. What will you put in this 
+box ? A small bit of steel. A watch-spring, in which you will 
+have cut teeth, and which will form a saw. With this saw, as 
+long as a pin, and concealed in a sou, you will cut the bolt of 
+tlie lock, yo:i will sever bolts, the padlock of your chain, and 
+the bar at your window, and the fetter on your leg. This mas- 
+terpiece finished, this prodigy accomplished, all these miracles 
+of art, address, skill, and patience executed, what will be your 
+recompense if it becomes known that you are the author ? The 
+dungeon. There is your future. What precipices are idleness 
+and pleasure ! Do you know that to do nothing is a melancholy 
+resolution ? To live in idleness on the property of society ! to 
+be useless, that is to say, pernicious ! This leads straight to 
+the depth of wretchedness. Woe to the man who desires to be 
+parasite 1 He will become vermin ! Ah ! 80 it does not please 
+you to work? Ah ! You have but one thought, to drink well, 
+to eat well, to sleep well. You will drink water, you will ei*t 
+black bread, you will sleep on a plank with a fetter whose cold 
+touch you will feel on your flesh all night long, riveted to your 
+limbs. You will break those fetters, you will flee. That is 
+well. You will crawl on your belly through the brushwoodi 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+M LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+and jTOu will eat grass like the beasts of the forest. And yon 
+
+will be recaptured. And then yon will pass 3*ears in a dangeoo, 
+riveted to a wall, groping for your jug that you may drink, 
+gnawing at a horrible loaf of darkness which dogs would not 
+touch, eating beans that the worms have eaten before yon. Yon 
+will be a wood-louse in a cellar. Ah ! Have pity on 3'oarself« 
+you miserable young child, who were sucking at nurse lees than 
+twenty years ago, and who have, no doubt, a mother still alive ! 
+I conjure 3*on, listen to me, I entreat you. Yon desire fine 
+black cloth, varnished shoes, to have yonr hair curled and 
+sweet-smelling oils on your locks, to please low women, to be 
+handsome. You will be shaven clean, and you will wear a red 
+blouse and wooden shoes. You want rings on your fingers, yea 
+will have an iron necklet on your neck. If you glance at a 
+woman, you will receive a blow. And you will enter there ar 
+the age of twenty. And you will come out at fifty ! You will 
+enter young, rosy, fresh, with brilliant eyes, and all your white 
+teeth, and yonr handsome, youthful hair; yon will come ont 
+broken, bent, wrinkled, toothless, horrible, with white locks! 
+Ah ! my poor child, you are on the wrong road ; idleness is coun- 
+selling you badly ; the hardest of all work is thieving. Believe 
+me, do not undertake that painful profession of an idle man. 
+It is not comfortable to become a rascal. It is less disagree- 
+able to be an honest man. Now go, and ponder on what 1 have 
+said to you. By the way, what did you want of me? Mj 
+purse? Here it is." 
+
+And the old man, releasing Montparnasse, put his purse in 
+the lattcr's hand ; Montparnasse weighed it for a moment, after 
+which he allowed it to slide gently into the back pocket of his 
+coat, with the same mechanical precaution as ^ongh he had 
+stolen it. 
+
+All this having been said and done, the goodman tamed his 
+back and tranquilly resumed his stroll. 
+
+^' The blockhead ! '' muttered Montparnasse. 
+
+Who was this goodman ? The reader has, no doubt, abeady 
+divined. 
+
+Montparnasse watched him with amazement, as he disap- 
+peared in the dusk. This contemplation was fatal to him. 
+
+While the old man was walking away, Gavi-oc'he drew near. 
+
+Gavroche had assured himself, with a sidelong glance, that 
+Father Mabeuf was still sitting on his bench, probably sound 
+asleep. Then the gamin emerged from his thicket, and beffao 
+to crawl after Montparnasse in the dark, as the latter stood 
+there motionless. In this manner he came np to Montparnass» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'-DBNIS. W 
+
+ifflihout being seen or heard, gently insinuated h^s hand into the 
+back pocket of that frock-coat of fine black cloth, seized the 
+purse, withdrew his hand, and having recourse once more to his 
+crawling, he slipped away like an adder through the shadows. 
+Montparnasse, who had no reason to be on his guard, and who 
+was engaged in thought for the first time in his life, perceived 
+nothing. When Gavroche had once more attained the point 
+where Father Mabeuf was, he flung the purse over the hedge, 
+and fled as fast as his legs would carry him. 
+
+The purse fell o^ Father Mabeuf s foot. This commotion 
+roused him. 
+
+He bent over and picked np the purse. 
+
+He did not understand in the least, and opened it. 
+
+The purse had two compartments ; in one of them there waâ 
+some small change ; in the other lay six napoleons. 
+
+M. Mabeuf, in great alarm, referred the matter to his house- 
+keeper. 
+
+*^ That has fallen from heaven,*' said Mother Plutarque. 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIFTH. — THE END OF WHICH DOES NOT 
+RESEMBLE THE BEGINNING- 
+
+L <-- SOLITDDE AND THE BaRRAOKS COMBINED. 
+
+Co8ETT£*8 grief, which had been so poignant and lively four 
+or five months previously, had, without her being conscious of 
+the fact, entered upon its convalescence. Nature, spring, 
+youth, love for her father, the gayety of the birds and flowers, 
+caused something almost resembling forgetfuluess to filter 
+gradually, drop by drop, into that soul, which was so virgin 
+and so young. Was the fire wholly extinct there? Or was it 
+merely Ihat layers of ashes had formed ? The truth is, that she 
+hardly felt the painful and burning spot any longer. 
+
+One day she suddenly thought of Marins : *' Why ! " said 
+sbe, '^ I no longer think of him." 
+
+That same week, she noticed a very handsome officer of Ian* 
+cers, with a wasp-like waist, a delicious uniform, the cheeks of 
+a young girl, a sword under his arm, waxed mustaclies, and a 
+glazed schapka, passing the gate. Moreover, he had light 
+hair, prominent blue eyes, a round face, was vain, insolent and 
+good-looking ; quite the reverse of Marins. He had a cigar iu 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+98 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Mb mouth. Cosette thought thftt this officer doubtless » 
+Jonged to the regiment in barracks in the Rue de Babylone. 
+
+On tiie following day, she saw him pass again. She took 
+note of the hour. 
+
+From that time forth, was it chance? she saw him pass 
+nearly every day. 
+
+The officer's comrades perceived that there was, in that 
+"badly kept'' garden, behind that malicious rococo fence, a 
+very pretty creature, who was almost always there when the 
+ihindsome lieutenant, — who is not unknown to the reader. 
+•And whose name was Théodule Gillenormand, — passed by. 
+
+" See here ! " they said to him, *' there's a little creature 
+there who is making eyes at you, look.*' 
+
+•* Have I the time," replied the lancer, " to look at all tha 
+girls who look at me ? " 
+
+This was at the precise moment when Marius was descendiog 
+heavily towards agony, and was saying : "If I c^ould but see 
+her before I die ! " — Had his wish been realized, had he beheld 
+Cosette at that moment gazing at the lancer, he would not hare 
+been able to utter a word, and he would hare expired with grief. 
+
+Whose fault was it? No one's. 
+
+Marius possessed one of those temi)eraments which bury 
+themselves in sorrow and there abide; Cosette was one of 
+those persons who plunge into sorrow and emerge from it s^ain. 
+
+Cosette was, moreover, passing through that dangerous 
+period, the fatal phase of feminine revery abandoned tz> itself, 
+in which the isolated heart of a young girl resembles the ten- 
+drils of the vine which cling, as chance directs, to the capital 
+of a marble column or to the post of a wine-shop. A rapid and 
+decisive moment, critical for every orphan, be she poor or rich, 
+for wealth does not prevent a bad choice; misalliances are 
+made in very high circles, real misalliance is that of souls ; and 
+is many an unknown young man, without name, without birth, 
+i^ithout fortune, is a marble column which bears up a temple of 
+grand sentiments and grand ideas, so such and such a man of 
+the world satisfied and opulent, who has polished boots and 
+varnished words, if looked at not outside, but inside, a thing 
+which is reserved for his wife, is nothing more than a block 
+obscurely haunted by violent, unclean, and vinous passions; 
+the post of a drinking-shop. 
+
+What did Cosette's soul contain? Passion calmed or lulled 
+to sleep; something limpid, brilliant, troubled to a certain 
+depth, and gloomy lower down. The image of the handsome 
+officer was reflected in the surface. Did a souvenir linger in 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+die depths? — Qaite at the bottom? — Possibly. Coeette did 
+not know. 
+A singular incident supervened. 
+
+II. — Cosette's Apprehensions. 
+
+DuRiNa the first foi-tnight in April, Jean Valjean took ajonr^ 
+ne3'. This, as the reader knows happened from time to time, at 
+very long intervals. He remained absent a day or two days at 
+the utmost. Where did he go? No one knew, not even 
+Cosette. Once only, on the occasion of one of these depart* 
+ures, she had accompanied him in a backuey-coach as far as 
+a little blind-alley at the comer of which she read : Impcuse de 
+la Planchette. There he alighted, and the coach took Cosette 
+back to the Rue de Babylone. It was usually when money was 
+lacking in the house that Jean Valjean took these little trips. 
+
+So Jean Valjean was absent. He had said : ^' I shall return 
+in three days.'* 
+
+That evening, Cosette was alone in the drawing-room. In 
+order to get rid of her ennui, she had opened her piano-organ, 
+and had begun to sing, accompanying herself the while, the 
+chorus from Euryanthe: "Hunters astray in the wood!" 
+which is probably the most beautiful thing in all the sphere of 
+music. When she had finished, she remained wrapped in 
+thought. 
+
+All at once, it seemed to her that she heard the sound of 
+footsteps in the garden. 
+
+It could not be her father, he was absent ; it could not be 
+Toussaint, she was in bed, and it was ten o'clock at night. 
+
+She stepped to the shutter of the drawing-room, which was 
+closed, and laid her ear against it. 
+
+It seemed to her that it was the tread of a man, and that he 
+vas walking very softly. 
+
+She mounted rapidly to the first floor, to her own chamber, 
+opened a small wicket in her shutter, and peeped into the gar- 
+den. The moon was at the full. Everything could be seen as 
+plainly as by day. 
+
+There was no one there. 
+
+She opened the window. The garden was absolutely calm, 
+and all that was visible was that the street was deserted as 
+usual. 
+
+Cosette thought that she had been mistaken. She tliought 
+that she had heard a noise. It was a hallucination produced by 
+the melancholy and magnificent chorus of Weber, which lays 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Hag of dead branches beneath the uneasj' tread of the hunts* 
+men of whom one catches a glimpse through the twilight. 
+
+She thought no more about it. 
+
+Moreover, Cosette was not very timid by nature. There 
+flowed in her veins some of the blood of the bohemian and the 
+adventuress who runs barefoot. It will be remembered that 
+she was more of a lark than a dove. There was a foundatioo 
+of wilduess and bravery in her. 
+
+On the following day, at an earlier hour, towards uightfall. 
+she was strolling in the garden. In the midst of the ooufosed 
+thoughts which occupied her, she fancied that she caught for fto 
+instant a sound similar to that of the preceding evening, aa 
+though some one were walking beneath the trees in the dusk, 
+and not very far from her ; but she told herself that nothing so 
+closely resembles a stop on the grass as the friction of two 
+branches which have moved from side to side, and she paid no 
+heed to it. Besides, she could see nothing. 
+
+She emerged from ^^the thicket"; she had still to cross a 
+small lawn to regain the steps. 
+
+The moon, which had Just risen behind her, cast Coeettc's 
+shadow in front of her upon this lawn, as she came oat from 
+the shrubbery. 
+
+Cosette halted in alarm. 
+
+Beside her shadow, the moon outlined distinctly npon the 
+turf another shadow, which was particularly startling and terri- 
+ble, a shadow which had a round hat. 
+
+It was the shadow of a man, who must have been standing 
+on the border of the clump of shrubbery, a few paces in the rear 
+of Cosette. 
+
+She stood for a moment without the power to speak, or cry, 
+or call, or stir, or turn her head. 
+
+Then she summoned up all her courage, and turned roonii 
+resolutely. 
+
+There was no one there. 
+
+She glanced on the ground. The figure had disappeared. 
+
+She re-entered the thicket, searched the corners boldly, went 
+OS far as the gate, and found nothing. 
+
+Siie felt herself absolutely dulled with terror. Was this an- 
+other lialluci nation ? What ! Two days in succession ! One 
+iiallucination might pass, but two hallucinations? The disquiet- 
+iii«: [K>int about it was, that the shadow had assuredly not been s 
+phantom. Phantoms do not wear round bat». 
+
+
+
+SAINT'-DENJS. 101 
+
+On the following day Jean Valjean returned. Coaette told 
+him what she thought she had hean) and seen. She wanted to 
+be reassured and to sec hei father shrug his shoulders and 
+Bay to her : " You are a little goose." 
+
+Jean Valjean grew anxious. 
+
+^^ It cannot be anything," said he. 
+
+He left her under some pretext, and went into the garden, and 
+-éhe saw him examining the gate with great attention. 
+
+During the night she woke up : this time she was sure, and 
+the distinctly heard some one walking close to the flight of steps 
+beneath her window. She ran to her little wicket and opened 
+it. In point of fact, there was a man in the garden, with a 
+lai^e club in his hand. Just as she was about to scream, the 
+moon lighted up the man's profile. It was her father. She 
+returned to her bed, saying to herself: " He is very uneasy I'* 
+
+Jean Valjean passed that night and the two succeeding nights 
+in the garden. Cosette saw him through the hole in her shutter. 
+
+On the third night, the moon was on the wane and had begun 
+to rise later ; at one c^'clock in the morning, possibly, she heard 
+a loud burst of laughter and her father's voice calling her : — 
+
+" Cîosette ! '' 
+
+She jumped out of bed, threw on her dressing-gown, and 
+opened her window. 
+
+Her father was standing on the grass-plot below. 
+
+*' I have waked you for the purpose of reassuring you,*' said 
+he ; '* look, there is your shadow with the round hot.'* 
+
+And he pointed out to her on the turf a shadow cast by the 
+moon, and which did, indeed, bear considerable resemblance to 
+the spectre of a man wearing a round hat. It was the shadow 
+produced by a chimney-pipe of sheet iron, with a hood, which 
+rose above a neighboring roof. 
+
+Cosette joined in his laughter, all her lugubrious suppositions 
+were allayed, and the next morning, as she was at breakfast 
+with her father, she made merry over the sinister garden haunted 
+by the shadows of iron chimney-pots. 
+
+Jean Valjean became quite tranquil once more ; as for Cosette, 
+dhe did not pay much attention to the question whether the 
+chimney-pot was really in the direction of the shadow which she 
+had seen, or thought she had seen, and whether the moon had 
+been in the same spot in the sky. 
+
+She did not question herself as to the peculiarity of a chim- 
+ney-pot which is afraid of being causjht in the act, and which 
+retires when some one looks at its shadow, for the shadow had 
+taken the alarm when Cosette had turned round, and Cosette 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+quite vanished from her mind, whether there coald possibly lieanj 
+one walking in the garden during the evening or at night 
+A few days later, however, a fresh incident occarraL 
+
+III. — Enriched wfth Commentaries by Toussaint. 
+
+In the garden, near the railing on the street, there was i 
+stone bench, screened from the eyes of the curious by a plantatioiî 
+of yoke-elms, but which could, in case of necessity, be reaohed 
+by an arm from the outside, past the trees and the gate. 
+
+One evening during that same mouth of April, Jean Yaljean 
+had gone out ; Cosette had seated herself on this bench after 
+sundown. The breeze waa blowing briskly in the trees, Cosette 
+was meditating ; an objectless sadness was taking possession of 
+her little by little, that invincible sadness evoked by the evening, 
+and which arises, perhaps, who knows, from the mystery of the 
+tomb which is ajar at that hour. 
+
+Perhaps Fantme was within that shadow. 
+
+Cosette rose, slowly made the tour of the garden, walking on 
+the grass drenched in dew, and saying to herself, through Uie 
+species of melancholy somnambnlism in which she was plunged : 
+^^ Really, one needs wooden shoes for the garden at this ^ur 
+One takes cold/* 
+
+She returned to the bench. 
+
+As she was about to resume her seat there, she observed on 
+the spot which she had quitted, a tolerably laige stone which 
+had, evidently, not been there a moment before. 
+
+Cosette gazed at the stone, asking herself what It meant. 
+All at once the idea occuiTed to her that the stone bad uot 
+reached the bench aU by itself, that some one had placed it 
+there, that an arm had been thrust through the railing, and th\A 
+idea appeared to alarm her. This time, the fear was gennine; 
+the stone was there. No doubt was possible ; she did not tonch 
+it, fled without glancing behind her, took refuge in the house, 
+and immediately closed with shatter, bolt, and bar the door-like 
+window opening on the flight of steps. She Inquirad cî Tous- 
+saint : — 
+
+'* Has my father returned yet?'' 
+
+*' Not yet. Mademoiselle.^ 
+
+[We have already noted onoe for all the fact that TooKâiot 
+stuttered. May we be permitted to dispense witii it for the 
+fatiire. The masical notation of an infirmity is repugnant to oa* j 
+
+
+
+as I did all the rest." 
+
+She dressed herself, descended to the garden, ran to the bench, 
+and broke out in a cold perspiration. The stone was there. 
+
+But this lasted only for a moment. That which is terror bj 
+night is curiosity by day. 
+
+" Bah ! '* said she, " come, let us see what it is." 
+
+She lifted the stone, which was tolerably large. Beneath it 
+was something which resembled a letter. It was a white enve- 
+lope. Cosette seized it. There was no address on one side, no 
+seal on the other. Yet the envelope, though unsealed, was not 
+empty. Papers could be seen inside. 
+
+Cosette examined it. It was no longer alarm, it was no longer 
+curiosity ; it was a beginning of anxiety. 
+
+Cosette drew from the envelope its contents, a little note-book 
+of paper, each page of which was numbered and bore a few line* 
+in a very fine and rather pretty handwriting, as Cosette thought. 
+
+Cosette looked for a name ; there was none. To whom was 
+this addressed ? To her, probably, since a hand had deposited 
+the packet on her bench. From whom did it come? An irre- 
+sistible fascination took possession of her; she tried to turn 
+away her eyes from the leaflets which were trembling in her 
+hand, she gazed at the sky, the street, the acacias all bathed in 
+light, the pigeons fluttering over a neighboring roof, and then 
+her glance suddenly fell upon the manuscript, and she said to 
+herself that she roust know what it contained. 
+
+This is what she read. 
+
+IV. — A Heart beneath a Stone. 
+
+The reduction of the universe to a single being, the expansion 
+of a single being even to God, that is love. 
+
+Love is the salutation of the angels to the stars. 
+
+How sad is the soul, when it is sad through love Î 
+
+What a void in the absence of the being who, by herself akMW 
+fills the world ! Oh ! how true it is that the beloved being be- 
+comes God. One could comprehend that God might be jealooB 
+of this had not God the Father of all evidently made creation 
+for the soul, and the soul for love. • 
+
+
+
+soul even in this world, is impossible, even to God. God is the 
+plenitude of heaven ; love is the plenitude of man. 
+
+
+
+You look at a star for two reasons, because it is luminous, 
+and because it is impenetrable. You have beside you a sweeter 
+radiance and a greater mystery, woman. 
+
+
+
+All of us, whoever we may be, have our respirable beings 
+We lack air and we stifle. Then we die. To die for lack of 
+love is horrible. Suffocation of the soul. 
+
+
+
+When love has fused and mingled two beings in a sacred and 
+angelic unity, the secret of life has been discovered so far as 
+they are concerned ; they are no longer anything more than the 
+two boundaries of the same destiny ; they are no longer any- 
+thing but the two wings of the same spirit. Love, soar. 
+
+On the day when a woman as she passes before you emit* 
+light as she walks, you are lost, you love. But one thing re- 
+mains for you to do: to think of her so intently that she is 
+constrained to thmk of you. 
+
+What love commences can be finished by Grod alone. 
+
+True love is in despair and is enchanted over a glove lost or 
+a handkerchief found, and eternity is required for its devotion 
+and its hopes. It is composed both of the infinitely' great and 
+the infinitely little. 
+
+If you are a stone, be adamant ; if you are a plant, be the 
+sensitive plant ; if you are a man, be love. 
+
+Nothing suffices for love. We have happiness, we desire 
+paradise ; we possess paradise^ we desirç heaven. 
+
+Oh ye who love each other, all this is contained in love 
+Understand how to find it there. Love has contemplation as 
+well as heaven, and more than heaven, it has voluptuous- 
+ness. 
+
+"Does she still come to the Luxembourg?** "No, sir." 
+"This is the church where she attends mass, is it not? " *"" She 
+no longer comes here." "Does sh? still live in this boose?" 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+great. An unworthy thought can no more germinate in it, thaii 
+a nettle on a glacier. The serene and lofty soul, inaccessible 
+to vulgar passions and emotions, dominating the cloads and 
+the shades of this world, its follies, its lies, its hatreds, its van- 
+itics, its miseries, inhabits the blue of heaven, and no longer 
+feels anything but profound and subterranean shocks of destiny, 
+as the crests of mountains feel the shocks of earthquake. 
+
+
+
+If there did not exist some one who loved, the san wookl be 
+come extinct. 
+
+V, — COSETTE AFTER THE LeTTEB. 
+
+As Cosette read, she gradually fell into thought. At the 
+very moment when she raised her eyes from the last line of the 
+note-book, the handsome officer passed triumphantly in front 
+of the gate, — it was bis hour ; Cosette thought him hideous. 
+
+She resumed her contemplation of the book. It was written 
+in the most charming of chirography, thought Coeette ; in the 
+same hand, bnt with divers inks, sometimes very black, agnin 
+whitish, as when ink has been added to the inkstand, and con- 
+sequently on different days. It was, then, a mind which had 
+unfolded itself there, sigh by sigh, irr^ularly, without order. 
+without choice, without object, hap-hazard. Cosette had never 
+read anything like it. This manuscript, in which she already 
+perceived more light than obscurity, produced upon her the 
+effect of a half -open sanctuary. Kach one of these mysterious 
+lines shone before her eyes and inundated her heart with a 
+strange radiance. The education which she had received had 
+always talked to her of the soul, and never of love, very mnch 
+as one might talk of the firebrand and not of the flame. This 
+manuscript of fifteen pages suddenly and sweetly revealed to 
+her all of love, sorrow, destiny, life, eternity, the beginning, 
+the end. It was as if a hand had opened and suddenly flung 
+upon her a handful of rays of light. In these few lines she 
+felt a passionate, ardent, generous, honest nature, a sacred 
+will, an immense sorrow, and an immense despair, a suffering 
+heart, an ecstasy fully expanded. What was this manuscript? 
+A letter. A letter without name, without address, without 
+date, without signature, pressing and disinterested, an enigms 
+composed of truths, a mcBsage of love made to be brought by 
+an angel and read by a virgin, an appointment made beyond 
+
+
+
+uv;i9t?ii au V tiling. r utsiit;» ui [jaiiur pasjouu uvcr wci m^uuiic- 
+
+nance, and shivers ran through her frame. It seemed to her, at 
+intervals, that she was entering the land of chimaeras ; she said to 
+herself: "Is this realit}?" Then she felt of the dear paper 
+within her bosom under her gown, she pressed it to her heart, 
+she felt its angles against her flesh ; and if Jean Valjean bad 
+seen her at the moment, he would have shuddered in the presence 
+of that luminous and unknown joy, which overflowed from 
+beneath her eyelids. — '* Oh yes ! " she thought, *' it is certainly 
+he ! This comes from him, and is for me ! " 
+
+And she told herself that an intervention of the angels, a 
+celestial chance, had given him back to her. 
+
+Oh transfiguration of love ! Oh dreams ! That celestial 
+chance, that intervention of the angels, W8S a pellet of bread 
+tossed by one thief to another thief, from the Charlemagne 
+CJourtyard to the Lion's Ditch, over the roofs of La Force. 
+
+
+
+VI, — Old People are made to go out opportunely. 
+
+When evening came, Jean Valjean went out ; Cosette dressed 
+herself. She arranged her hair in the most becoming manner, 
+and she put on a dress whose bodice had received one snip of 
+the scissors too much, and which, through this slope permitted 
+a view of the beginning of her throat, and was, as young girls 
+say, " a trifle indecent. " It was not in the least indecent, but 
+it was prettier than usual. She made her toilet thus without 
+knowing why she did so. 
+
+Did she mean to go out? No. 
+
+Was she expecting a visitor? No. 
+
+At dusk, she went down to the garden. Toussaint was basy 
+fix her kitchen, which opened on the back yard. 
+
+She began to stroll about under the trees, thrusting aside the 
+branches from time to time with her hand, because there were 
+some which hung very low. 
+
+In this manner she reached the bench. 
+
+The stone was still there. 
+
+She sat down, and gently laid her white hand on this stone as 
+though she wished to caress and thank it. 
+
+All at once, she experienced that indefinable impression whidÉ 
+one undergoes, when there is some one standing behind one, 
+even when she does not see the person. 
+
+She turned her head and rose to her feet. 
+
+It was he. 
+
+
+
+\ 
+
+
+
+He grasped her, she fell, he took her in his anus, be pressed 
+lier close without knowing what he was doing. He supported 
+her, though he was tottering himself. It was as though his 
+brain were full of smoke ; liglitnings darted between his lips ; 
+his ideas vanished ; it seemed to him that he was accomplishing 
+some religious act, and that he was committing a profanation. 
+Moreover, he had not the least passion for this lovely woman 
+whose force he felt against his breast. He was beside himself 
+with love. 
+
+She took his hand and laid it on her heart. He felt tiie 
+paper there, he stammered : — 
+
+'' You love me, then?" 
+
+She replied in a voice so low that it was no longer anythuig 
+more than a barely audible breath : — 
+
+*' Hush ! Thou knowest it ! " 
+
+And she hid her blushing face on the breast of the superb 
+and intoxicated young man. 
+
+He fell upon the bench, and she beside him. They had no 
+words more. The stars were beginning to gleam. How did it 
+come to pass that their lips met? How comes it to pass that 
+the birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that May 
+expands, that the dawn grows white behind the black trees on 
+the shivering crest of the hills? 
+
+A kiss, and that was all. 
+
+Both started, and gazed into the darkness with sparkUng 
+eyes. 
+
+They felt neither the cool night, nor the cold stone, nor the 
+damp earth, nor the wet grass ; they looked at each other, and 
+their hearts were full of thoughts. They had clasped hands 
+unconsciously. 
+
+She did not ask him, she did not even wonder, how he had 
+entered there, and how he had made his way into the garden. 
+It seemed so simple to her that he should be there ! 
+
+From time to time, Marius' knee touched Cosette's knee, and 
+i)oth shivered. 
+
+At intervals, Cosette stammered a word. Her soul fluttered 
+on her lips like a drop of dew on a flower. 
+
+Little by little they began to talk to each other. Effusion 
+followed silence, which is fulness. The night was serene and 
+splendid overhead. These two beings, pure as spirits, told eoth 
+other everything, their dreams, their intoxications, their ecsta- 
+sies, their chimaeras, their weaknesses, how they had adored each 
+
+
+
+
+Let U8 explain how the Thénardiers liad succeeded in getting 
+rid of their last two children ; and even in drawing profit from 
+the operation. 
+
+The woman Magnon, who was mentioned a few pages further 
+back, was the same one who had succeeded in making old Gille- 
+Dormand support the two children which she had had. Sht 
+lived on the Quai des Célestins, at the corner of this ancient 
+street of the Petit-Musc which afforded her the opportunity 
+of changing her evil repute into good odor. The reader 
+will remember the great epidemic of croup which ravaged the 
+river districts of the Seine in Paris thirty-five years i^o, and of 
+which science took advantage to make experiments on a grand 
+scale as to the efficacy of inhalations of alum, so beneficially 
+replaced at the present day by the external tincture of iodine. 
+During this epidemic, the Magnon lost both her bo3*s, who 
+were still very young, one in the morning, the other in the 
+evening of the same day. This was a blow. These children 
+were precious to their mother ; they represented eighty francs 
+a mouth. These eighty francs were punctually paid in the 
+name of M. Gillenormand, by collector of his rents, M. Barge, 
+a retired tip-staff, in the Rue du Roi-de-Sicile. The children 
+dead, the income was at an end. The Magnon sought an expe- 
+dient. In that dark free-masonr}' of evil of which she formed a 
+part, everything is known, all secrets are kept, and all lend 
+mutual aid. Magnon needed two children ; the Thénardiers had 
+two. The same sex, the same age. A good arrangement for 
+the one, a good investment for the other. The little Thénardiers 
+became little Magnons. Magnon quitted the Quai des Célestins 
+and went to live in the Rue Clocheperce. In Paris, the identity 
+which binds an individual to himself is broken between one 
+street and another. 
+
+The registry office being in no way warned, raised no objec- 
+aons, and the substitution was effected in the most simple man- 
+ner in the world. Only, the Théuardier exacted for this loan 
+of her children, ten francs a month, which Magnon promised 
+to [)ay, and which she actually did pay. It is unnecessary to 
+add that M. Gillenormand continued to perform his compact. 
+He came to see the children every six months. He did not 
+perceive the change. '' Monsieur," Magnon said to him, 
+*' how much they resemble you ! " 
+
+Thénardier, to whom avatars were easy, seized this occasion 
+to become Jondrette. His two daughters and Gavroche had 
+
+
+
+I 
+
+
+
+and occult counter-society which pursues its existence beneath 
+public society ; an adventure of this description entails all sorti 
+of catastrophes in that sombre world. The Thénardier catas* 
+trophe involved the catastrophe of Magnon. 
+
+One day, a short time after Magnon had handed to Êponine 
+the note relating to the Rue Plumet, a sudden raid was made 
+by the police in the Rue Glocheperce ; Magnon was seized, as 
+was also Mamselle Miss ; and all the inhabitants of the house, 
+which was of a suspicious character, were gathered into the 
+net. AVhile this was going on, the two little boys were playing 
+in the back yard, and saw nothing of the raid. When they 
+tried to enter the house again, they foimd the door fastened and 
+the house empty. A cobbler opposite called them to him, and 
+delivered to them a paper which " their mother " had left for 
+them. On this paper there was an address : 3f. Barge^ œllector 
+of rents. Rue du Boi-de-Sicilej No. 8. The proprietor of the 
+stall said to them : << You cannot live here any longer. Go 
+there. It is near by. The first street on the left. Ask your 
+way from this paper." 
+
+The children set out, the elder leading the younger, and hold- 
+ing in his hand the paper which was to guide them. It was 
+cold, and his benumbed little fingers could not close very 
+firmly, and they did not keep a very good hold on the paper. 
+At the corner of the Rue Clocheperce, a gust of wind tore it 
+from him, and as night was falling, the child was not able to 
+find it again. 
+
+They began to wander aimlessly through the streets. 
+
+
+
+n.— Ik which Little Gavroche extracts Profit from 
+Napoleon the Great. 
+
+SpRmo in Paris is often traversed by harsh and piercing 
+breezes which do not precisely chill but freeze one; these north 
+winds which sadden the most beautiful days produce exactly 
+the effect of those puffs of cold air which enter a warm room 
+through the cracks of a badly fitting door or window. It seems 
+as though the gloomy door of winter had remained ajar, and as 
+though the wind were pouring through it. In the spring of 1832, 
+the epoch when the first great epidemic of this century bn^ke 
+out in Europe, these north gales were more harsh and piercing 
+than ever. It was a door even more glacial than that of wintei 
+
+
+
+cold. The barber wheeled round with a furious look, and with- 
+out abandoning his razor, thrust back the elder with his loft 
+hand and the younger with his knee, and slammed his door, say- 
+iug : "The idea of coming in and freezing everybody for 
+nothing ! " 
+
+The two children resumed their march in tears. In the mean 
+time, a cloud had risen ; it had begun to rain. 
+
+Little Gavroche ran after them and accosted them : — 
+
+" What's the matter with you, brats?" 
+
+** We don't know where we are to sleep," replied the elder. 
+
+** Is that all?" said Gavroche. »'A great matter, truly. 
+The idea of bawling about that. They must l>e greenies ! " 
+
+Aud adopting, in addition to his superiority, which was rather 
+bantering, an accent of tender authority and gentle patron- 
+age:— 
+
+" Come along with me, young 'uns ! " 
+
+" Yes, sir," said the elder. 
+
+And the two children followed him as they would have fol- 
+lowed an archbishop. They had stopped crying. 
+
+Gavroche led them up the Rue Saint- Antoine in the direction 
+of the Bastille. 
+
+As Gavroche walked along, he cast an indignant backward 
+glance at the barber's shop. 
+
+*'That fellow has no heart, the whiting,"^ he muttered. 
+** He's an Englishman." 
+
+A woman who caught sight of these three marching in a file, 
+with Gavroche at their head, burst into noisy laughter. This 
+laugh was wanting in respect towards the group. 
+
+'" Good day, Mamselle Omnibus," said Gavroche to her. 
+
+An instant later, the wig-maker occurred to his mind onoe 
+more, and he added : — 
+
+" I am making a mistake in the beast; he's not a whitingi 
+he's a serpent. Barber, I'll go and fetch a locksmith, and Til 
+have a bell hung to your tail." 
+
+This wig-maker had rendered him aggressive. As he strode 
+over a gutter, he apostrophized a bearded portress who was 
+worthy to meet Faust on the Brocken, and who had a broom in 
+her hand. 
+
+*' Madam," said hé, ** so you are going out with your horse?** 
+
+1 Merlan : a sobriquet given to hairdressers because they are white witk 
+powder 
+
+
+
+'^ Excuse lis, sir, we have a papa aud a mammai but we don't 
+know where they are." 
+
+^^ Sometimes that's better than knowing where thej are/'aaid 
+Gavroche, who was a thinker. 
+
+"We have been wandering about these two hours," continued 
+the elder, "we have hunted for things at the corners of the 
+streets, but we have found nothing." 
+
+"I know/' ejaculated Gavroche» "it's the doga who eat 
+ever}' thing." 
+
+He went on, after a pause : — 
+
+"Ah ! we have lost our authors. We don't know what we 
+have done with them. This should not be, gamins. It's stupid 
+to let old people stray off like that. Come now ! we must have 
+a snooze all the same." 
+
+However, he asked them no questions. What was more 
+simple than that they should have no dwelling-place ! 
+
+The elder of the two children, who iiad almost entirely recov- 
+ered the prompt heedlessness of childhood, uttered this excla- 
+mation : — 
+
+" It's queer, all the same. Mamma uold us that she would 
+take us to get a blessed spray on Palm Sunday." 
+
+" Bosh," said Gavroche. 
+
+" Mamma," resumed the elder, " is a lady who lives witL 
+Mamselle Miss." 
+
+" Tanflûte ! " retorted Gavroche. 
+
+Meanwhile he had halted, and for the last two minutes, he 
+bad been feeling and fumbling in all sorts of nooks which bis 
+rags contained. 
+
+At last he tossed his head with an air intended to be merely 
+satisfied, but which was tiiuuiphant, in reality. 
+
+" Let us be calm, young 'uns. Here's supper for three." 
+
+And from oue of his pockets he drew forth a sou. 
+
+Without allowing the two urchins time for amazement, be 
+pushed both of them before him into the bakei's shop, and 
+flung his sou on the counter, crying: — 
+
+"Boy ! five centimes' worth of bread." 
+
+The baker, who was the proprietor in person, took up a kat 
+and a knife. 
+
+" In three pieces, my boy ! " went on Gavroche, 
+
+And he ad(led with dignity : — 
+
+*' There are three of us." 
+
+And seeing that the baker, after scrutinizing the three eus 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 121 
+
+tomers had taken down a black loaf, he thrast his fioger far ap 
+ais» nose with an inhalation as imperious as though he had had 
+a pinch of the great Frederick's snuff on the tip of his thurab, 
+and hurled this indignant apostrophe full in the baker's face : — 
+
+"Keksekça?" 
+
+Those of our readers who might be tempted to espy in this 
+Interpellation of Gavroche's to the baker a Russian or a Polish 
+word, or one of tliose savage cries which the Yowa3*s and the 
+Botoeudos hurl at each other from baqk to bank of a river, 
+athwart the solitudes, are warned that it is a word which they 
+[our readers] utter every day, and which takes the place of the 
+phrase: "Qu'est-ce que c'est que cela?" The baker under- 
+stood perfectly, and replied : — 
+
+^^Well! It's bread, and very good bread of the second 
+qoality." 
+
+*' You mean larton brutal [black bread] ! " retorted Gavroche, 
+calmlj' and coldly disdainful. " White bread, boy ! white bread 
+\laHon savonné'] ! I'm standing treat." 
+
+The baker could not repress a smile, and as he cut the white 
+bread, he surveyed them in a compassionate way which shocked 
+Gavroche. 
+
+** Come now, baker's boy I " said he^ *' what are you taking 
+our measure like that for ? " 
+
+All three of them placed end to end would have hardly made 
+a measure. 
+
+When the bread was cut, the baker threw the sou into hia 
+drawer, and Gavroche said to the two children : — 
+
+"^Grub away/' 
+
+The little boys stared at him in surprise. 
+
+Gavroche liegan to laugh. 
+
+^^ Ah! hullo, that's so! they don't understand yet, they're 
+^oo small." 
+
+And he repeated : — 
+
+^ Eat away." 
+
+At the same time, he held out a piece of bread to each of 
+ihem. 
+
+And thinking that the elder, who seemed to him the more 
+srorth}' of his conversation, deserved some special encîourage- 
+ment and ought to be relieved from all hesitation to satisfy- his 
+appetite, he added, as he handed him the largest share : — 
+
+'' Ram that into your muzzle." 
+
+One piece was smaller than tlie others; he kept this for 
+himself. 
+
+The poor children, including Gavroche, were famished. As 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+122 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Aey tore their bread apart in big mouthfuls, they blocked o( 
+the sliop of the baker, who, dow that they had paid their monej: 
+looked angrily at them. 
+
+^^ Let's go into the street again," eaid Gavroche. 
+
+They set off ooce more in the direction of the Bastille. 
+
+From time to time, as they passed the lighted 8bop-window6, 
+the smallest halted to look at the time on a leaden watch which 
+was 8ust)ended from his neck by a cord. 
+
+** Well, he is a very green 'un," said Gavroche. 
+
+Then, becoming thoughtful, he muttered between his teeth : — 
+
+^' All the same, if I had charge of the babes I'd lock 'em up 
+better than that." 
+
+Just as they were finishing their morsel of bread, and had 
+reached the angle of that gloomy Rue des Ballets, at the other 
+end of which the low and threatening wicket of La Force wu 
+visible : — 
+
+'* Hullo, is that you, Gavroche? " said some one. 
+
+*^ Hullo, is that you, Montfnirnasse ? " said Gavroche. 
+
+A man had Just accosted the street urchin, and the man wa:^ 
+no other than Montparnasse in disguise, with blue spectacles, 
+but recognizable to Gavroche. 
+
+'*The bow-wows!" went on Gavroche, "you've got a hide 
+the color of a linseed plaster, and blue S|)ec8 like a doctor. 
+You're putting on style, 'pon my word ! " 
+
+" Hush !" ejaculated Montparnasse, ** not so loud." 
+
+And he drew Gavroche hastily out of range of the lighted 
+shops. 
+
+The two little ones followed mechanically, holding each other 
+by the hand. 
+
+WIicMi they were ensconced under the arch of a porte-cochere, 
+sheltered from tlie rain and from all eyes : — 
+
+" Do you know where I'm going? " demanded Montparnasse 
+
+'* To the Abbey of Ascend- with-Regret," * replied Gavroche 
+
+** Joker ! " 
+
+And Montparnasse went on : — 
+
+*' Vm going to find Babet." 
+
+** Ah ! " exclaimed Gavroche, »* so her name is Babet.** 
+
+Montparnasse lowered his voice : — 
+
+" Not she, he." 
+
+"Ah! Babet." 
+
+" Yes, Babet." 
+
+** I thought he was buckled." 
+
+"He has undone the buckle," replied Montparnasse. 
+1 The scaffold. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 12S 
+
+And he rapidly related to the gainin how, on the morning of 
+that very day, Babet, having been transferred to La Concier- 
+gerie, had made his escape, by turning to the left instead of to 
+the right in " the police office." 
+
+Gavroche expressed his admiration for this skill. 
+
+" What a dentist 1 " he cried. 
+
+Montparnasse added a few details as to Babet's flight, and 
+ended with : — 
+
+" Oh ! That's not all." 
+
+Gavroche, as he listened, had seized a oane that Montpar- 
+nasse held in his hand, and mechanically pulled at the upper 
+part, and the blade of a dagger made its appearance. 
+
+''Ah!" he exclaimed, pushing the dagger back in haste, 
+*^ you have brought along your gendarme disguised as a bour- 
+geois." 
+
+Montparnasse winked. 
+
+'* The deuce ! " resumed Gavroche, " so you're going to have 
+X bout with the bobbies ? " 
+
+'* You can't tell," replied Montparnasse with an indifferent 
+AÎr. " It's always a good thing to have a pin about one." 
+
+Gavroche persisted : — 
+
+** What are you up to to-night?" 
+
+Again Montparnasse took a grave tone, and said, mouthing 
+avery syllable : *' Things." 
+
+And abruptly changing the conversation : — 
+
+*'Bv the way!" 
+
+*'What!" 
+
+*' Something happened t'other day. Fancy. I meet a bour- 
+geois. He makes me a present of a sermon and his purse. I 
+put it in my pocket. A minute later, 1 feel in my pocket. 
+There's nothing there." 
+
+*' Except the sermon," said Gavroche. 
+
+** But you," went oh Montparnasse, "where are you bound 
+for now?" 
+
+Gavroche pointed to his two protégés, and said : — 
+
+** I'm going to put these infants to bed." 
+
+'* Whereabouts is the bed?" 
+
+*♦ At ray house." 
+
+** Where's your house?" 
+
+*' At my house." 
+
+** So you have a lodging?" 
+
+" Yes, I have." 
+
+** And when» is your lodging'** 
+
+*' In the elephant," said Gavroche. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+124 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Montparnasse, though not naturallj inclined to astonishment, 
+could not restrain an exclamation. 
+
+'*In the elephant !" 
+
+*' Well, yes, in the elephant !" retorted Gavroche. "Kek- 
+çaaî'' 
+
+This is another word of the language which no one writes. 
+and whieli every one speaks. 
+
+Kekçaa sij^nifies : (Qu'est que c*est que cela a? [Whafs the 
+matter with that?] 
+
+Tiie urchiu*8 profound remark recalled Montparnasse to cahn- 
+ness and good sense. He appeared to return to better senti- 
+ments with regard to Gavroche's loilging. 
+
+^^ Of course/* said he, ^^ yes, the elephant. Is it comfortabk 
+there?" 
+
+''Very," said Gavroche. **It's really bully there. There 
+ain't any draughts, as there are under the biidges." 
+
+** How do you get in ? ** 
+
+*' Oh, I get in." 
+
+'^So there is a hole?" demanded Montparnasse. 
+
+*' Parbleu ! I should say so. But you mustn't tell. It's 
+between the fore legs. The bobbies haven't seen it." 
+
+** And you climb up? Yes, I understand." 
+
+^' A turn of the hand, eric, crac, and it's all over, no one 
+there." 
+
+After a pause. Gavroche added : — 
+
+" I shall have a ladder for these children." 
+
+Montparnasse burst out laugliing : — 
+
+'* Where the devil did you pick up those young 'nns?" 
+
+Gavroche replied with great. simplicity : — 
+
+'' They are some brats that a wig-maker made me a present 
+of." 
+
+Meanwhile, Montparnasse had fallen to thinking : — 
+
+" You recognized me very readily," he muttered. 
+
+He took from his pocket two small objects which were noth- 
+ing more than two quills wrapped in cotton, and thrust one up 
+each of his nostrils. This gave him a different nose. 
+
+•"That changes you," remarked Gavroche, ''you are less 
+homely so, you ought to keep them on all the time." 
+
+Montparnasse was a handsome fellow, but Gavroche was a 
+tease. 
+
+''Seriously," demanded Montparnasse, " how do you like me 
+
+
+
+so 
+
+
+
+?" 
+
+
+
+The sound of his voice was different also. In a twinklingi 
+Montparnasse had become unrecognizable. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
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+
+SAINT-^DENIS. 125 
+
+** Oh ! Do pUy Porrichinelle for us ! " exclaimed Gavroche. 
+
+The two children, who had not been listening up to this point, 
+being occupied themselves in thrusting their fingers up tbebr 
+noses, drew near at this name, and stared at Montparnasse with 
+dawning joy and admiration. 
+
+Unfortunately, Montparnasse was troubled. 
+
+He laid his hand on Gavroche*s shoulder, and said to him, 
+emphasizing his words: " Listen to what I tell you, boy ! if 1 
+were on the square with my dog, my knife, and ray wife, and if 
+you were to squander ten sous on me, I wouldn't refuse to work, 
+but this isn't Shrove Tuesday." 
+
+This odd phrase produced a singular effect on the gamin. 
+He wheeled round hastily, darted his little sparkling eyes about 
+him with profound attention, and perceived a police sergeant 
+standing with his back to them a few paces off. Gavroche 
+allowed an: '*Ah! good!" to escape him, but immediately 
+suppressed it, and shaking Montparnasse's hand : — 
+
+*' Well, good evening," saiil he, ''I'm going off to my ele- 
+phant with my brats. Supposing that you should need me some 
+night, you can come and hunt me up there. I lodge on the en- 
+tresol. " There is no porter. You will inquire for Monsieur 
+Gavroche." 
+
+"Very good," said Montparnasse. 
+
+And they parted, Montparnasse betaking himself in the direc- 
+tion of the Grève, and Gavroche towards the Bastille. The 
+little one of five, dragged along by his brother who was dragged 
+by Gavroche, turned his heîid back several times to watch 
+" Porrichinelle" as he went. 
+
+The ambiguous phrase by means of which Montparnasse had 
+warned Gavroche of the presence of the policeman, contained 
+no other talisman than the assonance dig repeated five or six 
+times in different forms. This syllable, dig^ uttered alone or 
+artistically mingled with the words of a phrase, means : '^Take 
+care, we can no longer talk freely." There was besides, in Mont- 
+parnasse's sentence, a literary beauty which was lost upon 
+Gavroche, that is mon dogue^ ma dague et ma digue, a slang 
+expression of the Temple, which signifies my dog, my knife, 
+and my wife, greatly in vogue among clowns and the red-tails 
+in the great century when Molière wrote and Callot drew. 
+
+Twent3* years ago, there was still to be seen in the sout!iwest 
+corner of the Place de la Bastille, near the basin of the canal, 
+excavated in the ancient ditch of the fortress-prison, a singular 
+monument, whj^^h has already been effaced from the memories 
+of Parisians, and which deserved to leave some trace, for it was 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+126 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+the idea of a '' member of the Institute, the General-in-chief d 
+the army of Egypt." 
+
+We say moDument, although it was only a rough model. But 
+this model itself, a marvellous sketch, the grandiose skeleton of 
+an idea of Na(X)leon*8, which successive gusts of wind have car- 
+ried away and thrown, on each occasion, still further from us, 
+had become historical and had acquired a certain definiteness 
+which contrasted with its provisional aspect. It was an elephant 
+forty feet high, constructed of timber and masonry, bearing on 
+its back a tower which resembled a house, formerly painted 
+green by some dauber, and now painted black by heaven, the 
+wind, and time. In this deserted and unprotected comer of the 
+place, the broad brow of the colossus, his trunk, his tusks, his 
+tower, his enormous crupper, his four feet, like columns pro- 
+duced, at night, under the starry heavens, a surprising and terri- 
+ble form. It was a sort of symbol of popular force. It was 
+sombre, mysterious, and immense. It was some mighty, visible 
+phantom, one knew not what, standing erect beside the invisi^ 
+ble spectre of the Bastille. 
+
+Few strangers visited this edifice, no passer-by looked at it 
+It was falling into ruins; every season, the plastei which de- 
+tached itself from its sides formed hideous wounds upon it 
+'^The flediles,'* as the expression ran in elegant dialect, bad 
+forgotten it ever since 1814. There it stood in its corner, 
+melancholy, sick, crumbling, surrounded by a rotten palisade, 
+soiled continually by drunken coachmen; cracks meandered 
+athwart its belly, a lath projected from its tail, tall grass flour- 
+ished between its legs ; and, as the level of the place had been 
+rising all around it for a space of thirty years, by that slow and 
+continuous movement which insensibly elevates the soil of large 
+towns, it stood in a hollow, and it looked as though the ground 
+were giving way beneath it. It was unclean, despised, repulsive, 
+and superb, ugly in the eyes of the bourgeois, melancholy in the 
+eyes of the thinker. There was something about it of the dirt 
+which is on the point of being swept out, and something of the 
+majesty which is on the point of being decapitated. As we have 
+said, at night, its aspect changed. Night is the real element 
+of everything that is dark. As soon as twilight descended, the 
+old elephant became transfigured ; he assumed a tranquil and 
+redoubtable appearance in the formidable serenity of the shadows. 
+Being of the i)ast, he belonged to night ; and obscurity was in 
+keeping with his grandeur. 
+
+This rough, squat, heavy, hard, austere, almost mis-shapen, 
+but assuredly majestic monument, stamped with a sort of mag- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+SAINT^DENIS. 1» 
+
+• 
+Qtficent and savage gravity, has disappeared, and left to reign 
+in peace, a sort of gigantic stove, ornamented with its pipe, 
+which has replaced the sombre forti-ess with its nine towers, 
+very much as the boui:geoisie replaces the feudal classes. It is 
+quite natural tliat a stove should be the symbol of an epoch in 
+which a pot contains power. This epoch will pass away, peo- 
+ple have already begun to understand that, if there can be force 
+in a boiler, there can be no force except in the brain ; in other 
+words, that which leads and drags on the world, is not locomo- 
+tives, but ideas. Harness locomotives to ideas, — that is well 
+done ; but do not mistake the horse for the rider. 
+
+At all events, to return to the Place de la Bastille, the archi- 
+tect of this elephant succeeded in making a grand thing out of 
+plaster ; the architect of the stove has succeeded in making a 
+pretty thing out of bronze. 
+
+This stove-pipe, which has been baptized by a sonorous name, 
+and called the column of July, this monument of a revolution 
+tliat miscarried, was still enveloped in 1832, in an immense 
+shirt of woodwork, which we regret, for our part, and by a vast 
+plank enclosure^ which completed the task of isolating the elephant 
+
+It was towards this corner of the place, dimly lighted by the 
+reflection of a distant street lamp, that the gamin guided his two 
+•brats." 
+
+Tlie reader must permit us to interrupt ourselves here and to 
+remind him that we are dealing with simple reality, and that 
+twenty years ago, the tribunals were ciiUed upon to judge, under 
+the chaise of vagabondage, and mutilation of a public monu- 
+ment, a child who had been caught asleep in this very elephant 
+of the Bastille. This fact noted, we proceed. 
+
+On arriving in the vicinity of the colossus, Gavroche compre- 
+hended the effect which the infinitely great might produce on the 
+infinitely small, and said : — 
+
+*' Don't be scared, infants." 
+
+Then he entered through a gap in the fence into the elephant's 
+anclosure and helped the young ones to clamber through the 
+breach. The two children, somewhat frightened, followed Gav- 
+roche without uttering a word, and confided themselves to this 
+little Providence in rags which had given them bread and had 
+promised them a shelter. 
+
+There, extended along the fence, lay a ladder which by day 
+served the laborers in the neighboring timber-yard. Gavroche 
+raised it with remarkable vigor, and placed it against one of the 
+elephant's forelegs. Near the point where the ladder ended, a sort 
+of black hole in the belly of the colossus could be distinguished 
+
+
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+128 IBS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Gavroche pointed oat the ladder and the hole to his gneil». 
+
+and said to them : — 
+
+^^ Climb up and go in/' 
+
+The two little boys exchanged terrified glances. 
+
+'^ You're afraid, brats I'' exclaimed Gravroche. 
+
+And he added : — 
+
+"You shall seel" 
+
+He clasped the rough leg of the elephant, and in a twinkling, 
+without deigning to make use of the ladder, he had reached the 
+aperture. He entered it as an adder slips through a creTioG, 
+and disappeared within, and an instant later, the two children 
+saw his head, which looked pale, appear vaguely, on the edge 
+of the shadowy hole, like a wan and whitish spectre. 
+
+'' Well I " he exclaimed, '* climb up, young 'uns ! Yoa'U see 
+how snug it is here ! Come up, you I " he said to the elder, 
+♦' I'll lend you a hand." 
+
+The little fellows nudged each other, the gamin frightened 
+and inspired them with confidence at one and the same time, 
+and then, it was raining very hard. The elder one undertook 
+the risk. The younger, on seeing his brother climbing up, and 
+himself left alone between the paws of this huge beast, felt 
+greatly inclined to cry, but he did not dare. 
+
+The elder lad climbed, with uncertain steps, up the rungs of 
+the laddei ; Gavroche, in the meanwhile, encouraging him witb 
+exclamations like a fencing-master to his pupils, or a muleteer 
+to his mules. 
+
+*' Don't be afraid I — That's it ! — Come on ! — Put your feet 
+there I — Give us your hand here ! — Boldly ! " 
+
+And when the child was within reach, he seized him suddenly 
+and vigorouslv bv the arm and pulled him towards him. 
+
+'• Nabbed 1" said he. 
+
+The brat had passed through the crack. 
+
+" Now," said Gavroche, " wait for me. Be so good as to 
+take a seat, Monsieur." 
+
+And making his wa}' out of the hole as he had entered it, he 
+slipped down the elephant's leg witli the agility of a monke}'. 
+landed on his feet in the grass, grasped the child of five round 
+the body, and planted him fairly in the middle of the ladder 
+then he began to climb up behind him, shouting to the elder: — 
+
+"I'm going to boost him, do you tug." 
+
+And in another instant, the small lad was pushed, dragged, 
+pulled, thrust, stuffed into the hole, before he had time to re- 
+cover himself, and Gavroche, entering behind him, and repulsing 
+
+
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+. SÂJNT-^DEm& 129 
+
+me iadder with a kick which sent it flat on the grass^ began to 
+clap his hands and to cry : — 
+
+" Here we are ! Long live General Lafayette 1 *• 
+
+This explosion over, he added : — 
+
+'*Now, young *iins, you are in my house/* 
+
+Gavroche was at home, in fact. 
+
+Oh, unforeseen utility of the useless! Charity of great 
+things ! Goodness of giants ! Tliis huge monument, which 
+had embodied an idea of the Emperor's had become the box of 
+a street urchin. The brat had been accepted and sheltered by 
+the colossus. Tlie bourgeois decked out in their Sunday finery 
+who passed the elephaiit of the Bastille, were fond of saying as 
+they scanned it disdainf jlly with their prominent eyes : " What's 
+the good of that?" Zt served to save from the cold, the frost, 
+tbe hail, and rain, to shelter from the winds of winter, to pre- 
+sci've from slumber in the mud which produces fever, and from 
+slumber in the snow which produces death, a little being wlio 
+bad no father, no mother, no bread, no clothes, no refuge. It 
+served to receive the innocent whom society repulsed. It 
+served to diminish public crime. It was a lair open to one 
+against whom all doors were shut. It seemed as though the 
+miserable old mastodon, invaded by vermin and oblivion, cov- 
+ered with warts, with mould, and ulcers, tottering, worm-eaten, 
+abandoned, condemned, a sort of mendicant colossus, asking 
+alms in vain with a benevolent look in the midst of the cross- 
+roads, had taken pity on that other mendicant, the poor pygmy, 
+who roamed without shoes to his feet, without a roof ovet his 
+head, blowing on his fingers, clad in rags, fed on rejected 
+scraps. That was what the elephant of the Bastille was good 
+for. This idea of Napoleon, disdained by men, had been taken 
+back by God. That which had been merely illustrious, had 
+become august. In order to realize his thought, the Emperor 
+should have had porphyry, brass, iron, gold, marble ; the old 
+collection of planks, beams, and plaster sufficed for God. The 
+Emperor had had the dream of a genius ; in that Titanic ele 
+phant, armed, prodigious, with trunk uplifted, bearing its 
+V)wer, and scattering on all sides its merry and vivifying 
+waters, he wished to incarnate the people. God had done a 
+grander thing with it, he had lodged a child there. 
+
+The hole through which Gavroche had entered was a breach 
+which was hardly visible from the outside, being concealed^ as 
+we have stated, beneath the elephant's belly, and so narrow 
+that it was only cats and homeless children who could pass 
+through it. 
+
+
+
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+130 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+^' Let's begin," said Gavroche, ** by telling the porter that 
+we are not at home." 
+
+And plungiug into the darkness with the assurance of a per- 
+son who is well acquainted with his apartments, he took a plaok 
+and stopped up the aperture. 
+
+Again Gavroche plunged into the obscurit}'. The children 
+heard the crackling of the match thrust into the phosphoric 
+bottle. The chemical match was not vet in existence ; at that 
+epoch, the Fumade steel represented progress. 
+
+A sudden light made them blink ; Gavroche had just managed 
+to ignite one of those bits of cord dipped in resin which are 
+called cellar rats. The ceUar raJt^ which emitted more smoke 
+than light, rendered the interior of the elephant confusedly 
+visible. 
+
+Gavroche's two guests glanced about them, and the sensation 
+which they experienced was something like that which one 
+would feel if shut up in the great tun of Heidelberg, or, better 
+still, like what Jonah must have felt in the biblical belly of the 
+whale. An entire and gigantic skeleton appeared enveloping 
+them. Above, a long brown beam, whence started at regular 
+distances, massive, arching ribs, represented the vertebral col- 
+umn with its sides, stalactites of plaster depended fix>m them 
+like entrails, and vast spiders' webs stretching from side to side, 
+formed dirty diaphragms. Here and there, in the corners, were 
+visible large blackish spots which had the appearance of being 
+alive, and which changed places rapidly with an abrupt and 
+frightened movement. 
+
+Fragments which had fallen from the elephant's back into bis 
+belly had filled up the cavity, so that it was possible to walk 
+u(x>n it as on a floor. 
+
+The smaller child nestled up against his brother and whis- 
+pered to him : — 
+
+'' It's black." 
+
+This remark drew an exclamation from Gavroche. The pet- 
+rified air of the two brats rendered some shock necessary. 
+
+*' What's that you're gabbling about there?" he exclaimed. 
+'^Are you scoffing at me? Are you turning up your noses? 
+Do you want the Tuileries? Are you brutes? Come, say! 
+I warn you that I don't belong to the regiment of simpletons. 
+Ah, come now, are you brats from the Pope's establishment?'* 
+
+A little rousjhness is goml in cases of fear. It is reassuring. 
+The two children drew close to Gavroche. 
+
+Gavroche, paternally touched by this confidence, passed from 
+grave to gentle, and addressing the smaller : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+SAINT^DENIS. 181 
+
+*^ Stapid," said he, accenting the insulting word, with a caress- 
+ing intonation, ^^ it's outside that it is black. Outside it's 
+raining, here it does not rain ; outside it's cold, here there's not 
+an atom of wind ; outside there are heaps of people, here there's 
+no one ; outside there ain't even the moon, here there's my can- 
+dle, confound it!" 
+
+The two children began to look upon the apartment with less 
+terror; but Gavroche allowed them no more time for con- 
+templation. 
+
+*' Quick," said he. 
+
+And he pushed them towards what we are very glad to be able 
+to call the end of tlie room. 
+
+There stood his bed. 
+
+Gavroche's bed was complete ; that is to say, it had a mat- 
+tress, a blanket, and an alcove with curtains. 
+
+The mattress was a straw mat, the blanket a rather large 
+strip of gray woollen stuff, very warm and almost new. This 
+is what the alcove consisted of : — 
+
+Three rather long poles, thrust into and consolidated with the 
+rubbish which formed the floor, that is to say, the belly of the 
+elephant, two in front and one behind, and united by a rope at 
+their summits, so as to form a pyramidal bundle. This cluster 
+supported a trellis-work of brass wire which was simply placed 
+upon it, but artistically applied, and held by fastenings of iron 
+wire, so that it enveloped all three poles. A row of very heavy 
+stones kept this network down to the floor so that nothing could 
+pass under it. This grating was nothing else than a piece of 
+the brass screens with which aviaries are covered in menageries. 
+Gavroche's bed stood as in a cage, behind this net. The whole 
+resembled an Esquimaux tent. 
+
+This trellis-work took the place of curtains. 
+
+Gavroche moved aside the stones which fastened the net down 
+in front, and the two folds of the net which lapped over each 
+other fell apart. 
+
+" Down on all fours, brats ! " said Gavroche. 
+
+He made his guests enter the cage with great precaution, 
+then he crawled in after them, pulled the stones together, and 
+closed the opening hermetically again. 
+
+All three had stretched out on the mat. Gavroche still had ' 
+the cdlar rat in his hand. 
+
+'* Now," said he, '' go to sleep! I'm going to suppress the 
+candelabra." 
+
+''Monsieur," the elder of the brothers asked Gavroche, 
+pointing to the netting, '^what's that for?" 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+ISS LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+^^ That/' answered Gavroche gravely, '^ is for the rats. 6< 
+
+to sleep ! " 
+
+Nevertheless, he felt obliged to add a few words of instrac 
+tion for the benefit of these young creatures, and he coa 
+tinued : — 
+
+^^It's a thing from the Jardin des Plantes. It's used foi 
+fierce animals. There's a whole shopful of them there. All 
+you've got to do is to climb over a wall, crawl through a win- 
+dow, and pass through a door. You can get as much as voc 
+want." 
+
+As he spoke, he wrapped the younger one up bodily in a fold 
+of the blanket, and the little one murmured : — 
+
+"' Oh ! how good that is ! It's warm ! " 
+
+Gavroche cast a pleased eye on the blanket. 
+
+'^That's from the Jardin des Plantes, too," said he. ^M 
+took that from the monkeys." 
+
+And, pointing out to the eldest the mat on which he wu 
+lying, a very thick and admirably made mat, he added : — 
+
+♦' That belonged to the giraffe." 
+
+After a pause he went on : — 
+
+^^ The beasts had all these things. I took them away from 
+them. It didn't trouble them. I told them : ^ It's for the ele- 
+phant.'" 
+
+He paused, and then resumed : — 
+
+^^ You crawl over tiie walls and you don't care a straw for the 
+government. So there now ! " 
+
+The two children gazed with timid and stupefied respect on 
+this intrepid and ingenious being, a vagabond like themselvef, 
+isolated like themselves, tVail like themselves, who had some- 
+thing admirable and all-iK>wcrfnl about him, who seemed super- 
+natural to them, and whose physiognomy was composed of all 
+the grimaces of an old mountebank, mingled with the most 
+ingenuous and charming smiles. 
+
+*' Monsieur," ventured the elder timidly, "you are not afraid 
+of the police, then?" 
+
+Gavroche contented himself with replying : — 
+
+'* Brat ! Nobody says ' police,' they say ' bobbiea.*" 
+
+The smaller hacl bis eyes wide open, but he said nothiog- 
+As he was on the edge of the mat, the elder being in the 
+middle. Gavroche tucked the blanket round him as a mother 
+might have done, and heightened the mat under his head with 
+old rags, in such a way as to form a pillow for the child. Then 
+he turned to the elder : — 
+
+" Hey? We're jolly comfortable here, ain't we?** 
+
+
+
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+SAINT^DENIS. KM 
+
+'* Ah, yes I " replied the elder, gazing at Gavrocbe with the 
+expression of a saved angel. 
+
+The two poor little children who had been soaked through, 
+began to grow warm once more* 
+
+"Ah, b3' the way," oontinaed Gavroche, *' what were you 
+bawling about?" 
+
+And pointing out the little one to his brother : -*« 
+
+" A mite like that, I've nothing to say about, but the idea of 
+a big fellow like you crying ! It's idiotic ; you looked like a 
+^alf." 
+
+" Gracious," replied the child, ^^ we have no lodging." 
+
+**' Bother!" retorted Gavroche, ^^you don't say ^lodgings,* 
+you say * crib.' " 
+
+" And then, we were afraid of being alone like that at night.'* 
+
+" You don't say ' night,' you say * darkmans/" 
+
+" Thank you, sir," said the child. 
+
+"Listen," went on Gavroche, "you must never bawl again 
+over anything. I'll take care of you. You shall see what 
+fun we'll have. In summer, we'll go to the Glacière with 
+Navet, one of my pals, we'll bathe iu the Gare, we'll run stark 
+naked in front of the rafts on the bridge of Austerlitz,— that 
+makes the laundresses raging. They scream, they get mad, and 
+if you ouly knew how ridiculous they are ! We'll go and see 
+the man-skeleton. And then I'll take you to the play, I'll 
+take you to see Frederick Lemaitre. I have tickets, I know 
+some of the actors, I even played in a piece once* There weie 
+a lot of us fellers, and we ran under a cloth, and that made the 
+sea. I'll get you an engagement at my theatre. We'll go to 
+see the savages. They ain't real, those savages ain't. They 
+wear pink tights that go all in wrinkles, and you can see where 
+their elbows have been darned with white. Then, we'll go to 
+the Opera. We'll get in with the hired applauders. The Opera 
+slnque is well managed. I wouldn't associate with the claque 
+^n the boulevard. At the Opera, just fancy ! some of them pay 
+^jW^nty sous, but they're ninnies. They're called dishclouts. 
+And then we'll go to see the guillotine work. I'll show you the 
+executioner. He lives in the Rue des Marais. Monsieur San- 
+son. He has a letter-box at his door. Ah I we'll have famous 
+fun!" 
+
+At that moment a drop of wax fell on Gavroche's finger, and 
+recalled him to the realities of life. 
+
+" The deuce ! " said he, " tliere's the wick giving out. Atten< 
+tion ! I can't spend more than a sou a month on my lighting. 
+When a body goes to bed, he must sleep. We haven't the tim€ 
+
+
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+[84 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+ko read M. Panl de Kock's romances. And besides, the ligbt 
+might pass through the cracks of the porte-cochere, and all the 
+bobbies need to do is to see it/' 
+
+**And then,** remarked the elder timidly, — he alone dared 
+talk to Gavroche, and reply to him, '' a spark might fall in the 
+straw, and we must look out and not burn the house down.** 
+
+''People don't say 'burn the house down,*** remarked Gav 
+roche, "they say ' blaze the crib.'" 
+
+The storm increased in violence, and the heavy down pool 
+beat upon the back of the colossus amid claps of thunder. 
+•'You're taken in, rain!" said Gavroche. "It amuses me to 
+hear the decanter nm down the legs of the house. Winter is a 
+stupid ; it wastes its merchandise, it loses its labor, it can't wot 
+us, and that makes it kick up a row, old water-carrier that 
+it is." 
+
+This allusion to the thunder, all the consequences of which 
+Gavroche, in his character of a philosopher of the nineteenth 
+century, accepted, was followed by a broad flash of lightning, 
+8o dazzling that a hint of it entered the belly of the elephant 
+through the crack. Almost at the same instant, the thunder 
+rumbled with great fury. The two little creatures ottered a 
+ehrick, and started up so eagerly that tlie network came near 
+being displaced, but Gavroche turned his bold face to them, and 
+took advantage of the clap of thunder to burst into a lai^h. 
+
+" Calm down, children. Don't topple over the edifice. That's 
+fine, first-class thunder ; all right. That's no slouch of a streak 
+of lightning. Bravo for the good God ! Deuce take it I It's 
+almost as good as it is at the Ambigu." 
+
+That said, he restored order in the netting, pushed the two 
+children gently down on the bed, pressed their knees, in order 
+to stretch them out at full length, and exclaimed : — 
+
+*' Since the good God is lighting his candle, I can blow ont 
+mine. Now, babes, now, my young humans, you must shut 
+your peepers. It's very bad not to sleep. It'll make yo« 
+swallow the strainer, or, as they say in fashionable society, 
+stink in the gullet. Wrap yourself up well in the hide ! I'm 
+going to put out the light. Are you ready ? '* 
+
+" Yes,** murmured the elder, " Fm all right. I seem to have 
+feathers under my head." 
+
+" People don't say ' head,' ** cried Gavroche, '* they say * nut.'" 
+
+The two children nestled close to each other. Gavroche 
+finished arranging them on the mat, drew the blanket up to 
+their very ears, then repeated, for the thiixi time, bis injanctiofl 
+In the hieratical tongue : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'DENIS. 185 
+
+•« Shut jour peepers ! ** 
+
+And he snuffed out his tiny light. 
+
+Hardly had the light been extinguished, when a peculiar 
+trembling began to affect the netting under which the three 
+children lay. 
+
+It consisted of a multitude of dull scratches which produced 
+a metallic sound, as if claws and teeth were gnawing at the 
+copper wire. This was accompanied by all sorts of little 
+piercing cries. 
+
+The little five-year-old boy, on hearing this hubbub overhead, 
+and chilled with terror, jogged his brother's elbow ; but the elder 
+brother had already shut his peepers, as Gavroche had ordered. 
+Then the little one, who could no longer control his terror, 
+questioned Gavroche, but In a very low tone, and with bated 
+breath : — 
+
+*'Sir?" 
+
+** Hey ?** said Gavroche, who had Just closed his eyes. 
+
+*' What is that? " 
+
+*• It's the rats," replied Gavroche. 
+
+And he laid his head down on the mat again. 
+
+The rats, in fact, who swarmed by thousands in the carcass of 
+file elephant, and who were the living black spots which we 
+faave already mentioned, had been held in awe by the flame of 
+the candle, so long as it had been lighted ; but as soon as the 
+cavern, which was the same as their city, had returned to dark- 
+ness, scenting Wliat the good story-teller Perrault calls ^^ fresh 
+meat,'* tiiey had hurled themselves in throngs on Gavroche's 
+tent, had climbed to tlie top of it, and had begun to bite the 
+meshes as though seeking to pierce this new-fangled trap. 
+
+Still the little one could not sleep. 
+
+*^ Sir?" he began again. 
+
+«* Hey?" said Gavroche. 
+
+** What are rats?" 
+
+" They are mice." 
+
+This explanation reassured the child a little. He had seen 
+irhite mice in the course of his life, and he was not afraid oi 
+Ihem. Nevertheless, he lifted up his voice once more. 
+
+**Sir?" 
+
+** Hey?" said Gavroche i^ain. 
+
+** Why don't you have a cat?" 
+
+*' I did have one," replied Gavroche, ** I brought one here, 
+bat they ate her.'* 
+
+This second explanation undid the work of the first, and the 
+ittle fellow began to tremble agam. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+X36 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The dialogue between him and Gavroche began again fix the 
+fourth time : — 
+
+-'MonHeur?" 
+
+•'Hey?" 
+
+*' Wlio was it that was eaten?" 
+
+»' The cat." 
+
+'^ And who ate the oat?*' 
+
+^'The rats." 
+
+^*The mice?" 
+
+*' Yes, the rats." 
+
+The child, in consternation, dismayed at the thought of mice 
+which ate cats, pursued : — 
+
+•^ Sir, would those mice eat us? " 
+
+** Wouldn't they just ! ** ejficul.ited Gavroche. 
+
+The child's terror had reached its climax. But Gavroche 
+added : — 
+
+*' Don't be afraid. They can't get in. And besides, I'm 
+here I Here, catch hold of my hand. Hold your tongue and 
+shut your peepers ! " 
+
+At the same time Gavroche grasped the little fellow's hand 
+across his brother. The child pressed the hand close to him, 
+and felt reassured. Courage and strength have these myste- 
+nous ways of communicating themselves. Silence reigned 
+round them once more, the sound of their voices had frightened 
+off the rats; at the expiration of a few minutes, they came 
+raging back, but in vain, the three little fellows were fast 
+asleep and heard nothing more. 
+
+The hours of the night fled away. Darkness covered the 
+vast Place de la Bastille. A wintry gale, which mingled with 
+the rain, blew in gusts, the patr<jl searched all the doorways, 
+alleys, enclosures, and obscure nooks, and in their search for 
+nocturnal vagabonds, they passed in silence before the ele- 
+phant; the monster, erect, motionless, staring open-eyed 
+into the shadows, had the appearance of di*eaming happil)* ov^er 
+his good deed ; and sheltered from heaven and from men the 
+three poor sleeping children. 
+
+In order to understand what is about to follow, the reader 
+must remember, that, at that epoch, the Bastille guard-hoase 
+was situated at the otlier end of the sqnare, and that what took 
+place in the vicinity of the elephant could neither be seen nor 
+heard by the sentinel. 
+
+Towards the end of that hour which immediately precedes the 
+dawn, a man turned from the Rue Saint-Antoine at a run, 
+made the circuit of the enclosure of the column of July, nnà 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 187 
+
+glided between the palings until he was nndemeath the belly of 
+the elephant. If any light had illuminated that niau, it might 
+have been divined from the thorough manner in which he was 
+soaked, that he had passed the nigiit in the rain. Arrived be- 
+neath the elephant, he uttered a peculiar cry, which did not be- 
+long to an^' human tongue, and which a paroquet alone could 
+have imitated. Twice he repeated this cry, of whose orthog- 
+raphy the following barely conveys an idea : — 
+
+'' Kirikikiou ! " 
+
+At the second cry, a dear, young, merry voice responded 
+from the belly of the elephant : — 
+
+'' Yes ! " 
+
+Almost immediately, the plank which closed the hole was 
+drawn aside, and gave passage to a child who descended the 
+elephant's leg, and fell briskly near the man. It was Gavroche. 
+The man was Montparnasse. 
+
+As for his cry of Kirikikiou^ — that was, doubtless, what 
+the child had meant, when he said : — 
+
+" You will ask for Monsieur Gavroche." 
+
+On hearing it, he had waked with a start, had crawled out <^ 
+his '* alcove," pushing apart the netting. a little, and carefully 
+drawing it t(^ether again, then he had opened the trap, and 
+descended. 
+
+The man and the child recognized each other silently amid 
+the gloom : Montparnasse confined himself to the remark : — 
+
+" We need you. Come, lend us a hand." 
+
+The lad asked for no further enlightenment. 
+
+'' I'm with you," said he. 
+
+And both took their way towards the Rue Saint^Antoine, 
+whence Montparnasse had emerged, winding rapidly through 
+the long file of market-gardeners' carts which descend towards 
+the markets at that hour. 
+
+The market-gardenei*s, crouching, half-asleep, in their 
+wagons, amid the salads and vegetables, enveloped to their 
+very eyes in their muflfiers on account of the beating rain, did 
+not even glance at these strange pedestrians. 
+
+III. — The Vicissitudes of Flight. 
+
+This is what had taken place that same night at the La 
+Force : — 
+
+An escape had been planned between Babet, Brujon, Guele- 
+mer, and Théuardier, although Thénardier was in close confine- 
+meot. Babet had arranged the matter for his own benefit, on 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+188 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+the same day, aa the reader has seen from Montparoasee'i 
+account to Gavroche. Montparnasse was to help them from 
+outside. 
+
+Brujon, after having passed a month in the punishment cell, 
+had had time, in the first place, to weave a rope, in the sccoDd, 
+to mature a plan. In former times, those severe places where 
+the discipline of the prison delivers the convict into his own 
+hands, were composed of four stone walls, a stone ceiling, a flawed 
+pavement, a camp bed, a grated window, and a door lined with 
+iron, and were called dungeons; but the dungeon was judge<i 
+to be too terrible ; nowadays they are composed of an iron 
+door, a grated window, a camp bed, a flagged pavement^ four 
+stone walls, and a stone ceiling, and are called cfiambers of pun- 
+ishment. A little light penetrates towards mid-day. The incon- 
+venient point about these chambers which, as the reader sees, 
+are not dungeons, is that they allow the persons who should be 
+at work to think. 
+
+So Brujon meditated, and he emerged from the chamber of 
+punishment with a rope. As he had the name of being verv 
+dangerous in the Charlemagne courtyard, he was placed in the 
+New Building. The first thing he found in the New Building 
+was Guelemer, the second was a nail ; Guelemer, that is to say, 
+crime ; a nail, that is to say, liberty. Brujon, of whom it is 
+high time that the reader should have a complete idea, was, with 
+an ap[)earance of delicate health and a profoundly premeditated 
+languor, a polished, intelligent sprig, and a thief, who had a 
+caressing glance, and an atrocious smile. His glance result^Ml 
+from his will, and his smile from his nature. His first studies 
+in his art had been directed to roofs. He had made great prog- 
+ress in the industry of the men who tear off lead, who plunder 
+the roofs and despoil the gutters by the process called doMt 
+pickings. 
+
+The circumstance which put the finishing touch on the 
+moment peculiarly favorable for an attempt at escape, was that 
+the roofers were re-laying and re- jointing, at that very moment, 
+a portion of the slates on the prison. The Saint-Bernard court- 
+yard was no longer absolutely isolated from the Charlemagne 
+and the Saint-Louis courts. Up above there were scaffoldings 
+and ladders ; in other words, bridges and stairs in the direction 
+of liberty. 
+
+The New Building, which was the most cracked and decrepit 
+thing to be seen anywhere in the world, was the weak point in 
+the prison. The walls were eaten by saltpetre to such an ex- 
+tent that the authorities had been obliged to line the vaults oî 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 189 
+
+the âormitories with a sheathing of wood, because stones were 
+in the habit of becoming detached and falling on the prisoners 
+in their beds. In spite of this antiquity, the authorities com- 
+mitted the error of confining in the New Building the most 
+troublesome prisoners, of placing there '*the hard cases/' as 
+they say in prison parlance. 
+
+The New Building contained four dormitories, one above the 
+other, and a top story which was called the Bel-Air (Fine- Air). 
+A large chimney-flue, probably from some ancient kitchen of 
+the Dukes de la Force, started from the ground-floor, traversed 
+all four stories, cut the dormitories, where it figured as a flat- 
+tened pillar, into two portions, and finally pierced the roof. 
+
+Guelemer and Brujon were in the same dormitory. They had 
+been placed, by way of precaution, on the lower story. Chance 
+ordained that the heads of their beds should rest against the 
+chimney. 
+
+Thénardier was directly over their heads in the top story 
+known as Fine- Air. The pedestrian who halts on the Rue Cul- 
+tare-Sainte-Catherine, after passing the barracks of the firemen, 
+tn front of the porte-cochere of the bathing establishment, be- 
+holds a yard full of flowers and shrubs in wooden boxes, at the 
+extremity of which spreads out a little white rotunda with two 
+wings, brightened up with green shutters, the bucolic dream of 
+Jean Jacques. 
+
+Not more than ten years ago, there rose above that rotunda 
+an enormous black, hideous, bare wall by which it was backed up. 
+
+This was the outer wall of La Force. 
+
+This wall, beside that rotunda, was Milton viewed through 
+Berquin. 
+
+Lofty as it was, this wall was overtopped by a still blacker 
+roof, which could be seen beyond. This was the roof of the 
+New Building. There one could descry four dormer-windows, 
+guarded with bars ; they were the windows of the Fine- Air. 
+
+A chimney pierced the roof; this was the chimney which 
+traversed the domi tories. 
+
+The Bel- Air, that top story of the New Building, was a sort 
+of large hall, with a Mansard roof, guarded with triple gratings 
+and double doors of sheet iron, which were studded with enor- 
+mous bolts. When one entered from the north end, one had 
+on one's left the four dormer-windows, on one's right, facing 
+the windows, at regular intervals, four square, tolerably vast 
+cages, separated by naiTOw passages, built of masonry to about 
+the height of the elbow, and the rest, up to the roof, of iron 
+bars. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+140 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Thénardier had been in solitary confinement in one of theM 
+cages 8in(!e the niglit of the 3d of February, No one was ever 
+able to discover how, and by what connivance, he succeedtHl in 
+procuring, and secreting a bottle of wine, invented, so it is said, 
+by Desrues, with which a narcotic is mixed, and which the band 
+of the Endormeurs^ or Sleep-compellera^ rendered famous. 
+
+There are, in many prisons, treacherous employees, half-jail- 
+ers, half -thieves, who assist in escapes, who sell to the police 
+an unfaithful service, and who turn a penny whenever thej 
+:*an. 
+
+On that same night, then, when Little Gavroche picked up 
+the two lost children, Biiijou and Guelemer, who knew that 
+Babet, who had escaped that morning, was waiting for them in 
+the street as well as Montparnasse, rose softly, and with tlie 
+nail which Brujon had found, began to pierce the chimney 
+against which their beds stood. The rubbish fell on Brujon's 
+bed, so that they were not heanl. Showers mingled with thun- 
+der shook the doors on their hinges, and created in the prison a 
+terrible and opportune uproar. Those of the prisoners who 
+woke, pretended to fall asleep again, and left Guelemer and 
+Brujon to their own devices. Brujon was adroit ; Guelemer was 
+vigorous. Before any sound had reached the wat<*her, who was 
+sleeping in the grated cell which opened into the dormitory, the 
+wall had been pierced, the chimney scaled, the iron grating 
+which barred the upper orifice of the flue forced, and the two 
+redoubtable rufiSans were on the roof. The wind and rain 
+redoubled, the roof was slippery. 
+
+" What a good night to leg it ! " said Brujon. 
+
+An abyss six feet broad and eighty feet deep separated them 
+from the surrounding wall. At the bottom of this abyss, tliey 
+could see the musket of a sentinel gleaming through the gloom. 
+They fastened one end of the rope which Brujon had spun in 
+his dungeon to the stumps of the iron bars which they had just 
+wrenched off, flung the other over the outer wall, crossed the 
+abyss at one bound, clung to the coping of the wall, got astride 
+of it, let themselves slip, one after the other, along the rope, 
+upon a little roof which touches the bath-house, pulled their 
+rope after them, jumped down into the courtyard of the bath- 
+house, traversed it, pushed oi)en the porter's wicket, beside 
+which hung his rope, pulled this, opened the porte-cochere, and 
+found themselves in the street. 
+
+Three-quarters of an hour had not elapsed since they had 
+risen in bed in the dark, nail in hand, and their project in theii 
+heads. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. Ul 
+
+i^ few moments later they had Joined Babet and Montpar* 
+oasse, who were prowling about the neighborhood. 
+
+The}' had broken their rope in pulling it after them, and a bi 
+of it remained attached to the chimney on the roof. They had 
+sustained no other damage, however, than that of scratching 
+nearly all the skin off their hands. 
+
+That night, Théuardier was warned, withont any one being 
+able to explain how, and was not asleep. 
+
+Towards one o'clock in the morning, the night being very 
+dark, he saw two shadows pass along the roof, in the rain and 
+squalls, in front of the dormer-window which was opposite his 
+cage. One halted at the window, long enough to dart in a 
+glance. This was Brajon. 
+
+Thénardier recognized him, and understood. This was 
+«nough. 
+
+Thénardier, rated as a burglar, and detained as a measure of 
+precaution under the charge of organizing a nocturnal ambush, 
+with armed force, was kept in sight. The sentry, who was 
+relieved every two hours, marched up and down in front of his 
+cage with loaded musket. The Fine-Air was lighted by a sk}'- 
+light. The prisoner had on his feet fetters weighing fifty 
+pounds. Every day, at four o'clock in the afternoon, a jailer, 
+escorted by two dogs, — this was still in vogue at that time, 
+— entered his cage, deposited beside his bed a loaf of black 
+bread, weighing two pounds, a jug of water, a bowl filled with 
+rather thin bouillon, in which swam a few Mayagan beans, in- 
+spected his irons and tapped the bars. This man and his dogs 
+made two visits during the night. 
+
+Thénardier bad obtained permission to keep a sort of iron 
+bolt which he used to spike his bread into a crack in the wall, 
+*' in order to preserve it from the rats," as he said. As Thé- 
+nardier was kept in sight, no objection had been made to this 
+spike. Still, it was remembered afterwards, that one of the 
+jailers had said : * ' It would be better to let him have only a 
+wooden spike." 
+
+At two o'clock in the morning, the sentinel, who was an old ' 
+soldier, was relieved, and replaced by a conscript. A few mo- 
+ments later, the man with the dogs paid his visit, and went off 
+without noticing anj^thing, except, possibly, the excessive youth 
+and ** the rustic air" of the '^raw recruit." Two hours after- 
+wards, at four o'clock, when they came to relieve the conscript, 
+he was found asleep on the floor, lying like a log near Thénar- 
+dier's cage. As for Thénardier, he was no longer there. Tliere 
+was a hole in the ceiling of his cage, and, above it, another hole 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+142 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+In the roof. One of the planks of his bed had been wreDC&eà 
+off, and probably carried away with hinit as it was not found. 
+They also seized in his cell a half -empty bottle which contained 
+the remains of the stupefying wine with which the soldier bad 
+been drugged. The soldier's bayonet had disappeared. 
+
+At the moment when this discovery was made, it was assumed 
+that Thénardier was out of reach. The troth is, that he was 
+no longer in the New Building, but that he was still in great 
+danger. 
+
+Tliénardier, on reaching the roof of the New Building, had 
+found the remains of Brujon's rope hanging to the bars of the 
+upper trap of the chimney, but, as this broken fragment was 
+much too short, he had not been able to escape by the outer 
+wall, as Brujon and Guelemer had done. 
+
+When one turns from the Rue des Ballets into the Rne da 
+Boi-de>Sicile, one almost immediately encounters a repulsive 
+ruin. There stood on that spot, in the last century, a house of 
+which only the back wall now remains, a regular wall of ma- 
+sonry, which rises to the height of the third story between the 
+adjoining buildings. This ruin can be recognized by two laige 
+square windows which are still to be seen there ; the middle 
+one, that nearest the right gable, is barred with a worm-eaten 
+beam adjusted like a prop. Through these windows there was 
+formerly visible a lofty and lugubrious wall, which was a frag- 
+ment of the outer wall of La Force. 
+
+The empty space on the street left by the demolished house 
+id half-filled by a fence of rotten boards, shored up by five 
+stone posts. In this recess lies concealed a little shant}' which 
+leans against the poilion of the ruin which has remained stand- 
+ing. The fence has a gate, which, a few years ago, was fas- 
+tened only by a latch. 
+
+It was the crest of this ruin that Thénardier had succeeded 
+m reaching, a little after one o'clock in the morning. 
+
+How hud he got there ? That is what no one has ever been 
+able to explain or understand. The lightning must, at the 
+same time, have hindered and helped him. Had he made use 
+of the ladders and scaffoldings of the slaters to get from roof 
+to roof, from enclosure to enclosure, from compartment to com- 
+partment, to the buildings of the Charlemagne court, then to the 
+buildings of the Saint- Ix)uis court, to the outer wall, and thence 
+to the hut on the Rue du Roi-de-Sicile ? But in that itinerary 
+there existed breaks which seemed to render it an impossibility. 
+Had he placed the plank from his bed like a bridge from the 
+roof of the Fine-Air to the outer wall, and crawled flat on hL<« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAFNT-^DENTS. 143 
+
+belly on the coping of the outer wall the whole distance round 
+the prison as far as the hut ? But the outer wall of La Force 
+formed a crenellated and unequal line; it mounted and de- 
+scended, it dropped at the firemen's barracks, it rose towards 
+the bath-house, it was cut in twain by buildings, it was not 
+even of the same height on the Hotel Lamoignon as on the Rue 
+Pavée ; everywhere occurred falls and right angles ; and then, 
+the sentinels must have espied the dark form of the fugitive ; 
+hence, the route taken by Thénardier still remains rather inex- 
+plicable. In two manners, flight was impossible. Had Thé- 
+nardier, spurred on by that thirst for liberty which changes 
+])reci pices into ditches, iron bars into wattles of osier, a legless 
+man into an athlete, a gouty man into a bird, stupidity into 
+instinct, instinct into intelligence, and intelligence into genius, 
+had Thénardier invented a third mode ? No one hafi ever found 
+out. 
+
+TLe marvels of escape cannot always be acooanted for. The 
+man who makes his escape, we repeat, is inspired ; there is 
+something of the star and of the lightning in the mysterious 
+gleam of flight ; the effort towards deliverance is no less sur- 
+prising than the flight towards the sublime, and one says of the 
+escaped thief: ** How did he contrive U> scale that wall?" in 
+the same way that one says of Corneille : ^^ Where did he find 
+the means of dying 9 " 
+
+At all events, dripping with perspiration, drenched with rain, 
+with his clothes hanging in ribbons, his hands flayed, his elbows 
+blef ding, his knees torn, Thénardier had reached what children, 
+in their figurative language, call the edge of the wall of the 
+ruin, there he ha4 stretched himself out at full length, and 
+there his strength had failed him. A steep escarpment three 
+stories high separated him from the pavement of the street. 
+
+The rope which he had was too short. 
+
+There he waited, pale, exhausted, desperate with all the de- 
+spair which he had undergone, still hidden by the night, but 
+telling himself that the day was on the point of dawning, 
+alarmed at the idea of hearing the neighboring clock of Saint- 
+Paol strike four within a few minutes, an hour when the sentinel 
+was relieved and when the latter would be found asleep under 
+the pierced roof, staring in horror at a terrible depth, at the 
+light of the street lanterns, the wet, black pavement, that pave- 
+ment longed for yet frightful, which meant death, and which 
+meant liberty. 
+
+He asked himself whether his three accomplices in flight 
+had Bocceeded, if they had ueai-d him, and if they would come 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+144 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+to his assistance. He listened. With the exception of tlie 
+patrol, no one had passed through the street since he had been 
+there. Nearly the whole of the descent of the market-gardeners 
+from Montreuil, from Charonne, from Vincennes, and from 
+Bercj to the markets was accomplished through the Rue Saint- 
+Autoine. 
+
+Four o'clock struck. Thénardier shuddered. A few moments 
+later, that terrified and confused uproar which follows the dis 
+covery of an escape broke forth in the prison. The sound of 
+doors opening and shutting, the creaking of gratings on their 
+hinges, a tumult in the guard-house, the hoarse shouts of the 
+turnkeys, the shock of muskot-butts on the pavement of the 
+courts, reached lus cars. Lights ascended and descended past 
+the grated windows of the dormitories, a torch ran along the 
+ridge-pole of the top story of the New Building, the firemen 
+belonging in the barracks on tlie right had been summoned. 
+Their helmets, which the torch lighted up in the rain, went and 
+came along the roofs. At the same time, Thénardier perceived 
+in the direction of the Bastille a wan whiteness lighting op the 
+edge of the sky in doleful wise. 
+
+He was on top of >a wall tejx inches wide, stretched out under 
+the heavy rain, with two gulfs to right and left, unable to stir, 
+subject to the giddiness of a possible fall, and to the horror of 
+a certain arrest, and his thoughts, like the pendulum of a clock, 
+swung from one of these ideas to the other : ^^ Dead if I fall. 
+caught if I stay." In the midst of this anguish, he suddenly 
+SAW, the street being still dark, a man who was gliding aloi^ 
+the walls and coming from the Rue Pavée, halt in the recess 
+above which Thénardier was, as it were, suspended. Here ^is 
+man was joined by a second who walked with the same caution, 
+then by a third, then by a fourth. When these men were re- 
+united, one of them lifted the latch of the gate in the fence, and 
+all four entered the enclosure in which the shanty stood. Thev 
+halted directly under Thénardier. These men had evidently 
+?hosen this vacant space in order that they might consult with- 
+out being seen by the passers-by or by the sentinel who guards 
+the wicket of La Force a few paces distant. It must be added, 
+that the rain kept this sentinel blocked in his box. Thénardier. 
+not being able to distinguish their visages, lent an ear to their 
+words with the desperate attention of a wreteh who feels him- 
+self lost. 
+
+Tliénardier saw something resembling a gleam of hope flash 
+before his eyes, — these men conversed in slang. 
+
+The first said in a low but distinct voice : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. lU 
+
+♦* Le**8 eut What are we up to here?" 
+
+The second replied : ^^ It's raining hard enough to pat out the 
+rery devil's fire. And the bobbies will be along instanter. 
+There's a soldier on guard yonder. We shall get nabbed here." 
+
+These two words, fdgo and icicaUlej both of which mean ici^ and 
+^hich belong, the first to the slang of the barriers, the second 
+60 the slang of the Temple, were flashes of light for Thénardier. 
+By the idgo he recognized Brujon, who was a prowler of the 
+barriers, by the icicaille he knew Babet, who, among his othei 
+trades, had been an old-clothes broker at the Temple. 
+
+The antique slang of the great century is no longer spoken 
+except in the Temple, and Babet was really the only person 
+who spoke it in all its purity. Had it not been for the icicaUle^ 
+rhénû^ier would not have recognized him, for he had entirely 
+changed his voice. 
+
+In the meanwhile, the third man had intervened. 
+
+** There's no hurry yet, let's wait a bit. How do we know 
+that he doesn't stand in need of us ? " 
+
+By this, which was nothing but French, Thénardier recog- 
+nized Montparnasse, who made it a point in his elegance to 
+nnderstand all slangs and to speak none of them. 
+
+As for the fourth, he held his peace, but his huge shoulders 
+betrayed him. Thénardier did not hesitate. It was Guelemer. 
+
+Brujon replied almost impetuously, but still in a low tone : — 
+
+** What are you jabbering about? The tavern-keeper hasn't 
+managed to cut his stick. He don't tumble to the racket, 
+that he don't ! You have to be a pretty knowing cove to tear 
+up 3'our shirt, cut up your sheet to make a rope, punch holes 
+in doors, get up false papers, make false keys, file your irons, 
+hang out your cord, hide yourself, and disguise jourself ! The 
+old fellow hasn't managed to play it, he doesn't understand 
+how to work the business." 
+
+Babct added, still in that classical slang which was spoken by 
+Poulailler and Cartouche, and which is to the bold, new, highly 
+colored and risky ai^ot used by Brujon what the language of 
+Bacine is to the language of André Chenier: — 
+
+" Tour tavern-keepor must have been nabbed in the act. 
+You have to bo knowing. He's only a greenhorn. He must 
+have let himself be taken in by ? liobb}», perhaps even by a 
+sheep who played it on him as his pal. Listen, Montparnasse, 
+do 3'oa bear those shouts in the prison? You have seen all 
+those lights. He's recaptured, there Î He'll get off with twenty 
+years. I ain't afraid, I ain't a coward, but there ain't anything 
+%iore t.o do, or otherwise thev'd lend mb a dance. Dou't get 
+tiad, come with us, let'a -Glnnk a iH>tttt> of old wine together." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+146 Î^E^ MISERABLES. 
+
+^^One doesn't desert one's friends in % scrape," grumbled 
+Montparnasse. 
+
+** I tell you he's nabbed ! " retorted Hrujon. *' At the present 
+moment, the inn-keeper ain't worth a ha'penny. We can't do 
+nothing for him. Let's be off. Every minute I think a bobb\ 
+bas got me in his fist." 
+
+Montparnasse no longer offered more than a feeble resist 
+ance; the fact is, that these four men, with the fidelity o1 
+mfllians who never abandon each other, had prowled aU night 
+long about La Force, great as was their peril, in the hope of 
+seeing Thénardier make his app>oarance on the top of somt 
+wall. But the night, which was really growing too fine, — for 
+the downpour was such as to render all the streets deserted, — 
+the cold which was overjiowering them, their soaked garments, 
+their hole-ridden shoes, the alarming noise which had just 
+burst forth in the prison, the hours which had elapsed, the pa- 
+trol which they had encountered, tlie hope which was vanishing, 
+all urged them to beat a retreat. Montparnasse himself, who 
+was, perhaps, almost Thénardicr's son-in-law, yielded. A mo- 
+ment more, and they would be gone. Thénardier was panting 
+on his wall like the shipwrecked sufferers of the Mednse on 
+their raft when they beheld the vessel which had appeared in 
+sight vanish on tlie horizon. 
+
+He dared not call to them ; a cry might be heard and ruin 
+everything. An idea occurred to him, a hist idea, a flash of in- 
+spiration ; he drew from his pocket the end of Hrujon's rope, 
+which he had detached from the chinniey of the New Buildipgi 
+and flung it into the space enclosed by the fence. 
+This rope fell at their feet. 
+
+" A widow," ^ said Habet. 
+
+'* My tortouse I "* said Brujon. 
+
+*' The tavern-keeper is there," said Montparnasse. 
+
+They raised their eyes. Thénardier thrust out his bead s 
+lery little. 
+
+*' Quick! " said Montparnasse, *'have you the other end oi 
+the rope, Brujon ? " 
+
+*' Yes.'' 
+
+" Knot the two pieces together, we'll fling him the rope, he 
+can fasten it to the wall, and he'll have enough of it to get dowa 
+with." 
+
+Thénardier ran the risk, and spoke : — 
+
+'' I am paralyzed with cold." 
+
+** We'll warm you up." 
+
+i Aigot of the Temple. * Axgot of the bsirien* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 149 
+
+* I can't budge.'' 
+
+* Let yourself slide, we'll catch you." 
+•* My hands are benumbed." 
+
+*' Only fasten the rope to the wall." 
+
+** I can't." 
+
+<* Then one of us must climb up," said Moatpamaese. 
+
+*' Three stones ! " ejaculated Brujon. 
+
+An ancient plaster flue, which had served for a stove that hadj 
+been used in the shanty in former times, ran along the wall and 
+mounted almost to the very spot where they could see Thénar- 
+dier. This flue, then much damaged and full of cracks, has 
+mnce fallen, but the marks of it are still visible. 
+
+It was very narrow. 
+
+*'*' One might get up by the help of that," said Montparnasse. 
+
+*' By that flue ? " exclaimed Babet, '' agrown*up cove, never I 
+It would take a brat." 
+
+'' A brat must be got," resumed Brujon. 
+
+*' Where are we to find a young 'un?" said Guelemer. 
+
+*' Wait," said Montparnasse. " I've got the very article." 
+
+He opened the gate of the fence very softly, made sure that 
+no one was passing along the street, stepped out cautiously, 
+shut the gate behind him, and set off at a run in the direction of 
+the Bastille. 
+
+Seven or eight minutes elapsed, eight thousand centuries to 
+Thénardier; Babet, Brujon, and Guelemer did not open their 
+lips ; at last the gate opened once more, and Montparnasse ap- 
+peared, breathless, and followed by Gavroche. The rain still 
+rendered the street completely deserted. 
+
+Little Gavroche entered the enclosure and gazed at the forms 
+of these rufldans with a tranquil air. The water was dripping 
+from his hair. Guelemer addressed him : — 
+
+'* Are you a man, young 'un ?" 
+
+Gavroche shrugged his shoulders, and replied : — 
+
+** A young 'un like me's a man, and men like you are babes." 
+
+**The brat's tongue's well hung ! " exclaimed Babet. 
+
+*• The Paris brat ain't made of straw," added BrujoD. 
+
+** What do you want? " asked Gavroche. 
+
+Montparnasse answered : — 
+
+** Climb up that flue." 
+
+*' With this rope," said Babet. 
+
+*' And fasten it," continued Brujon. 
+
+** To the top of the wall," went on Babet. 
+
+** To the cross-bar of the window," added Brujon. 
+
+" And then ? " said Gavroche. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+148 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+*' There I " said Gueleraer. 
+
+The gamin examined the rope, the fine, the wall, the windows, 
+and mode that indescribable and disdainful noise with his Hp« 
+which signifies : — 
+
+^' Is that all r* 
+
+*^ There's a man up there whom jou are to save/' reaomed 
+Montparnasse. 
+
+** Will you? " began Brujon again. 
+
+^^ Oreenhorn ! " replied the liul, as though the question ap 
+peared a most unprecedented one to him. 
+
+And he took off his shoes. 
+
+Guelemer seized Gavroche by one arm, set him on the roof of 
+the shanty, whose worm-eaten planks bent beneath the urchin's 
+weight, and handed him the rope which Brujon had knotted to- 
+getiier during Montparnasse's absence. The gamin directed his 
+steps toward» the fine, which it was easy to enter, thanks to a 
+large crack wtiich touched the roof. At the moment when he 
+was on tlie point of ascending, Thénardier, who saw life ami 
+safety approaching, bent over tlie edge of the wall; the first 
+light of dawn struck white upon his brow dripping with sweat. 
+upon his livid cheek-bones, his sharp and savage nose, his bris- 
+tling gray beard, and Gavroche recognized him. 
+
+*' Hullo ! it's ray father ! Oh ! that won't hinder.'* 
+
+And taking the rope in his teetli, he resolutely began the ascent 
+
+He reached the summit of the hut, bestrode the old wall sis 
+though it had been a horse, and knotted the rope firmly to the 
+upper cross-bar of the window. 
+
+A moment later, Thénardier was in the street. 
+
+As soon as he touched the pavement, as soon as he found 
+himself out of danger, he was no longer either weary, or chilled 
+or trembling ; the terrible things from which he had escapetl 
+vanished like smoke, all that strange and ferocious mind awok( 
+jnce more, and stood erect and free, ready to march onward. 
+
+These were this man's first words : - — 
+
+'' Now, whom are we to eat?" 
+
+It is useless to explain the sense of this frightfully trans- 
+parent remark, which signifies both to kill, to assassinate, and to 
+plunder. To eiU^ true sense : to devour. 
+
+'* Ivct's get well into a corner," said Brujon. " Lefs settle 
+it in three words, and part at once. There was an affair that 
+promised well in the Rue Plumet, a deserted street, an isolated 
+liouse, an old rotten gate on a garden, and lone women.** 
+
+"Well! why not?" demanded Thénardier. 
+
+' Your girl,*Éponine, went to see about the matter/' replied 
+Rabet. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
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+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 149 
+
+*^And she brought a biscuit to Magnon," added Oaelemer. 
+^' Nothing to be made there." 
+
+"The girl's no fool," said Thénardier. "Still, it must bê 
+Been to." 
+
+" Yes, yes," said Brujon, " it must be looked up." 
+
+In the meanwhile, none of the men seemed to see Gavroche, 
+who, during this colloquy, had seated himself on one of the fence- 
+posts ; he waited a few moments, thinking that perhaps hia 
+father would turn towards him, then he put on his shoes again, 
+and said : — 
+
+" Is that all ? You don't want me any more, my men ? Now 
+you're out of your scrape. I'm off. I must go and get my 
+brats out of bed." 
+
+And off he went. 
+
+The ûve men emerged, one after another, from the enclosure* 
+
+When Gavroche had disappeared at the corner of the Rue des 
+Ballets, Babet took Thénardier aside. 
+
+" Did vou take a good look at that young 'un?" he asked. 
+
+*' What young 'un?" 
+
+*^ The one who climbed the wall and carried yon the rope." 
+
+* * Not particularly . " 
+
+*' Well, I don't know, but it strikes me that it was your son.** 
+
+" Bfth I " said Thénardier, '' do you think so? " 
+
+
+
+-•««•c» 
+
+
+
+BOOK SEVENTH. — SLANG, 
+I. — Origin. 
+
+Pigritia is a terrible word. 
+
+It engenders a whole world, la pègre^ for which read (heft, and 
+a hell, la pégrerine^ for which read hunger. 
+
+Thus, idleness is the mother. 
+
+She has a son, theft, and a daughter, hunger. 
+
+Where are we at this moment? In the land of slang. 
+
+What is slang? It is at one and the same time, a nation and 
+a dialect ; it is theft in its two kinds ; people and language. 
+
+When, four and thirty years ago, the narrator of this grsi'ç 
+and sombre history introduced into a work written with the sium« 
+ai in as this * a thief who talked argot, there arose amazem^y ^ 
+
+1 The LaAt Day of a Condemned Mao. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
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+150 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+and damor. -T- ^^ What ! How! Argot! Why, aigot is horribiel 
+It is the language of prisons, galleys^ convicts, of everything 
+that is most abominable in society ! " etc., etc. 
+
+We have never understood this sort of objections. 
+
+Since that time, two powerful romancers, one of whom is a 
+profound observer of the human heart, the other an intrepid 
+friend of the people, Balzac and Eugène Sue, having representud 
+their ruffians as talking their natural language, as the author of 
+Th^ Last Day of a Condemned Man did in 1828, the same ob> 
+jections have been raised. People repeated : ^' What do 
+authors mean by that revolting dialect? Slang is odious ! Slang 
+makes one shudder I '' 
+
+Who denies that? Of course it does. 
+
+When it is a question of probing a wound, a gulf^ a society} 
+since when has it been considered wrong to go too far? to go to 
+the bottom ? We have always thought that it was sometimes a 
+courageous act, and, at least, a simple and useful deed, worthy 
+of the sympathetic attention which duty accepted and fulfilled 
+merits. W^h}' should one not explore everything, and study 
+everything? why should one halt on the way? -The halt is a 
+matter depending on the sounding-line, and not on the leadsman. 
+
+Certainly, too, it is neither an attractive nor an easy task to 
+undertake an investigation into the lowest depths of the social 
+order, where terra firma comes to an end and where mud begins, 
+to rummage in those vague, murky waves, to follow up, to seize 
+and to âing, still quivering, upon the pavement that abject dialect 
+which is dripping with filth when thus brought to the light, that 
+pustulous vocabulary each word of which seems an unclean ring 
+from a moustery^f the mire and the shadows. Nothing is more 
+lugubrious than the contemplation thus in its nudity, in the 
+broad light of thought, of the horrible swarming of slang. It 
+seems, in fact, to be a sort of horrible beast made for the night 
+which has just been torn from its cesspool. One thinks one 
+beholds a frightful, living, and bristling thicket which quivers, 
+rustles, wavers, returns to shadow, threatens and glares. One 
+word resembles a claw, another an extinguished and bleeding 
+eye, such and such a phrase seems to move like the claw of a 
+crab. All this is alive with the hideous vitality of things which 
+have been organized out of disorganization. 
+
+Now, when has horror ever excluded study? Since when has 
+malady banished medicine? Can one imagine a naturalist re- 
+fusing to study the viper, the bat, the scorpion, the centipede, 
+the tarantula, and one who would cast them back into their 
+darkness, saying : ^^ Oh ! how ugly that is I ** The thinker who 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
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+
+SAINT-DENIS. 151 
+
+fthould tarn aside from slang would resemble a surgeon who 
+should avert his f ac^ from an ulcer or a wart. He would be 
+like a philologist refusing to examine a fact in language, a phi- 
+losopher hesitating to scrutinize a fact in humanity. For, it 
+must be stated to those who are ignorant of the case, that 
+ai^t is both a literary phenomenon and a social result* What 
+is slang, properly speaking ? It is the language of wretchedness. 
+We may be stopped ; the fact may be put to us in general 
+terms, which is one way of attenuating it ; we may be told, that 
+all trades, professions, it may be added, all the accidents of the 
+social hierarchy and all forms of intelligence, have their own 
+slang. The merchant who says : ^^ Montpellier not active, Mar- 
+seilles fine quality," the broker on 'change who says : ^^ Assets 
+at end of current month," the gambler who says : *' Tiers et tout, 
+refait de pique^** the sheriff of the Norman Isles who says: 
+^' The holder in fee reverting to his landed estate cannot claim 
+the fruits of that estate during the hereditary seizure of the real 
+estate by the mortgagor," the playwright who says : ^' The piece 
+was hissed," the comedian who says : '* I've made a hit," the 
+philosopher who says: '^Phenomenal triplicity," the huntsman 
+who says: "Fbîteci allais^ Voileci fuyant " the phrenologist who 
+says: '^ Amativeness, combativeness, secretiveness," the in- 
+fantry soldier who says: '^ My shooting-iron," the cavalry-man 
+who says: "My turkey-cock," the fencing-master who says: 
+^'Tierce, quarte, break," the printer who says: "My 
+shooting-stick and galley," — all, printer, fencing-master, 
+cavalry dragoon, infantry-man, phrenolc^ist, huntsman, phi- 
+losopher, comedian, playwright, sheriff, gambler, stock- 
+broker, and merchant, speak slang. The painter who says: 
+"My grinder," the notary who says: "My Skip- tlie-G utter," 
+the hairdresser who says: "My mealyback," the cobbler 
+who says: "My cub," talk slang. Strictly speaking, if one 
+absolutely insists on the ix>int, all the different fashions of 
+saying the right and the left, the sailor's port and starboard^ the 
+<$cene-shifter's court-aide^ and garden-aide, the beadle's Gospel 
+side and Epistle-aide, are slang. There is the slang of the 
+atfected lady as well as of the précieuses. The Hotel Rambou- 
+illet nearly adjoins the Cour des Miracles. There is a slang of 
+duchesses, witness this phrase contained in a love-letter from a 
+very great lady and a very pretty woman of the Restoration : 
+** You will find in this gossip a fultitude of reasons why I should 
+libertize." ^ Diplomatic ciphers are slang ; the pontifical chan- 
+
+1 *' Vous trouverez dans ces potains-là, une Coultitude de raisons pour que je 
+melibertise." 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+152 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+cellery by using 26 for Rome, grkgtntgzyal for despatch, vA 
+dbfxHstgriiogrkzu tu XI for the Due de Modena, speaks slang. 
+The physiciaus of the Middle Ages who, for carrot, radish, and 
+turnip, said Opoponach^ perfroschinum^ reptUalmus^ dracatkoii- 
+cum^ angelorum^ postmegorum^ talked slang. The sugar-maau- 
+facturer^who says: ^^ Loaf, clarified, lumps, bastard, common, 
+burnt," — this honest manufacturer talks slang. A certain 
+school of criticism twenty years ago, which used to say : ^^ Half 
+of the works of Shakespeare consists of plays upon words and 
+puns," — talked slang. The poet, and the artist who, with pro- 
+found understanding, would designate M. de Montmorency as 
+^' a bourgeois," if he were not a judge of verses and statues, 
+speak slang. The classic Academician who calls flowers 
+" Flora," fruits, " Pomona," the sea, '' Neptune," love, '' fires," 
+beauty, " charms," a horse, '' a courser," the white or tri-col- 
+ored cockade, '* the rose of Bellona," the three-cornered hat, 
+*' Mars' triangle," — that classical Academician talks slang. 
+Algebra, medicine, botany, have each their slang. The tongue 
+which is employed on board ship, that wonderful language of 
+tlie sea, which is so complete and so picturesque, which was 
+spoken by Jean Bart, Duqueane, Suffren, and Duperré, which 
+mingles with the whistling of the rigging, the sound of the 
+speaking-trumpets, the shock of the boarding-irons, the roU of 
+the sea, the wind, the gale, the cannon, is wholly a heroic and 
+dazzling slang, which is to the fierce slang of the thieves what 
+the lion is to the jackal. 
+
+No doubt. But say what we will, this manner of understand- 
+ing the word slarig is an extension which every one will not 
+admit, For our part, we reserve to the word its ancàent and 
+precise, circumscribed and determined significance, and we re- 
+strict slang to slang. The veritable slang and the slang that is 
+pre-eminently slang, if the two words can be coupled thus, the 
+slang immemorial which was a kingdom, is nothing else, we re- 
+peat, than the homely, uneasy, crafty, treacherous, venomous, 
+cruel, equivocal, vile, profound, fatal tongue of wretchedness. 
+There exists, at the extremity of all abasement and all misfor- 
+tunes, a last misery which revolts and makes up its mind to 
+enter into conflict with the whole mass of fortunate facts and 
+reigning rights ; a fearful conflict, where, now cunning, now vio- 
+lent, unhealthy and ferocious at one and the same time, it 
+attacks the social order with pin -pricks through vice, and with 
+chih-blows through crime. To meet the needs of this con- 
+flict, wretcdbdness has invented a language of combat, which is 
+slang. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 153 
+
+To keep afloat and to rescue from oblivion, to hold above the 
+gulf, were it but a fragment of some language which man has 
+spoken and which would, otherwise, be lost, ^at is to say, one 
+of the elements, good or bad, of which civilization is composed, 
+or by which it is complicated, to extend the records of social 
+observation ; is to serve civilization itself. This service Flautus 
+rendered, consciously or unconsciously, by making two Cartha- 
+ginian soldiers talk Phœnician ; that service Molière rendered, 
+by making so many of his characters talk Levantine and all 
+sorts of dialects. Here objections spring up afresh. Phœni- 
+cian, very good ! Levantine, quite right ! £ven dialect, let 
+that pass ! They are tongues which have belonged to nations 
+or provinces ; but slang ! What is the use of preserving slang ? 
+What is the good of assisting slang ^' to survive " ? 
+
+To this we reply in one word, only. Assuredly, if the tongue 
+which a nation or a province has spoken is worthy of interest, 
+the lauguage winch has been spoken by a misery is still more 
+woi-thv of attention and study. 
+
+It is the language which has been spoken, in France, for ex- 
+ample, for more than four centuries, not only by a misery, but 
+by every possible human misery. 
+
+And then, we insist \x\>on it, the study of social deformities 
+and infirmities, and the task of pointing them out with a view 
+to remedy, is not a business in which choice is permitted. The 
+historian of manners and ideas has no less austere a mission 
+than the historian of. events. The latter has the surface of 
+civilization, the conflicts of crowns, the births of princes, the 
+marriages of kings, battles, assemblages, great public men, 
+revolutions in the daylight, everything on the exterior; the 
+other historian has the interior, the depths, the people who toil, 
+suffer, wait, the oppressed woman, the agonizing child, the 
+secret war between man and man, obscure ferocities, preju- 
+dices, plotted iniquities, the subterranean, the indistinct tremors 
+jf multitudes, the die-of-hunger, the counter-blows of the law, 
+the secret evolution of souls, tlie go-bare-foot, the bare-armed, 
+the disinherited, the orphans, the unhappy, and the infamous, 
+all the forms which roam through the darkness. He must ile- 
+scend with his heart full of charity, and severity at the same 
+time, as a brother and as a judge, to those impenetrable case- 
+mates where crawl, pell-mell, those who bleed and those who 
+deal the blow, those who weep and those who curse, those 
+who fast and those who devour, those who endure evil and those 
+who inflict it. Have these historians of hearts and souls duties 
+at all. inferior to the historians of external facts? Does any 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+154 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+oue think that AUghieri has any fewer things to say than Maco: 
+avelli? Is the under side of civilization an}* less important 
+than the upper side merely because it is deeper and more som- 
+bre? Do we really know the mountain well when we are no\ 
+acquainted with the cavern ? 
+
+Let us say, moreover, parenthetically, that from a few words 
+of what precedes a marked separation might be inferred betweer 
+the two classes of historians which does not exist in our mind. 
+No one is a good historian of the patent, visible, striking, and 
+public life of peoples, if he is not, at the same time, in a cer> 
+tain measure, the historian of their deep and hidden life ; aud 
+no one is a good historian of the interior unless he understands 
+how, at need, to be the historian of the exterior also. The 
+history of manners and ideas permeates the history of events, 
+and this is true reciprocally. They constitute two different 
+ordera of facts which correspond to each other, which are 
+always interlaced, and which often bring forth results. AH the 
+lineaments which Providence traces on the surface of a nation 
+have their parallels, sombre but distinct, in their depths, and 
+all convulsions of the depths produce ebullitions on the surface. 
+True history being a mixture of all things^ the true historian 
+mingles in everything. 
+
+Man is not a circle with a single centre ; he is an ellipse with 
+a double focus. Facts form one of these, and ideas the 
+other. 
+
+Slang is nothing but a dressing-room where the tongue hav- 
+ing some bad action to perform, disguises itself. There it 
+clothes itself in word-masks, in metaphor-rags. In this guise 
+it becomes horrible. 
+
+One finds it difficult to recognize. Is it really the French 
+tongue, the great human tongue? Behold it ready to step u|H>n 
+the stage and to retort upon crime, and prepared for all the 
+employments of the repertory of evil. It no longer walks, it 
+hobbles ; it limps on the crutch of the Court of Miracles, a 
+crutch metamorphosable into a club; it is called vagrancy; 
+every sort of spectre, its dressers, have painted its face, it 
+crawls and rears, the double gait of the reptile. Henceforth, 
+it is apt at all i*61es, it is made suspicious by the counterfeiter, 
+covered with verdigris by the forger, blacked by the soot of 
+the incendiary ; and tlie murderer applies its rouge. 
+
+When one listens, by the side of honest men, at the portals 
+of society, one overhears the dialogues of those who are on 
+the outside. One distin<rnishe8 qnestions and replies. One 
+peix^eives, without undiMstunding it, a hideous murmur, soono 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+HAtNT-DENn. 165 
+
+ing almost like human accents, but more nearly resembling a 
+howl than an articulate word. It is slaug. Tlic words are mis^ 
+shapeii and stamped with an indescribable and fantastic bestial- 
+ity. One thinks one hears hydras talking. 
+
+It is unintelligible in the dark. It gnashes and whispers, com- 
+pleting the gloom with mystery. It is black in misfortune, it is 
+i)lacker still in crime ; these two blacknesses amalgamated, 
+compose slang. Obscurity in the atmosphere, obscurity in acts, 
+obscurity in voices. Terrible, toad-like tongue which goes and 
+comes, leaps, crawls, slobbers, and stirs about in monstrous 
+wise in that immense gray fog composed of rain and night, of 
+hunger, of vice, of falsehood, of injustice, of nudity, of suf- 
+focation, and of winter, the high noonday of the miserable. 
+
+Let us have compassion on the chastised. Alas ! Who are 
+we ourselves? Who am I who now address you? Who are 
+you who are listening to me? And are you very sure that we 
+have done nothing before we were born ? The earth is not devoid 
+of resemblance to a jail. Who knows whether man is not a re- 
+captured offender against divine justice? L<x)k closely at life. 
+It is so made, that everywhere we feel the sense of punishment. 
+
+Are you what is called a happy man? Well! you are sad 
+every day. Each day has its own great grief or its little care. 
+Yesterday you were trembling for a health that is dear to you, 
+to-day you fear for your own ; to-rtiorrow it will be anxiety about 
+money, the day after to-morrow the diatribe of a slanderer, the 
+da}- after that, the misfortune of some friend ; then the prevail- 
+ing weather, then something that has been bioken or lost, then 
+a pleasure with which your conscience and your vertebral column 
+reproach you ; again, the course of public affairs. This without 
+reckoning in the [)ains of the heart. And so it goes on. One 
+cloud is dispelled, another forms. There is hardly one day out 
+of a hundred which is wholly joyous and sunny. And you 
+Delong to that small class who are happy ! As for the rest of 
+mankind, stagnating n^ht rests upon them. 
+
+Thoughtful minds make but little use of the phrase : the 
+fortunate and the unfortunate. In this world, evidently the 
+restibule of another, there are no fortunate. 
+
+The real human division is this : the luminous and the shady. 
+To diminish the number of the shady, to augment the numbel 
+of the luminous, — that is the object. That is why we cry; 
+Fkiucation ! science ! To teach reading, means to light the fire ; 
+»very syllable spelled out sparkles. 
+
+However, he who says light does not, necessarily', say joy. 
+PeoUe SQffer in the light ; excess burns. The flame is the enem^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+156 LES MISÉRABLES 
+
+of the wing. To burn without ceasing to fly, — therein lies the 
+marvel of genius. 
+
+When jou shall have learned to know, and to love, voo will 
+Btill suffer. The da}' is born in tears. The luminous weep, if 
+only over those in darkness. 
+
+IL — Roars. 
+
+Slakg is the tongue of those that sit in darkness. 
+
+Thought is moved iu its most sombre depths, social philoso- 
+phy is bidden to its most poiguaut meditations, iu the prt'soui-e 
+of that enigmatic dialect at once so blighted and rebellious. 
+Therein lies chastisement made visible. Every syllable has au 
+air of being marked. The words of the vulgar tougue appear 
+therein wrinkled and shrivelled, as it were, beneath the hot iron 
+of the executioner. Some seem to be still smoking. Such and 
+such a phrase produces upou you the effect of the shoulder of a 
+thief branded with the fleur-de-lys, which has suddenly been 
+laid bare. Ideas almost refuse to be expressed in these sub- 
+stantives which are fugitives from justice. Metaphor is some- 
+times so shameless, that one feels that it has worn the iion neck- 
+fetter. 
+
+Moreover, in. spite of all this, and because of all this, this 
+strange dialect has by rights, its own compartment in that great 
+impartial case of pigeon-holes where there is room for the ru^ity 
+farthiug as well as for the gold medal, and which is called liUr- 
+ature. Slang, whether the public admit the fact or not, has iU 
+syntax and its poetry. It is a language. Yes, by the defor- 
+mity of certain terms, we recognize the fact that it was chewnl 
+by Mandrin, and by the splendor of certain metonymies, we 
+feel that Villon spoke it. 
+
+That exquisite and celebrated verse — 
+
+Mais oh sont les neiges d'antan f 
+
+But where are the snows of years gone bjt 
+
+is a verse of slang. Anton — ante annum — is ft word of 
+Thuues slang, which signified the past year, and by exteusioD. 
+formerly. T'^irty-five years ago, at the epoch of the depart- 
+ure of the great chain-gang, there could l)e read in one of the 
+cells at Bicêtre^ this maxim engraved with a nail on tlie 
+wall by a king of Thunes condemned to the galleys : Les dab» 
+d*antan trimaient aiempre pour la pieiTe du Coësre. This 
+means : Kings in days gone by always went and had themselcfs 
+
+
+
+Digiti'zed 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'-DENIS. 151 
+
+^mointod. In the opinion of that king, anointment meant the 
+galleys. 
+
+The word dêcarade^ which expresses the departure of heavj 
+vehicles at a gallop, is attributed to Villon, and it is worthy 
+of him. This word, which strikes fire with all four of its feet, 
+suras up in a masterly onomatopoeia the whole of La Fontaine's 
+admirable verse: — 
+
+Six forts cheyaux tiraient un coche. 
+Six stout horses drew a coach. 
+
+Prom a purely literary point of view, few studies would prove 
+more curious and fruitful than the study of slang. It is a whole 
+language within a language, a sort of sickly excrescence, an un- 
+iieahhy graft which has produced a vegetation, a parasite which 
+has its roots in the old Gallic trunk, and whose sinister foliage 
+crawls all over one side of the language. This is what may be 
+called the first, the vulgar aspect of slang. But, for those who 
+study the tongue as it should be studied, that is to say, as geol- 
+ogists study the earth, slang appears like a veritable alluvial 
+deposit. According as one digs a longer or shorter distance 
+into it, one finds in slang, below the old popular French, 
+Provençal, Spanish, Italian, Levantine, that language of the 
+Mediterranean ports, English and German, the Romance lan- 
+guage in its three varieties, French, Italian, and Komanoe Ro- 
+mance, Latin, and finally Basque and Celtic. A profound and 
+unique formation. A subterranean edifice erected in common 
+by all the miserable. Each accursed race has deposited its 
+layer, each suffering has dropped its stone there, each heart 
+has contributed its pebble. A throng of evil, base, or irritated 
+souls, who have traversed life and have vanished into eternity, 
+linger there almost entirely visible still beneath the form of 
+some monstrous word. 
+
+Do you want Spanish ? The old Gothic slang abounded in it. 
+Here is boffete^ a box on the ear, which is derived from bofe- 
+ton; vantane^ window (later on vantei-ne)^ which comes from 
+vantana; gat^ cat, which comes from gaio; acite^ oil. which 
+comes from aeeyte. Do you want Italian? Here is spade ^ 
+Bword, which comes from spada; carvel^ boat, which comes from 
+caravella. Do you want English ? Here is Mchot, which comes 
+from bishop; railla, spy, which comes from rascal, rasccdion; 
+pilche^ a case, which comes from pilcher, a sheath. Do you want 
+German? Here is the calfiur, the waiter, kellner; the hers^ the 
+master, herzog (duke) . Do you want Latin ? Here is frangir^ 
+to breaks frangere; affurer, to steal, /t^r; cadene, chain, catena 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+[58 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+There is one word which croi)6 up in every language of the ooa 
+
+tinent, with a sort of mysterious power and authority. It is thi 
+word m ay nus; the Scotchman makes of it his mac^ which 
+designates the chief of the clan ; Mac-Farlane, Mac-Caliuinore, 
+the great Farlane, the great Callumore * ; slang turns it into weci 
+and later le meg, that is to say, God. Would you like Basqae^ 
+Here is gahisto^ the devil, which comes from gaUbstoa^ evil 
+sorgabon^ good night, which comes from gabon^ good evening 
+Do you want Celtic? Here is hlavin^ a handkerchief, whicii 
+comes from blavet^ gushing water ; ménesse, a woman (in a bad 
+sense), which comes from meinecy full of stones ; barant^ brook, 
+from baranton, fountain ; goffeuvy locksmith, from goff^ blacic- 
+smith; guedoitze, death, which comes from guenn-dn^ black 
+white. Finally, would you like history? Slang calls crowns 
+le^ mcUtèscSy a souvenir of the coin in circulation on the gallevB 
+of Malta. 
+
+In addition to the philological origins just indicated, slan*^ 
+possesses other and still more natural roots, which spring, so to 
+speak, from the mind of man itself. 
+
+In the first place, the direct creation of words. Therein lies 
+the mystery of tongues. To paint with words, which contain? 
+figures one knows not how or why, is the primitive fouudatioD 
+of all human languages, what may be called their granite. 
+
+Slang abounds in words of this description, immolate wonU 
+words created instantaneously no one knows either where or In 
+whom, without etymology, without analogies, without deriva- 
+tives, solitary, barbarous, sometimes hideous woixls, whieh at 
+times possess a singular power of expression and whieb live. 
+The executioner, le taule; the forest, le sabri; fear, flight, to/: 
+the lackey, le larbin; the mineral, the prefect, the minister, 
+pfiaroa; the devil, le rabouin. Nothing is stranger than these 
+words which both mask and reveal. Some, le rcibouiny for ex- 
+ample, are at the same time grotesque and terrible, and pro- 
+duce on yoa the effect of a cyclopeau grimace. 
+
+In the second place, metaphor. The peculiarity of a lan^ 
+guage which is desirous of saying all yet concealing all is tliat 
+it is rich in figures. Metaphor is an enigma, wherein the tliu : 
+wlio is plotting a stroke, the prisoner who is arranging an esciij^'. 
+take refuge. No idiom is more metaphorical than slanc: 
+dévisser le coco (to unscrew the nut), to twist the neck; tortilhr 
+(to wriggle), to eat ; être gerbe, to be tried ; a rat, a bread thief; 
+il lansquiney it rains, a striking, ancient figure which \ATX\y 
+bears its date about it, which assimilates long oblique lines cf 
+^ It must be observed, however, that mac in CeHie i 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 169 
+
+ndn, with the dense and slanting pikes of the lancers, and 
+irhich compresses into a single word the popular expression 
+it rains, halberds. Sometimes, in proportion as slang pra 
+gresses from the firet epoch to the second, words pass frona 
+the primitive and savage sense to the metaphorical sense. 
+The devil ceases to be Ze rahouin^ and becomes le boulanger (tli€ 
+baker), who puts the bread into the oven. This is more witty ^ 
+but less grand, something like Racine after Corneille, like 
+Euripides after ^schyliis. Certain slang phrases which partie 
+ipate in the two-epochs and have at once the barbaric charac 
+ter and the metaphorical character resemble phantasmagories. 
+Lees 80Tgxieuers vont solliciter des gails à la lime — the prowlers 
+are going to steal horses by night, — this passes before the mind 
+like a group of spectres. One knows not what one sees. 
+
+In the third place, the expedient. Slang lives on the lan- 
+guage. It uses it in accordance with its fancy, it dips into it 
+bap-hazard, and it often confines itself, when occasion arises, to 
+alter it in a gross and summary fashion. Occasionally, with 
+the ordinary words thus deformed and complicated with words 
+of pure slang, picturesque phrases are formed, in which there 
+can be felt the mixture of the two preceding elements, the direct 
+creation and the metaphor : le cab jaspine, Jc maironne que la 
+roulotte de Pantin trime dans le sabn^ the dog is barking, I 
+suspect that the diligence for Paris is passing through the 
+woods. Le dab est sinve, la dabiige est nierloussière^ la fee est 
+bative^ the bourgeois is stupid, the bourgeoise is cunning, the 
+daughter is pretty. Generally, to throw listeners off the track, 
+slang confines itself to adding to all the words of the language 
+without distinction, an ignoble tail, a termination in aille, in 
+org-ue^ in iergue^ or in uche» Thus : Vousiei'gue trouvante bon • 
+orgue ce gigotmuchef Do you think that leg of mutton good ? A 
+phrase addressed by Cartouche to a turnkey in ordet to find out 
+whether the sum offered for his escape suited him. 
+
+The termination in mar has been added recently. 
+
+Slang, being the dialect of corruption, quickly becomes cor 
+fupted itself. Besides this, as it is always seeking conceal- 
+ment, as soon as it feels that it is understood, it chausses its 
+form. Contrary to what happens with every other vegetation, 
+every ray of light which falls upon it kills whatever it touches. 
+Thus slang is in constant process of decomposition and recom- 
+position ; an obscure and rapid work which never pauses. It 
+passes over more ground in ten years than a language in ten 
+centuries . Thus le larton (bread) becomes le lartif; h gai] 
+{'horse) becomes 1$ gaye; la fertanche (straw) becoc?3S la fer 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+160 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+tOle; fe momignard (brat), le momacque; les flques (dads), 
+frusques; la chique (the church), Végnigeoir; le colabre (neck), 
+le colas. The devil is at first, galiinto^ then lerabouin^ then 
+the baJcer; the priest is a raJtichon^ then the boar {le sanglier) ; 
+the dagger is le vingt-deux (twenty-two), then le a?inw, then 
+Je litigre; the police are railles^ then roussins^ then rot««M, 
+then marchands de lacets (dealers in stay-laces) , then ooçti^rs, 
+then cogiies; the executioner is le taitley then Chariot^ then 
+Vatigeur^ then le becquiUard. In the seventeenth century, to 
+fight was '' to give each other snuff " ; in the nineteenth it 
+is " to chew each other's throats." There have been twenty 
+different phrases between these two extremes. Cartouche's 
+talk would have been Hebrew to Lacenaire. All the words of 
+this language are perpetually engaged in flight like the men 
+who utter them. 
+
+Still, from time to time, and in consequence of this very 
+movement, the ancient slang crops up again and becomes new 
+once more. It has its headquarters where it maintains its sway. 
+The Temple preserved the slang of the seventeenth century; 
+Bicetre, when it was a prison, preserved the slang of Thimes: 
+There one could hear the termination in anche of the old Tha- 
+neurs. Boyanches-tu (bois-tu), do 3'ou drink? But perpetual 
+movement remains its law, nevertheless. 
+
+If the philosopher succeeds in fixing, for a moment, for pur- 
+poses of observation, this language which is incessantlj* evap- 
+orating, he falls into doleful and useful meditation. No study 
+is mofe efficacious and more fecund in instruction. There is not 
+a metaphor, not an analogy, in slang, which does not contain a 
+lesson. Among these men, to beat means to feign ; one 
+beats a malady ; ruse is their strength. 
+
+For them, the idea of the man is not separated from the idea 
+of darkness. The night is called la sorgxie; man, Morgue, 
+Man is a derivative of the night. 
+
+They have taken up the practice of considering society in the 
+light of an atmosphere which kills them, of a fatal force, and 
+they speak of their liberty as one would speak of his health. 
+A man under arrest is a sick man; one who is condemned is a 
+dead man. 
+
+The most terrible thing for the prisoner within the four walls 
+in which he is buried, is a sort of glacial chastity, and he call? 
+the dungeon the castus. In that funereal place, life outside al- 
+ways presents itself under its most smiling aspect. The pris- 
+oner has irons on his feet ; you think, perhaps, that his thought 
+Is that it is with the feet that one walks ? No ; he i? thinking 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+•d by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENJS. iÔJ 
+
+that it is with the feet that one dances ; so, when he has sue 
+ceeded in severing his fetters, his first idea is that now he can 
+dance, and he calls the saw the bastringue (public-house ball). — 
+A name is a centre ; profound assimilation. — The ruffian has 
+two heads, one of which reasons out his actions and leads him 
+ill his life long, and the other which he has upon his shoulders 
+3n the da}' of his death ; he calls the head which counsels 
+him in crime la aorboniie^ and the head which expiates it la 
+trotiche. — AVhen a man has no longer anything but rags upon 
+his body and vices in his heail, when he has arrived at that 
+double moral and material degradation which the word black- 
+guard characterizes in its two acceptations, he is ripe for 
+crime ; he is like a well-whetted knife ; he has two cutting 
+edges, his distress and his malice ; so slang does not say a 
+blackguard, it says an réguisé. — What are the galleys? A 
+brazier of damnation, a hell. The convict calls himself sl fagot, 
+— And finally, what name do malefactors give to their prison? 
+The œUege, A whole penetentiary system can be evolved 
+from that word. 
+
+Does the reader wish to know where the majority of the 
+songs of the galleys, those refrains called in the special vocab- 
+ulary ZtrZo/i/a, have had their birth ? 
+
+Let him listen to what follows : — 
+
+There existed at the Châtelet in Paris a large and long cellar. 
+This cellar was eight feet below the level of the Seine. It had 
+neither windows nor air-holes, its only aperture was the door ; 
+men could enter there, air could not. This vault had for 
+ceiling a vault of stone, and for floor ten inches of mud. It 
+was flagged ; but the pavement had rotted and cracked under 
+the oozing of the water. Eight feet above the floor, a long and 
+massive beam traversed this subterranean excavation from side 
+to side ; from this beam hung, at short distances apart, chains 
+three feet long, and at the end of these chains there were rings 
+for the neck. In this vault men who had been condemned to 
+the galleys were incarcerated until the day of their departure 
+for Toulon. They were thrust under this beam, where each one 
+found his fetters swinging in the darkness and waiting for him. 
+
+Th6 chains, those pendant arms, and the necklets, those open 
+hands, caught the unhappy wretches by the throat. They were 
+ri vetted and left there. As the chain was too short, they could 
+not lie down. They remained motionless in that cavern, in that 
+ni«?ht, beneath that beam, almost hanging, forced to unheard-of 
+efforts to reach their bread, jug, or their vault overhead, mud 
+even to mid-leg, filth flowing to their very calves, broken asun- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+162 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+der witb fatigue, with thighs and knees giying way, clitigin| 
+last to the chain with their hands in order to obtain some rest, 
+nnable to sleep except when standing erect, and awakened 
+every moment by the strangling of the collar ; some woke no 
+more. In order to eat, they pushed the bread, which was flung 
+to them in the mud, along their leg with their heel nntil it 
+reached their hand. 
+
+How long did they remain thus? One month, two months^ 
+six months sometimes ; one stayed a year. It was the anle 
+chamber of the galleys. Men were put there for stealing a 
+hare from the king. In this sepulchre-hell, what did they 
+do? What man can do in a sepulchre, they went thnmgh the 
+agonies of death, and what can man do in hell, they sang; for 
+song lingers where there is no longer any hope. In the waters 
+of Malta, when a galh^y was approaching, the song could be 
+heard before the sound of the oars. Poor Survincent, the 
+poacher, who bad gone through the prison-cellar of the Chàtelet, 
+said : ^' It was the rhymes that kept me up.'' Uselessness of 
+poetry. What is the good of rhyme? 
+
+It is in this cellar that nearly all the slang songs had their 
+birth. It is from the dungeon of the Grand-Chàtelct of Paria 
+that comes the melancholy refrain of the Montgomery galley : 
+*' Timaloumi saine ^ timaloicmisan ,** The majority of these 
+songs are melancholy ; some are gay ; one is tender : — 
+
+Icicaille est la theatre Here is the theatre 
+
+Du petit dardant. Of the little archer (Cupid). 
+
+Do what you will, yon cannot annihilate that eternal relic in 
+the heart of man, love. 
+
+In this world of dismal deeds, people keep their secrets. 
+The secret is the thing al>ove all others. The secret, in the 
+eyes of these wretches, is unity which serves as a base of union. 
+To betray a secret is to tear from each member of this fierce 
+community something of his own personality. To inform 
+against, in the energetic slang dialect, is called : " to eat the 
+bit." As though the informer drew to himself a little of the 
+substance of all and nourished himself on a bit of each one's 
+flesh. 
+
+What does it signify to receive a box on the ear? Common- 
+place metaphor replies: *'It is to see thirty-sia: candles." 
+Here slang intei-venes and takes it up: Candle, camoufle. 
+Thereupon, the ordinary tongue gives camovflet * as the synonym 
+for soufflet. Thus, by a sort of infiltration from below upwards. 
+
+1 Smoke puffed in the face of a person asleepb 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 163 
+
+^th tiie aid of metaphor, that Incalculable, trajectory slang 
+moants from the cavern to the Academy ; and Poulailler say- 
+ing: " I light niy camoufle^** causes Voltaire to write: " Lan- 
+gleviel La Beaumelle deserves a hundred camovjiets.*^ 
+
+Researches in slang mean discoveries at every step. Study 
+and investigation of tiii s strange idiom lead to the mysterious 
+point of intersection of regular society with society which is 
+accursed. 
+
+The thief also has his food for cannon, stealable matter, yoU) 
+I, whoever passes by; le pantre. {Pan, everj'body.) 
+
+Slang is language turned convict. 
+
+That the thinking principle of man be thrust down ever so 
+low, that it can be dragged and pinioned there by obscure 
+tyrannies of fatality, that it can be bound by no one knows what 
+fetters in that abyss, is sufficient to create consternation. 
+
+Oh, poor thought of miserable wretches ! 
+
+Alad ! will no one come to the succor of the human soul in 
+that darkness? Is it her destiny there to await forever the 
+mind, the liberator, the immense rider of Pegasi and hippo- 
+griffs, the combatatit of heroes of the dawn who shall descend 
+from the azive between two wings, the radiant knight of the 
+future? Will she forever summon in vain to her assistance the 
+lance of light of the ideal ? Is she condemned to hear the fear- 
+ful approach of Evil thi-ough the density of the gulf, and to 
+catch glimpses, nearer and nearer at hand, beneath the hideous 
+water, of that dragon's head, that maw streaked with foam, and 
+that writhing undulation of claws, swellings, and rings? Must 
+It remain there, without a gleam of light, without hope, given 
+over to that terrible approach, vaguely scented out b}' the mon- 
+ster, shuddering, dinhevelled, wringing its arms, forever chained 
+to the rock of night, a sombre Andromeda white and naked 
+amid the shadows I 
+
+III. — Slang which werps and Slakg which laughs. 
+
+As the reader perceives, slang in its entirety, slang of four 
+hundred years ago, like the slang of to-day, is permeated witli 
+that sombre, symbolical spirit which gives to all words a niit^n 
+which is now mournful, now menacing. One feels in it the wild 
+and ancient sadness of those vagrants of the Court of Miracles 
+who played at cards with packs of their own, some of which 
+have come down to us. The eight of clubs, for instance, rep- 
+resented a huge tree bearing eight enormous trefoil leaves, a 
+sort of fantastic personification of the forest. At the foot of 
+
+
+
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+164 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+this tree a fire was burning, over which three hares were roasting 
+a huntsman on a spit, and behind him, on another fire, hung a 
+steaming pot, whence emerged the head of a dc^. Nothing can 
+be more melancholy than these reprisals in painting, by a pack 
+of cards, in the presence of stakes for the roasting of smugglers 
+and of the cauldron for the boiling of counterfeiters. The di- 
+verse forms assumed by thought in the realm of slang, even 
+song, even raillery, even menace, all partook of this powerless 
+and dejected character. All the songs, the melodies of some of 
+which have been collected, were humble and lamentable to the 
+point of evoking tears. The pègre is always the poor pèçn, 
+and he is always the hare in hiding, the fugitive mouse, the fly- 
+ing bird. He hardly complains, he contents himself with sigh- 
+ing ; one of his moans has come down to us : ^^ I do not under- 
+stand how God, the father of men, can torture his children aud 
+his grandchildren and hear them cry, without himself suffering 
+torture.''^ The wretch, whenever he has time to think, makt» 
+himself small before the low, and frail in the presence of soci- 
+ety ; he lies down flat on his face, he entreats, he appeals to the 
+side of compassion ; we feel that he is conscious of his guilt 
+
+Towards the middle of the last century a change took place, 
+prison songs and thieves' ritournelles assumed, so to speak, an 
+insolent and jovial mien. The plaintive maluré was replaced by 
+the larifla. We find in the eighteenth century, in nearly aU the 
+songs of the galleys and prisons, a diabolical and euigmatical 
+gayety. We hear this strident and lilting refrain which we 
+should say had been lighted up by a phosphorescent gleam, 
+and which seems to have been flung into the forest by a wiL- 
+o'-the-wisp playing the fife : — 
+
+Miralabi snslftbabo 
+Mirliton ribonribette 
+Surlababi mirlababo 
+Mirliton ribonribo. 
+
+This was sung in a cellar or in a nook of the forest while cut- 
+oing a man's throat. 
+
+A serious symptom. In the eighteenth century, the ancient 
+melancholy of the dejected classes vanishes. They began to 
+langh. They rally the grand meg aud the grand dab. Given 
+Louis XV. they call the King of France *' le Marquis de 
+Pantin." And behold, they are almost gay. A sort of 
+çfleam proceeds from these miserable wretches, as though their 
+consciences were not heavy within them any more. These 
+
+1 Je n'entrave que le dail comment meek, le damn des oi^nieB. pent stit^ 
+«es mômes et ses momiguards et les locber criblant sans être agiW Ioî-d 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 165 
+
+lamentable tribes of darkness have no longer merely the des- 
+perate audacity of actions, they possess the heedless audacity 
+of mind. A sign that they are losing the sense of their crimi- 
+nality, and that they feel, even- among thinkers and dreamers, 
+some indefinable support which the latter themselves know not 
+of. A sign that theft and pillage are beginning to filter into 
+doctrines and sophisms, in such a way as to lose somewhat of 
+their ugliness, while communicating much of it to sophisms 
+and doctrines. A sign, in short, of some outbreak which is 
+prodigious and near unless some diversion shall arise. 
+
+Let us pause a moment. Whom are we accusing here ? Is 
+it the eighteenth century? Is it philosophy? Certainly not. 
+The work of the eighteenth century is healthy and good and 
+wholesome. The encyclopedists, Diderot at their head ; the 
+physiocrates, Turgot at their head ; the philosophers, Voltaire 
+at their head ; the Utopians, Rousseau at their head, — these are 
+four sacred legions. Humanity's immense advance towards the 
+light is due to them. They are the four vanguards of the human 
+race, marching towards the four cardinal points of progress. 
+Diderot towards the beautiful, Turgot towards the useful, Vol- 
+taire towards the true, Rousseau towards the just. But by the 
+side of and above the philosophers, there were the sophists, a 
+venomous vegetation mingled with a healthy growth, hemlock in 
+the virgin forest. While the executioner was burning the great 
+books of the liberators of the century on the grand staircase of 
+the court-house, writers now forgotten were publishing, with 
+the King's sanction, no one knows what strangely disorganizing 
+writings, which were eagerly read by the unfortunate. Some 
+of these publications, odd to say, which were patronized by a 
+prince, are to be found in the Secret Librar}-. These facts, 
+significant but unknown, were imperceptible on the surface. 
+Sometimes, in the very obscurit}* of a fact lurks its danger. It 
+is obscure because it is underhand. Of all these writers, the 
+one who probably then excavated in the masses the most un- 
+healthy gallery was Restif de La Bretonne. 
+
+This work, peeuliar to the whole of Europe, effected more 
+ravages in Germany than anywhere else. In Germany, during 
+a given period, summed up by Schiller in his famous drama The 
+Robbers^ theft and pillage rose up in protest against property 
+and labor, assimilated certain specious and false elementary 
+ideas, which, though just in appearance, were absurd in reality, 
+enveloped themselves in these ideas, disappeared within them, 
+after a fashion, 'assumed an abstract name, passed into the 
+state of theory, and in that shape circulated among the labori» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+^66 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+ous, saffering, and honest masBes, unknown even to the impro 
+dent chemists who had prepared the mixture, unknown even U) 
+the masses who accepted it. Whenever a fact of this sort pre- 
+sents itself, the case is grave. Suffering engenders wratli ; and 
+while the prosperous classes blind themselves or fall asleep, 
+which is the same thing as shutting one's eyes, the hatred of the 
+unfortunate classes lights its torch at some aggrieved or iO- 
+made spirit which dreams in a corner, and sets itself to the 
+scrutin}' of societ}'. The scrutiny of hatred is a terrible thing. 
+
+Hence, if the ill-fortune of the times so wills it, those fearful 
+commotions which were formerly called jacqueries^ beside which 
+purel}' political agitations are tlie merest child's play, which are 
+no longer the conflict of the oppressed and the oppressor, but 
+the revolt of discomfort against comfort. Then everything 
+crumbles. 
+
+Jacqueries are earthquakes of the people. 
+
+It is this peril, possibly imminent towards the close of the 
+eighteenth century, which the French Revolution, that immense 
+act of probity, cut short. 
+
+The French Revolution, which is nothing else than the idea 
+armed with the sword, rose erect, and, with the same abrupt 
+movement, closed the door of ill and opened the door of good. 
+
+It put a stop to torture, promulgated the truth, expelled 
+miasma, rendered the century healthy, crowned tlie populace. 
+
+It may be said of it that it created man a second time, by 
+giving him a second soul, the right. 
+
+The nineteenth century has inherited and profited by its 
+work, and to-day, the social catastrophe to which we lately 
+alluded, is simply impossible. Blind is he who announces it! 
+Foolish is he who fears it! Revolution is the vaccine of 
+Jacquerie. 
+
+Thanks to the Revolution, social conditions have changed. 
+Feudal and monarchical maladies no longer run in our blood. 
+There is no more of the Middle Ages in our constitution. We 
+no longer live in the days when terrible swarms within made 
+irruptions, when one heard beneath his feet the obscure course 
+of a dull rumble, when indescribable elevations from mole-like 
+tunnels appeared on the surface of civilization, where the soil 
+cracked open, where the roofs of caverns yawned, and where 
+one suddenly beheld monstrous heads emerging from the earth. 
+
+The revolutionary sense is a moral sense. The sentiment of 
+right, once developed, develops the sentiment of duty- The 
+law of all is liberty, which ends where the- liberty of others 
+begins, according to Robespierre's admirable definition. Since 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 167 
+
+^9, the whole people has been ililathig into a sublime individual^ 
+there is not a poor man, who, possessing his right, has not his 
+ray of sun ; the die-of-hunger feels within him the honesty of 
+France ; the dignity of the citizen is an internal armor ; he who 
+A free is scrupulous ; he who votes reigns. Hence incorrupti- 
+bility ; hence tlie miscarriage of unhealthy lusts ; hence eyes 
+heroically lowered before temptations. The révolu tionar}- 
+wholesomeness is such, that on a day of deliverance, a 14th 
+of July, a 10th of August, there is no longer any populace. 
+The firet cry of the enlightened and increasing throngs is: 
+death to thieves ! Progress is an honest man ; the ideal and 
+the absolute do not filch pocket-handkerchiefs. By whom were 
+tlie wagons containing the wealth of the Tuileries escorted in 
+1848? By the rag-pickers of the Faubourg Saint- Antoine. 
+Rags mounted guard over the treasure. Virtue rendered these 
+tatterdemalions resplendent. In those wagons in chests, hardly 
+closed, and some, even, half-open, amid a hundred dazzling 
+caskets, was that ancient crown of France, studded with dia- 
+monds, surmounted by the carbuncle of royalty, by the Regent 
+diamond, which was worth thirty millions. Barefooted, they 
+guarded that crown. 
+
+Hence, no more Jacquerie. I regret it for the sake of the 
+skilful. The old fear has produced its last effects in that 
+quarter ; and henceforth it can no longer be employed in poli- 
+tics. The principal spring of the red spectre is broken. Every 
+one knows it now. The scare-crow scares no longer. The 
+birds take liberties with the mannikin, foul creatures alight upon 
+it, the bourgeois laugh at it. 
+
+IV. — The Two Duties : To Watch and to Hope. 
+
+This being the case, is all social danger dispelled? Certainly 
+not. There is no Jacquerie ; society may rest assured on that 
+point; blood will no longer rush to 'its head. But let society 
+take heed to the manner in which it breathes. Apoplexy is no 
+longer to be feared, but phthisis is there. Social phthisis is 
+called misery. 
+
+One can perish from being undermined as well as from being 
+struck by lightning. 
+
+Let OS not weary of repeating, and sympathetic souls must 
+not forget that this is the first of fraternal obligations, and 
+selfish hearts must understand that the first of political necessi- 
+ties consists in thinking first of all of the disinherited and sor- 
+rowing throngs, in solacing, airing, enlightening, loving themt 
+
+
+
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+168 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+in enlarging their horizon to a magnificent extent, in lavishing 
+upon them education in every form, in oflFering them the exam- 
+ple of labor, never the example of idleness, in diminishing the 
+individual burden by enlarging the notion of the universal aim. 
+in Betting a limit to poverty without setting a limit to weidth. 
+in creating vast fields of public and popular activity, in having, 
+like Briarous, a hundred hands to extend in all directions to the 
+oppressed and the feeble, in employing the collective power foi 
+that grand duty of opening workshops for all arms, schools foi 
+all aptitudes, and laboratories for all dt^grees of intelligence, 
+in augmenting salaries, diminishing trouble, balancing what 
+should be and what is, that is to say, in proportioning enjoy- 
+ment to effort and a glut to need ; in a word, in evolving from 
+the social apparatus more light and more comfort for the bene- 
+fit of those who suffer and those who are ignorant. 
+
+And, let us say it, all this is but the beginning. The true 
+question is this : labor cannot be a law without being a right. 
+
+We will not insist upon this point; this is not the proper 
+place for that. 
+
+If nature calls itself Providence, society should call itself fore- 
+sight. 
+
+Intellectual and moral growth is no less indispensable than 
+material improvement. To know is a sacrament, to think is the 
+prime necessity, truth is nourishment as well as grain. A rea- 
+son which fasts from science and wisdom grows thin. Let os 
+enter equal complaint against stomachs and minds which do not 
+eat. If there is anything more heart-breaking than a body 
+perishing for lack of bread, it is a soul which is dying from hun- 
+ger for the light. 
+
+The whole of progress tends in the direction of solution. Some 
+day we shall be amazed. As the human race mounts upward, 
+the deep layers emerge naturall}' from the zone of distress. The 
+obliteration of misery will be accomplished by a simple eleyatioc 
+of level. 
+
+We should do wrong were we to doubt this blessed oonsnm 
+mation. 
+
+The past is very strong, it is true, at the present moment. 
+It censures. This rejuvenation of a corpse is surprising. Be- 
+hold, it is walking and advancing. It seems a victor ; this dead 
+body is a conqueror. He arrives with his legions, superstitions, 
+with his sword, despotism, with his banner, ignorance ; a while 
+ago, he won ten battles. He advances, he threatens, he langhs. 
+he is at our doors. Let us not despair, on our side. Jjet IM 
+sell the field on which Hannibal is encamped. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 169 
+
+What have we to fear, we who believe? 
+
+No such thing as a back-flow of ideas exists any more than 
+there exists a return of a river on its course. 
+
+But let those who do* not desire a future reflect on this matter. 
+When they say ''no" to progress, it is not the future but them- 
+selves that they are condemning. The}' are giving themselves a 
+sad malady; the}' are inoculating themselves with the past. 
+There is but one way of rejecting To-morrow, and that is to die. 
+
+Now, no death, that of the body as late as possible, that of 
+the soul never, — this is what we desire. 
+
+Yes, the enigma will utter its word, the sphinx will speak, the 
+problem will be solved. 
+
+Yes, the people, sketched out by the eighteenth centuiy, will 
+be finished by the niuctoenth. He. who doubts this is an idiot! 
+The future blossoming, the near blossoming forth of universal 
+well-being, is a divinely fatal phenomenon. 
+
+Immense combined propulsions direct human affairs and con- 
+duct them within a given time to a logical state, that is to say, 
+to a state of equilibrium ; that is to say, to equity. A force 
+composed of earth and heaven results from humanity and gov- 
+erns it ; this force is a worker of miracles ; marvellous issues are 
+no more difficult to it than extraordinary vicissitudes. Aided by 
+science, which comes from one man, and by the event, which 
+comes from another, it is not greatly alarmed by these conti-a- 
+dictions in the attitude of problems, which seem impossibilities 
+to the vulgar herd. It is no less skilful at causing a solution 
+to spring forth from the reconciliation of ideas, than a lesson 
+fVom the reconciliation of facts, and we ma}- expect anything 
+from that mysterious power of progress, which brought the 
+Orient and the Occident face to face one fine day, in the depths 
+of a sepulchre, and made the imaums converse with Bonaparte 
+in the interior of the Great Pyramid. 
+
+In the meantime, let there be no halt, no hesitation, no pause 
+in the grandiose onward march of minds. Social philosophy 
+consists essentiall}' in science and peace. Its object is, and its 
+result must be, to dissolve wrath by the study of antagonisms. 
+It examines, it scrutinizes, it analyzes ; then it puts together 
+once more, it proceeds by means of reduction, discarding all 
+hatred. 
+
+More than once, a society has been seen to give way before the 
+wind which is let loose upon mankind; history is full of the 
+shipwrecks of nations and empires ; manners, customs, laws, 
+religions, — and some fine day, that unknown force, the hurri- 
+cane, passes by and bears them all away. The civilizations ol 
+
+
+
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+170 LES MI SE RABLES. 
+
+India, of Chaldea, of Persia, of Syria, of Egypt, have di88(h 
+peared one after the other. Why ? We know not. What are 
+the cauBos of these disasters? We do not know. Could these 
+societies have been saved ? Was it their fault ? Did they per- 
+sist in the fatal vice which destroyed them ? What is the amount 
+of suicide in these terrible deaths of a nation and a race? Ques- 
+tions to which there exists no reply. Darkness enwraps eon* 
+demned civilizations. They sprung a leak, then they sank. 
+We have nothing more to say ; and it is with a sort of terror 
+iihat we look on, at the bottom of that sea which is caHed the 
+past, behind those colossal waves, at the shipwreck of those 
+immense vessels, Babylon, Nineveh, Tarsus, Thebes, Rome, 
+beneath the fearful gusts which emerge from all the mouths of 
+the shadows. But shadows are there, and light is here. We 
+are not acquainted with the maladies of these ancient civili- 
+zations, we do not know the infirmities of our own. Everj- 
+where upon it we have the right of light, we contemplate its 
+beauties, we lay bare its defects. Where it is ill, we probe; 
+and the sickness once diagnosed, the study of the cause lea^ls 
+to tlie discovery of the remedy. Our civilization, the work of 
+twenty centuries, is its law and its prodigy ; it is worth the 
+trouble of saving. It will be saved. It is already much to have 
+solaced it ; its enlightenment is yet another point. All the la- 
+bors of modern social philosophies must converge towards this 
+point. The thinker of to-day has a great duty — to auscultate 
+civilization. 
+
+We repeat, that this auscultation brings encouragement; it 
+is by this persistence in encouragement that we wish to c*onclude 
+these pages, an austere interlude in a mournful drama. Beneath 
+the social mortality, we feel human imperishableness. The globe 
+does not perish, because it has these wounds, craters, eruptions, 
+sulphur pits, here and there, nor because of a volcano which 
+ejects its pus. The maladies of the people do not kill man. 
+
+And yet, any one who follows the course of social clinics shakes 
+his head at times. The strongest, the tenderest, the most logi* 
+^1 have their hours of weakness. 
+
+Will the future arrive ? It seems as though we might almost 
+put this question, when we behold so much terrible darkness. 
+Melancholy face-to-face encounter of selfish and wretched. On 
+the part of the selfish, the prejudices, shadows of costly educa- 
+tion, appetite increasing through intoxication, a giddiness of 
+prosperity which dulls, a fear of suffering which, in some goes 
+as far as an aversion for the suffering, an implacable satisfac- 
+tion, tlie / so swollen that it bars the soul ; on the side of th^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+HAINT^DENIS. 17J 
+
+«rretched ooyetonsness., env}', hatred of seeing others ei^oy, the 
+profound impalscs of the human beast towards assuaging ite 
+desires, hearts full of mist, sadness, need, fatality, impure and 
+simple ignorance. 
+
+Shall we continue to raise our eyes to heaven ? is the luminous 
+point which we distinguish there one of those which yanish ? 
+The ideal is frightful to behold, thus lost in the depths, small, 
+isolated, imperceptible, brilliant, but surrounded by those great, 
+black menaces, monstrously heaped around it ; yet no more in 
+langer than a star in the maw of the clouds. 
+
+
+
+•«^•«»« 
+
+
+
+BOOK EIGHTH. — ENCHANTMENTS AND DESOLA-* 
+
+TIONS. 
+
+I. — Full Lioht. 
+
+The reader has probably understood that Éponîne, having 
+recognized through the gate, the inhabitant of tliat Rue Pluuiet 
+whither Magnon had sent her, had begun by keeping the ruflians 
+away from the Rue Plumet, and had then conducted Marius 
+thither, and that, after many days spent in ecstasy before that 
+gate, Marius, drawn on by that force which draws tibe iron to the 
+magnet and a lover towards the stones of which is built the house 
+of her whom he loves, had finally entered Cosette's garden as 
+Romeo entered the garden of Juliet. This had even proved 
+easier for him than for Romeo ; Romeo was obliged to scale a 
+wall, Marius had only to use a little force on one of the bars of 
+the decrepit gate which vacillated in its rusty recess, after the 
+fashion of old people's teeth. Marius was slender and readily 
+passed through. 
+
+As there was never any one in the street, and as Marius 
+never entered the garden except at night, he ran no risk of be- 
+ing seen. 
+
+Beginning with that blessed and holy hour when a kiss be* 
+trothed these two souls, Marius was there every evening. If, 
+at that period of her existence, Cosette had fallen in love with 
+a man in the least unscmpulous or debauched, she would have 
+been lost ; for there are generous natures which yield themselves, 
+and Cosette was one of them. One of woman's magnanimities 
+is to yield. Love, at the height where it is absolute, is com- 
+
+
+
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+172 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+plicated with some indescribably celestial blindness of modesty 
+But what dangers you run, O noble souls ! Often yon give the 
+heart, and we take the body. Your heart remains with you, vou 
+gaze upon it in the gloom with a shudder. Love has no middle 
+course ; it either ruins or it saves. All human destiny lies in 
+this dilemma. This dilemma, ruin, or safety, is set forth no moro 
+Inexorably by any fatality tliau by love. Love is life, if it la 
+not death. Cradle; also coffin. The same sentiment says** yes" 
+and "no" in the human heart. Of all the things that*God hac 
+made, the human heart is the one which sheds the most light, 
+alas ! and the most darkness. 
+
+God willed that Cosette's love should encounter one of the 
+loves which save. 
+
+Throughout the whole of the month of May of that year 1832» 
+there were there, in every night, in that poor, neglected garden, 
+beneath that thicket which grew thicker and more fragrant day 
+by day, two beings composed of all chastity, all innocence, over- 
+flowing with all the felicity of heaven, nearer to the archangels 
+than to mankind, pure, honest, intoxicated, radiant, who shone 
+for each other amid the shadows. It seemed to Cosette that 
+Marins had a crown, and to Marins that Cosette had a nimbus. 
+They touched each other, they gazed at each other, they clasped 
+each other's hands, they pressed close to each other ; but there 
+was a distance which they did not pass. .Not that they respected 
+it ; they did not know of its existence. Marins was conscioos 
+of a banier, Cosette's innocence; and Cosette of a support^ 
+Marius' loyalty. The first kiss had also been the last. Man- 
+us, since that time, had not gone further than to touch Cosette's 
+hand, or her kerchief, or a lock of her hair, with his lips. For 
+him, Cosette was a perfume and not a woman. He inhaled her. 
+She refused nothing, and he asked nothing. Cosette was happy, 
+and Marius was satisfied. They lived in this ecstatic state which 
+can be described as the dazzling of one soul by another soul. 
+It was the inefl'able first embrace of two maiden souls in the 
+ideal. Two swans meeting on the Jungfrau. 
+
+At that hour of love, an hour when voluptuousness is absolutely 
+mute, beneath the omnipotence of ecstasy, Marius, the pure and 
+seraphic Marius, would rather have gone to a woman of the town 
+than have raised Cosette's robe to the height of her ankle. 
+Once, in the moonlight, Cosette stooped to pick up something 
+on the ground, her bodice fell apart and permitted a glimpse of 
+the beginning of her throat. ^Marins turned away his eyes. 
+
+What took place between these two beings ? Nothing. Tbej 
+dored each other. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. JTÏ 
+
+At night, when they were there, that gaixlen seemed a living 
+and a sacred spot. AH flowers unfolded around them and sent 
+them incense ; and they opened their souls and scattered them 
+over the flowers. The wanton and vigorous vegetation quivered, 
+full of strength and intoxication, around these two inno- 
+cents, and thej' uttered words of love which set the trees to 
+lirembling. 
+
+What words were these ? Breaths. Nothing more. These 
+breaths sutflced to trouble and to touch all nature round about. 
+Magic power which we should find it difficult to understand 
+were we to read in a book these conversations which are made to 
+be borne away and dispersed like smoke wreaths by the breeze 
+beneath the leaves. Take from those murmurs of two lovers 
+that melody which proceeds from the soul and which accompanies 
+them like a lyre, and what remains is nothing more than a shade ; 
+you say: "Whatl is that all!" eh! yes, childish prattle, re- 
+petitions, laughter at nothing, nonsense, everything that is 
+deepest and most sublime in the world ! The only things which 
+are worth the trouble of saying and hearing ! 
+
+The man who has never heard, the man who has never uttered 
+these absurdities, these paltry remarks, is an imbecile and a 
+malicious fellow. Cosette said to Marius :-^ 
+
+''Dost thou know? — " 
+
+[In all this and athwart this celestial maidenliness, and with- 
+out either of them being able to say how it had come about, tlie; 
+Dad begun to call each other thou,^ 
+
+''Dost thou know? My name is Euphrasie." 
+
+"Euphrasie? Why no, thy name is Cosette." 
+
+"Oh! Cosette is a very ugly name that was given to me 
+when I was a little thing. But my real name is Euphrasie* 
+Dost thou like that name — Enphrasie ? " 
+
+*' Yes. But Cosette is not ugly." 
+
+" Do you like it better than Euphrasie?** 
+
+"Why, yes," 
+
+" Then I like it better too. Truly, it is pretty, Cosette. Call 
+me Cosette/' 
+
+And the smile that she added made of this dialogue an idyl 
+worthy of a grove situated in heaven. On another occasion 
+she gazed intently at him and exclaimed : — 
+
+"Monsieur, you are handsome, you are good-looking, you are 
+witty, you are not at all stupid, you are much more learned than 
+I am, but I bid you defiance with this word : I love you ! " 
+
+And Marius, in the very heavens, thought he hee^d a strain 
+tuDg by a Stat. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+174 LES MlSËRABLE8i. 
+
+Or she bestowed on him a gentle tap becaase he cougheQ> and 
+she said to him : — 
+
+*' Don't cough, sir ; I will not have people cough on my domain 
+without my permission. It's very naughty to cough and to dis- 
+turb me. I want you to be well, because, in the first place, if 
+you were not well, I should be very unhappy. What should 
+I do then?" 
+
+And this was simply divine. 
+
+Once Marins said to Cosette : — 
+
+'^Just imagine, I thought at one time that your name was 
+Ursule." 
+
+This made both of them laugh the whole evening. 
+
+In tlie middle of another conversation, he chanced to ex- 
+claim t — 
+
+"'Oh! One day, at the Luxembourg, I had a good mind to 
+finish breaking up a veteran ! " But he stopped shoi*t, and went 
+no further. He would have been obliged to speak to Cosette 
+of her garter, and that was impossible. This bordered on a 
+strange theme, the flesh, before which that immense and inno« 
+cent love recoiled with a sort of sacred fright 
+
+Marins pictured life with Cosette to himself like this, without 
+anytliing else; to come every evening to the Rue Plumet, to 
+displace the eld and accommodating bar of the chief-justice's 
+gate, to sit elbow to elbow on that bench, to gaze through the 
+trees at the scintillation of the on-coming night, to fit a fold of 
+the knee of his trousers into the ample fall of Cosette's gown, 
+to caress her thumb-nail, to call her thou^ to smell of the same 
+flower, one after the other, forever, indefinitely. During this 
+time, clouds passed above their heads. Every time that the 
+wind l^ows it bears with it more of the dreams of men than of 
+the clouds of heaven. 
+
+Tliis chaste, almost shy love was not devoid of gaUantry, by any 
+means. To pay compliments to the woman whom a man loves 
+is the first method of bestowing cai*esses, and he is half auda- 
+cious who tries it. A compliment is something like a kiss through 
+a veil. Voluptuousness mingles there with its sweet tiny point, 
+while it hides itself. The heart draws back before voluptuous- 
+ness only to love the more. Marius' blandishments, all satu* 
+rated with fancy, were, so to speak, of azure hue. The birds 
+when they fly up yonder, in the direction of the angels, must 
+bear such words. There were mingled witli them, nevertheless, 
+life, humanity, all the [)ositiveness of which Marius was capable. 
+Tt was what is said in tiie bower, a prelude to what will be said 
+^Q the chamber; a lyrical efifusion, strophe and sonnet inter 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 176 
+
+mingled, pleasing hyperboles of cooing, all the refinement» of 
+adoration arranged in a bouquet and exhaling a celestial per- 
+fume, aq ineffable twitter of heart to heart. 
+
+'* Oh ! " murmured Marins, *' how beautiful you are ! I dare 
+not look at you. It is all over with me when I contemplate you. 
+You are a grace. I know not what is the matter with me. The 
+hem of your gown, when the tip of your shoe peeps from 
+beneath, upsets me. And then, what an enchanted gleam wher 
+you open your thought even but a little ! You taUc astonish 
+i'lg^y good sense. It seems to me at times that you are a 
+dream. Speak, I listen, I admire. Oh Cosette! how strange 
+it is and how charming ! I am really beside myself. You are 
+adorable, Mademoiselle. I study your feet with the micro- 
+scope and your soul with the telescope." 
+
+And Cosette answered : — 
+
+^^ I have been loving a little more all the time that has passed 
+since this morning." 
+
+Questions and replies took care of themselves in this dialogue, 
+which always turned with mutual consent upon love, as the little 
+pith figures always turn on their peg. 
+
+Cosette's whole person was ingenuousness, ingenuity, trans- 
+parency, whiteness, candor, radiance. It might have been said 
+of Cosette that she was clear. She produced on those who saw 
+her the sensation of April and dawn. There was dew in her 
+eyes. Cosçtte was a condensation of the auroral light in the 
+form of a woman. 
+
+It was quite simple that Marins should admire her, since he 
+adored her. But the truth is that this little school-girl, fresh. 
+from the convent, talked with exquisite penetration and uttered, 
+at times, all sorts of true and delicate sayings. Her prattle 
+was converaation. She never made a mistake about anything, 
+and she saw things justly. The woman feels and speaks with 
+the tender instinct of the heart, which is infallible. 
+
+No one understands so well as a woman, how to say things 
+that are, at once, both sweet and deep. Sweetness and depth, 
+';hey are the whole of woman ; in them lies the whole of heaven. 
+
+In this full felicity, tears welled up to their eyes every instant 
+A crushed lady-bug, a feather fallen from a nest, a branch of 
+hawthorn broken, aroused their pity, and their ecstasy, sweetly 
+mingled with melancholy, seemed to ask nothing better than to 
+weep. The most sovereign symptom of love is a tenderness 
+that is, at times, almost unbearable. 
+
+And, in addition to this, — all these contradictions are the 
+lightning play of love, — they were fond of laughing, they 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+176 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+laughed readily and with a delicious freedom, and bo familiarlj 
+that they sometimes presented the air of two boys. 
+
+Still, though unknown to hearts intoxicated with purity, na- 
+ture is always present and will not be forgotten. She is there 
+with her brutal and sublime object ; and however great may be 
+the innocence of souls, one feels in the most modest private 
+interview, the adorable and mysterious shade which separates 
+a couple of lovers from a pair of friends. 
+
+They idolized each other. 
+
+The permanent and the immutable are persistent. People 
+live, they smile, they laugh, they make little grimaces with the 
+tips of their lips, they interlace then: fingers, they call each other 
+tliou^ and that does not prevent eternity. 
+
+Two lovers hide themselves in the evening, in the twilight, in 
+the invisible, with the birds, with the roses ; they fascinate each 
+other in the darkness with tlieir hearts which they throw into 
+their eyes, they murmur, they whisper, and in the meantime, im- 
+mense librations of the planets fill the infinite universe. 
+
+II. — The Bewilderment of Perfect Happiness. 
+
+They existed vaguely, frightened at their happiness. The; 
+did not notice the cholera which decimated Paris preciselj* dur- 
+ing that very month. They had confided, in each other as far 
+as possible, but this had not extended much further thau their 
+names. Marius had told Cosette that he was an orphan, that 
+his name was Marius Pontmercy, that he was a lawyer, that he 
+lived by writing things for publishers, that his father had been 
+a colonel, that the latter ha<l been a hero, and that he, Marius, 
+was on bad terms with his grandfather who was rich. He had 
+also hinted at being a baron, but this had produced no effect on 
+Cosette. She did not know the meaning of the wor-d. Marius 
+was Marius. On her side, she hud confided to him that slie 
+had been brought up at the I'etit-Picpus convent, that her 
+mother, like his own, was dead, that her father's name was M. 
+Fauchelevent, that he was very good, that he gave a great deal 
+to the poor, but that he was poor himself, and that he denied 
+himself everything though he denied her nothing. 
+
+Strange to say, in the sort of symphony in which Marius had 
+lived since he had been in the habit of seeing Cosette, the past, 
+even the most recent past, had become so confused and distaut 
+to him, that what Cosette told him satisfied him completely. It 
+did not even occur to him to tell her about the nocturnal adven- 
+ture in the hovel, about Tbénardier, about the burn, and about 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 17T 
+
+tbe strange attitude and singular flight of her father. Marius 
+had momentarily forgotten all this ; in the evening he did not 
+even know that there had been a morning, what he had done, 
+where he had breakfasted, nor who had spoken to him ; he had 
+songs in his ears which rendered him deaf to every other 
+thought; he only existed at the hours when he saw Cosette. 
+Then, as he was in heaven, it was quite natural that he should 
+forget earth. Both bore languidly the indefinable burden of 
+immaterial pleasures. Thus lived these somnambulists who 
+are called lovers. 
+
+Alas ! Who is there who has not felt all these things? Why 
+does there come an hour when one emerges from this azure, and 
+why does life go on afterwards ? 
+
+Loving almost takes the place of thinking. Love is an ardent 
+forgetfulness of all the rest. Then ask logic of passion if you 
+will. There is no more absolute logical sequence in the hnman 
+heart than there is a perfect geometrical figure in the celestial 
+mechanism. For Cosette and Marius nothing existed except 
+Marias and Cosette. The nnivei-se around them had fallen into 
+a hole. They lived in a golden minute. There was nothing 
+before them, nothing behind. It hardly occurred to Marius 
+that Cosette had a father. His brain was dazzled and obliter- 
+ated. Of what did these lovers talk then? We have seen, of 
+the flowers, and the swallows, the setting sun and the rising 
+moon, and all sorts of important things. They had told each 
+other everything except everything. The everything of lovers 
+is nothing. But the father, the realities, that fair, the ruffians, 
+that adventure, to what purpose? And was he very sure that 
+this nightmare had actually existed? They were two, and they 
+adored each other, and beyond that there was nothing. Nothing 
+else existed. It is probable that this vanishing of hell in our 
+rear is inherent to the arrival of paradise. Have we beheld 
+demons ? Are there any ? Have we trembled ? Have we suf- 
+fered ? We no longer know. A rosy cloud hangs over it. 
+
+So these two beings lived in this manner, high aloft, with all 
+that improbability which is in nature ; neither at the nadir nor 
+at the zenith, between man and seraphim, above the mire, below 
+the ether, in the clouds ; hardly flesh and blood, soul and ecstasy 
+from head to foot ; already too sublime to walk the earth, still 
+too heavily charged with humanity to disappear in the blue, 
+suspended like atoms which are waiting to be precipitated ; 
+apparently be3'ond the bounds of destiny ; ignorant of that rot ; 
+yesterday, to-da^', to-morrow ; amazed, rapturous, floating, 
+•oaring ; at times so light that they could take their flight out 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+178 i-BS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+intx) the infinite ; almost prepared to soar away to all eternity 
+They slept wide-awake, thus sweetly lulled. Oh ! splendid leth- 
+argy of the real overwhelmed by the ideal. 
+
+Sometimes, beautiful as Cosette was, Marias shut his eyes in 
+her presence. The best way to look at the soul is througb 
+closed eyes. 
+
+Marius and Cosette never asked themselves whither this wa? 
+ix> lead them. They considered that they had already arrived. 
+It is a strange claim on man's part to wish that love should lead 
+to something. 
+
+in. — The Begtnnino op Shadow. 
+
+Jean Valjban suspected notliing. 
+
+Cosette, who was rather less dreamy than Marius, was gay, 
+and that sufficed for Jean Valjean's happiness. The thoughts 
+which Cosette cherished, her tender preoccupations, Marius' 
+imî^e which filled her heai*t, took away nothing from the incom- 
+parable purity of her beautiful, chaste, and smiling brow. She 
+was at the age when the virgin bears her love as the angel his lily. 
+So Jean Valjean was at ease. And then, when two lovers have 
+come to an understanding, things always go well; the third 
+party who might disturb their love is kept in a state of perfect 
+blindness by a restricted number of precautions which are always 
+the same in the case of all lovers. Thus, Cosette never objected 
+to any of Jean Valjean's proposals. Did she want to take a 
+walk? '*Yes, dear little father." Did slie want to stay at 
+home? Very good. Did he wish to pass the evening with 
+Cosette? She was delighted. As he always went to bed ut 
+ten o'clock, Marius did not come to the garden on such occasions 
+until after that hour, when, from the street, he heard Cosette 
+open the long glass door on the veranda. Of coui^se, no cue 
+ever met Mai-ius in the daytime. Jean Valjean never even 
+dreamed any longer that Marius was in existence. Only once, 
+one morning, he chanced to say to Cosette: ^' Why, you have 
+whitewash on your back ! " On the previous evening, Marios, 
+in a transport, had pushed Cosette against the wall. 
+
+Old Toussaint, who retired early, bought of nothing but hct 
+sleep, and was as ignorant of the whole matter as Jean Valjeâa 
+
+Marias never set foot in the house. When he was with 
+Cosette, they hid themselves in a recess near the steps, la ordtr 
+that they might neither be seen nor heard from the street and 
+there they sat, frequently contenting themselves, by way of con- 
+fersation, with pressing each other's hand twenty times & minati^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'DENIS. 179 
+
+Aâ they gazed at the branches of the trees. At such times, a 
+thimderbolt might have fulleii thirty paces from them, and they 
+would not have noticed it, so deeply was the re very of the one 
+absorbed and sunk in the revery of the other. 
+
+Dmpid purity. Hours wholly white ; almost all alike. This 
+sort of love is a recollection of lily petals and the plumage of 
+!;he dove. 
+
+The whole extent of the garden lay between them and the 
+street. Every time that Marius entered and left, he carefully 
+adjusted the bar of the gate in such a manner that no displace- 
+ment was visible. 
+
+He usually went away about midnight, and returned to Cour- 
+fe3Tac's lodgings. Courfeyrac said to Bahorel : — 
+
+" Would you believe it? Marius comes home nowadays at 
+one o'clock in the morning.'* 
+
+Bahorel replied ; — 
+
+«« What do you expect? There's always a petard in a semi- 
+nary fellqw." 
+
+At times, Courfeyrac folded his arms, assumed a serious ahr, 
+aod said to Marius : — 
+
+^' Yon are getting irregular in your habits, young man." 
+
+Courfeyrac, being a practical man, did not take in good part 
+this reflection of an invisible paradise upon Marius ; he was not 
+much in the habit of concealed passions ; it made him impatient, 
+and now and then he called upon Marius to come back to reality. 
+
+One morning, he threw him this admonition : — 
+
+** My dear fellow, you produce upon me the effect of being 
+located in the moon, the realm of dreams, the province of illu- 
+sions, capital, soap-bubble. Come, be a good boy, what's her 
+name ? " 
+
+But nothing oould induce Marius "to talk." They might 
+have torn out his nails before one of the two sacred syllables of 
+which that ineffable name, Cosette, was composed. True love 
+is as luminous as the dawn, and as silent as the tomb. Only, 
+Courfeyrac saw this change in Marius, that his taciturnity was 
+0Î the beaming order. 
+
+During this sweet month of May, Marius and Cosette learned 
+to know these immense delights. To dfsputc and to say you 
+for £Aov. simply that they might say thou the better afterwards. 
+To talk at great length with yery minute details, of persons in 
+whom they took not the. slightest interest in the world ; anotiier 
+proof that in that ravishing opera called love, the libretto countd 
+for almost nothing ; 
+
+For Marius, to listen to Cosette discussing finery ; 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+180 IE S MISÉRABLES. 
+
+For Cosette, to listen to Marîus talk in politics ; 
+
+To listen, knee pressed to knee, to the carriages rolling along 
+the Rue de Baby lone ; 
+
+To gaze upon the same planet in space, or at the same glow 
+worm gleaming in the grass ; 
+
+To hold their peace together ; a still greater delight than coi> 
+7ersation ; 
+
+Etc., etc. 
+
+In the meantime, divers complications were approaching. 
+
+One evening, Marius was on his way to the rendezvous, by 
+way of the Boulevard des Invalides. He habituall}' walked 
+with drooping head. As he was on the point of turning the 
+corner of the Rue Plumet, he heard some one quite close to 
+him say: — 
+
+"Good evening, Monsieur Marius." 
+
+He raised his head and recognized Éponine. 
+
+This produced a singular effect upon him. He had not 
+thought of that girl a single time since the day when she had 
+Conducted him to the Rue Plumet, he had not seen her again, 
+and she had gone completely out of his mind. He had no 
+reasons for anything but gratitude towards her, he owed her 
+his happraess, and yet, it was embarrassing to him to meet her. 
+
+It is an error to think that passion, when it is pure and happy, 
+leads man to a state of perfection ; it simply leads him, as we 
+have noted, to a state of oblivion. In this situation, man for- 
+gets to be bad, but he also forgets to be good. Gratitude, duty, 
+matters essential and important to be remembered, vanish. At 
+any other time, Marius would have behaved quite differently to 
+Éponine. Absorbed in Cosette, he had not even clearly pat it 
+to himself that this Éponine was named Éponine Thénardier, 
+and that she bore the name inscribed in his father's will, that 
+name, for which, but a few months before, he would have so 
+ardentl}' sacrificed himself. We show Marius as he was. His 
+father himself was fading out of his soul to some extent, nndei 
+the splendor of his love. 
+
+He replied with some embarrassment : — 
+
+*' Ahl so if s you, éponine?" 
+
+•* Why do you call me youf Have I done anything to yon ? * 
+
+'* No," he answered. 
+
+Certainly, he had nothing against^ber. Far from it. Only, 
+he felt that he could not do otherwise, now that he used thou io 
+^sette, than say you to Éponine. 
+
+As he remained silent, she exclaimed : — 
+
+»*Say— " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 1» 
+
+Then she paused. It Beemed as though words failed thai 
+creatare formerly so heedless and so bold. She tried to smile 
+and coald not. Then she resumed : --- 
+
+"Well?" 
+
+Then she paused again, and remained with downcast eyes. 
+
+^^ Good evening, Mr. Marius," said she suddenly and 
+abmptly; and away she went. 
+
+IV. — A Cab runs in English and barks in Slang. 
+
+The following day was the 3d of June, 1832, a date 
+which it is necessary to indicate on account of the grave 
+events which' at that epoch hung on the horizon of Paris in the 
+state of lightning-charged clouds. Marius, at nightfall, was 
+pursuing the same road as on the preceding evening, with the 
+same thoughts of delight in his heart when he caught sight of 
+Épouine approaching, through the trees of the boulevard. Two 
+days in snccession — this was too much. He turned hastily 
+aside, quitted the boulevard, changed his course and went to 
+the Rue Plumet through the Rue Monsieur. 
+
+This caused JÉponine to follow liim to the Rue Plumet, a 
+thing which she had not yet done. Up to that time, she had 
+contented herself with watching him on his passage along the 
+boulevard without ever seeking to encounter him. It was only 
+on the evening before that she had attempted to address him. 
+
+So Eponine followed him, without his suspecting the fact. 
+She saw him displace the bar and slip into the garden. 
+
+She approached the railing, felt of the bars one after the 
+other, and readily recognized the one which Marius had moved. 
+
+She murmured in a low voice and in gloomy accents : — 
+
+" None of thiat, Lisette ! " 
+
+She seated herself on the underpinniug of the railing, close 
+beside the bar, as though she were guarding it. It was pre- 
+ciseLy at the point where the railing touched the. neighboring 
+wall. There was a dim nook there, in which Eponine was 
+entirely concealed. 
+
+She remained thus for more than an hour, without stirring 
+and without breathing, a prey to her thoughts. 
+
+Towards ten o'clock in the evening, one of the two or three 
+persons who passed through the Rue Plumet, an old, belated 
+bourgeois who was making haste to escape from this deserted 
+spot of evil repute, as he skirted the garden railings and 
+reached the angle which it made with the wall, heard a dull 
+ani? threatening voice sayini; : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+iSS LES MISERABLES. 
+
+*^ I'm uo longer surprided that he comes here erery eveDing." 
+
+The passer-by cast a glance around him, saw no one, dared 
+not peer into the black niche, and was greatly alarmed. Be 
+redoubled his pace. 
+
+This passer-by had reason to make haste, for a very few 
+instants later, six men, who were marching separately and at 
+some distance from each other, along the wall, and who might 
+bave been ta^en for a gray patrol, entered the Rue Plumet. 
+
+The first to arrive at the garden railiug halted, and waited 
+for the others ; a second later, all six were reunited. 
+
+These men began to talk in a low voice. 
+
+** This is the place," said one of them. 
+
+^* Is there a cab [dog] in the garden ? " asked another. 
+
+^^ I don't know. In any case, I have fetched a ball that we'U 
+make him eat." 
+
+" Have you some putty to break the pane with?" 
+
+'' Yes." 
+
+*' The railing is old," interpolated a fifth, who had the voice 
+of a ventriloquist. 
+
+^^ So much the better," said the second who had spoken. 
+*^It won't screech under the saw, and it won't be hard to 
+cut." 
+
+The sixth, who had not 3'et opened his lips, now began to 
+inspect the gate, as Éponine had done an hour earlier, grasping 
+each bar in succession, and shaking them cautiously. 
+
+Thus he came to the bar which Mari us had loosened. As be 
+was on the point of grasping this bar, a hand emerging abmptly 
+from the darkness, fell upon his arm ; be felt himself vigor- 
+ously thrust aside by a push in the middle of his breast, and a 
+hoarse voice said to him, but not loudly : — 
+
+" There's a dog." 
+
+At the same moment, he perceived a pale girl standing before 
+him. 
+
+The man underwent that shock which the unexpected always 
+brings. He bristled up in hideous wise ; nothing is so formi- 
+dable to behold as ferocious beasts who are uneasy ; their terrified 
+air evokes terror. 
+
+He recoiled and stammered : — 
+
+"What jade is this?" 
+
+*' Your daughter." 
+
+It was, in fact, Éponine, who had addressed Thénardîer. 
+
+At the apparition of Éponine, the other five, that is to say, 
+Claquesous, Gnelemer, Babet, Bnijon, and Montparaasse had 
+noiselessly drawn near, without precipitation, without uttering • 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'-DENIS. 188 
+
+«rord, with the sinister slowness peculiar to these men of the 
+night. 
+
+Some indescribable but hideous tools were visible in their 
+bands. Guelemer held one of those pairs of curved pincers 
+which prowlers o&W fanchons, 
+
+" Ah, see here, what are you about there ? What do you want 
+with us? Are you crazy?" exclaimed Thénardier, as loudly as 
+one can exclaim and still speak low ; ^^ what have you come here 
+>o hinder our work for?" 
+
+Éponine burst out laughing, and threw herself on his neck. 
+
+'^ I am here, little father, because I am here. Isn't a person 
+allowed to sit on the stones nowadays? It's you who ought 
+not to be here. What have you come here for, since it's a bis- 
+cuit? I told Magnon so. There's nothing to be done here. 
+But embrace me, my good little father ! It's a long time since 
+I've seen you ! So you're out?" 
+
+Théuardier tried to disentangle himself from Éponine's arms, 
+and grumbled : — 
+
+*' That's good. You've embraced me. Yes, I'm out. I'm 
+«sot in. Now, get away with you." 
+
+But Éponine did not fclease her hold, and redoubled her 
+caresses. 
+
+^^ Bnt how did you manage it, little pa? You must have be^u 
+•»s«y clever to get out of tbat. Tell me about it ! And my 
+mother? Where is mother? Tell me about mamma." 
+
+Thénardier replied : — 
+
+** She's well. I don't know, let me alone, and be off, I tell 
+
+**1 won't go, so there now," pouted Eponine like a spoiled 
+child ; "you send me off, and it's four mouths since I saw you, 
+and I've hardly had time to kiss you." 
+
+And she caught her father round the neck again. 
+
+'' Come, now, this is stupid ! " said Babet. 
+
+** Make haste 1 '* said Guelemer, " the cops may pass." 
+
+The ventriloquist's voice repeated his distich : — 
+
+"Nous n' sommes pas le jour de l'an, "This isn't New Year's day, 
+A bécoter papa, maman.** To peck at pa and ma." 
+
+Éponine turned to the five ruffians. 
+
+*' Why, it's Monsieur Brujon. Good day, Monsieur Baluit. 
+^ood day. Monsieur Claquesous. Don*t you know me, Mon- 
+sieur Guelemer? How goes it, Montparnasse? " 
+
+" Yes, they know you ! " ejnt'ulated Tliénardier. ** But good 
+day, good evening, sheer off ! leave us alone ! " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+iM LES MISERABLES. 
+
+^^ It's the hoar for foxes, not for chickena/' said Montpti 
+
+nasse. 
+
+'' Yoa see the Job we have on hand here/' added Babet. 
+
+Éponine caught Montparnasse's hand. 
+
+^^Take care/' said he, ^'you'll cut yourself, IVe a knife 
+open." * 
+
+^' My little Montparnasse," responded Eponine very gentWi 
+^^ you must havc confidence in people. I am the daughter ot 
+my father, perhaps. Monsieur Habet, Monsieur Gueiemer, Vm 
+the person wlio was charged to investigate this matter." 
+
+It is remarkable that É^KHiine did not talk slang. That 
+frightful tongue had become im|)OSsible to her since she ha^ 
+known Marius. 
+
+She pressed in her liand, small, bony, and feeble as that of a 
+skeleton, Guelemer's huge, coarse fingers, and continued : -* 
+
+^^ You know well that I'm no fool. Ordinarily, I am believed. 
+I have rendered you service on various occasions. Well, i bave 
+made inquiries ; you will expose yourselves to no purpose, you 
+•ee. I swear to you that there is nothing in this house." 
+
+*' There are lone women," said Guelemer. 
+
+^^ No, the pei*sons have moved away." 
+
+*'The candles haven't, anyway ! " ejaculated Babet. 
+
+And he pointed out to É[)onine, across the tops of tiie 
+trees, a light which was wandering about in the mansard roof 
+of the pavilion, it was Toussaint, who had sta^'ed up to spread 
+oat some linen to dry. 
+
+Éponine made a fiual effort. 
+
+'* Well," said she, ** they're very poor folks, and if e a hovel 
+where there isn't a sou." 
+
+** Go to the devil 1 " cried Thénardier. *' When we've turned 
+the house upside down and put the cellar at the top and the 
+attic below, we'll tell you what there is inside, and whether it's 
+francs or sous or half -farthings." 
+
+And he pushed her aside with the intention of entering. 
+
+^^My good friend, Mr. Montparnasse," said Éponine, **I 
+entreat you, you are a good fellow, don't enter." 
+
+•"Take care, you'll cut yourself," replied Montparnasse. 
+
+Thénardier resumed in his decided tone : — 
+
+*' Decamp, my girl, and leave men to their own affairs! ** 
+
+Éponine released Montparnasse's hand, which she bad 
+grasped again, and said : — 
+
+*' So you mean to enter this house?" 
+
+*' Rather! " grinned the ventriloquist. 
+
+Then she set her back against the gate, faced the six nifflatt 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. IS5 
+
+i¥bo were anned to the teeth, and to whom the night lent the 
+visages of demons, and said in a firm^ low voice : — 
+
+'' Well, I don't mean that you shall." 
+
+They halted in amazement. The ventriloquist, however, fin< 
+Ished his grin. She went on : — 
+
+♦'Friends! Listen well. This is not what you want. Now 
+Fm talking. In the first place, if you enter this garden, if you 
+lay a hand on this gate, IMl scream, I'll beat on the door, 111 
+rouse everybody^ I'll have the whole six of you seized, I'll call 
+the police." 
+
+*' She'd do it, too," said Thénardier in a low tone to Bi 'ijo\i 
+lUid the ventriloquist. 
+
+She shook hei* head and added : — 
+
+*' Beginning with my father ! *' 
+
+Thénardier stepped nearer. 
+
+*♦ Not so close, my good man ! " said she. 
+
+He retreated, growling between his teeth: — 
+
+*' Why, what's the matter with her?" 
+
+And he added ; — 
+
+-^ Bitch I" 
+
+8he began to langb in a terrible way : — 
+
+" As you like, but you shall not enter here. Tm not the 
+daughter of a dog, since I'm the daughter of a wolf. There 
+are six of you, what matters that to me? You are men. Well, 
+I'm a woman. You don't frighten me. I tell you that you 
+shan't enter this house, because it doesn't suit me. If you ap; 
+preach, I'll b^rk. I told you, I'm the dog, and I don't care a 
+straw for you. Gro your way, you bore me ! Go where you 
+please, but don't come here, I forbid it! You can use your 
+knives, I'll use kicks ; it's all the same to me, come on ! " 
+
+She advanced a pace nearer the ruffians, she was terrible, she 
+burst out laughing : — 
+
+^^ Pardine ! I'm not afraid. I shall be hungry this summer, 
+and I shall be cold this winter. Aren't they ridiculous, these 
+ninnies of men, to think they can scare a girl 1 What ! Scare? 
+Ob, yes, much I Because you have finical poppets of mistresses 
+who hide under the bed when you put on a big voice, forsooth Î 
+I ain't afraid of anything, that I ain't ! " 
+
+She fastened her intent gaze upon Thénardier and said : — 
+
+" Not even of you, father ! " 
+
+Then she continued, as she cast her blood-shot, spectre-like 
+eyes upon the rufiSans in turn : — 
+
+*' What do I care if I'm picked up to-morrow morning on the 
+pavement of tK Rue Plumet, killed by the blows of my father'E 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+IS6 LES MISi^riABLES. 
+
+dub) or whether I'm found a year from now in the nets at Saint 
+Cloud or the Isle of Swans in the midst oi rotten <^d coricfi and 
+drowned dogs ? " 
+
+She was forced to pause ; she was seized by a dry oougfa, hei 
+breath came from her weak and narrow chest like the death- 
+rattle. 
+
+She resumed : — 
+
+^* I have only to cry out, and people will come, and then akp^ 
+bang ! There are six of you ; I represent the whole world." 
+
+Thénardier made a movement towards her. 
+
+^' Don't approach ! " she cried. 
+
+He halted, and said gently : — 
+
+^^ Well, no ; I won't approach, but don't speak so loud. So 
+you intend to hinder us in our work, my daughter? But we 
+must earn our living all the same. Have you no longer any 
+kind feeling for your father?'* 
+
+'* You bother me," said Éponine. 
+
+^^ But we must live, we must eat-—" 
+
+"Burst!" 
+
+So saying, she seated herself on the underpinning of the feno» 
+and hummed : — 
+
+*' Mon bras si doda, ** Mj arm so plump, 
+
+Ma jambe bien faîte My leg well formed. 
+
+Et le temps perdu/' And time wasted.** 
+
+She had set her elbow on her knee and her chin in her hand, 
+and she swung her foot with an air of iuilitference. Her tattered 
+gown permitted a view of her thin shoulder-blades. The neigh 
+boring street lantern illuminated her profile and her attitude. 
+Nothing more resolute and more surprising could be seen. 
+
+The six rascals, speechless and gloomy at being held in check 
+by a girl, retreated beneath the shadow cast by t^e lantern, and 
+held counsel with furious and humiliated shmgs. 
+
+In the meantime she stared at them with a stern but peaceful 
+air. 
+
+"' There's something the matter with her," said Babet. '^ A 
+reason. Is she in love with the dog? If s a shame to miss this, 
+anyway. Two women, an old fellow who lodges in the back- 
+yard, and curtains that ain't so bad at the windows. The old 
+cove must be a Jew. I think the job^s a good one." 
+
+'' Well, go in, then, the rest of you," exclaimed Montparnasse. 
+^* Do the job I'll stay here with the girl, and if she fails as — " 
+
+He flashed the knife, which he held open in his hand, m (be 
+tight of the lantern. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAfNT^DENIS. 187 
+
+Thénardier said not a word, and seemed ready for vrhaterei 
+the rest pleased. 
+
+Brajon, who was somewhat of an oracle, and who had, as the 
+reader knows, "put up the job," had not as yet spoken. He 
+seemed thoughtful. He had the reputation of not sticking at 
+anything, and it was known that he had plundered a police post 
+simply out of bravado. Besides this he made verses and songs, 
+which gave him great authority. 
+
+Babet interrogated him : — 
+
+"You say nothing, Brujon?" 
+
+Brujon remained silent an instant longer, then he shook hia 
+head in various ways, and finally concluded to speak : — 
+
+" See here ; this morning I came across two sparrows fight* 
+ing, this evening I jostled a woman who was quarrelling. AD 
+that's bad. Let's quit." 
+
+They went away. 
+
+As they went, Slontparnasse muttered : — 
+
+'*• Never mind ! if they had wanted, I'd have cut her throat/ 
+
+Babet responded : — 
+
+*' I wouldn't. I don't hit a lady.'* 
+
+At the comer of the street they halted and exchanged tht 
+following enigmatical dialogue in a low tone : — 
+
+*' WTiere sluill we go to sleep to-night?" 
+
+" Under Pantin [ParisJ." 
+
+" Have you the key to the gate, Thénardier?*' 
+
+'^ Pardi." 
+
+Éponine, who never took her eyes off of them, saw them re- 
+tro it by the road by which they had come. She rose and began 
+to creep after them along the walls and the houses. She foi- 
+lo.ved them thus as far as the boulevard. 
+
+There they parted, and she saw these six men plunge into the 
+gloom, where they appeared to melt away. 
+
+V. — Things of thb Night. 
+
+After the departure of the ruffians, the Rue Plumet resumed 
+its tranquil, nocturnal aspect. That which had just taken place in 
+<hlg street would not have astonished a forest. The lofty trees, 
+tlu copses, the heaths, the branches rudely interlaced, the tall 
+gr:i.ss, exist in a sombre manner ; the savage swnrining there 
+matches glimpses of sudden apparitions of the invisible ; that 
+which is below man distinguishes, through the mists, that which 
+i*» boyond man ; and the things of wiiich we livin<r beings are 
+ignorant there meet face to face in the night. Nature, bristling 
+
+
+
+uigmzed 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+tSS LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+imd wild, takes alarm at certain approaches in which she facc^.'i 
+that she feels the supernatural. Fhe forces of the gloom know 
+each other, and are strangely balanced by each other. Teitii 
+and claws fear what they cannot grasp. Blooil-driuktng besti- 
+ality, voracious appetites, hunger in search of prey, the armi'd 
+instincts of nails and jaws wtiich have for source and aim tiie 
+bell^', glare and smell out uneasily the impassive spectral forms 
+straying beneath a shroud, erect in its vague and shuddering 
+robe, and which seem to them to live with a dead and terrible 
+life. These brutalities, which are only matter, entertain a con- 
+fused fear of having to deal with the immense obscurity cod- 
+densed into an unknown being. A black figure barring the way 
+stops the wild beast short. That which emerges from the cem- 
+etery intimidates and disconcerts that which emei^es from the 
+cave ; the ferocious fear the sinister ; wolves recoil when tbey 
+encounter a ghoul. 
+
+VI. — Marius becomes Practical once more to the Ex- 
+tent OF GIVING COSETTE HIS ADDRESS. 
+
+While this sort of a d(^ with a human face was mountin^ 
+guard over the gate, and while the six ruffians were 3'ielding to 
+a girl, Marius was by Cosette's side. 
+
+Never had the sky been more studded with stars and more 
+charming, the trees more trembling, the odor of the grass more 
+penetrating ; never had the birds fallen asleep among the leaves 
+with a sweeter noise ; never had all the harmonies of universal 
+serenity responded more thoroughly to the inward music of love; 
+never had Marius been more captivated, more happy, more 
+ecstatic. 
+
+But he had found Cosette sad; Cosette had been weeping- 
+Her eyes were red. 
+
+This was the first cloud in that wonderful dream. 
+
+Marius' first word had been : *' What is the matter?** 
+
+And she had replied : '' This." 
+
+Then she had seated herself on the bench near the steps, aoc 
+while he tremblingly took his place beside her, she had coo 
+tinned : — 
+
+'* My father told mc this morning to hold myself in readiness, 
+because he has business, and we ma\ go away from here." 
+
+Marius shivered from head to foot. 
+
+When one is at the end of one's life, vO die means to go 
+away ; when one is at the beginning of it, to jo awaj means tc 
+die. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-'DENIS. 189 
+
+For the last six weeks, Marias had little by little, slowly, by 
+degrees, taken possession of Cosette each day. As we have 
+a^eady explained, in the case of first love, the soul is takei 
+long before the bod}* ; later on, one takes the body long befort 
+tiie soul ; sometimes one does not take the soul at iûl ; the Fau- 
+blas and the Prudhommes add : '* Because there is none " ; but 
+the sarcasm is, fortunately, a blasphemy. So Marius possessed 
+Cosette, as spirits possess, but he enveloped her with all his 
+3onl, and seized her jealously with incredible conviction. He 
+possessed her smile, her breath, her perfume, t?ie profound radi- 
+ance of her blue eyes, the sweetness of her skin when he touched 
+her hand, the charming mark which she had on her neck, all 
+her thoughts. Therefore, he possessed all Cosette's dreams. 
+
+He incessantly gazed at, and he sometimes touched lightly 
+with his breath, the short locks on the nape of her neck, and he 
+declared to himself that there was not one of those short hairs 
+which did not belong to him, Marius. He gazed upon and 
+adored the things that she wore, her knot of ribbon, her gloves, 
+her sleeves, her shoes, her cuffs, as sacred objects of which he 
+was the master. He dreamed that he was the lord of those 
+pretty shell combs which she wore in her hair, and he even said 
+to himself, in confused and suppressed stammerings of volup- 
+tuousness which did not make their way to the light, that there 
+was not a ribbon of her gown, not a mesh in her stockings, not 
+a fold in her bodice, which was not his. Beside Cosette he felt 
+himself beside his own property, his own thing, his own despot 
+and his slave. It seemed as though they had so intermingled 
+their souls, that it would have been impossible to tell them apart 
+had they wished to take them back again. — *'This is mine." 
+" No, it is mine." '* I assure you that you are mistaken. This 
+is my property." '' What you are taking as your own is my- 
+self." — Marius was something that made a part of Cosette, and 
+Cosette was something which made a part of Marius. Marius 
+felt Cosette within him. To have Cosette, to possess Cosette, 
+this, to him, was not to be distinguished from breathing. It 
+was in the midst of this faith, of this intoxication, of this virgin 
+possession, unprecedented and absolute, of this sovereignty, 
+that thede words : " We are going away," fell suddenly, at a 
+blow, and that the harsh voice of reality cried to him : '* Cosette 
+is not yours I " 
+
+Marius awoke. For six weeks Marius had been living, as 
+we have said, outside of life ; those words, going away! caused 
+him to re-enter it harshly. 
+
+He found not a word to say. Cosette merely felt that tun 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+190 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+hand was very cold. She said to him in her turn; '-What is 
+the matter?" 
+
+He replied in so low a tone that Cosctte hardly heard hun : — 
+
+" I did not understand what you said.*' 
+
+She began again : — 
+
+*' This morning my father told me to settle all my little affairs 
+and to hold myself in readiness, that he would give me his linen 
+to put in a trunk, that he was obliged to go on a journey, tli.Mt 
+we were to go away, that it is necessary to have a large trunk 
+for me and a small one for him, and that all is to be ready in a 
+week from now, and that we might go to England." 
+
+'' But this is outrageous ! " exclaimed Marins. 
+
+It is certain^ that, at that moment, no abuse of power, do 
+violence, not one of the abominations of the worst tyrants, 
+no action of Busiris, of Tiberius, or of Henry VIII., could 
+have equalled this in atrocity, in the opinion of Marius; M. 
+Fauchelevent taking his daughter off to England because he had 
+business there. 
+
+He demanded in a weak voice: — 
+
+" And when do you start?" 
+
+*' He did not sa}' when." 
+
+" And when shall you return?" 
+
+'' He did not say when." 
+
+Marins rose and said coldly : — 
+
+" Cosette, shall you go?" 
+
+Cosette turned toward him her beautiful eyes, all filled with 
+anguish, and replied in a sort of bewilderment : — 
+
+"Where?" 
+
+" To England. Shall you go? " 
+
+*' Why do you say you to me?" 
+
+" I ask you whether you will go?" 
+
+"What do you expect me to do?" she said, clasping he 
+hands. 
+
+"So, you will go?" 
+
+"If my father goes." 
+
+"So, you will go?" 
+
+Cosette took Marins' hand, and pressed it without repl^nng. 
+
+" Very well," said Marius, "then I will go elsewhere." 
+
+Cosette felt rather than understood the meaning of these 
+words. She turned so pale that her face shone white through 
+the gloom. She stammered : — 
+
+" What do you mean?" 
+
+Marins looked at her, then raised his eyes to heaven, and 
+answered : " Nothing." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 191 
+
+When his ejes fell again, he saw Cosette smiling at him. 
+The smile of a woman whom one loves possesses a visible radi« 
+ance, even at night. 
+
+*' How sillv we are ! Marins, I have an idea." 
+
+*'WhatisU?" 
+
+*' If we go away, do you go too I I will tell you where I Come 
+and join me wherever 1 am." 
+
+Marius was now a thoroughly roused man. He had fallen 
+back into reality. He cried to Cosette : — 
+
+*' Go away with you ! Are you mad? Why, I should have 
+to have money, and I have none ! Go to England ? But I am 
+in debt now, I owe, I don't know how much, more than ten louis 
+to Courfeyrac, one of my friends with whom you are not ac- 
+quainted 1 I have an old hat which is not worth thi*ee francs, 
+I have a ooat which lacks buttons in front, my shirt is all 
+ragged, my elbows ai*e torn, my boots let in the water; for the 
+last six weeks I have not thought about it, and I have not told 
+you about it. You only see me at night, and you give me your 
+iove ; if you were to see me in the daytime, you would give me 
+a sou ! Go to England ! Eh ! I haven't enough to pay for a 
+passport ! " 
+
+He threw himself against a tree which was close at hand^ 
+erect, his brow pressed close to the hark, feeling neither the 
+wood which flayed his skiiu nor the fever which was throbbing 
+in his temples, and there he stood motionless, on the point ol 
+falling, like the statue of despair. 
+
+He remained a long time thus. One could remain for 
+eternity in such abysses. At last he turned round. He 
+heard behind him a faint stifled noise, which was sweet yet 
+sad. 
+
+It was Cosette sobbing. 
+
+She had been weeping for more than two hours beside Marius 
+as he meditated. 
+
+He came to her, fell at her knees, and slowly prostrating 
+himself, he took the tip of her foot which peeped out from be- 
+neath her robe, and kissed it. 
+
+She let him have his way in silence. There are moments 
+when a woman accepts, like a sombre and resigned goddess^ 
+the religion of love. 
+
+*• Do not weep," he said. 
+
+She murmured : — 
+
+** Not when I may be going away, and you cannot come 1 '' 
+
+He went on : — 
+
+** Do you love me? " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+1^2 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+She replied, sobbing, by that word from paradise wbidi is 
+never more charming than amid tears : — 
+
+'' I adore yon 1 " 
+
+He continued in a tone which was an indescribable ca 
+ress : — 
+
+<' Do not weep. Tell me, will you do this for me, and eease 
+to weep ? *' 
+
+" Do you love me? " said she. 
+
+He took her hand. 
+
+'^ Cosette, I have never given my word of honor to any ODe^ 
+because my word of honor terrifies me. I feel that my father 
+is by my side. Well, I give you my most sacred word of honor, 
+that if you go away I shall die." 
+
+In the tone with which he uttered these words there lay a 
+melancholy so solemn and so tranquil, that Cosette trembled. 
+She felt that chill which is produced by a true and gloomy thing 
+as it passes by. The shock made her cease weeping. 
+
+'* Now, listen," said he, '* do not expect me to-morrow.'* 
+
+"Why?" 
+
+" Do not expect me until the day after to-morrow." 
+
+*'0h! Why?" 
+
+" You will see." 
+
+" A day without seeing you I But that is impossible ! ** 
+
+" Let us sacrifice one day in order to gain our whole lives, 
+perhaps." 
+
+And Marius added in a low tone and in an aside : — 
+
+^' He is a man who never changes his habits, and be hsa 
+never received any one except in the evening." 
+
+'' Of what man are you speaking?" asked Cosette. 
+
+''I? Isaid nothing." 
+
+*' What do you hope, then?" 
+
+*' Wait until the day after to-morrow.* 
+
+"You wish it?" 
+
+" Yes, Cosette." 
+
+She took his head in both her hands, raising herself on tip- 
+toe in order to be on a level with him, and tried to read his 
+hope in his eyes. 
+
+Marius resumed : — 
+
+" Now that I think of it, you ought to know my address: 
+something might happen, one never knows; I live with that 
+friend named Courfeyrac, Rue de la Verrerie, No. 16." 
+
+He searched in his pocket, pulled out his penknife, and with 
+the blade he wrote on the plaster of the wall ; — 
+
+*' 16 Bue de la Verrerie." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 198 
+
+In the meantime, Cosette had b^on to gaze mto his eyeg 
+DDcc more. 
+
+^' Tell me your thoaght, Marins ; you have some idea. Tell 
+it to me. Oh I tell me, so that I may pass a pleasant night." 
+
+*^This is my idea: that it is impossible that God should 
+mean to part us. Wait ; expect me the day after to-morrow." 
+
+'* What shall I do until then?" said Cosette. ''You are 
+outside, you go, and come ! How happy men are ! I shall re- 
+main entirely alone ! Oh ! How sad I shall be ! What is it 
+that you are going to do to-morrow evening? tell me." 
+
+'' I am going to try something." 
+
+*' Then I will pray to God and I will think of you here, bo 
+that you may be successful. I will question you no further, 
+since you do not wish it. You are m}' master. I shall pass 
+the evening' to-morrow in singing that music from Euryantht 
+that yon love, and that you came one evening to listen to, out- 
+side my shutters. But day after to-morrow you will come 
+early. I shall expect j'ou at dusk, at nine o'clock precisely, I 
+warn you. Mon Dieu ! how sad it is that the days are so 
+long ! On the stroke of nine, do you understand, I shall be in 
+the garden." 
+
+''And I also." 
+
+And without having uttered it, moved by the same thought, 
+impelled by those electric cutTents which place lovers in con- 
+tinual communication, both being intoxicated with delight even 
+in their sorrow, they fell into each other's arms, without per- 
+ceiving that their lips met while their uplifted eyes, overflowing 
+with raptui-e and full of tears, gazed upon the stars. 
+
+When Marius t^ent forth, the street was deserted. This was 
+the moment when £ponine was following the ruffians to the 
+boulevard. 
+
+While Marius had been dreaming with his head pressed to 
+the tree, an idea had crossed his mind ; an idea, alas ! that he 
+himself judged to be senseless and impossible. He had come 
+!o a desperate decision. 
+
+VIL — The Old Heart and the Young Heart in the Pres- 
+ence OF Each Other. 
+
+At that epoch, Father Gillenorroaud was well past his ninety- 
+first birthday. He still lived with Mademoiselle Gillenormand 
+iu the Rue des Filles-dn-Calvaire, No. 6, in the old house which 
+he owned. He was, as the reader will remember, one of those 
+antique old men who await death perfectly erect, whom age 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+194 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+bears down without bendiDg, and whom even sorrow cannon 
+
+curve. 
+
+Still, his daughter had been saying for some time: ^^My 
+father is sinking." He no longer box^ the maids' ears ; he no 
+longer thumped the landing-place so vigorously with his cane 
+when Basque was slow in opening the door. The Revolntion 
+of July had exasperated him for the space of barely six months. 
+He had viewed, almost tranquilly, that coupling of words, in 
+the Moniteur: M. Humblot-Conté, peer of France. The fact 
+is, tliat the old roan was deeply dejected. He did not bend, be 
+did not yield ; this was no more a characteristic of his physical 
+than of his moral nature, but he felt himself giving way inter- 
+nally. For four years he had been waiting for Marins, with 
+his foot firmly planted, that is the exact word, in the convic- 
+tion that that good-for-nothing young scamp would ring at his 
+door some day or other ; now he had reached the point, where, 
+at certain gloomy hours he said to himself, that if Marias made 
+him wait much longer — It was not death that was insup{K>rt- 
+able to him ; it was the idea that perhaps he should never see 
+Marius agaiu. The idea of never seeing Marius again had 
+never entered his brain until that day ; now the thooght began 
+to recur to him, and it chilled him. Absence, as is always the 
+case in genuine and natural sentiments, had only served to aug- 
+ment the grandfather's love for the ungrateful child, who had 
+gone off like a flash. It is during December nights, when the 
+cold stands at ten degrees, that one thinks oftenest of the sod. 
+
+M. (Tillenormand was, or thought himself, above all thing», in- 
+capable of taking a single step, he, — the grandfather, towards 
+his grandson ; *^ I would die rather," he said to himself. He 
+di<l not consider himself as the least to blame ; but he thought 
+of Marius only with profound tenderness, and the mute despair 
+of an elderly, kindly old man who is about to vanish in the 
+dark. 
+
+He began to lose his teeth, which added to his sadness. 
+
+M. Gillcnormand, without however acknowledging it to him- 
+self, for it would have rendered him furious and ashamed, bad 
+never loved a mistress as he loved Marius. 
+
+He had had placed in his chamber, opposite the head of bis 
+bed, so that it should be the first thing on which his ej'es fell 
+on waking, an old portrait of his other daughter, who was dead, 
+Madame Pontmercy, a portrait which had been taken when she 
+was eightc^en. He gazed incessantly at that portrait. One day, 
+ûe happened to say, as he gazed n[)on it: — 
+
+** I think the likeness is strong." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS, 195 
+
+^^To my sister?" inquired Mademoiselle Gillenormand 
+" Yes, certainly." 
+
+The old man added : — : 
+
+*' And to him also." 
+
+Once as he sat with his knees pressed together, and his eyes 
+almost closed, in a despondent attitude, his daughter yen tared 
+to say to him : — , 
+
+'* Father, are you as angry with him as ever?" 
+
+She paused, not daring to proceed further. 
+
+*' With whom?" he demanded. 
+
+*' With that poor Marius." 
+
+He raised his aged head, laid his withered and emaciated fist 
+on the table, and exclaimed in his most irritated and vibrating 
+tone : — 
+
+*' Poor Marius, do you say ! That gentleman is a knave, a 
+wretched scoundrel, a vain little ingrate, a heartless, soulless, 
+haughty, and wicked man ! " 
+
+And he tamed away so that his daughter might not see the 
+tear that stood in his eye. 
+
+Three days later he broke a silence which had lasted four 
+hours, to say to his daughter point-blank : — 
+
+^ *• I had the honor to ask Mademoiselle Gillenormand never tx> 
+mention him to me." 
+
+Aunt Gillenormand renounced every effort, and pronounced 
+this acute diagnosis : *' My father never cared very much 
+for my sister after her folly. It is clear that he detests 
+Marius." 
+
+' ' After her folly " meant : ** after she had married the colonel." 
+
+However, as the reader has been able to conjecture, Mademoi- 
+selle Gillenormand had failed in her attempt to substitute her 
+favorite, the officer of lancers, for Marius. The substitute, 
+Théodule, had not been a success. M. Gillenormand had not 
+accepted the quid pro quo, A vacancy in the heart does not 
+accommodate itself to a stop-gap. Théodule, on his side, 
+though he scented the inheritance, was disgusted at the task of 
+pleasing. The goodman bored the lancer; and the lancer 
+shocked the goodman. Lieutenant Théodule was gay, no doubt, 
+but a chatter-box, frivolous, but vulgar ; a high liver, but a fre- 
+quenter of bad company ; he had mistresses,, it is true, and he 
+had a great deal to say about them, it is true also ; but he talked 
+badly. All his good qualities had a defect. M. Gillenormand 
+was worn out with hearing him tell about the love affairs that 
+he had in the vicinity of the barracks in the Rue de Babylone. 
+And then, Lieutenant Gillenormand sometimes came in his uni* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+196 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+form, with the tri-colored cockade. This rendered him down 
+right intolerable. Finally, Father Gillenormand had said to his 
+daughter : '* I*ve had enough of that Théodule. I havenH 
+much taste for warriors in time of peace. Receive him if yoa 
+choose. I don't know but I prefer slashers to fellows that drag 
+their swords. The clash of blades in battle is less disroaU after 
+all, than the clank of the scabbard on .the pavement. And then, 
+throwing out your chest like a bully and lacing yourself like a 
+girl, with stays under 30ur cuirass, is doubly ridiculous. When 
+one is a veritable man, one holds equally aloof from swagger 
+and from affected airs. He is neither a blusterer nor a finnicky- 
+hearted man. Keep your Théodule for yourself." 
+
+It was in vain that his daughter said to him: '-*' But he is 
+3'our grandnephew, nevertheless," — it turned out that M. Gille- 
+normand who was a grandfather to the very finger-tips, was not 
+in the least a grand-uncle. 
+
+In fact, as he had good sense, and as he had compared the 
+two, Théodule had only served to make him regret Marias all 
+the more. 
+
+One evening, — it was the 24th of June, which did not prevent 
+Father Gillenormand having a rousing fire on the hearth, — he had 
+dismissed his daughter, who was sewing in a neighboring apart' 
+ment. He was alone in his chamber, amid its pastoral scenes, 
+with his feet propped on the andirons, half enveloped in bis 
+huge screen of coromandel lacquer, with its nine leaves, with bis 
+elbow resting on a table where burned two candles under a 
+green shade, engulfed in his tapestrj' arm-chair, and in his hand 
+a book which he was not reading. He was dressed, according 
+to his wont, like an incroyable^ and resembled an antique portrait 
+by Garat. This would have made people run after him in the 
+street, had not his daughter covered him up, whenever he went 
+out, in a vast bishop's wadded cloak, which concealed his attire. 
+At home, he never wore a dressing-gown, except when he rose 
+and retired. " It gives one a look of age," said he. 
+
+Father Gillenormand was thinking of Marius lovingh- and 
+bitterly ; and, as usual, bitterness predominated. His tender- 
+ness once soured always ended by boiling and turning to 
+indignation. He had reached the point where a man tries to 
+make up his mind and to accept that which rends his heart. He 
+was explaining to himself that there was no longer any reason 
+why Marius should return, that if lie intended to return, he should 
+have done it long ago, that he must renounce the idea. He was 
+trying to accustom himself to the thought that all was over, and 
+that he should die without having beheld ^^ that gentieinan*' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 197 
+
+again. Bnt his whole nature revolted ; bk aged paternity 
+would not consent to this. *' Well!" said he, — this was his 
+doleful refrain, — ''be will not return!" His bald head had 
+fallen upon his breast, and he fixed a melancholy and irritated 
+gaze upon the ashes on bis hearth. 
+
+In the very midst of his revery , his old servant Basque entered, 
+and inquired : — 
+
+" Cau Monsieur receive M. Marins?" 
+
+The old man sat up erect, pallid, and like a corpse which rises 
+under the influence of a galvanic shook. All his blood had 
+retreated to his heart. He stammered^: — 
+
+**M. Marins what?" 
+
+'^ I don't know," replied Basque, intimidated and put out of 
+countenance by his master's air ; " I have not seen him. Nico- 
+lette came and said to me : ' There's a young man here ; say 
+that it is M. Marins.'" 
+
+Father Gillenormand stammered in a low voice : — 
+
+** Show him in." 
+
+And he remained in the same attitude, with shaking head, 
+and his eyes fired on the door. It opened once more. A young 
+man entered. It was Marius. 
+
+Marins halted at the door, as though waiting to be bidden to 
+enter. 
+
+His almost squalid attire was not perceptible in the obscurity 
+caused by the shade. Nothing could be seen but his calm, 
+grave, but strangely sad face. 
+
+It was severfU minutes before Father Gillenormand, dulled 
+with amazement and joy, could see anything except a bright* 
+ness as when one is in the presence of an apparition. He was 
+on the point of swooning ; he saw Marius through a dazzling 
+light. It certainly was he, it certainly was Marius. 
+
+At last ! After the lapse of four years ! He grasped him 
+entire, so to speak, in a single glance. He found liim noble, 
+handsome, distinguished, weil-grown, a complete man, with a 
+Bin table mien and a charming air. He felt a desire to open his 
+arms, to call him, to fling himself forward ; his heart melted 
+with rapture, affectionate words swelled and overflowed his 
+breast; at length all his tenderness came to tlie light and 
+reached his lips, and, by a contrast which constituted the very 
+foundation of his nature, what came forth was harshness. He 
+said abruptly : — 
+
+**What have you come here for?" 
+
+Marius replied with embarrassment : — 
+
+*' Monsieur — " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+198 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+M. GQlenormand would have liked to have Marios tlmm 
+himself iuto his arms. He was displeased with Marius and 
+with himself. He was conscious that he was brusque, and that 
+Marias was cold. It caused the goodman unendurable and 
+irritating anxiety to feel so tender and forlorn within, and only 
+to be able to be hard outside. Bitterness returned. He inte^ 
+rupted Marius in a peevish tone : — 
+
+" Then why did you come? " 
+
+That ^^ then" signified : If you do not come to embrace me, 
+Marius looked at his grandfather, whose pallor gave him a face 
+of marble. , 
+
+*' Monsieur — " 
+
+^^ Have you come to beg my pardon? Do you acknowledge 
+your faults?" 
+
+He thought he was putting Marius on the right road, and 
+that ^^the child" would yield. Marius shivered; it was the 
+denial of his father that was required of him ; he dropped his 
+eyes and replied : — 
+
+" No, sir." 
+
+^^ Then," exclaimed the old man impetuously, with a grief that 
+was poignant and full of wrath, ^' what do you want of me?" 
+
+Marius clasped his hands, advanced a step, and said in a 
+feeble and trembling voice : — 
+
+" Sir, have pity on me." 
+
+These words touched M. Gillenormand ; uttered a little sooner, 
+they would have rendered him tender, but they came too late. 
+The grandfather rose ; he supported himself with both hands on 
+his cane ; his lips were white, his brow wavered, but his lofty 
+form towered above Marias as he bowed. 
+
+^^ Pity on you, sir I It is youth demanding pity of the old 
+man of ninety-one ! You are entering into life, I am leaving 
+it ; you go to the play, to balls, to the café, to the billiard-lkall ; 
+you have wit, you please the women, you are a handsome fel- 
+low; as for me, I spit on my brands in the heart of summer: 
+you are rich with the only riches that are really such, I possess 
+all the poverty of age ; infirmity, isolation ! You have your 
+thirty-two teetL, a good digestion, bright eyes, strength, appe» 
+tite, health, gayety, a forest of black hair; I have no longer 
+even white hair, I have lost my teeth, I am losing my legs, I am 
+losing my memory ; there are three names of streets that I con- 
+found incessantly, the Rue Chariot, the Rue du Chaume, and 
+the Rue Saint-Claude, that is what I have come to ; you hare 
+before you the whole future, full of sunshine, and I am begin- 
+ning to lose my sight, so far am I advancing into the night; 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 199 
+
+you are in lore, that is a matter of course, I am beloved bv no 
+one in all the world ; and you ask pity of me ! Parbleu ! Mo- 
+lière foi-got that. If that is the way you jest at the court- 
+housc. Messieurs the lawyers, I sincerely compliment you* You 
+are droll." 
+
+Attd the octogenarian weut on in a grare and angry voice : —-> 
+
+'* Come now, what do you want of me? " 
+
+^^ Sir," said Marius, ^^ I know that my presence is displeasing; 
+to you, but I have, come n>ereh' to ask one thing of you, and 
+then I shall go away immediately." 
+
+^^ You are a fool ! " said the old man. *^ Who said that you 
+were to go away ? " 
+
+This was the translation of the tender words which lay at 
+the bottom of his heart : — 
+
+*' Ask my paixlon ! Throw yourself on my neck ! " 
+
+M. Gillcuormaud felt that Marius would leave him in a few 
+moments, that his harsh reception had repelled the lad, thivt iiis 
+hardness was driving him away ; he said all this to himself, and 
+it augmented his grief ; and as his grief was straightway con- 
+verted into wrath, it increased his harshness. He would have 
+liked to have Marius underatand, and Marius did not under- 
+stand, which made the goodman furious. 
+
+He began again : — 
+
+''What! you deserted me, your grandfather, you left my 
+house to go no one knows whither, you drove your aunt to 
+despair, vou went off, it is easily guessed, to lead a bachelor 
+life ; it's more convenient, to play Uie dandy, to come in at all 
+hours, to amuse yourself ; you have given me no signs of life, 
+you have contracted debts without even telling me to pay them, 
+you have become a smasher of windows and a blusterer, and, 
+at the end of four years, you come to me, and that is all that 
+you have to say to me 1" 
+
+This violent fashion of driving a grandson to tenderness was 
+proilactive only of silence on the part of Marius. M. Gillenor- 
+mand folded his arms ; a gesture which with him was pecul 
+iarl.v imperious, and apostrophized Marius bitterly : — 
+
+*'*' Let us make an end of this. You have come to ask some- 
+thing of me, you say? Well, what? What is it? Speak ! " 
+
+^* Sir," said Marius, with the look of a man who feels that he 
+is falling over a precipice, ^' I have come to ask your permission 
+to marry." 
+
+M. Gillenormand rang the bell. Basque, opened the dooi 
+half-way. 
+
+♦' Call my daughter." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+200 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+A second later, the door opened once more, Mademolsellâ 
+
+Gillenormand did not enter, bat showed hei-self ; Manas was 
+stianding, mute, with pendent anns and the face of a eriminal; 
+M. Gilienormand was pacing back and forth in the room. He 
+turned to his daughter and said to her : — 
+
+^^ Nothing. It is Monsieur Marids. Say good day to him. 
+Monsieur wishes to marry. That's all. Go awa}'." 
+
+The curt, hoarse sound of the old man's voice annoaneea n 
+strange degree of excitement. The aunt ga^ed at Marins with 
+a frightened air, hardly appeared to recognize him, did not 
+allow a gesture or a syllable to escape her, and disappeared at 
+her father's breath more swiftly than a straw before the hurri- 
+cane. 
+
+In the meantime, Father Gilienormand had returned and 
+placed his back against the chimney-piece once more. 
+
+"You marry! At one and twenty! You have arranged 
+that ! You have only a permission to ask ! a formality. Sit 
+down, sir. Well, you have had a revolution since I had the 
+honor to see you last. The Jacobins got the upper hand. You 
+must have been delighted. Are not you a Republican 8tnc« too 
+are a Baron ? Yon can make that agree. The Republic maJces 
+a good sauce for the barony. Are you one of those decorated 
+by July? Have you taken the Ix>uvre at all, sir? Quite near 
+here, in the Rue Saint- Antoine, opposite the Rue des Nonain* 
+dières, there is a cannon-ball incrusted in the wall of the third 
+story of a house with this inscription : * July 28th, 1830.' Go 
+take a look at that. It produces a good effect. Ah! those 
+friends of yours do very pretty things. By the way, aren't they 
+erecting a fountain in the place of the monument of M. le Doc 
+de Berry ? So you want to marry ? Whom ? Can one inquire 
+without indiscretion ? " 
+
+He paused, and, before Marius had time to answer, he added 
+violently : — 
+
+*^ Come now, you have a profession ? A fortune made? How 
+much do you earn at your trade of lawyer ? " 
+
+^^ Nothing," said Marina, with a sort of firmness and résolu* 
+tion that was almost fierce. 
+
+" Nothing? Then all that you have to live upon is the twelve 
+hundred livres that 1 allow you ? " 
+
+Marius did not reply. M. Gilienormand cootinued : — 
+
+*'Then I understand the girl is rich?" 
+
+** As rich as I am." 
+
+*'What! No dowry?" 
+
+•' No." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+BAINT^DENIH. «01 
+
+•'ExpecUtionB?** 
+
+"I think not." 
+
+*' Utterly naked 1 What'B the father?" 
+
+** I don't know.** 
+
+^^ And what's her name?" 
+
+** Mademoiselle Fancheleveiit.'' 
+
+"Fauchewhat?" 
+
+'^ Faaehelevent." 
+
+^^ Pttt ! " ejaculated the old gentleman. 
+
+'* Sir ! " exclaimed Marias. 
+
+M. Gillenormand interrupted him with the tone of a man who 
+is speaking to himself: — 
+
+•'That's right, one and twenty years of age, no profession, 
+twelve hundred livres a year, Madame la Baronne de Poutmercy 
+will go and purchase a couple of sous' worth of parsley from the 
+fniiterer." 
+
+^* Sir," repeated Marius, in the despair at the last hope, which 
+was vanishing, '• I entreat you ! I conjure you in tlie name of 
+Heaven, with clasped hands, sir, I throw myself at your feet, 
+permit me to marry her ! " 
+
+The old man hurst into a shout of strident and mournful 
+laughter, coughing and laughing at the same time. 
+
+'"Ah! ah! ah! You said to yourself: *Pardine! I'll go 
+hunt up that old blockhead, that absurd numskull! What a 
+shame that I'm not twenty-five ! How I'd treat him to a nice 
+respectful summons ! How nicely I'd get along without him ! 
+It's nothing to me, I'd say to him: *' You're only too happy 
+to sec me, you old idiot, I want to marry, I desire to wed Mam- 
+selle No-matter-whom, daughter of Monsieur No-matter-what, I 
+have no shoes, she has no chemise, that just suits ; I want to 
+throw my career, my future, my youth, my life to the dogs ; I 
+wish to take a plunge into wretchedness with a woman around 
+my neck, tliat's my idea, and you roust consent to it ! " and the 
+old fossil will consent.' Qo, my lad, do as you like, attach 
+your paving-stone, marry your Pousselevent, your Coupelevent — 
+Never, sir, never I " 
+
+** Father — " 
+
+''Never!" 
+
+At the tone in which that " never" was uttered, Marius lost 
+all hope. He traversed the chamber witli slow sU^ps, with 
+bowed head, tottering and more like a dvin^i: man than like one 
+merely taking his departure. M. Gillciiorinand followed him 
+with his ej'es, and at the moment when the door oi^ned, and 
+Marius was on the point of going out, he advanced four paces, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+202 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+with the senile vivacity of impetuous and spoiled old genflemen, 
+seized Marius by. the collar, brought him back energetically 
+into the room, flung him into an arm-chair and said to him: — 
+
+*'Tull me all about it ! " 
+
+It was that single word ^'father" which had effected Ibis 
+revolution. 
+
+Marius stared at him in bewilderment. M. Gillenormand's 
+mobile face was no longer expressive of anything but rough and 
+ineffable good-nature. The grandsire had given way before the 
+grandfather. 
+
+^^ Come, see here, speak, tell me about your love affairs, jab- 
+ber, tell me everything! Sapristi! how^ stupid young folks 
+are!" 
+
+" Father — " repeated Marius. 
+
+The old man's entire countenance lighted up with indescrib- 
+able radiance. 
+
+*^ Yes, that's right, call me father, and you'll see I " 
+
+There was now something so kind, so gentle, so open-hearted, 
+and so paternal in this brusqueness, that Marins, in the sodden 
+transition from discouragement to hope, was stunned and intox- 
+icated by it, as it were. He was seated near the table, the 
+light from the candles brought out the dilapidation of his cos- 
+tume, which Father Gillenormand regarded with amazement. 
+
+"Well, father—" said Marius. 
+
+"Ah, by the way," interrupted M. Gillenormand, "you 
+really have not a penn}' then? You are dressed like a pidi- 
+pocket." 
+
+He rummaged in a drawer, drew forth a purse, which be 
+laid on the table: "Here are a hundred louis, buy yourself 
+a hat." 
+
+"Father," pursued Marius, "my good father, if you only 
+knew ! I love her. You cannot imi^ne it ; the first time I saw 
+her was at the Luxembourg, she came there ;* in the beginning, 
+I did not pay much heed to her, and then, I don't know how it 
+came about, I fell in love with her. Oh I how unhappy that 
+made me ! Now, at last, I see her every day, at her own -home, 
+her father does not know it, just fancy, they are going away« it 
+is in the garden that we meet, in the evening, her father means 
+to take her to England, then I said to myself : ^ I'll go and 
+sec my grandfather and tell him all about the affair. I should 
+go mad first, I should die, I should fall ill, I should throw my- 
+Helf into the water. I absolutely must marry her, since I shonid 
+<;(> mad otherwise.' This is the whole tnith, and I do not think 
+that I have omitted anything. She lives in a garden with ao 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENI a: 909 
+
+Irmi tenoe. In the Rue Plnmet. It is in the neighborhood ol 
+the Invalides." 
+
+Father Gillenormand had seated himself, with a beaming 
+countenance, beside Marias. As he listened to him and drank 
+in the sound of his voice, he enjoyed at the same time a pro- 
+tracted pinch of snuff. At the words "Rue Plumet" he inter- 
+rupted his inhalation and allowed the remainder of his snuff to 
+f aU upon his knees. 
+
+"The Rue Plumet, the Rue Plumet, did you say? — Let us 
+3ee! — Are there not barracks in that vicinity? — Why, yes, 
+that's it. Your cousin Théodule has spoken to me about it. 
+The lancer, the officer. A gay girl, my good friend, a gay girl ! 
+— Pardieu, yes, the Rue Plumet. It is what used to be* called 
+the Rue Blomet. — It all comes back to me now. I have heard 
+of that little girl of the iron railing in the Rue Plumet. In a 
+garden, a Pamela. Your taste is not bad. She is said to be a 
+very tidy creature. Between ourselves, I think that simpleton 
+of a lancer has been courting her a bit. I don't know where 
+he did it. However, that's not to the purpose. Besides, he is 
+jiot to be believed. He brags. Marins ! I think it quite proper 
+that a young man like you should be in love. It's the right 
+thing at your age. I like you better as a lover than as a Jaco- 
+bin. I like you better in love with a petticoat, sapristi ! with 
+twenty petti<K>ats, than with M. de Robespierre. For my part, 
+I will do myself the justice to say, that in the line of aans-cu* 
+laites J 1 have never loved any one but women. Pretty girls are 
+pretty girls, the deuce ! There's no objection to that. As for 
+the little one, she receives you without her father's knowledge. 
+That's in the established order of things. I have had adven- 
+tures of that same sort myself. More than one. Do you know 
+what is done then ? One does not take the matter f erociousl}* ; one 
+does not precipitate himself into the trs^ic ; one does not make 
+one's mind to marriage and M. le Maire with his scarf. One 
+simply behaves like a fellow of spirit. One shows good sense. 
+Slip along, mortals ; don't marry. You come and look up your 
+grandfather, who is a good-natured fellow at bottom, and who 
+always has a few roUs of louis in an old drawer ; you say to 
+him : *• See here, grandfather.' And the grandfather says : 
+^ That's a simple matter. Youth must amuse itself, and old age 
+must wear out. I have been young, you will be old. Come, 
+my boy, yon shall pass it on to your grandson. Here are two 
+hundred pistoles. Amuse yourself, deuce take it ! ' Nothing 
+better ! That's the way the affair should be treated. You don't 
+marry, but that does no harm. You understand me? " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+S04 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Martus, petrified and incapable of uttering a syllable, made % 
+sign with his head that he did not. 
+
+The old man burst out laughing, winked his aged eye, gave 
+him a slap on the knee, stared htm full in the face with a mys^ 
+terious and beaming air, and said to him, with the tenderest of 
+shrugs of the shoulder : — 
+
+** Booby I make her your mistress." 
+
+Marius turned pale. He had understood nothing of what his 
+grandfather had just said. This twaddle about the Rue Blomett 
+Pamela, the barracks, the lancer, had passed before Marius like 
+a dissolving view. Notliing of all that could bear any reference 
+to Cosette, who was a lily. The good man was wandering io 
+his mind. But this wandering terminated in words which Ma- 
+rius did understand, and which were a moital insult to Cosette. 
+Those words, ^^make her your mistress," entered the heart ot 
+the strict young man like a sword. 
+
+He rose, picked up his hat which lay on the floor, and walked 
+to the door with a firm, assured step. There he turned rouud, 
+bowed deeply to his grandfather, raised his head erect again, 
+and said: — 
+
+^^ Five years s^o you insulted my father ; to-day you have 
+insulted my wife, lask nothing more of you, sir. Farewell." 
+
+Father Gillenormand, utterly confounded, opened his mouth, 
+extended his arms, tried to rise, and before he could utter a 
+word, the door closed once more, and Marius had disappeared. 
+
+The old man remained for several minutes motionless and as 
+though struck by lightning, without the power to speak or breathe, 
+as though a clenched fiat grasped his throat. At last he tore him- 
+self from liis arm-chair, ran, so far as a man can run at ninety- 
+one, to the door, opened it, and cried : — 
+
+''Help! Help!" 
+
+His daughter made her appearance, then the domestics. He 
+began again, with a pitiful rattle: ''Run after him! Bring 
+him back ! What have I done to him ? He is mad ! He is 
+going away ! Ah ! my God ! Ah ! my God ! This time he wiU 
+not come back ! " 
+
+He went to the window which looked out on the street, threw 
+it open with his aged and palsied hands, leaned out more than 
+half-way, while Basque and Nicolette held him behind, and 
+shouted : — 
+
+'' Marius ! Marius ! Marias ! Marius ! " 
+
+But Marius could no longer hear him, for at that moment he 
+was turning the comer of the Rue Saiiit-Ix>ui8. 
+
+The octogenarian raised his hands to his temples two or three 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 205 
+
+timeB with an expression of anguish, recoiled tottering, and fell 
+back into an arm-chair, pulseless, voiceless, tearless, with quiv- 
+ering head and lips which moved with a stupid air, with nothing 
+Id his eyes and nothing any longer in his heart except a gloomy 
+a*id profound something which resembled night. 
+
+
+
+«c^^foo— 
+
+
+
+BOOK NINTH.— WHITHER ARE THEY GOING? 
+
+I. — Jeak Valjeak. 
+
+That same day, towards four o'clock in the afternoon, Jean 
+Valjean was sitting alone on the back side of one of the most 
+solitary slopes in the Champ-de-Mars. Either from prudence, 
+or from a desire to meditate, or simply in consequence of one 
+of those insensible changes of habit which gradually introduce 
+themselves into the existence of every one, he now rarely went 
+out with Cosette. He had on his workman's waistcoat, and 
+trousers of gray linen ; and his long-visored cap concealed his 
+conntenance. 
+
+He was calm and happy now beside Cosette ; that which had, 
+for a time, alarmed and troubled him had been dissipated; but 
+for the last week or two, anxieties of another nature had come 
+up. One day, while walking on the boulevard, he had caught 
+sight of Thénardier ; thanks to his disguise, Thénardier had not 
+recognized him ; but since that day, Jean Valjean had seen him 
+repeatedly, and he was now certain that Thénardier was prowl*- 
+ing about in their neighborhood. 
+
+This had been sufficient to make him come to a decision. 
+
+Moreover, Paris was not tranquil : political troubles presented 
+^his inconvenient feature, for any one who had anything to con- 
+ceal in his life, that the police had grown very uneasy and very 
+suspicious, and that while seeking to ferret out a man like Pépin 
+or Morey, they might very readily discover a man like Jean 
+Valjean. 
+
+Jean Valjean had made up bis mind to quit Paris, and evea 
+France, and go over to England. 
+
+He had warned Cosette. He wished to set out before the 
+end of the week. 
+
+He had seated himself on the slope in the Champ-de-Mars, 
+turning over all sorts of thoughts in his mind, — Thénardier, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+206 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+the police, the journey, and the difficulty of procuring a pas» 
+port. 
+
+He was troubled from all these points of view. 
+
+Last of all, an inexplicable circumstance which had just at 
+tracted his attention, and from which he had not yet recovered, 
+had added to his state of alarm. 
+
+On the morning of that very day, when he alone of the house- 
+hold was stirring, while strolling in the garden before Ck>sette'8 
+shutters were open, he had suddenly perceived on the wall, the 
+followmg line, eijgraved, probably with a nail : — 
+
+16 hue de la Verrerie. 
+
+This was perfectly fresh, the grooves in the ancient black 
+mortar were white, a tuft <^ nettles at the foot of the wall was 
+powdered with t^e fine, fresh plaster. 
+
+This had probably been written on the preceding night. 
+
+What was this? A signal for others? A warning for him- 
+self? 
+
+In any case, it was evident that the garden had been violated, 
+and that strangers had made their way into it. 
+
+He recalled the odd incidents which had already alarmed the 
+household. 
+
+His mind was now filling in this canvas. 
+
+He took good care not to speak to Cosette of the line written 
+on' the wall, for fear of alarming her. 
+
+In the midst of his preoccupations, he perceived, from a 
+shadow cast by the sun, that some one had halted on the crest 
+of the slope immediaUjy behind him. 
+
+He was on the point of turning round, when a paper fdded 
+in four, fell upon his knees as tihough a hand had dropped it 
+over his head. 
+
+He took the paper, unfolded it, and read these words written 
+in large characters, with a pencil : — 
+
+^* MOVK AWAY FROM YOUR HOUSE." 
+
+Jean Valjoan sprang hastily to his feet ; there was no one on 
+Ihe slope; he gazed all around him and perceived a creature 
+^rger than a child, not so large as a man, clad in a gray blouse 
+and trousers of dust-colored cotton velvet, who was jumping 
+over the parapet and who slipped into the moat of the Champ- 
+de-Mars. 
+
+Jean Valjean returned home» at once, in a very thoughtful 
+
+IDOOd* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'DENIS. 807 
+
+
+
+IL — Martds. 
+
+
+
+Habiub had !eft M. Gillenormand in despair. He had 
+entered the honse with very little hope, and quitted it with 
+Immense despair. 
+
+However, and those who have observed the depths of the 
+human heart will understand this, the officer, the lancer, the 
+*itnnj, Cousin Théodule, bad left no trace in his mind. Not 
+the slightest. The dramatic poet might, apparently, expect 
+lome complications from this revelation made point-blank by 
+tlie grandfather to the grandson. But what the drama would 
+gain thereby, truth would lose. Marins was at an age when 
+one believes nothing iu the line of evil ; later on comes the 
+«ge when one believes everything. Suspicions are nothing else 
+than wiinkles. Early youth has none of them. That which 
+overwhelmed Othello glides innocuous over Candide. Suspeci 
+Cosette ! There are hosts of crimes which Marius could sooner 
+have committed. 
+
+He began to wander about the streets, the resource of those 
+who sufifer. He thought of nothing, so far as he could after- 
+wards remember. At two o'clock in the morning he returned 
+to Courfeyrac's quarters and flung himself, without undressing, 
+on his mattress. The sun was shining brightly when he sank 
+mto that frightful leaden slumber which permits ideas to go and 
+come in the brain. When he awoke, he saw Courfeyrao, 
+Enjolras, Feuilly, and Combeferre standing in the room with 
+their hats oil and all ready to go out. 
+
+Courf eyrac said to him : — 
+
+'* Are you coming to General Lamarque's funeral?" 
+
+It seemed to him that Courfeyrao was speaking Chinese. 
+
+He went out some time after them. He put iu his pocket the 
+pistols which Javeit had given him at the time of the adventure 
+on the 3d of Febniai-y, and which had remained in his hands. 
+These pistols were still loaded. It would be difficult to say 
+what vague thought he had in his mind when he took them 
+with him. 
+
+All day long he prowled about, without knowing where he 
+was going ; it rained at times, he did not perceive it ; for his 
+dinner he purchased a penny roll at a baker's, put it in his 
+pocket and forgot it. It appears that he took a bath in the 
+Seine without being aware of it. There are moments when a 
+man has a furnace within his skull. Marius was passing through 
+one of those moments. He no longer hoped for anything ; this 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+i08 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+step he had taken since the preceding evening. He waited for 
+night with feverish impatience, he had but one idea clearly be- 
+fore his mind; — this was, that at nine o'clock he should see 
+Cosette. This last happiness now constituted his whole future, 
+after that, gloom. At intervals, as he roamed through the mo8t 
+deserted boulevards, it seemed to him that he heard strange 
+noises in Paris. He thrust his head out of his reverj and said: 
+** Is there fighting on hand ? " 
+
+At nightfall, at nine o'clock precisely, as he had promised 
+Cosette, he was in the Rue Plumet. When he approached the 
+grating he forgot everything. It was forty-^ight hours sinoe 
+he had seen Cosette ; he was about to behold her once more ; 
+every other thought was effaced, and he felt only a profound 
+and unheard-of joy. Those minutes in which one lives centurtee 
+always have this sovereign and wonderful property, that at the 
+moment when they are passing tiiey fill the heart completely. 
+
+Marius displaced the bar, and rushed headlong into the gar- 
+den. Cosette was not at the spot where she ordinarily waited 
+for him. He traversed the ttiicket, and approached ^Jie recess 
+near the flight of steps : ^^ She is waiting for me there,'' said 
+he. Cosette was not there. He raised his eyes, and saw that 
+the shutters of the house were closed. He made the tour of 
+the garden, the garden was deserted. Then he returned to the 
+house, and, rendered senseless by love, intoxicated, terrified, 
+exasperated witli grief and uneasiness, like a master who retui-ns 
+home at an evil hour, he tapped on the shutters. He knocked 
+aud knocked again, at the risk of seeing the window open, and 
+her father's gloomy face make its appearance, aYid demand: 
+** What do you want?" This was nothing in comparison with 
+what he dimly caught a glimpse of. A\rhen he had rapped, he 
+lifted up his voice and called Cosette. — *' Cosette !" be cried ; 
+** Cosette ! " he repeated imperiously. There was no reply. All 
+was over. No one in Uie garden ; no one in the house. 
+
+Marius fixed his despairing eyes on that dismal hooae, which 
+ras as black and as silent as a tomb and far more empty. He 
+^azed at the stone seat on which he had passed so many ador< 
+able hours with Cosette. Then he seated himself on the flight 
+of steps, his heart filled with sweetness and resolution, be 
+blessed his love in the depths of his thought, and he said to 
+himself that, since Cosette was gone, all that there was left for 
+him was to die. 
+
+All at once he heard a voice which seemed to proceed from 
+the street, and which was calling to him through the trees : — 
+
+"Mr. Marinai" 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 209 
+
+He started to his feet. 
+
+**Hey?" said he. 
+
+" Mr. Marius, are you there?*' 
+
+'* Yes." 
+
+** Mr. Marius," went on the voice, " your friends are waiting 
+for you at the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie." 
+
+This voice was not wholly unfamiliar to him. It resembled 
+the hoarse, rough voice of Éponine. Marius hastened to the 
+gate, thrust aside the movable bar, passed his head through the 
+aperture, and saw some one who appeared to him to be a young 
+man, disappearing at a run into the gloom. 
+
+III. — M. Mabeuf. 
+
+Jeak Valjean's purse was of no use to M. Mabeuf. M. Ma- 
+beuf, in his venerable, infantile austerity, had not accepted the gift 
+of the stars ; he had not admitted that a star could coin itself 
+iuta louis d'or. He had not divined that what had fallen from 
+heaven had come from Gavroche. He had taken the purse to 
+the police commissioner of the quarter, as a lost article placed 
+by the finder at the disposal of claimants. The purse was 
+actually lo^. It is unnecessary to say that no one claimed it, 
+and that it did not succor M. Mabeuf. 
+
+Moreover, M. Mabeuf had continued his downward course. 
+
+His experiments on indigo had been no more successful in the 
+Jardin des Plantes than in his garden at Austerlitz. The year 
+before he had owed his housekeeper's wages; now, as we have 
+seen, he owed three quarters of his rent. The pawn-shop had 
+sold the plates of his Fl(yi*a after the expiration of thirteen 
+months. Some coppersmith had made stewpans of them. His 
+copper plates gone, and being unable to complete even the in- 
+complete copies of his Flora which were in his possession, he 
+had disposed of the text, at a miserable price, as waste paper, 
+to a second-hand bookseller. Nothing now remained to him of 
+his life's work. He set to work to eat up the money for these 
+copies. When he saw that this wretched resource was becoming 
+3xhau8ted, he gave up his garden and allowed it to run to waste. 
+Before this, a long time before, he had given up his two eggs 
+and the morsel of beef which he ate from time to time. He 
+dined on bread and potatoes. He had sold the last of his fur- 
+nitare, then all duplicates of his bedding, his clothing and his 
+blankets, then his herbariums and prints ; but he still retained 
+his most precious books, many of which were of the greatest 
+rarity, among others, Les Quadrina ffUtnriquea de la Bibki 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+«10 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+edition of 1560 ; La Concordance des Bibles^ bj Pierre de Besae; 
+Lea Marguerites de la Marguerite^ of Jean de La Uaje, with a 
+dedication to the Queen of Navarre ; the book de la Charge et 
+Dignité de VAmhaasadeur^ by the Sieur de ViUiers Uotman; a 
+Florilegium Bablnnicuin of 1644 ; a TibuUus of 1567, with this 
+magnificent inscription: Venetiis, in œdibus Manutiunis; and 
+lastly, a Dic^enes Laertius, printed at Lyons in 1644, which con- 
+tained the f anions variant of the manuscript 411, thirteenth 
+"century, of the Vatican, and those of the two manuscripts of 
+Venice, 393 and 394, consulted with such fruitful results by 
+Henri Es tienne, and all the passages in Doric dialect which are 
+only found in the celebrated manuscript of the twelfth cenlurv 
+belonging to the Naples Library. M. Mabeuf never had anv 
+fire in his chamber, and went to l>cd at sundown, in order not to 
+consume any candles. It seemed as though he had no longer 
+any neighbors : people avoided him when he went out ; he per- 
+ceived the fact The wretchedness of a child interests a mother, 
+the wretcheduess of a young man interests a young girl., the 
+wretchedness of an old man interests no one. It is, of all dis- 
+tresses, the coldest. Still, Father Mabeuf had not entirely lost 
+his childlike serenity. His eyes acquired some vivacity when 
+they rested on his books, and he smiled when he gazed at the 
+Diogenes Laertius, which was a unique copy. His lxK)kcaiie 
+with glass doors was the only piece of furniture which he had 
+kept beyond what was strictly indispensable. 
+
+One day. Mother Plutarque said to him : — 
+
+" I have no money to buy any dinner." 
+
+What she called dinner was a loaf of bread and foar or five 
+potatoes. 
+
+" On credit? " suggested M. Mabeuf. 
+
+" You know well that people refuse me." 
+
+M. Mabeuf opened his bookcase, took a long look at all hiâ 
+books, one after another, as a father obliged to decimate iiis 
+children would gaze upon tiiem before making a choice, then 
+seized one hastily, put it in under his arm and went out. He 
+returned two hours later, without anything under hia arm, laid 
+thirty sous on the table, and said : — 
+
+''You will get something for dinner." 
+
+From that moment forth. Mother Pkitarque saw a sombre veil, 
+which was never more lifted, descend over the old man's cainiid 
+face. 
+
+On the following day, on the day after, and on the day aAer 
+that, it iiad to be done again. 
+
+M. Mabeuf went out with a book and returned with a coin 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAiNT'DENIS. fil 
+
+As the seeond-haad dealers perceived that he was forced to sell, 
+they purchased of him for twenty sous, that for which he had 
+paid twenty francs, sometimes at those very shops. Volume 
+by volume, the whole libraiy went the same road. lie said at 
+times: ^^ But I am eighty';^ as though he cherished some se- 
+cret hope that he should arrive at the end of his days before 
+reaching the end of his books. His melancholy increased. 
+Once, however, he had a pleasure. He had gone out with a 
+Robert Estienne, whigh he had sold for thirty-five sous under 
+the Quai Malaquais, and he returned with an Aldus which he had 
+bought for forty sous in the Rue des Grès. — ^^I owe five sous," 
+be said, beaming on Mother Plutarque. That day he had no 
+dinner. 
+
+He belonged to the Horticultural Society. His destitution 
+became known there. The president of the society came to see 
+him, promised to speak to the Minister of Agriculture and Com* 
+merce about him, and did so. — "Why, what!" exclaimed the 
+Minister, "I should think so! An old savant! a botanist! an 
+inoffensive man ! Something must be done for him ! " On the 
+following day, M. Mabeuf received an invitation to dine with 
+the Minister. Trembling with joy, he showed the letter to 
+Mother Plutarque. " We are saved I " said he. On the day ap- 
+pointed, he went to the Minister's house. He perceived that 
+his ragged cravat, his long, square coat, and his waxed shoee 
+astonished the ushers. No one spoke to him, not even the 
+Minister. About ten o'clock in the evening, while he was still 
+waiting for a word, he heard the Minister's wife, a beautiful 
+woman in a low-necked gown whom he had not ventured to ap*- 
+proach, inquire : " Who is that old gentleman?" He returned 
+home on foot at midnight, in a driving rain-storm. He had sold 
+an Elzevir to pay for a carriage in which to go thither. 
+
+He had acquired the habit of reading a few pages in his 
+Diogenes Laertius every night, before he went to bed. He knew 
+enough Greek to enjoy the peculiarities of the text which he 
+owned. He had now no other enjoyment. Several weeks passed. 
+All at once. Mother Plutarque fell ill. There is one thing sad« 
+der than having no money with whioh to buy bread at the baker's, 
+and that is having no money to purchase drugs at the apothecary's. 
+One evening, the doctor had ordered a very expensive potion. 
+And the malady was growing worse ; a nurse was required. M. 
+Mabeuf opened his bookcase ; there was notliing there. The 
+last volume had taken its departure. All that was left to him 
+was Diogenes Laertius. He put this unique cop}' under his arm, 
+and went out. It was. the 4th of June, 1832 ; he went to the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+21S LES MISERABLE». 
+
+Porte Salnt-Jacqaes, to Royal's snccessor, and retamed will 
+one hundred francs. He laid the pile of five-franc pieces 
+on the old serving-woman*s night-stand, and returned to his 
+chamber without saying a word. 
+
+On the following morning, at dawn, he seated himself on the 
+overturned post in his garden, and he could be. seen over the 
+top of the hedge, sitting the whole morning motionless, wit! 
+drooping head, his eyes vaguely fixed on the withered flower 
+beds. It rained at intervals ; the old man did not seem to per- 
+ceive the fact. 
+
+In the afternoon, extraordinary noises broke out in Paris. 
+They resembled shots and tlie clamors of a multitude. 
+
+Father Mabeuf raised his head. He saw a gardener passing, 
+and inquired : — 
+
+''What is it?" 
+
+The gardener, spade on back, replied in the most unconoeroed 
+tone: — 
+
+" It is the riots." 
+
+'* What riots?" 
+
+*' Yes, they are fighting." 
+
+*' Why are they fighting?" 
+
+** Ah, good Heavens Î " ejaculated the gardener. 
+
+" In what direction?" went on M. Mabeuf. 
+
+*' In the neighborhood of the Arsenal." 
+
+Father Mabeuf went to his room, took his hat, mechanicalh 
+«ought for a book to place under his arm, found none, said: 
+** Ah ! truly I " and went off with a bewildered air. 
+
+
+
+BOOK TENTH.— THE 5th OF JDNE, 1832. 
+I. — The Surface op the Question. 
+
+Op what is revolt composed? Of nothing and of everything. 
+Of an electricity disengaged, little by little, of a fianie suddenh 
+darting forth, of a wandering force, of a passing breath. This 
+breath encounters heads which speak, brains which dream, soaU 
+which suffer, passions which burn, wretehedness which howls, 
+and bears them away. 
+
+Whither? 
+
+At random. Athwart the state, the laws, athwart prosperity 
+and the insolence of others. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAÎNT^DENIS. J13 
+
+Irritrfted convictions, embittered enthusiaBms, a^tated indi^ 
+AatioOB, instincts of war which have been repressed, yoatbful 
+eourage which has been exalted, generous blindness ; curiosity, 
+the taste for change, the thirst for the anexpected, the senti- 
+ment which causes one to take pleasure in reading the posters 
+for the new play, and love, the prompter's whistle, at the theatre ; 
+the vague hatreds, rancors, disappointments, every vanitj' which 
+thinks that destiny has bankrupted it ; discomfort, empty dreams, 
+ambitions that are hedged about, whoever hopes for a downfall, 
+some outcome, in short, at the very bottom, the rabble, that 
+mud which catches fire, — such are the elements of revolt. That 
+which is grandest and that which is basest; the beings who 
+prowl outside of all bounds, awaiting an occasion, bohemians, 
+vagrants, vagabonds of the cross-roads, those who sleep at night 
+in a desert of houses with no other rdbf than the cold clouds of 
+heaven, those who, each day, demand their bread from chance and 
+not from toil, the unknown of poverty and nothingness, the bare- 
+armed, the bare-footed, belong to revolt. Whoever cherishes 
+in his soul a secret revolt against any deed whatever on the part 
+of the state, of life or of fate, is ripe for riot, and, as soon as it 
+makes its appearance, he begins to quiver, and to feel himself 
+borne away with the whirlwind. 
+
+Revolt is a sort of waterspout in the social atmosphere which 
+forms suddenly in certain conditions of temperature, and which ^ 
+as it eddies about, mounts, descends, thundei*s, tears, razes, 
+crashes, demolishes, uproots, bearing with it great natures and 
+small, tJie strong man and the feeble mind, the tree trunk and 
+the stalk of straw. Woe to him whom it bears away as well atf 
+to him whom it strikes 1 It breaks the one against the other. 
+
+It communicates to those whom it seizes an indescribable and 
+extraordinary power. It fills the first-comer with the force of 
+events; it converts everything into projectiles. It makes a 
+cannon-ball of a rough stone, and a general of a porter. 
+
+If we are to believe certain oracles of crafty political views, 
+A little revolt is desirable from the point of view of power. 
+System : revolt strengthens those governments which it does not 
+overthrow. It puts the army to tlie test ; it consecrates the 
+bourgeoisie, it draws out the musclus of the police ; it demon* 
+Btrates the force of the social fi-amework. It is an exercise in 
+gymnastics ; it is almost hygiene. Power is in better health af- 
+ter a revolt, as a man is after a good rubbing down. 
+
+Revolt, thh'ty years ago, was regarded from still other points 
+of view. 
+
+There ts for everything a theory, which proclaims itself ^^ goo4 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+214 LES MISERABLES. ^ 
+
+sense"; Pfailintus against Alcestis ; mediation offered betweei 
+the false and the true ; explanation, admonition, rather haughty 
+extenuation which, because it is mingled with blame and excuse, 
+thinks itself wisdom, and is often only pedantry. A whole polit- 
+ical school called ^^the golden mean" has been the outcome of 
+this. As between cold water and hot water, it is the lukewarm 
+water party. This school with its false depth, all on the surface, 
+which dissects effects without going back to first causes, chides 
+from its height of a demi-science, the agitation of the public 
+square. 
+
+If we listen to this school, ^^The riots which complicated the 
+affair of 1830 deprived that great event of a portion of iii 
+puiity. The Revolution of July had been a fine popular gale, 
+abruptly followed by blue sky. They made the cloudy skv 
+reappear. They caused that revolution, at first so remarkable 
+for its unanimity, to degenerate into a quarrel. In the Revolution 
+of July, as in all progress accomplished by fits and starts, there 
+had been secret fractures ; these riots rendered them perceptible. 
+It might have been said : 'Ah ! this is broken.' After the Rev- 
+olution of July, one was sensible only of deliverance ; after tbe 
+riots, one was conscious of a catastrophe. 
+
+'^All revolt closes the shops, depresses the funds, throws the 
+Exchange into consternation, suspends commerce, cl<^ business, 
+precipitates failures ; no more money, private fortunes rendered 
+uneasy, public credit shaken, industry disconcerted, capital 
+withdrawing, work at a discount, fear everywhere; counter- 
+shocks in every town. Hence gulfs. It has been calculated 
+that the first day of a riot costs France twenty millions, the sec- 
+ond day forty, the third sixty, a three days' uprising costs one 
+hundred and twenty millions, that is to say, if only the financial 
+result be taken into consideration, it is equivalent to a dis- 
+aster, a shipwreck or a lost battle, which should annihilate a 
+fleet of sixty ships of the line. 
+
+^^No doubt, historically, uprisings have their beauty; the war 
+of the pavements is no less grandiose, and no less pathetic, than 
+the war of thickets: in the one there is the soul of forests, 
+in the other the heart of cities ; the one has Jean Chouan, tiie 
+other has a Jeanne. Revolts have illuminated with a red glare 
+all the most original points of the Parisian character, generosity, 
+devotion, stormy gayety, students proving that bravery forms 
+part of intelligence, the National Guard invincible, bivouacs of 
+shopkeepers, fortresses of street urchins, contempt of death oo 
+the part of passers-b}'. Schools and legions clashed together. 
+After all, between the combatants, there was only a differenot 
+
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+
+of age ; the race is the same ; it is the same stoical men who 
+died at the age of twenty for their ideas, at forty for their fam- 
+ilies. The army, always a sad thing in civil wars, opposed 
+prudence to audacity. Uprisings, while proving ponular intre- 
+pidity, also educated the courage of the bourgeois. 
+
+'* This is well. But is all this worth the bloodshed? And to 
+the bloodshed add the future darkness, progress compromised, 
+uneasiness among the best men, honest liberals in despair, for- 
+eign absolutism happy in these wounds dealt to revolution by 
+its own hand, the vanquished of 1880 triumphing and saying : 
+*We told you so!' Add Paris enlarged, possibly, but France 
+most assuredly diminished. Add, for all must needs be told, 
+the massacres which have too often dishonored the victory of 
+or^ier grown ferocious over liberty gone mad. To sum up all, 
+aprisiugs have been disastrous." 
+
+Thus speaks that approximation to wisdom with which the 
+bouigeoisie, that approximation to the people, so willingly con- 
+tents itself. 
+
+For our parts, we reject this word uprmngs as too large, and 
+consequently as too convenient. We make a distinction between 
+one popular movement and another popular movement. We do 
+not inquire whether an uprising costs as much as a battle. Why 
+a battle, in the first place ? Here the question of war comes up. 
+Is war less of a scourge than an uprising is of a calamity? And 
+then, are all uprisings calamities? And what if the revolt of 
+July did cost a hundred and twenty millions ? The establish- 
+ment of Philip V. in Spain cost France two milliards. P>en at 
+the same price, we should prefer the 14th of July. However, 
+we reject these figures, which appear to be reasons and which 
+are only words. An uprising being given, we examine it by 
+itself. In all that is said by the doctrinarian objection aboVe 
+presented, there is no question of anything but effect, we seek 
+the cause. 
+
+We will be explicit. 
+
+II. — The Root of the Matter. 
+
+There is such a thing as an uprising, and there is such a thing 
+as insurrection ; these are two separate phases of wrath ; one 
+is in the wrong, the other is in the right. In democratic states, 
+the only ones which are founded on justice, it sometimes happens 
+that the fraction usurps ; then the whole rises and the necessary 
+claim of its rights may proceed as far as resort to arms. In all 
+questions which result from collective sovereignty, the war of 
+
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+the whole agamst the fraction is iosuiTection ; the attack of aie 
+fraction against the whole îb revolt ; according as the Tuileries 
+contain a king or the Convention, they are justly or unjusUj 
+attacked. The same cannon, pointed against the populaoe, is 
+wrong on the 10th of August, and right on the 14th of Ven- 
+démiaire. Alike in appearance, fundamentally different in re- 
+ality ; the Swiss defend the false, Bonaparte defends the true. 
+That which universal suffrage has effected in its liberty and in 
+its sovereignty cannot be undone by the street. It is the same 
+in things pertaining purely to civilization ; the instinct of the 
+masses, clear-sighted to-day, may be troubled to-morrow. The 
+same fury legitimate when directed against TeiTay and absurd 
+when directed against Turgot. The destruction of machines, 
+the pillage of warehouses, the breaking of rails^ the démolition 
+of docks, the false routes of multitudes, the refusal by the peo 
+pie of justice to progress. Ramus assassinated b}' students. 
+Rousseau driven out of Switzerland and stoned, — that is revolt 
+Israel against Moses, Athens against Phocian, Rome againsl 
+Cicero, — that is an uprising ; Paris against the Bastille, — that is 
+insun*ection. The soldiers against Alexander, the sailors against 
+Christopher Columbus, — this is the same revolt ; impious revolt ; 
+why ? Because Alexander is doing for Asia with the sword that 
+which Christopher Columbus is doing for America with the com- 
+pass ; Alexander, like Columbus, is finding a world. These gifts 
+of a world to civilization are such augmentations of light, that 
+aU resistance in that case, is culpable. Sometimes the popu- 
+lace counterfeits fidelity- to itself. The masses are traitora to the 
+people. Is there, for example, anything stranger than that long 
+and bloody protest of dealers in contraband salt, a legitimate 
+chronic revolt, which, at the decisive moment, on the day of 
+salvation, at the very hour of popular victory, esix>uses the 
+throne, turns into chouannene, and, from having been an in- 
+surrection against, becomes an uprising for, sombre masterpieces 
+of ignorance ! the contraband salt-dealer escapes the royal gib- 
+bets, and with a rope's end round his neck, mounts the white 
+cockade. ^ ^ Death to the salt duties," brings forth, * ^ Long live the 
+King ! *' The assassins of Saint-Barthélémy, the cut-throats of 
+September, the man slaughterers of Avignon, the assassins of Co- 
+lign}', the assassins of Madam Lam balle, the assassins of Brone, 
+Miquelets, Verdets, Cadenettes, the companions of Jehu, the 
+chevaliers of Brassard, — behold an uprising. La Vendée is a 
+grand, catholic uprising. The sound of right in movement is 
+recognizable^ it does not always proceed from the trembling of 
+excited masses ; there are mad rages, there are cracked li^Ua^ 
+
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+aU tocsins do not give out the sound of bronze. The brawl of 
+passions and ignorances is quite another thing from the shock 
+of progress. Show me in what direction you are going. Rise, 
+if yoa will, but let it be that you may grow great. There is no 
+insurrection except in a forwai*d direction. Any other soi-t of 
+rising is bad ; every violent step towards the rear is a revolt ; 
+to retreat is to commit a deed of violence against the human 
+race. Insurrection is a fit of rage on the part of truth; the 
+pavements which the uprising disturbs give forth the spark of 
+right. These pavements bequeath to the uprising only their 
+mud. Danton against Louis XIV. is insurrection; Hébert 
+against Danton is revolt. 
+
+Hence it results that if insurrection in given cases may be* 
+as Lafayette says, the most holy of dnties, an uprising may be 
+the most fatal of crimes. 
+
+There is also a difference in the intensity of heat ; insurrection 
+is often a volcano, revolt is often only a fire of straw. 
+
+Revolt, as we have said, is sometimes found among those in 
+power. Polignac is a rioter ; Camille Desmoulins is one of the 
+governing powers. 
+
+Insurrection is sometimes resurrection. 
+
+The solution of everything by universal suffrage being an ab- 
+solutely modem fact, and all history anterior to this fact being, 
+for the space of four thousand years, filled with violated right, 
+and the suffering of peoples, each epoch of history brings with 
+it that protest of which it is capable. Under the Cœsars, there 
+was no insurrection, but there was Juvenal. 
+
+The facit indigncUio replaces the Gracchi. 
+
+Under the Caesars, there is the exile to Syene ; there is also 
+the man of the Annales. We do not speak of the immense 
+exile of Patmos who, on his part also, overwhelms the real world 
+with a protest in the name of the ideal world, who makes of his 
+vision an enormous satire and casts on Rome-Nineveh, on Rome- 
+Babylon, on Rome-Sodom, the flaming reflection of the Apoca- 
+lypse. Johu on his rock is the sphinx on its pedestal ; we 
+may understand him, he is a Jew, and it is Hebrew ; but the 
+man who writes the Annales is of the Latin race, let us rather say 
+he is a Roman. 
+
+As the jNeros reign in a black way, they should be painted to 
+match. The work of the graving-tool alone would be too pale ; 
+there must be poured into the channel a concentrated prose which 
+bites. 
+
+Despots count for something in the question of philosophers. 
+A word that is chained is a terrible word. The writer doubles 
+
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+and trebles his style when silence is imposed on a nation by its 
+nianter. From this silence there arises a certain mysterious pleai- 
+tude which filters into thought and there congeals into bron»^ 
+The compression of history produces conciseness in the historian. 
+The granite solidity of such and such a celebrated prose is noth- 
+ing but the accumulation effected by the tyrant. 
+
+Tyranny constrains the writer to conditions of diameter wfaiii 
+arc augmentations of force. The Ciceronian period, which hsnli? 
+sufficed for Verres, would be blunted on Caligula. The It^- 
+spread of sail in the phrase, the more intensity in the blow 
+Tacitus thinks with all his might. 
+
+The honesty of a great heart, condensed in justioe and tnzth. 
+overwhelms as with lightning. 
+
+Be it remarked, in passing, that Tacitus is not historicalij 
+superposed upon Cœsar. The Tiberii were reBer\'ed for liiœ. 
+Caesar and Tacitus are two successive phenomena, a meetii^ 
+between whom seems to be mysteriously avoided, by the i)^ 
+who, when He sets the centuries on the stage, roulâtes the 
+entrances and the exits. Caesar is great, Tacitus is great ; (ii>^i 
+spares these two greatnesses by not allowing them to cls^i: 
+with one another. The guardian of justice, in striking Csesâr, 
+might strike too hard and be unjust. God does not will it. 
+The great wars of Africa and Spain, the purates of Sicilj 
+destroyed, civilization introduced into Gaul, into Britanny, into 
+Germany, — all this glory covers the Rubicon. There is here 
+a sort of d<4icacy of the divine justice, hesitating to let lou»« 
+upon the illustrious usurper the formidable historian, spaiiog 
+Caesar Tacitus, and according extenuating circumstances to 
+genius. 
+
+Certainly, despotism remains. despotism, even under the d^ 
+pot of genius. There is corruption under all illustrious tyrauu. 
+but the moral pest is still more hideous under infamous tyrants. 
+In such reigns, nothing veils the shame ; and those who m&kê 
+examples, Tacitus as well as Juvenal, slap this ignominy which 
+cannot reply, in the face, more usefully in the presence of sIj 
+humanity. 
+
+Rome smells worse under Vitellius than under Sylia. Under 
+Claudius and under Domitian, there is a deformity of baseness 
+corresponding to the repulsi veness of the tyrant. The nllany of 
+slaves is a direct product of the despot ; a miasma exhales from 
+these cowering consciences wherein the master is reflected ; pub- 
+lic powers are unclean ; hearts are small ; consciences are dalK 
+souls are like vermin ; thus it is under Caracalla, thus M i» 
+under Commodus, thus it is under Ueliogabalos, while, from the 
+
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+iSAINT'DENIS. 219 
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+Roman Senate, under Cœsar, there comes nothing but the odoi 
+of tbe dung which is peculiar to the eyries of the eagles. 
+
+Hence the advent, apparently tardy, of the Tacituses and th<< 
+Jo venais ; it is in the hour for evidence, that the demonstrator 
+makes his appearance. 
+
+Bat Juvenal and Tacitus, like Isaiah in Biblical times, like 
+Dante in the Middle Ages, is man ; riot and insurrection are 
+the multitude, which is sometimes right and sometimes wrong. 
+
+In the majority of cases, riot proceeds from a material fact ; 
+insurrection is always a moral phenomenon. Riot is Masani- 
+ello; insurrection, Spartacus. Insurrection borders on mind, 
+riot on the stomach; Gaster grows irritated; but Gaster, as- 
+suredly, is not always in the wrong. In questions of famine, 
+riot, Buzançais, for example, holds a true, pathetic, and just 
+point of departure. Nevertheless, it remains a riot. Why? 
+It is because, right at bottom, it was wrong in form. Shy al- 
+though in the right, violent although strong, it struck at ran- 
+dom; it walked like a blind elephant; it left behind it the 
+corpses of old men, of women, and of children ; it wished the 
+blood of inoffensive and innocent persons without knowing why. 
+The nourishment of the people is a good object ; to massacre 
+them is a bad means. 
+
+All armed protests, even the most legitimate, even that of 
+the 10th of August, even that of July 14th, begin with the 
+same troubles. Before the right gets set free, there is foam and 
+tumult. In the beginning, the insurrection is a riot, just as a 
+river is a torrent. Ordinarily it ends in that ocean : revolution. 
+Sometimes, however, comiug from those lofty mountains which 
+dominate the moral horizon, justice, wisdom, reason, right, 
+formed of the pure snow of the ideal, after a long fall from 
+rfick to rock, after having reflected the sky in its transparency 
+and increased by a hundred affluents in the majestic mien of 
+triumph, insurrection is suddenly lost in some quagmire, as the 
+Rhine is in a swamp. 
+
+All this is of the past, the future is another thing. Universal 
+suffrage has this admirable property, that it dissolves riot in its 
+inception., and, by giving the vote to insurrection, it deprives it 
+of its arms. The disappearance of wars, of street wars as well 
+as of wars on the frontiers, such is the inevitable progression. 
+Whatever To-day may be. To-morrow will be peace. 
+
+However, insurrection, riot, and points of difference between 
+the former and the latter, — the bourgeois, properly speaking, 
+knows nothing of such shades. lu his mind, all is sedition, re- 
+bellion pure and simple, tbe revolt of the dog against hi» mas 
+
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+ter, an attempt to bite whom must be puaished by the chatn ani 
+the kernel, burking, snappiug, until such day as the head of the 
+dog, suddenly enlarged, is outlined vaguely in the gloom face 
+«o face with the lion. 
+
+Then the bourgeois shouts : ^' Long live the people ! " 
+
+This explanation given, what does the movement of Jane, 
+1832, signify, so far as history is oonceraed? Is it a revolt? h 
+it an insurrection ? 
+
+It may happen to us, in placing this formidable event on the 
+stage, to say revolt now and then, but merely to distinguisi) 
+superficial facts, and always preserving the distinction betweeo 
+revolt, the form, and insurrection, the foundation. 
+
+This movement of 1832 had, in its rapid outbreak and in iU 
+melancholy extinction, so much grandeur, that even those who 
+see in it only an uprising, never refer to it otherwise than witb 
+respect. For them, it is like a relic of 1830. Excited imagi- 
+nations, say they, are not to be calmed in a daj'. A revolutiou 
+cannot be cut off short. It must needs undergo some undub- 
+tions before it returns to a state of rest, like a mountain sinking! 
+into the plain. There are no Alps without their Jura, nor 
+Pyrenees without tlie Asturias. 
+
+This pathetic crisis of contemporary history which the memOiV 
+of Parisians calls ^'the epoch of the riots," is certainly a 
+characteristic hour amid the stormy hours of this century. A 
+last word, before we enter on the recital. 
+
+The facts which we are about to relate belong to that dra- 
+matic and living reality, which the historian sometimes neglects 
+for lack of time and space. There, nevertheless, we insist upon 
+it, is life, palpitation, luiman tremor. Petty details, as we think 
+we have already said, are, so to speak, the foliage of great 
+events, and are lost in the distance of history. The epoch, sur- 
+named ^^of the riots," abounds in details ot this nature. Ju- 
+dicial inquiries have not revealed, and perhaps have not souudeiL 
+the depths, for another reason than history. We shall therefore 
+bring to light, among the known and published pecuUaritits, 
+things which have not heretofore been known, about facts over 
+which have passed the forgetful ness of some, and the death of 
+others. The majority of the ac^rs in these gigantic 8(«ue:^ 
+have disappeared ; beginning with the very next day they beki 
+their peace ; but of what we shall relate, we shall be able to sav : 
+*' We have seen this." We alter a few names, for history re- 
+lates and does not inform against, but the deed which we shall 
+paint will be genuine. In accordance with the conditions of the 
+book which we are now writings we shall show only one side 
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+SAINT^DENIS. 221 
+
+and one episode, and certainly, the least known at that, of the 
+two days, the 5th and the 6th of June, 1832, but we shall do it 
+in such wise that the reader may catch a glimpse, beneath the 
+\irloomy veil which we are about to lift, of the real form of this 
+frightful public adventure. 
+
+m. ^A Burial; an Occasion to be born again. 
+
+In the spring of 1832, although the cholera had been chilling 
+all minds for the last three months and had cast over their agi- 
+tation an indescribable and gloomy pacification, Paris had al- 
+ready long been ripe for commotion. As we have said, the 
+great city resembles a piece of artillery ; when it is loaded, it 
+suffices for a spark to fall, and the shot is discharged. In 
+June, 1832, the spark was the death of General Lamarque. 
+
+Lamarque was a man of renown and of action. He had 
+had in succession, under the Empire and under the Restora- 
+tion, the sorts of bravery requisite for the two epochs, the 
+bravery of the battle-field and the bravery of the tribune. He 
+was as eloquent as he had been valiant ; a sword was discerni- 
+ble in his speech. Like Foy, his predecessor, after upholding 
+the command, he upheld liberty ; he sat between the left and 
+the extreme left, beloved of the people because he accepted the 
+chances of the future, beloved of the populace because he had 
+served the Emperor well ; he was, in company with Comtes 
+Gérard and Drouet, one of Napoleon's marshals in jyetto. The 
+treaties of 1815 removed him as a personal offence. He hated 
+Wellington with a downright hatred which pleased the multi- 
+tude ; and, for seventeen yeai*s, he majestically preserved the 
+sadness of. Waterloo, paying hardly any attention to interven- 
+ing events. In his death agony, at his last hour, he clasped 
+to his breast a sword which had been presented to him by the 
+officers of the Hundred Days. Napoleon had died uttering the 
+word army^ Lamarque uttering the word country, 
+■^ His death, which was expected, was dreaded by the people as 
+a loss, and by the government as an occasion. This death was 
+an affliction. Like everything that is bitter, affliction may turn 
+to revolt. This is what took place. 
+
+On the preceding evening, and on the morning of the 5th o' 
+Jnne, the day appointed for Lamarque's burial, the Faubourg 
+Saint- Antoine, which the procession was to touch at, assumed 
+a formidable aspect. This tumultuous network of streets was 
+filled with rumors. They armed themselves as best they might. 
+Joiners carried off door- weights of their establishment ^^ to 
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+break down doore." One of them had made himself a dagger 
+of a Btocking-weaver's hook by breaking off the hook and 
+sharpening the stump. Another, who was in a fever ^' to at 
+tack," slept wholly dressed for three days. A carpenter named 
+Lombier met a comrade, who asked him : ^^ Whither are vou 
+going?" "Eh! well, I have no weapons." "What then?" 
+"I'm going to my timber-yard to get my compasses." " Wliat 
+for?" "I don't know," said Lombier. A certain Jacqueline, 
+an expeditious man, accosted some passing ailisans: "Come 
+here, you !" He treated them to ten sous' worth of wine and 
+said: "Have you work?" "No." "Go to Filspierre, be- 
+tween the BaiTière Charonne and the Barrière Moiitreuil, and 
+you will find work." At Filspien-e's they found cartridges and 
+arms. Certain well-known leaders were gomg the rounds, that 
+is to say, running from one house to another, to collect their 
+men. At Barthélémy 's, near the Barrière du Trône, at Capcl's, 
+near the Petit-Chapeau, the drinkers accosted each other 
+wit^ a grave air. They were heard to say : " Have you 
+your pistol ?" " Under my blouse." " And you ?" " Under 
+my shiit." In the Rue Traverslère, in front of the Bland 
+workshop, and in the yard of the Maison-Brûlée, in front 
+of tool-maker Bernier's, groups whispered together. Among 
+them was observed a certain Mavot, who never remained more 
+than a week in one shop, as the masters always dischai^ed bim 
+" because they were obliged to dispute with him everj' day." 
+Mavot was killed on the following day at the barricade of the 
+Rue Ménilmontant. Pretot, who was destined to perish also in 
+the struggle, seconded Mavot, and to the question: "What is 
+3'our object ?" he replied : ' ' hisurrectioji. ' ' Workmen assembled 
+at the corner of the Rue de Bercy, waited for a certain Lemarin, 
+the revolutionary agent for the Faubourg Saint-Marceau. Watch- 
+words were exchanged almost publicly. 
+
+On the 5th of June, accordingly, a day of mingled rain and 
+sun, General Lamarque's funeral procession traversed Paris with 
+official military pomp, somewhat augmented through precaution. 
+Two battalions, with draped drums and reversed arms, ten thou- 
+sand National Guards, with their swords at their sides, escorted 
+the coffin. The hearse was drawn by young men. The officers 
+of the Invalides came immediately behind it, bearing laurel 
+branches. Then came an innumerable, strange, agitated multi- 
+tude, the sectionaries of the Friends of the People, the Law 
+School, the Medical School, refugees of all nationalities, and Span- 
+ish, Italian, German, and Polish flags, tricolored horizontal 
+banners, every possible sort of banner, children waving green 
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+Doaghs» atone*cutters and carpenters who were uu strike at the 
+moment, printers who were recognizable by their paper caps, 
+mai'chlDg two b}- two, three by three, uttering cries, nearly all 
+of them brandishing sticks, some brandishiug sabres, without 
+order and yet with a single soul, now a tumultuous rout, again 
+a coiuinn. Squads chose themselves leaders; a man armed 
+with a pair of pistols in full view, seemed to pass the host in 
+review, and the files separated before him. On the side alleys 
+of the boulevards, in the branches of the trees, on balconies, in 
+windows, on the roofs, swarmed the beads of men, women, and 
+children ; all eyes were filled with anxiety. An armed throng 
+was passing, and a terrified throng looked on. 
+
+The Government, on its side, was taking observations. It 
+observed with its hand on its sword. Four squadrons of cara- 
+bineers could be seen in the Place Louis XV. in their saddles, 
+with their trumpets at their head, cartridge-boxes filled and 
+muskets loaded, all in readiness to march ; in the Latin coun- 
+try and at the Jardin des Plantes, the Municipal Guard eche-^ 
+lonned from street to street ; at the Halle-aux-Vins,. a squadron 
+of dragoons ; at the Grève half of the 12th Light Infantry, the 
+other half being at the Bastille ; the 6th Dragoons at the Célestins ; 
+and the courtyard of the Louvre full of artillery. The remainder 
+of the troops were confined to their barracks, without reckoning 
+the regiments of the environs of Paris. Power being uneaay, 
+held suspended over the menacing multitude twenty-four thou- 
+sand soldiers in the city and thirty thousand in the banlieue. 
+
+Divers re{>orts were in circulation in the cortège. legitimist 
+tricks were hinted at; they spoke of the Due de Reichstadt, 
+whom God had marked out for death at that very moment 
+when the populace were designating him for the Empire. One 
+personage, whose name has remained unknown, announced that 
+at a given hour two overseers who had been won over, would 
+throw open the doors of a factory of arms to the people. That 
+which predominated on the uncovered brows of the majority of 
+thoBCL present was enthusiasm mingled with dejection. Here 
+and there, also, in that multitude given over to such violent but 
+noble emotions, there were visible genuine visages of criminals 
+and ignoble mouths which said : ^' Let us plunder !" There are 
+certain agitations which stir up the bottoms of marshes and 
+make clouds of mud rise through the water. A phenomenon to 
+which "well drilled" policemen are no strangers. 
+
+The procession proceeded) with feverish slowness, from the 
+house of the deceased, by way of the boulevards as far as the 
+Bastille. It rained from time to time ; the rain mattered nothing 
+
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+to that throng. Many incidents, the coffin borne roand the 
+Vendôme column, stones thrown at the Due de Fitz-James, who 
+was seen on a balcony with his hat on his head, the Gallic cock 
+torn from a popular flag and dragged in the mire, a policeman 
+wounded with a blow from a sword at tlie Porte Saint-Martin, 
+an officer of the 12th Light Infantry saying aloud : ^' I am a 
+Republican," the Polytechnic School coming up unexpectedly 
+against orders to remain at home, the shouts of : ^' Long li^^ 
+the Polytechnique ! Long live the Republic ! " marked the passage 
+of the funeral train. At the Bastille, long files of curioas anc: 
+formidable people who descended from the Faubourg Saint- 
+Antoine, effected a Junction with the procession, and a certain 
+terrible seething began to agitate the throng. 
+
+One man was heard to say to another: ^^ Do yon see that 
+fellow with a red beard, he's the one who will give the word 
+when we are to fire." It appears that this red beard was present, 
+at another riot, the Quénisset affair, entrusted with this same 
+function. 
+
+The hearse passed the Bastille, traversed the small bridge, 
+and reached the esplanade of the bridge of Austerlitz. There it 
+halted. The crowd, surveyed at that moment with a bird's-eye 
+view, would have presented the aspect of a comet whose head 
+was on the esplanade and whose tail spread out over the Qaai 
+Bourdon, covered the Bastille, and was prolonged on the boule- 
+vard as far as the Porte Saint-Martin. A circle was traced 
+around the hearse. The vast rout held their peace. Lafayette 
+spoke and bade Lamarque farewell. This was a touching and 
+august instant, all heads uncovered, all hearts beat high. 
+
+AH at once, a man on horseback, clad in black, made his 
+appearance in the middle of the group with a red flag, others 
+sa}-, with a pike surmounted with a red liberty-cap. Lafayette 
+turned aside his head. Exelmans quitted the procession. 
+
+This red flag raised a storm, and disappeared in the midst of 
+it. From the Boulevard Bourdon to the bridge of Austerlitz 
+one of those clamors which resemble billows stirred the multi- 
+tude. Two prodigious shouts went up: *' Lamarque to the 
+Pantheon ! — Lafayette to the Town-hall ! '* Some young men, 
+amid the acclamations of the throng, harnessed themselves and 
+began to drag Lamarque in the hearse across the bridge of 
+Austerlitz and Lafayette in a hackney-coach along the Quai 
+Morland. 
+
+In the crowd which surrounded and cheered Lafayette, it was 
+noticed that a German showed himself named Ludwig Snyder, 
+who died a centenarian afterwards, who had also been in the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 22« 
+
+war of 1776, and who had fought at Trenton under Washington, 
+and at Brandy wine under Lafayette. 
+
+In the meantime, the' municipal cayahy on the left bank had 
+been set in motion, and came to bar the bridge, on the right 
+bank the dragoons emerged from the Célestins and deployed 
+along the Quai Morland. The men who were dragging Lafay- 
+ette suddenly caught sight of them at the corner of the quay and 
+shouted : ^' The dragoons ! " The dragoons advanced at a walk, 
+in silence, with their pistols in their holsters, their swords in 
+their scabbards, their guns slung in their leather sockets, with 
+an air of gloomy expectation. . 
+
+They halted two hundred paces from the little bridge. The 
+carriage in which sat Lafayette advanced to them, their ranks 
+opened and allowed it to pass, and then closed behind it. At 
+that moment the dragoons and the crowd touched. The women 
+fled in terror. What took place during that fatal minute? No 
+one can say. It is the dark moment when two clouds come to- 
+gether. Some declare that a blast of trumpets sounding the 
+charge was heard in the direction of the Arsenal, others that a blow 
+from a dagger was given by a child to a dragoon. The fact is, 
+that three shots were suddenly discharged : the first killed Cholet, 
+chief of the squadron, the second killed an old deaf woman 
+who was in the act of closing her window, the third singed the 
+shoulder of an officer; a woman screamed: "They are begin- 
+ning too soon ! " and all at once, a squadron of dragoons which 
+had remained in the barracks up to this time, was seen to de- 
+bouch at a gallop with bared swords, through the Rue Bassom- 
+pierre and tilie Boulevard Bourdon, sweeping all before them. 
+
+Then all is said, the tempest is loosed, stones rain down, a 
+fusillade breaks forth, many precipitate themselves to the bot- 
+tom of the bank, and pass the small arm of the Seine, now filled 
+in, the timber-yards of the Isle Louviers, that vast citadel ready 
+to hand, bristle with combatants, stakes are torn up, pistol- 
+shots fired, a barricade begun, the young men who are thrust 
+back pass the Austerlitz bridge with the hearse at a run, and 
+the municipal guard, the carabineers rush up, the dragoons ply 
+their swoi-ds, the crowd disperses in all directions, a rumor of 
+war flies to all four quarters of Paris, men shout : *' To arms 1 " 
+they run, tumble down, fiee, resist. Wrath spreads abroad the 
+liot as wind spreads a fire. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+2K LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+IV* — The Ebullitions of Former Datb. 
+
+Nothing is more extraordinary than the first breaking oat m 
+i riot. Everything bursts forth everywhere at once. Was it 
+foreseen? Yes. Was it prepared? No. Whence comes it? 
+From the pavements. Whence falls it? From the doads. 
+Here insurrection assumes the character of a plot ; there of an 
+improvisation. The first comer seizes a current of the throu<; 
+and leads it whither he wills. A beginning full of terror, in 
+which is mingled a sort of formidable gayety. First come 
+clamors, the shops are closed, the displays of the merchants 
+disappear ; then come isolated sliots ; people flee ; blows from 
+gun-stocks beat against portes cochèrcs, servants can be heard 
+laughing in the courtyards of houses and sa3'ing: ^^ There's 
+going to be a row ! " 
+
+A quarter of an hour had not elapsed when this is what was 
+taking place at twenty different spots in Paris at once. 
+
+In the Rue Sainte-Croix-de-la-Bretonnerie, twenty young 
+men, bearded and with long hair, entered a dram-shop an<i 
+emerged a moment later, carrying a horizontal tricolored flau 
+covered with crape, and having at their head three men armed, 
+oue with a sword, one with a gun, and the third with a pike. 
+
+Ill the Rue des Nonaindières, a very well-dressed Iwurjçeois, 
+who had a prominent belly, a Honorons voice, a bald head, a 
+lofty brow, a black beard, and oue of these stiff mustaches 
+which will not lie flat, offered cartridges publicly to passers-by. 
+
+In the Rue Saint-Pierre-Montmartre, men with bare arms 
+carried about a black flag, on which could be read in white 
+letters this inscription : '* Republic or Death ! " In the Rue des 
+Jeûneurs, Rue du Cadran, Rue MontorgueiK Rue Maiidar. 
+grou()â apfieared waving flags on which could Ije distîngiiishoii 
+in gold lettem, the word section with a number. One of these 
+lags was red and blue with an almost imi)erceptible stripe oi 
+white between. 
+
+Thc^y pillaged a factory of small-arms on the Boulevard 
+Saint- Martin, and three armorers' shops, the first in the Rue 
+Beaubourg, the second in the Rue Michel-le-Comte, the other 
+m the Rue du Temple. In a few minutes, the thousand hands 
+of the crowd had seized and carried off two hundred and thirty 
+guns, nearly all doubled-barrelled, sixty-four swords, and eiglity- 
+tliree pistols. In order to provide more arms, one man took the 
+gun, the other the bayonet. 
+
+Opposite the Quai de la Grève, young men armed with mns 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 22ï 
+
+frets installed themselves in the houses of some women for the 
+purpose of firing. One of them had a flint-lock. They rang, 
+entered, and set about making cartridges. One of tliese women 
+relates : '* I did not know what cartridges were ; it was my hus' 
+band who told me." 
+
+One cluster broke into a curiosity shop in the Rue des Vielles 
+Haudriettes, and seized yataghans and Turkish arras. 
+
+The body of a mason who had been killed by a gun-shot lay 
+in the Rue de la Perle. 
+
+And then, on the right bank, the left bank, on the quays, on 
+the boulevards, in the Latin country, in the quarter of the 
+Halles, panting men, artisans, students, members of sections 
+read proclamations and shouted: ''To arms!" broke street 
+lanteras, unharnessed carriages, unpaved the streets, broke in 
+the doors of houses, uprooted trees, rummaged cellars, rolled 
+out hogsheads, heaped up paving-stones, rough slabs, furniture 
+and planks, and made bamcades. 
+
+They forced the bourgeois to assist them in this. They 
+entered the dwellings of women, they forced them to hand over 
+the swords and guns of their absent husbands, and they wrote 
+on the door, with whiting : '' The arms have been delivered " ; 
+some signed " their names" to receipts for the guns and swords, 
+and said: *'Send for them to-morrow at the Mayor's oflflce." 
+They disarmed isolated sentinels and National Guardsmen in 
+the streets on their way to the Town-hall. They tore the 
+epaulets from officers. In the Rue du Cimitière-Saint-Nicholas, 
+an oflftcer of the National Guard, on being pursued by a crowd 
+armed with clubs and foils, took refuge with difficulty in a 
+bouse, whence he was only- able to emerge at nightfall and in 
+disguise. 
+
+In the Quartier Saint-Jacques, the students swarmed out of 
+their hotels and ascended the Rue Saint-Hyacinthe to the Café 
+du Progress, or descended to the Café des 8ept-Billards, in the 
+Rue des Mathurins. There, in front of the door, young men 
+mounted on the stone corner-posts, distributed arms. They 
+plundered the timber-yard in the Rue Transnonain in order to 
+obtain material for ban-icades. On a single point the inhabi- 
+tants resisted, at the corner of the Rue Sainte- A voye and the 
+Rue Simon-Le-Franc, where they destroyed the barricade with 
+their own hands. At a single point the insurgents yielded ; 
+they abandoned a barricade begun in the Rue de Temple after 
+having fired on a detachment of the National Guard, and fled 
+through the Rue de la Corderio. The detachment picked n\> in 
+the barricade a red flag, a package of cartridges, and thre€ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+228 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+hundred pistol-balls. The National Gnardsmen tore ap the 
+flag, and carried off its tattered remains on the points of their 
+bayonets. 
+
+All that we are here relating slowly and successively took 
+place simultaneously at all points of the city in the midst of 
+a vast tumult, like a mass of tongues of lightning in one clap 
+of thunder. In less than an hour, twenty-seven barricades 
+sprang out of the earth in the quarter of the Flalles alone. 
+In the centre was that famous house No. 50, which was the 
+fortress of Jeanne and her six hundred companions, and whicb. 
+flanked on the one hand b3' a barricade at Saint-Merry, and on 
+the other by the barricade of the Rue Maubuée, commaode<i 
+three streets, the Rue des Arcis, the Rue Saint-Martin, aotl 
+the Rue Aubry-le-Boucher, which it faced. The barricades at 
+right angles fell back, the one of the Rue Montoi^eil on the 
+Grande-Truandcrie, the other of the Rue Geofi^roy-Langevin on 
+the Rue Sainte-Avoye. Without reckoning innumerable barri- 
+cades in twenty other quarters of Paris, in the Marais, at Mont- 
+Sainte-Geneviève ; one in the Rue Ménilmontant, where was 
+visible a porte cochère torn from its hinges ; another near the 
+little bridge of the Hôtel-Dieu made with an ^^ écossais," whicb 
+had been unharnessed and overthrown, three hundred paces 
+from the Prefecture of Police. 
+
+At the barricade of the Rue des Ménétriers, a well-dressed 
+roan distributed money to the workmen. At the barricade of 
+the Rue Grenetat, a horseman made his appearance and handed 
+to the one who seemed to be the commander of the barricade 
+what had the appearance of a roll of silver. " Here," said he, 
+'* this is to pay expenses, wine, et caetera." A light-haired 
+young mau, without a cravat, weut from barricade to barricade, 
+carrying pass-words. Another, with a naked sword, a blue 
+police cap on his head, placed sentinels. In the interior, beyond 
+the barricades, the wine-shops and porters' lodges were converted 
+into guard-houses. Otherwise the riot was conducted after the 
+most scientific military tactics. The narrow, uneven, sinuous 
+streets, full of angles and turns, were admirably chosen ; the 
+neighborhood of the Halles, in particular, a network of streets 
+more intricate than a forest. The Society of the Friends of the 
+People had, it was said, undertaken to direct the insurrectioD 
+in the Quartier Sainte-Avoye. A man killed in the Rue du 
+Ponceau who was searched bad on his peraon a plan of Paris. 
+
+That which had really undertaken the direction of the upris- 
+incj was a sort of strange impetuosity which was in the air. 
+The insurrection had abruptly built barricades with one handt 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 229 
+
+and with the other seized nearly all the posts of the garrison 
+In less than three hours, like a train of powder catching fire, 
+the insurgents had invaded and occupied, on the right bank, the 
+Arsenal, the Mayoralty of the Place Royale, the whole of the 
+Marais, the Popincourt arms manufactory, la Galiote, the Châ- 
+teau-d'Eau, and all the streets near the Halles; on the left 
+bank, the barracks of the Veterans, Sainte-Pélagie, the Place 
+Maubert, the powder magazine of the Deux-Moulins, and all 
+the barriers. At five o'clock in the evening, they were masters 
+of the Bastille, of the Lingerie, of the Blancs-Manteaux ; their 
+scouts had reached the Place des Victoires, and menaced the 
+Bank, the Petits-Pères barracks, and the Post-OfHce. A third 
+of Paris was in the hands of the rioters. 
+
+The conflict had been begun on a gigantic scale at all points ; 
+and, as a result of the disarming, domiciliary visits, and armor- 
+ers' shops hastily invaded, was, that the combat which had 
+begun with the throwing of stones was continued with gun- 
+shots. 
+
+About six o'clock in the evening, the Passage du Saumon 
+became the field of battle. The uprising was at one end, the 
+troops were at the other. They fired from one gate to the other. 
+An observer, a dreamer, the author of this book, who had gone 
+to get a near view of this volcano, found himself in the passage 
+between the two fires. All that he had to protect him from the 
+bullets was the swell of the tWo half -columns which separate 
+the shops ; he remained in this delicate situation for nearly half 
+an hour. 
+
+Meanwhile the call to arms was beaten, the National Guard 
+armed in haste, the legions emerged from the Mayoralities, the 
+reginients from their barracks. Opposite the passage de l'Ancre 
+a drummer received a blow from a dagger. Another, in the 
+Rue du Cygne, was assailed by thirty 3'oung men who broke his 
+instrument^ and took away his sword. Another was killed in 
+the Rue Grenier-Saint-Lazare. In the Rue Michel-le-Comte, 
+three oflScers fell dead one after the other. Many of the Muni- 
+cipal Guards, on being wounded, in the Rue des Lombards, 
+retreated. 
+
+In front of the Cour-Batave, a detachment of National 
+Guards found a red flag bearing the following inscription : Be* 
+publican revolution. No, 127, Was this a revolution, in fact? 
+
+The insurrection had made of the centre of Paris a sort of 
+inextricable, tortuous, colossal citadel. 
+
+There was the hearth ; there, evidently, was the question. All 
+the rest was nothing but skirmishes. The proof that all would 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+230 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+be decided there lay in the fact that there was no fighting goiii{: 
+on there as yet. 
+
+In some regiments, the soldiers were uueertaiu, which addeo 
+to the fearful uncertainty of the crisis. They recalled the po|v 
+ular ovation which had greeted the neutrality of the 53d 
+of the Line in July, 1830. Two intrepid men, tried in great 
+wars, the Marshal Lobau and General Bugeaud, were in oon« 
+mand, Bugeaud under Lobau. Enormous patrols, composed of 
+battalions of the Line, enclosed in entire companies of the 
+National Guard, and preceded by a commissary of police wear 
+ing his scarf of office, went to reconnoitre the streets in rebel- 
+lion. The insurgents, on their side, placed videttcs at the 
+corners of all open spaces, and audaciously sent their paUt>lB 
+outside the barricades. Each side was watching the other. 
+The Government, with an army in its hand, hesitated; the 
+night was almost upon them, and the Saint-Merry tocsin began 
+to make itself heard. The Minister of War at that time, Mar- 
+shal Soult, who had seen Austerlitz, regarded this with ft 
+gloomy air. 
+
+These old sailors, accustomed to correct manœuvres and hav- 
+ing as resource and guide only tactics, that compass of battles, 
+are utterly disconcerted in the presence of that immense foam 
+which is called public wrath. 
+
+The National Guards of the suburbs rushed up in haste and 
+disorder. A battalion of the 12th Light came at a run f«*om 
+Saint-Denis, the 14th of the Line arrived from Courbevoie, the 
+batteries of the Military School had taken up their position on 
+the CaiTOusel ; cannons were descending from Vincennes. 
+
+Solitude was formed around the Tuileries. Loois Philippe 
+was perfectly serene. 
+
+
+
+v. — Originautv op Paris. 
+
+DuBiNa the last two years, as we have said, Paris had wit- 
+nessed more than one insurrection. Nothing is, generally, 
+more singularly calm than the physiognomy of Paiis during au 
+uprising beyond the bounds of the rebellious quarters. Paris very 
+speedily accustoms herself to anything, — it is only a riot» — 
+and Paris has so many affairs on hand, that she does not put 
+herself out for so small a matter. These colossal cities alone 
+can offer such spectacles. These immense enclosures alone can 
+contain at the same time civil war and an odd and indescribable 
+tranquillity. Ordinarily, when an insurrection commenoesi 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAÎNT-DBma. ÎSl 
+
+when the shop-keeper hears the drum, the call to arms, the geu 
+eral alarm, he contents himself with the remark : — 
+
+^' There appears to be a squabble in the Rue Saint-Martin." 
+
+Or: — 
+
+^^ In the Faubourg Samt- Antoine." 
+
+Often he adds carelessly : — 
+
+*' Or somewhere in that direction." 
+
+Later on, when the heart-rending and mournful hubbub of 
+musketry and firing by platoons becomes audible, the shop- 
+keeper says : -^ 
+
+'' It's getting hot ! Hullo, it's getting hot ! " 
+
+A moment later, the riot approaches and gains in force, he 
+shuts up his shop precipitately, hastily dons his uniform, that is 
+to say, he places his merchandise in safety and risks his own 
+person. 
+
+Men fire in a square, in a passage, in a blind alley ; tbey take 
+and re-take the barricade ; blood flows, the grape-shot riddles , 
+the fronts of the houses, the balls kill people in their beds, 
+corpses encumber the streets. A few streets away, the shock of 
+billiard-balls can be heard in the cafés. 
+
+The theatres open their doors and present vaudevilles ; the 
+curions laugh and chat a couple of paces distant from these ^ 
+streets filled with war. Hackney-carriages go their way ; 
+passers-by are going to a dinner somewhere in town. Sometimes 
+in the very quarter where the fighting is going on. 
+
+In 1831, a fusillade was stopped to allow a wedding-party to 
+pass. 
+
+At the time of the insurrection of 1839, in the Rue Saint- 
+Martin, a little, infirm old man, pushing a hand-cart surmounted 
+by a tricolorcd rag, in which he had carafes filled with some 
+sort of liquid, went and came from barricade to troops and 
+from troops to the ban'icade, offering his glasses of cocoa impnr- 
+tially, — now to the Government, now to anarchy. 
+
+Nothing can be stranger ; and this is the peculiar character 
+Df uprisings in Paris, which cannot be found in any other capi- 
+tal. To this end, two things are requisite, the size of Paris 
+and its gayety. The city of Voltaire and Napoleon is neces- 
+
+On this occasion, however, in the resort to arms of June 25th, 
+1832, the great city felt something which was, perhaps, stronger 
+than itself. It was afraid. 
+
+Closed doors, windows, and shutters were to be seen every- 
+whore, in the most disUint and most ' Jisinterested " qimrtei*B. 
+rbe courageous took to arms, the poltroons hid. The busy and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+288 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+heedless paBser-by disappeared. Many streets were empty fk 
+four o'clock in the morning. 
+
+Alarming details were hawked about, fatal news was dissemi 
+nated, — that tliey were masters of the Bank ; — that there 
+were six hundred of them in the Cloister of Saint-Merry alone, 
+entrenched and embattled in the church ; that the line was not 
+to be depended on ; that Armand Carrel had been to see Mar- 
+shal Clausel and that the Marshal had said: '^Geta regiment 
+first"; that Lafayette was ill, but that he had said to them, 
+nevertheless: " I am with you. I will follow you wherever 
+there is room for a chair " ; that one must be on one's guard : 
+that fit night there would be people pillaging isolated dwell- 
+ings in the deserted comers of Paris (there the imagination 
+of the police, that Anne Radcliffe mixed up with the Gov- 
+ernment was recognizable) ; that a battery had been established 
+in the Rue Aubry le Boucher ; that Lobau and Bugeaud were 
+putting their heads together, and that, at midnight, or at day- 
+break at latest, four columns would march simultaneously on 
+the centre of the uprising, the first coming from the Bastille, the 
+second from the Porte Saint^Martin, the third from the Grève, 
+the fourth from the Halles; that perhaps, also, the troops 
+would evacuate Paris and withdraw to the Champ-de-Mais ; 
+that no one knew what would happen, but that this time, it ce^ 
+tainly was serious. 
+
+People busied themselves over Marshal Sonlt's hesitations. 
+Why did not he attack at once ? It is certain that he was pro- 
+foundly absorbed. The old lion seemed to scent an unknown 
+monster in that gloom. 
+
+Evening came, the theatres did not open ; the patrols circu- 
+lated with an air of irritation ; passers-by were searched ; sus- 
+picious persons were arrested. By nine o'clock, more than 
+eight hundred persons had been arrested, the Prefecture of 
+Police was encumbered with them, so was the Conciergerie, so 
+was La Force. 
+
+At the Conciergerie in particular, the long vault which is 
+called the Rue de Paris was littered with trusses of straw 
+upon which lay a heap of prisoners, whotn the man of Lyoos, 
+Lagrange, harangued valiantly. All that straw rustled by all 
+these men, produced the sound of a heavy shower. Elsewhere 
+prisoners slept in the open air in the meadows, piled on to/p of 
+each other. 
+
+Anxiety reigned everywhere, and a certain tremor which was 
+not habitual with Paris. 
+
+People barricaded themselves in their houses; wives and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 281 
+
+jDOthera were uneasy ; nothing wfts to be heard but this : <^ Ah! 
+my Grod ! He has not come home ! " There was hardly even 
+the distant rumble of a vehicle to be heard. 
+
+People listened on their thresholds, to the rumors, the shouts, 
+the tumult, the dull and indistinct sounds, to the things that 
+were said : *' It is cavalry," or : " Those are the caissons gallop- 
+ing," to the trumpets, the drums, the firing, and, above all, to 
+i^hat lamentable alarm peal from Saint-Merry. 
+
+They waited for the first cannon-shot. Men sprang up at 
+uhe corners of the streets and disappeared, shouting: ^'Go 
+home ! " And people made haste to bolt their doors. They 
+said : " How will all this end?" From moment to moment, in 
+proportion as the darkness descended, Paris seemed to take on 
+a more mournful hue from the formidable flaming of the revolt. 
+
+
+
+BOOK ELEVENTH. —THE ATOM FRATERNIZES WITH 
+THE HURRICANE. 
+
+I. — SoMB Explanations with Regard to the Origin op 
+Gavroohe's Poetry. The Influence op an Academician 
+ON this Poetry. 
+
+At the instant when the insurrection, arising fï-om the shock 
+of the populace and the military in front of the Arsenal, started 
+a movement in advance and towards the rear in the nuiltitude 
+which was following the hearse and which, through the whole 
+length of the boulevards, weighed, so to speak, on tlie head 
+of the procession, there arose a frightful ebb. The rout was 
+shaken, their ranks were broken, all ran, fled, made their escape, 
+some with shouts of attack, others with the pallor of flight. 
+The great river which covered the boulevards divided in a 
+twinkling, overflowed to right and left, and spread in torrents 
+over two hundred streets at once with the roar of a sewer that 
+has broken loose. 
+
+At that moment, a ragged child who was coming down 
+through the Rue Ménilmontant, holding in his hand a branch 
+of blossoming laburnum which he had just plucked on the 
+heights of Belleville, caught sight of an old holster-pistol in the 
+show-window of a bric-à-brac merchant's shop. 
+
+" Mother What's-your-name, I'm , going to borrow your 
+machine." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+284 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+And off he ran with the pistol. 
+
+Two minutcB later, a flood of frightened bourgeois who wen» 
+fleeing through tlie Rue Amelot and the Rue Basse, enoountered 
+the lad bv*andishing his pistol and singing : — 
+
+La nuit on ne yoit rien. 
+Le jour on voit très bien» 
+D'un écrit apocryphe 
+Le bourgeois s'ébouriffe» 
+Pratiquez la vertu, 
+Tutu, chapeau x>ointu ! * 
+
+It was little Gavroclie on his way to the wars. 
+
+On the boulevard he noticed that the pistol had no trigger. 
+
+Who was the author of that couplet which served to punctu 
+ate his march, and of all the other songs which he was food 
+of singing on occasion? We know not. Who does know? 
+Himself, perhaps. However, Gavroche was well up in all the 
+popular tunes in circulation, and he mingled with them his own 
+chirpings. An observing urchin and a rogue, he made a (K)t- 
+pourri of the voices of nature and the voices of Paris. He com- 
+bined the repertory of the birds with the repertory of the work- 
+shops. He was acquainted with thieves, a tribe contiguous to his 
+own. He had, it appears, been for three months apprenticed to 
+a printer. He had one day executed a commission for M. Baour- 
+Lormian, one of the Forty. Gavroche was a gamin of letters. 
+
+Moreover, Gavroche had no suspicion of the fact that when 
+he had offered the hospitality of liis elephant to two brats on 
+that villanously rainy night, it was to his own brothers that he 
+had played the part of Providence. His brotliers in the even- 
+ing, his father in the morning ; that is what his night had been 
+like. On quitting the Rue des Ballets .at daybreak, he had re- 
+turned in haste to the elephant, had artistically extracted from it 
+the two brats, had shared with them some sort of breakfast which 
+he had invented, and had then gone away, confiding them to that 
+good mother, the street, who had brought him up, almost 
+entirely. On leaving them, he iiad appointed to meet them af 
+the same spot in the evening, and had left them this discoui'se 
+by way of a farewell : '* I break a cane, otherwise expressoti. 1 
+out my stick, or, as they say at the court, I file off. If you 
+don't find pupa and mamma, young 'uns, come back here this 
+evening. Til scramble you up some supper, and I'll give you 
+a shakedown." The two children, picked up by some police- 
+man and placed in the refuge, or stolen by some mountebanki 
+
+1 At night one neon nothlnp, by day one sees very well; the bminreois g«tt 
+flurried over an apockryphal scrawl, practioe virtue, tutu, pointed ball 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SÂINT^DENIS. 28Ô 
+
+or having simplj sti-ayed ofifi io that immense Cbioese puzjkle of 
+a Paris, did not return. The lowest deptlis of the actuul social 
+world are full of these lost traces. Gavroche did not see them 
+again. Ten or twelve weeks had elapsed since that night. 
+More than once be had scratched the back of his head and said : 
+" Where the devil are my two children?" 
+
+In the meantime, he had arrived, pistol in hand, in the Rue 
+da Pont-aux-Choux. He noticed that there was but one shop 
+open in that street, and, a matter worthy of reflection, that was 
+a pastry-cook's shop. This presented a providential occasion 
+to eat another apple- turnover before entering the unknown. 
+Gavroche halted, fumbled in his fob, turned his pocket inside 
+out, found nothing, not even a sou, and began to shout; 
+"Help!" 
+
+It is hard to miss the last cake. 
+
+Nevertheless, Gavroche pursued his way. 
+
+Two minutes later, he was in the Rue Saint-Louis. While 
+traversing the Rue du Parc-Royal, he felt called upon to make 
+good the loss of the apple-turnover which had been impossible, 
+and he indulged himself in the immense delight of tearing down 
+the theatre posters in broad daylight. 
+
+A Uttle further on, on catching sight of a group of comforta- 
+ble-looking persons, who seemed to be landed proprietors, he 
+shrugged his shoulders and spit out at random before him this 
+mouthful of philosophical bile as they passed : 
+
+" How fat those moneyed men are ! They're drunk ! They 
+Just wallow in good dinners. Ask 'em what they do with their 
+money. They don't know. They eat it, that's what they do I 
+As much as their bellies will hold." 
+
+n. — Gavroche on the March. 
+
+The brandishing of a triggerless pistol, grasped in one's hand 
+in the open street, is so much of a public function that Gav- 
+roche felt his fervor increasing with every moment. Amid the 
+scraps of the Marseillaise which he was singing, he shoated : — 
+*' All goes well. I suffer a great deal in my left paw, I'm all 
+broken up with rheumatism, but I'm satisfied, citizens. All 
+that the bourgeois have to do is to. bear themselves well, I'Jl 
+sneeze them out subversive couplets. What are the police spies ? 
+Dogs. And I'd just like to have one of them at the end of 
+my pistol. I'm just from the boulevard, my friends. It's 
+getting hot there, it's getting into a little boil, it's simmerinjr. 
+It's time to skim the pot. Forward marché men ! Let an im- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+286 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+pure blood inundate the furrows ! I give mj days to m\ oonii 
+ti'j, I shall never see my concubine more, Nini, finished, yes, 
+Nini? But never mind ! Ixjng live joy I Let's fight, crebleu! 
+Tve had enough of despotism." 
+
+At that moment, the horse of a lancer of the National 
+Guard having fallen, Gavroche laid his pistol on the pavement, 
+and picked up the man, then he assisted in raising the horse. 
+After which he picked up his pistol and resumed his way. In 
+the Rue de Thorigny, all was peace and silence. This apathy, 
+peculiar to the Marais, presented a contrast with the vast sur- 
+rounding uproar. Four gossips were chatting in a doorway. 
+
+Scotland has trios of witches, Paris has quartettes of old 
+gossiping hags ; and the ^^ Thou shalt be King" could be quite 
+as mournfully hurled at Bonaparte in the Carrefour Baudoyer 
+as at Macbeth on the heath of Armuyr. The croak would be 
+almost identical. 
+
+The gossips of the Rue de Thorigny busied themselves only 
+with their own concerns. Three of them were iwrtresses, and 
+the fourth was a rag-picker with her basket on her back. 
+
+All four of them seemed to be standing at the four corners of 
+old age, which are decrepitude, decay, ruin, and sadness. 
+
+The rag-picker was humble. In tliis open-air society, it is 
+the rag-picker who salutes and the portress who patronizes. 
+This is caused by the corner for refuse, which is fat or lean, ac- 
+cording to the will of the portresses, and after the fancy of 
+the one who makes the heap. There maj' be kindness in the 
+broom. 
+
+This rag-picker was a grateful creature, and she smiled, 
+with what a smile! on the three portresses. Things of this 
+nature were said : — 
+
+" Ah, by the way, is your cat still cross?" 
+
+'^ Good gracious, cats are naturally the enemies of dogs, yoo 
+know. It's the dogs who complain." 
+
+''And people also." 
+
+'' But the fleas from a cat don't go after people." 
+
+'* That's not the trouble, dogs are dangerous. I remember 
+one year when there were so many dogs tiiat it was necessary 
+to put it in the newspapers. That was at the time when 
+there were at the Tuileries great sheep that drew the little car- 
+riageof the King of Rome. Do you remember the Kmg of Borne?" 
+
+" 1 liked the Due de Bordeau better." 
+
+" I knew T^uis XVIII. I prefer Louis XVETI." 
+
+**Meat is awfully dear, isn't it, Mother Patagon?" 
+
+^* Ah ! don't mention it, the butcher's shop is a horror, i 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 28^ 
+
+ftorrible horror— one can't afford anything bat the poor outfl 
+nowadays.'' 
+
+Here the rag-picker interposed : — 
+
+^' Ladies, busiuess is dull. The refase heaps are miserable. 
+No one throws anything away any more. They eat everything," 
+
+•* There ere poorer people than you, la Vargonlême." 
+
+" Ah, that's true," replied the rag-picker, with deference, "I 
+have a profession." 
+
+A pause succeeded, and the rag-picker, yielding to that 
+necessity for boasting which lies at the bottom of man, 
+added : — 
+
+*^ In the morning, on my return home, I pick over my basket, 
+I sort my things. This makes heaps in my room. I put the 
+rags in a basket, the cores and stalks in a bucket, the linen in 
+my cupboard, the woollen stuff in my commode, the old papers 
+in the corner of the window, the things that are good to eat in 
+my bowl, the bits of glass in my fireplace, the old shoes behind 
+my door, and the bones under my bed." 
+
+Gavroche had stopped behind her and was listening. 
+
+^^Oid ladies," said he, ^^ what do you mean by talking 
+politics?" 
+
+He was assailed by a broadside, composed of a quadruple howl. 
+
+* ' Here's another rascal . " 
+
+'' What's that he's got in his paddle? A pistol? " 
+
+*' Well, I'd like to know what sort of a beggar's brat this is? " 
+
+'^ That sort of animal is never easy unless he's overturning 
+the authorities." 
+
+Gavroche disdainfully contented himself, by way of reprisal, 
+with elevating the tip of his nose with his thumb and opening 
+his hand wide. 
+
+The rag-picker cried : — 
+
+"You malicious, bare-pawed little wretch!'* 
+
+The one who answered to the name of Patagon clapped her 
+hands together in horror. 
+
+"There's going to be evil doings, that's certain. The errand 
+boy next door has a little pointed beard, I have seen him pass 
+every day with a young i>erson in a pink bonnet on his arm ; 
+to-day I saw him pass, and he had a gun on his arm. Mame 
+Bachenx says, that last week there was a revolution at — at — 
+at — Where's the calf ! — at Pontoise. And then, there you see 
+him, that horrid scamp, with his pistol ! It seems that the 
+Célestins are full of pistols. What do you suppose the Govern- 
+ment can do with good-for-nothings who don't know how to do 
+anything but contrive ways of upsetting the world, when we 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+2S8 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+had ju8t beguu to get a little quiet after all the misfortunes that 
+have Imppeued, good Lord ! to that poor queen whom I saw 
+pass LU the tumbril! Aud all this is going to make tobacco 
+dearer. It's infamous ! And I shall certainly go to see him 
+beheaded on the guillotine, the wretch ! " 
+
+*' You've got the sniffles, old lady," said Gavroche. *' Blow 
+your promontory." 
+
+And he passed on. When he was in the Rue Pavée, the rag- 
+picker occurred to his mind, aud he indulged in this soliloquy : — 
+
+"You're in the wrong to insult the revolutionists, Motlier 
+Dust- Heap-Corner. This pistol is in your interests. It's 90 
+that you may have more good things to eat in your basket." 
+
+All at once, he heard a shout behind him ; it was the portress 
+Fatagon who had followed him, and who was shaking her fist 
+at him in the distance and crying : — 
+
+'' You're nothing but a bastard." 
+
+''Oh! Come now," said Gavroche, "I don't care a brass 
+farthing for that • " 
+
+Shortly afterwards, he passed the Hotel Lamoignon. There 
+he uttered this appeal : — 
+
+** Forward march to the battle ! " 
+
+And he was seized with a fit of melancholy. He gazed at 
+his pistol with an air of reproach which seemed an attempt to 
+appease it : — 
+
+"' I'm going off," said he, '' bnt you won't go off!" 
+
+One dog may distract the attention from another dog.* A 
+ver^' gaunt ix)odle came along at the moment. Gavroche felt 
+compassion for him. 
+
+'* My |X)or doggy," said he, ''you must have gone and 
+swallowed a cask, for all the hoops are visible." 
+
+Then he directed his course towards l'Orme-Saint-Gervais. 
+
+m. — Just Indignation of a Hair-dresser. 
+
+The worthy hair-dresser who had chased from his shop the 
+two little fellows to whom Gavroche had opened the paternal 
+interior of the ele[)hant was at that moment in his shop engaged 
+in shaving an old soldier of Uic legion who had served under 
+the Empire. They were talking. The hair-dresser had, natu- 
+rally, spoken to the veteran of the riot, then of General La 
+marque, and from Lamarque they had passed to the Emperor 
+Thence sprang up a conversation between barber and soldier 
+which Prudhomme, had he boon prosent, would have enriched 
+1 CT^ten, dog, trigger. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINTE-DENIS. 289 
+
+«rith arabesques^ and which lie would have entitled : *^ Dialogue 
+between the razor aud the sword." 
+
+^^ How did the Emperor ride, sir?" said the barber. 
+
+*' Badly. He did not koow how to fall — so he never fell." 
+
+^^ Did he have fine horses? He must have had fine horses ! " 
+
+^' On the day when he gave me my cross, I noticed his beast. 
+\t was a racing mare, perfectly white. Her ears were vei'y 
+wide apart, her saddle deep, a fiue head marked with a black 
+star, a very long neck, strongly articulated knees, promioent 
+nl>e, oblique shoulders, aud a powerful crupper. A little more 
+than fifteen hands in height." 
+
+'* A pretty horse," remarked the hair-di-esser. 
+
+•"^ It was His Majesty's beast." 
+
+The hair-dresser felt, that after this observation, a short 
+silence would be fitting, so he conformed himself to it, and then 
+went on : — 
+
+'" The Emperor was never wounded but once, was he, sir?" 
+
+The old soldier replied with the calm and sovereign tone of a 
+man who had been there : — 
+
+^^ in the heel. At Ratisbon. I never saw him so well dressed 
+as on that day. He was as neat as a new sou." 
+
+** And you, Mr. Veteran, you must have been often wounded?'" 
+
+^^I?" said the soldier, ^^ah! not to amount to anything. 
+At Marengo, I received two sabre-blows on the back of my 
+ueck, a bullet in the right arm at Austerlitz, another in. the left hip 
+at Jena. At Friedland, a thrust from a bayonet, t*^ere, — at 
+the Moskowa seven or eight lance-thrusts, no matter where, at 
+Lutzen a splinter of shell crushed one of my fingers. Ah 1 and 
+then at Waterloo, a ball from a biscaieu in the tliigh, that's all." 
+
+** How fine that is ! " exclaimed the hair-dresser, in Pindaric 
+accents, ^^ to die on the field of battle I On my word of honor, 
+rather than die in bed, of an illness, slowly, a bit by bit each day, 
+with drugs> x^ataplasms, syringes, medicines, I should prefer to 
+receive a cannon-ball in my belly ! " 
+
+*' You're not over fastidious," said the soldier. 
+
+He had hardly spoken when a fearful crash shook the shop. 
+The show-window had suddenly been fractured. 
+
+Th3 wig-maker turned pale. 
+
+*' Ah, good God ! " he exclaimed, " it's one of them I " 
+
+'*What?" 
+
+'* A cannon-ball." 
+
+*' Here it is," said the soldier. 
+
+And he picked up something that was rolling about the floof 
+It was a pebble. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+240 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+The hair-dresser ran to the broken window and behdd Gav 
+roche fleeing at the full speed, towards the Marché Saiut-Jean. 
+As he passed the hair-dresser's shop Gavroche, who had tbc 
+two 'brats still in his mind, had not been able to resist tb€ 
+impulse to say good day to him, and had flung a stone through 
+his panes. 
+
+'^You see!" shrieked the hair-dresser, who from white had 
+turned blue, *^ that fellow returns and does mischief for the 
+pure pleasure of it. What has any one done to that gamin?" 
+
+IV. — The Child is Amazed at the Old Man. 
+
+In the meantime, in the Marché Saint-Jean, where the post 
+had already beeu disarmed, Gavroche had just ^'effected a junc- 
+tion " with a band led by Ënjoli-as, Courfeyrac, Combeferre, 
+and Feuilly. They were armed after a fashion. Bahorel and 
+Jean Prouvaire had found them and swelled the group. £njolras 
+bad a double-barrelled hunting-gun, Combeferre the gun of a 
+National Guard bearing the number of his l^ion, and in his 
+belt, two pistols which his unbuttoned coat allowed to be seeo, 
+Jean Prouvaire an old cavalry musket, Bahorel a rifle ; Cour- 
+feyrac was brandishing an unsheathed sword-cane. Feuilly, wiUi 
+a naked sword in his hand, marched at their head shooting: 
+**Long live Poland!" 
+
+They reached the Quai Morland. Cravatless, haUess, breath- 
+less, soaked by the rain, with lightning in their eyes* Gavroche 
+accosted them calmly : — 
+
+'* Where are we going? " 
+
+'* Come along," said Courfeyrac. 
+
+Behind Feuilly marched, or rather bounded, Bahorel, who was 
+like a fish, in water in a riot, lie wore a scarlet waistcoat, aod 
+indulged in tlie sort of words which break everything. His 
+waistcoat astounded a passer-by, who cried in bewilder- 
+ment : — 
+
+'' Here are the reds ! " 
+
+" The red, the reds 1 " retorted Bahorel. "A queer kind of 
+fear, bourgeois. For my part I don't tremble before a poppv, 
+the little red hat inspires me with no alarm. Take my adricet 
+bourgeois, let's leave fear of the red to horned cattle." 
+
+He caught sight of a corner of the wall on which was pla- 
+carded tlie most peaceable sheet of paper in the world, a per- 
+mission to eat eggs, a Lenten admonition addressed by the 
+Archbishop of Paris to his ^^ flock." 
+
+Bahorel exclaimed : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 241 
+
+«• * Flock • ; a poHte way of saying geese.'* 
+
+And he tore the charge from the nail. This conquered 
+Gravroche. From that instant Gavroche set himself to study 
+Bahorel. 
+
+" Bahorel/' observed Knjolras, " you are wrong. You 
+should have let that chaise alone, he is not the person with 
+whom we have to deal, yon are wasting your wrath to no pur* 
+pose. Take care of your supply. One does not fire out of the 
+ranks with the soul any more than with a gun." 
+
+" Each one in his own fashion, Enjolras," retorted Bahorel. 
+*•* This bishop's prose shocks me ; I want to oat eggs without 
+being permitted. Your style is the hot and cold ; I am amus* 
+ing myself. Besides, I*m not wasting myself, I'm getting a 
+start; and if I tore down that charge, Herde! 'twas only to 
+whet my appetite." 
+
+This word, Herde ^ struck Gavroche. He soughf all occasions 
+for learning, and that tearer-down of posters possessed his es- 
+teem. He inquired of him : — 
+
+*' What does Herde mean?" 
+
+Bahorel answered : — 
+
+*^ It means cursed name of a dog, in Latin." 
+
+Here Bahorel recognized at a window a pale young man with 
+a black beard who was watching them as they passed, probably 
+a Friend of the ABC. He shouted to him : — 
+
+'< Quick, cartridges, jjara bellum." 
+
+** A fine man ! that's true," said Gavroche, who now under- 
+stood Latin. 
+
+A tumultuous retinue accompanied them, — stu^^ents, artists, 
+young men affiliated to the Cougourde of Aix, artisans, long- 
+shoremen, armed with clubs and bayonets ; "some, like Combe- 
+ferre, with pistols thrust into their trousers. 
+
+An old man, who appeared to be extremely age"], was walk- 
+'ng in the band. 
+
+He had no arms, and he made great haste, so th'^t he might 
+20t be left behind, although he had a thoughtful aifr 
+
+Gavroche caught sight of him : — 
+
+** Kekspkça?" said he to Gourfeyrac. 
+
+" He's an old duflPer." 
+
+It was M. Mabeuf . 
+
+v.— The Old Man. 
+
+Lbt us recount what had taken place. 
+
+Enjolras and his friends had been on the Boulevard Bonido» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+2« LES MISERABLES. 
+
+near tlie public storehouses, at the moment when the dragoons 
+^l made their charge. Knjolras, Courfeyrac, aud Comheferre 
+were among those who had tikeu to tlie Rue Bassompierre, 
+shouting: ''To the barricades!" In the Rue Lcsdiguières 
+they had met an old man walking along. What bad attracted 
+their attention was, that the good man was walking in a zig-za<r, 
+as though he were intoxicated. Moreover, he had his hat in i)i8 
+hand, although it had been raining all the morning, and was 
+raining pretty briskly at the very time. Courfeyrac had recog- 
+nized Father Mabeuf. He knew him through having nianv 
+times accompanied Marius as far as his door. As he was ac- 
+quainted with the peaceful and more than timid habits of the old 
+beadle-book-oollector, and was amazed at the sight of hiro in 
+the midst of that upix>ar, a couple of paces from the cavalry 
+charges, almost in the midst of a fusillade, hatless in tlie rain, 
+ftnd strolling about among the bullets^ he had accosted \^m, and 
+the following dialogue had been exchanged between tlie riotei 
+of fire and the octogenarian : — 
+
+" M. Mabeuf, go to 3-our home.'* 
+
+*'Why?" 
+
+** There's going to foe a row." 
+
+" That's well." 
+
+'' Thrusts with the sword and firing, M. Mabeuf." 
+
+" That is well." 
+
+*' Firing from cannon." 
+
+** That is good. Where are the rest of you going?** 
+
+*' We are going to fling the government to the earth.'* 
+
+*' That is good." 
+
+And he had set out to follow them. From that moment îorû. 
+he had not uttered a word. His step had suddenly become firm ; 
+artisans had offered him their arms ; he had refused with a sign 
+of the head. He advanced nearly to the front rank of the col- 
+umn, with the movement of a man who is marching and the 
+countenance of a man who is sleeping. 
+
+*' What a fierce old fellow !" muttered the sUidcnts. The 
+rumor spread through the troop that he was a former member 
+of the Convention, — an old regicide. The mob had turned in 
+through the Rue de la Verrerie. 
+
+Little Gavroche marched in front with that deafening sùûg 
+which made of him a sort of trumpet. 
+
+He sang : — 
+
+"Voici la lune qui paraît. 
+Quand irons-nous dans la forêt f 
+Demandait Chariot à Charlotte. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'DENISL S4I 
+
+Ton ton tou 
+Pour Chatou. 
+Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard, et qu'une botte* 
+
+'** Pour avoir bu de grand matin 
+lia rosée à même le thym, 
+Deux moineaux étaient en ribotte. 
+
+Zi zi zi 
+Pour Pa«8y. 
+Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard, et qu'une botla 
+
+*• Et ces deux pauvres petits loups, 
+Comme deux grives étaient soûls ; 
+Une tigre en riait dans sa grotte. 
+
+Don don don 
+Pour Mendon. 
+Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard, et qu'une botte. 
+
+•• L'un jurait et l'autre sacrait. 
+Quand irons nous dans la forêt f 
+Demandait Chariot à Charlotte. 
+
+Tin tin tin 
+Pour Pantin. 
+Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard, et qu 'une botte." ^ 
+
+They directed their course towards Saint-Merry, 
+
+VI. — Recruits. 
+
+The band augmented every moment. Near the Rue des Ril- 
+lettes, a man of lofty stature, whose hair was turning gray, and 
+whose bold and daring mien was remarked by Courfeyrac, En- 
+jolras, and Corabeferre, but whom none of them knew, jonied 
+tliem. Gavroche, who was occupied in singing, whistling, hum- 
+ming, running on ahead and pounding on the shutters of the 
+shops with the butt of his triggerless pistol, paid no attention to 
+Ibis man. 
+
+It chanced that in the Rue de la Verrerie, they passed in front 
+Df Courfeyrac's door. 
+
+''This happens just right," said Courfeyrac, "I have for- 
+gotten my purse, and I have lost my hat." 
+
+He quitted the mob and ran up to his quarters at full speed. 
+He seized an old hat and his purse. 
+
+1 Here is the mom appearing. When shall we go to tho forest, Chariot asked 
+Charlotte. Tou, tou, tou, for Chatou, I have but one God, one King, one half- 
+farthing, and one boot. And these two poor little wolves were as tipsy as spar- 
+rows from having drunk dew and thyme very early in the morning. And these 
+two poor little things were as drunk as thrushes in a vineyard : a tiger laughed 
+at them in his t^ave. Thp one enrsod, the other swore. When shall we go 
+to the forest? Chariot asked Charlotte. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+844 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+He alsQ seized a large square coffer, of the dimensions of i I 
+large valise, which was concealed under his soiled linen. I 
+
+As he descended again at a run, the portress hailed | 
+him : — I 
+
+*' Monsieur de Conrfcyrac ! ** '\ 
+
+" What's jour name, portress?" 
+
+The portress stood bewildered. 
+
+''Why, you know perfectly well, Fm the conciei^; my 
+name is Mother Veuvain." 
+
+" Well, if you call me Monsieur de Courfeyrac again, I shall 
+call 3'ou Mother de Veuvain. Now speak, what's the matter? 
+What do you want?" 
+
+'' There is some one who wants to speak with yoa.'* 
+
+'* Who is it?" 
+
+" I don't know." 
+
+"Where is he?" 
+
+'* In my lodge." 
+
+*' The devil ! " ejaculated Courfeyrac. 
+
+*' But the person has been waiting your return for oyer an 
+hour," said the portress. 
+
+At the same time, a sort of pale, thin, small, freckled, and 
+youthful artisan, clad in a tattered blousi and patched trousers 
+of ribbed velvet, and who had rather the a*, of a girl accoutnnl 
+as a man than of a man, emerged from the odge and said to 
+Courfeyrac in a voice which was not the least in the world like 
+a woman*s voice : — 
+
+*' Monsieur Marius, if you please." 
+
+*'He is not here." 
+
+*' Will he return this evening?" 
+
+"I know nothing about it." 
+
+And Courfeyrac added : — 
+
+" For my part, I shall not return." 
+
+The young man gazed steadily at him and said : — 
+
+*' Why not?" 
+
+" Because." 
+
+*' Where are you going, then?" 
+
+** What business is that of yours?" 
+
+*' Would you like to have me carry your coffer for you?" 
+
+'* I am going to the bairicades." 
+
+** Would you like to have me go with you?" 
+
+** If yon like ! " replied Courfeyrac. '' The street is free, the 
+pavements belong to every one." 
+
+And he made his escape at a run to join his friends. When 
+he had rejoined them, he gave the coffer to one of them to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 24ft 
+
+cany. It was onlj a quarter of an hour after this that he saw 
+the yoQDg man, who had actually followed them. 
+
+A mob does not go preciselj^ where it intends. We have 
+explained that a gust of wind carries it away. They overshot 
+Saint-Merry and found themselves, without precisely knowing 
+how, in the Rue Saint-Denis. 
+
+
+
+BOOK TWELFTH. — CORINTHE. 
+
+I. — History of Corinthe prom rrs Foundatiok. 
+
+The Parisians who nowadays on entering on the Rue Ram- 
+buteau at the end near the Halles, notice on their right, oppo- 
+site the Rue Mondétour, a basket-makei*'s sliop having for its 
+sign a basket in the form of Napoleon the Great with this in- 
+scription: — 
+
+NAPOLEON IS MABB 
+WHOLLY OF WILLOW, 
+
+have no suspicion of the terrible scenes which this very spot 
+witnessed hardly thirty yeare ago. 
+
+It was there that lay the Rue de la Chanvrerie, which ancient 
+deeds spell Chan verrerie, and the celebrated public-house called 
+CkyriiUhe. 
+
+The reader will remember all that has been said about the 
+ban-icade effected at this point, and eclipsed, by the way, by 
+the barricade Saiut-Merry. It was on this famous barricade 
+of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, now fallen into profound obscurity, 
+that we are about to shed a little light. 
+
+May we be permitted to recur, for the sake of clearness in 
+the recital, to the simple means which we have already em- 
+ployed in the case of Waterloo. Persons who wish to picture 
+to themselves in a tolerably exact manner the constitution of 
+the houses which stood at that epoch near the Pointe Saint- 
+Eustache, at the northeast angle of the Halles of Paris, where 
+to-day lies the embouchure of the Rue Rambuteau, have only to 
+imagine an N touching the Rue Saint-Denis with its summit 
+and the Halles with its bavse, and whose two vertical bars should 
+form the Rue de la Grande-Truanderie, and the Ruo de la 
+Chanvrerie, and whose transverse bar should be formed by the 
+Rue de la Petite-Truanderie. The old Rue Mondétour cut thr 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
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+^6 LEU MISERABLES. 
+
+three strokes of the N at the most crooked angles. So that tLn 
+
+kbyrinthlne confusion of these four streets sufficed to form, 
+OQ a space three fathoms square, between the Halles and the 
+Rue Saint-Denis ou the oue liand, and between tbe Hue du Cygne 
+and the Rne des Prâcheurs on the other, seven islands of houses, 
+oddly cut up; of varying sizes, placed crosswise and hap-^hazard» 
+and barely separated, like the blocks of stone in a dock, by 
+narrow crannies. 
+
+We say narrow crannies, and we can give no more just idea 
+of those dark, contracted, many-angled alleys, lined with eight- 
+story buildings. These buildings were so deurepit that, in the 
+Rue de la Chanvrerie and the Rue de la Pctite-Truanderie, the 
+fronts were shored up with beams running from one house to 
+another. The street was narrow and the gutter broad, the 
+pedestrian there walked on a pavement that was always wet, 
+skiiting little stalls resembling cellars, big posts encircled with 
+iron hoops, excessive heaps of refuse, and gates armed with 
+enormous, century-old gi'atings. The Rue Rambuteau has dev- 
+astated all that. 
+
+The name of Mondétour paints marvellously well the sinuosi- 
+ties of tliat whole set of streets. A little further on, they are 
+found still better expressed by the Rue Pirouette^ which ran 
+into the Rue Mondétour. 
+
+The passer-by who got entangled from the Rue Saint*Denis 
+in the Rue de la Chanvreiie beheld it gradually close in before 
+him as though he had entered an elongated funnel. At the end 
+of this street, which was very short, he found further passage 
+barred in the direction of the Halles by a tall row of houses. 
+and he would have thought himself in a blind alley, had he uot 
+perceived on tiie right and left two dark cuts through which he 
+could make his escape. This was the Rue Mondétour, which 
+on one side ran into the Rue de Prêcheurs, and on the other 
+into the Rue du Cygne and the Petite-Truanderie. At th( 
+bottom of this sort of cnl-de-sac, at the angle of the cutting ou 
+the right, there was to be seen a house which was not so tall as 
+the rest, and which formed a sort of cape in tiie street. It is 
+in this house, of two stories only, that an illustrious wine-shoj' 
+had been merrily installed three hundred years before. Tlii* 
+tavern created a joyous noise in tlie very spot which old ïbe- 
+ophilus described in the following couplet: — 
+
+JA branle le squelette horrible 
+D'un pauvre amant qui se pendît.* 
+
+X There ewingi the hondble skeleton of a poor lover who huiw Wiinetf . 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 247 
+
+The situation was good, and tavern-keepers succeeded each 
+•tber there, from father to son. 
+
+In the time of Mathurin Régnier, this cabaret was called the 
+Pot-<iux- Roues ^ and as the rebus was then in fashion, it had for 
+its sign-board, a post {poteau) painted rose-color. In the last 
+century, the worthy Natoire, one of the fantastic masters now- 
+adays despised by the stiff school, having got drunk many times 
+ill tiiis wine-shop at the very table where Régnier had drunk his 
+fill, had painted, by way of gratitude, a bunch of Corinth grai)eB 
+on the pink post. The keeper of the cabaret, in his joy, had 
+changed his device and had caused to be placed in gilt letters 
+beneath the bunch these words : ** At the Bunch of Corinth 
+Grapes" (*^-dw Raisin de GorintJtê"), Hence the name of 
+Corinthe. Nothing is more natural to drunken men tlian ellip- 
+ses. The ellipsis is the zig-zag of the phrase. Corinthe gradu- 
+ally dethroned the Pot-aux-Roses. The last proprietor of the 
+dynasty. Father Hucheioup, no longer acquainted even with the 
+tradition, had the post painted blue. 
+
+A room on the ground-floor, where the bar was situated, one 
+on the first floor containing a billiard-tnble, a wooden spiral stair- 
+case piercing the ceiling, wine on the tables, smoke on the walls^ 
+candles in broad daylight, — this was the style of this cabaret. 
+A staircase with a trap-door in the lower room led to the cellar. 
+On the second floor were the lodgings of the Hucheioup family. 
+They were reached by a staircase which was a ladder rather than 
+a staircase, and had for their entrance only a private door in 
+the large room on the flrst floor. Under the roof, in two man- 
+sard attics, were the nests for the servants. The kitchen shared 
+the ground-floor with the tap-room. 
+
+Father Hucheioup had, possibly, been born a chemist, but the 
+fact is that he was a cook ; people did not conflne themselves 
+to drinking alone in his wine-shop, they also ate there. Huche- 
+ioup had invented a capital thing which could he eaten nowhere 
+but in his house, stufled carps, which he called cat-pes au gins. 
+These were eaten by the light of a tallow candle or of a lamp 
+of the time of Louis XVL, on tables to which were nailed waxed 
+cloths in lieu of table-cloths. People came thither from a dis- 
+tance. Hucheioup, one fine morning, had seen fit to notify 
+passers-by of this '* specialty" ; he had dipped a brush in a pot 
+of black paint, and as he was an orthographer on his own ac- 
+count, as well as a cook after his own fashion, he had impro 
+vised on his wall this remarkable inscription : — 
+
+CARPES HO OKAS. 
+
+One winter, the rain-storms and the showers had taken a fanc^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+248 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+to obliterate the S which terminated ttie first words, and the Q 
+which began the third ; this is what remained : — 
+
+CABPE UO RAS. 
+
+Time and rain assisting, a humble gastronomical annotmca- 
+ment had become a profound piece of advice. 
+
+In this way it came about, that though he knew no French^ 
+Father Hucheloup understood Latin, that he had evoked philosa 
+phy from his kitchen, and that, desirous simply of effacing Lent 
+he had equalled Horace. And the striking thing aboat it was, 
+that that also meant : ^^ Enter my wine-shop." 
+
+Nothing of all this is in existence now. The Mondétour laby- 
+rinth was disembowelled and widely opened in 1847, and proba- 
+bly no longer exists at the present moment. The Rue de la 
+Chanvrerie and Corinthe have disappeared beneath the pave- 
+ment of the Rue Rarabuteau. 
+
+As we have already said, Corinthe was the meeting-place if 
+not the rally ing-poiut, of Courfeyrac and his friends. It was 
+Grantaire who had discovered Corinthe. He had entered it on 
+account of the Carpe horas^ and had returned tliither on account 
+of the Carpes au gras. There they drank, there they ate, there 
+they shouted; they did not pay much, they paid badly, they 
+did not pay at all, but they were always welcome. Father 
+Hucheloup was a jovial host. 
+
+Hucheloup, that amiable man, as was just said, was a wine- 
+shop-keeper with a mustache ; an amusing variety. He always 
+had an ill-tempered air, seemed to wish to intimidate his cus- 
+tomers, grumbled at the people who entered his establishment, 
+and had rather the mien of seeking a quarrel with them than of- 
+serving them with soup. And yet, we insist upon the word, 
+people were always welcome there. This oddity had attracted 
+customers to his shop, and bn>ught him young men, who said 
+to each other : '^ Come hear Fatlier Huchelonp growl." He 
+had l>een a fencing-master. All of a sudden, he would barst 
+out laughing. A big voice, a good fellow. He had a comic 
+foundation under a tragic exterior, he asked nothing better 
+than to frighten you, very much like those snuff-boxes which 
+are in the shape of a pistol. The detonation makes one 
+sneeze. 
+
+Mother Hucheloup, his wife, was a bearded and a very homely 
+creature. 
+
+About 1830, Father Hucheloup died. With him disappeared 
+the secret of stuffed carps. His inconsolable widow continued 
+to keep the wine-shop. But the cooking deteriorated, and be- 
+came execrable ; the wine^ which had always been bad, became 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+SAINT-DENIS. 24M 
+
+fearftilly bad. Nevertheless, Courfeyrac and his friends con 
+tinued to go to Corinthe, — out of pity, as Bossuet said. 
+
+The Widow Hucheloup was breathless and misshapen and given 
+to rustic recollections. She deprived them of their flatness by 
+her pronunciation. She had a way of her own of saying things, 
+which spiced her reminiscences of the vilhige and of her spring- 
+time. It had formerly been her delight, so she affirmed, to hear 
+the loups'de-garge (rouges-goiyes) dianter dans lea ogrepines 
+{atd)éphi€8) — to hear the redbreasts sing in the hawthorn -trees 
+
+The hall on the first floor, where ^^ the restaurant " was situated, 
+was a lai^e and long apartment encumbered witli stools, chairs, 
+benches, and tables, and with a crippled, lame, old billiard-table. 
+It was reached by a spiral staircase which terminated in the 
+comer of the room at a square hole like the hatchway of a ship. 
+
+This room, lighted by a single narrow window, and by a lamp 
+that was always burning, had the air of a gaiTet. All the four- 
+footed furniture comported itself as though it had but three legs 
+— the whitewashed walls had for their only ornament the fol- 
+lowing quatrain in honor of Marne Hucheloup : — 
+
+Elle étonne à dix pas, elle épouvente à deux, 
+
+Une verrue habite 9n son nez hasardeux ; 
+
+On tremble à chaque instant qu'elle ne vous la mouche 
+
+Et qu'un beau jour son nez ne tombe dans sa bouche.^ 
+
+This was scrawled in charcoal on the wall. 
+
+Marne Hucheloup, a good likeness, went and came from morn- 
+ing till night before this quatrain with the most perfect tranquil-» 
+lity . Two serving-maids, named Mat<.»lote and Gibelotte,^ and wlio 
+had never been kuown by any other names, helped Mame Huche- 
+loup to set on the tibles the jugs of poor wine, and the various 
+broths which were served to the hungry patrons in earthenware 
+bowls. Matelote, large, plump, red-haired, and noisy, the favor- 
+ite ex-sultana of the defunct Hucheloup, was homelier than any 
+jaythological monster, be it what it may ; still, as it becomes the 
+servant to always keep in the rear of the mistress, she was less 
+homely than Mame Hucheloup. Gibelotte, tall, delicate, white 
+with a lymphatic pallor, with circles round her eyes, and droop- 
+ing lids, always languid and weary, afflicted with what may be 
+called chronic lassitude, the first up in the house and the last in 
+bed, waited on every one, even the other maid, silently and gen- 
+tly, smiling through her fatigue with a vague and sleepy smile. 
+
+^She astounds at ten paces, she frightens at two, a wart inhabits her hazard- 
+oiw nose ; vou tremble every instaut lest she should blow it at you, and lesti 
+^ome fine day. her nose should tnmble into her mouth. 
+
+* Motelote: a culinary preparation of various fishes. Qihploti?. : stewed ntb 
+bits. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+850 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Before entering the restaurant room, the visitor read oa Ifa 
+door the following line written there in chalk by Courfeyrac:-' 
+
+Bégaie Bi tu peux et mange si tu I'oBes.i 
+
+II. — Preliminary Gateties. 
+
+Laiole db Meaux, as the reader knows, lived more witc 
+Joh' tlmn eit»ewhere. He had a lodging, as a bird has one on a 
+branch. The two friends lived together, ate together, slept 
+together. They had everything in common, even MusicbettA, 
+to some extent. They were, what the subordinate monks who 
+accompany monks are called, binL On the morning of the 
+ôth of June, they went to Corinthe to breakfast. Joly, who 
+was all stuffed up, had a catarrh which Laigle was b^ioninc! 
+to share. Laigle's coat was threadbare, but Joly was well 
+dressed. 
+
+It was about nine o'clock in the morning, when they opened 
+the door of Corinthe. 
+
+They ascentied to the first floor. 
+
+Matelote and Gibelotte received them. 
+
+'^ Oysters, cheese, and ham,'' said Laigle* 
+
+And they seated themselves at a table. 
+
+The wine-shop was empty ; there was no one there but them- 
+selves. 
+
+Gibelotte, knowing Joly and Laigle, set a bottle of wine un 
+the table. 
+
+While they were busy with their first oysters, a head appeared 
+at the hatchway of the staircase, and a voice said : — 
+
+'^ I am passing by. I smell from the street a delicious odor 
+of Brie cheese. I enter." It was Grantaire. 
+
+Gran taire took a stool and drew up to the table. 
+
+At the sight of Grantaire, Gibelotte placed two bottes of 
+wine on the table. 
+
+That made three. 
+
+'' Are you going to drink those two bottles?" Laigle inquired 
+of Grantaire. 
+
+Grantaire replied : — 
+
+^^ All are ingenious, thou alone art ingenuous. Two bottler 
+never yet astonished a man." 
+
+Tlie others had begun by eating, Grantaire began by driuk 
+ing. Half a bottle was rapidly gulped down. 
+
+'* So you have a hole in your stomach?" began Laigl« 
+again. 
+
+^ Treat if yoa can, and eat if 70a dare. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+SAINT-DENÏS. 
+
+
+
+251 
+
+
+
+•* You have one in your elbow," said Grantjiire. 
+
+And after having emptied his glass, iie added : — 
+
+*' Ah, by the way, Laigle of the funeral oration, yoiir coat i» 
+old." 
+
+*^I should hope bo," retorted Laigle. "That's why we get 
+on well together, my coat and I. It has acquired all my folds, 
+it does not bind me anywhere, it is moulded on my deformities, 
+it falls in with all my movements, I am only conscious of it be^- 
+cause it keeps me warm. Old coats are just like old friends." 
+
+"That's true," ejaculated Joly, striking into the dialogue. 
+* an old goat is an old abi" {ami^ friend). 
+
+''Especially in the mouth of a man whose head is stuffed up," 
+said G ran taire. 
+
+'' Gran taire," demanded Laigle, "have you just come from 
+the boulevard ? " 
+
+" No." 
+
+"■ We have just seen the head of the procession pass, Joly 
+and I." 
+
+" It's a marvellous sight," said Joly. 
+
+" How quiet this street is !" exclaimed Laigle. "Who would 
+Buspect that Paris was turned upsidr down ? How plainly it is 
+to be seen that in former days there were nothing but convents 
+here ! In this neighborhood ! Du Breul and 8auval give a list 
+of them, and so does the Abbé Lebeuf. They were all round 
+here, they fairly swari^ned, booted and barefooted, shaven, 
+boarded, gray, black, white, Franciscans, Minims, Capuchins, 
+Carmelites, Little Augustines, Great Augustines, old Angus- 
+tines — there was no end of them." 
+
+"Don't let's talk of monks," interrupted Grantaire, "it 
+makes one want to scratch one's self." 
+
+Then he exclaimed : — 
+
+"Bouh ! I've just swallowed a bad oyster. Now hypochondria 
+UÎ taking possession of me again. The oysters are spoiled, the 
+3i»rvant8 are ugly. I hate the human race. I just passed 
+through the Rue Richelieu, in front of the big public library. 
+That pile of oyster-shells which is called a library is disgusting 
+>ven to think of. What paper ! What ink ! What scrawling ! 
+\nd all that has been written ! What rascal was it who said 
+ti.at man was a feathcrless biped ^ ? And then, I met a pretty girl 
+t>f my acquaintance, who is as beautiful as the spring, worthy 
+to be called Floréal, and who is delighted, enraptured, as happy 
+as the angels, because a wretch yesterday, a frightful bankel 
+
+1 Bipède Bans plume : biped without feathers — or pen. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+«52 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+all spotted with small-pox, deigned to take a fancy to her ! A\sa\ 
+woman keeps on the watch for a protector as much as for a loy- 
+er; cats chase mice as well as birds. Two months ago thai 
+young woman was virtuous in an attic, she adjusted little bra^ 
+rings in the eyelet-holes of corsets, what do you call it? She 
+sewed, she had a camp bed, she dwelt beside a pot of flowers, 
+she was contented. Now here she is a bankercss. This trans- 
+formation took place last night. I met the victim this morning 
+in high spirits. The hideous point about it is, that the jade is 
+as prett}' to-day as she was yesterday. Her financier did not 
+show in her face. Roses have this advantage or disadvantage 
+over women, that the traces left upon them by caterpillars are 
+visible. Ah ! there is no morality on earth. I call to witness 
+the myrtle, the symbol of love, the laurel, the symbol of air. the 
+olive, that ninny, the symbol of peace, the apple-tree which 
+came nearst rangling Adam with its pips, and the fig-tree, the 
+grandfather of petticoats. As for right, do you know what 
+right is? The Gauls covet Clusium, Rome protects Clusium, 
+and demands what wrong Clusium has done to them. Brennus 
+answers: ''The wrong that Alba did to you, the wrong that 
+Fidenae did to you, the wrong that the Eques, the Volsci, and 
+the Sabines have done to you. They were your neighbors. 
+The Clusians are ours. We understand neighborliues» just as 
+you do. You have stolen Alba, we shall take Clusium." Rome 
+said: "You shall not take Clusium." Brennus took Rome. 
+Then he cried: "Vœ victis!" That is what right ia. Ah! 
+what beasts of prey there are in this world ! What eagles ! Ik 
+makes my flesh creep." 
+
+He held out his glass to Joly, who filled it, then he drank ami 
+went on, having hardly been interrupted by this glass of wine, 
+of which no one, not even himself, had taken any notice: — 
+
+" Brennus, who takes Rome, is an eagle ; the banker who takes 
+the grisette is an eagle. There is no more modesty in the one 
+case than in the other. So we believe in nothing. There is 
+but one reality : driixk. Whatever your opinion may be in favor 
+of the lean cock, like the Canton of Uri, or in favor of the fat 
+cock, like the Canton of Claris, it matters little, drink. Too 
+talk to me of the boulevard, of that procession, et cœtera, et 
+cœtera. Come now, is there going to be another revolution ? 
+This poverty of means on the part of the good God astound> 
+me. He has to keoj) greasing the groove of events every mo- 
+ment. There is a hitch, it won't work. Quick, a revolution! 
+The good God has his hands peri)etually black with that cart 
+grease. If I were in his place. I*d be perfectly simple about ît 
+
+
+
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+
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+
+SAINT'-DENIS. 258 
+
+I would not wind up my mechanism every minute, I'd lead the 
+biiinan race in a straightforward way, I'd weave matters me»h 
+by mesh, without breaking the thread, I would have no provis- 
+•onal arrangements, I would have no extraordinary repertory-. 
+What the rest of you call progress advances by means of two 
+motors, men and events. But, sad to say, from time to time, 
+the exceptional becomes necessary. The ordinary troupe suffices 
+neither for event ; nor for men : among men geniuses are required, 
+among events revolutions. Great accidents are the law ; the 
+order of things cannot do without them ; and, judging from the 
+a[)parition of comets, one would be tempted to think that Heavec 
+itself finds actors needed for its performance. At the moment 
+when one expects it the least, God placards a meteor on the wall 
+of the firmament. Some queer star turns up, underlined by an 
+enormous tail. And that causes the death of Caesar. Brutus 
+deals him a blow with a knife, and God a blow with a comet. 
+CVoc, and behold an aurora borealis, behold a revolution, be- 
+hold a great man ; '93 in big lettei-s, Napoleon on guard, the 
+comet of 1811 at the head of the poster. Ah ! what a beautiful 
+blue theatre all studded with unexpected flashes ! Boum ! I^onm ! 
+extraordinary show 1 Raise your eyes, boobies. Everything is 
+in disorder, the star as well as the drama. Good God, it is too 
+much and not enough. These resources, gathered from exceiv 
+tion, seem magnificence and poverty. My friends, Providence 
+has come down to expédients. What does a revolution prove ? 
+That God is in a quandary. He effects a coup rVétat because he, 
+God, has not been able to make both ends meet. In fact, this 
+confirms me in my conjectures as to Jehovah's fortune; and 
+when I see so much distress in heaven and on eaitb, from the 
+bird who has not a grain of millet to myself without a hundi-ed 
+thousand livres of income, when I see human destiny, which is 
+very badly worn, and even royal destiny, which is threadbare, 
+witness the Prince de Coudé hung, when I see winter, which ie 
+nothing but a rent in the zenith through which the wind blows, 
+when I see so many rags even in the perfectly new purple of 
+the morning on the crests of hills, when I see the drops of dew, 
+those mock pearls, when I see the frost, that paste, when I see 
+humanity ripped apart and events patched up, and so many 
+spots on the sun and so many holes in the moon, when I see so 
+much misery everywhere, I suspect that God is not rich. The 
+appearance exists, it is true, but I feel that he is hard up. He 
+gives a revolution as a tradesman whose money-box is empty 
+gives a ball. God must not be judged from appearanc^es. Be- 
+neath the gilding of heaven I perceive a poverty-stricken univeraei 
+
+
+
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+2.54 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Creation is bankrupt. That is why I am discontented. Here 
+it is the 4th of June, it is almost night ; ever since this moro- 
+ing I have been waiting for daylight to come ; it has not come, 
+and 1 bet that it won't come all day. This is the inexactness of 
+an ill-paid clerk. Yes, everything is badly arranged, nothing 
+tits anything else, this old world is all warped, I take my 
+stand on the opposition, everything goes awry ; the universels a 
+tease. It's like children, those who want them have none, and those 
+who don't want them have them. Total : I'm vexed. Besides, 
+Laigle de Meaux, that bald-head, ofïends my sight. It humili 
+ates me to think that I am of the same age as that baldy. 
+However, I criticise, but I do not insult. The universe is what 
+it is. I speak here without evil intent and to ease my conscience. 
+Receive, Eternal Father, the assurance of my distinguished 
+consideration. Ah ! by all the saints of Olympus and by all the 
+gods of paradise, I was not intended to be a Parisian, that is to 
+say, to rebound forever, like a shuttlecock between two battle- 
+dores, from the group of the loungers to the group of the royster- 
+ers. I was made to be a Turk, watching oriental houris all d.\v 
+]ong,*executing those exquisite Egyptian dances, as sensuous as 
+the dream of a chaste man, or a Beauceron peasant, or a V^enetiaD 
+gentlemau surrounded by gentlewomen, or a petty Gennaû 
+prince, furnishing the half of a foot-soldier to the Germanic con- 
+federation, and occupying his leisure with drying his breeches 
+on his hedge that is to say, his frontier. Those are the positions 
+for which I was born ! Yes, I have said a Turk, and I will not 
+retract. I do not understand how people can habitually take Turks 
+in bad part ; Mohammed had his good points ; respect for the in 
+ventor of seraglios with houris and paradises with odalisques I 
+Let us not insult Mohammedanism, the only religion which is 
+ornamented with a hen-roost ! Now, I insist on a drink. The 
+earth is a great piece of stupidity. And it appears that they 
+are going to fight, all those imbeciles, and to break each other's 
+profiles and to massacre each other in the heart of summer, in 
+the month of June, when they might go off with a creature on 
+their arm, to breathe the immense heaps of new-mown hay in 
+the meadows ! Really, people do com mit altogether too many fol- 
+lies. An old broken lantern which 1 have just seen at a bric-à-brac 
+merchant's suggests a reflection to my mind ; it is time to en- 
+lighten the human race. Yes, behold me sad again. That's 
+what comes of swallowing an oyster and a revolution tlie wron^ 
+way ! I am growing melancholy once more. Oh I frightfnl old 
+world. People strive, turn each other out, prostitute themselves, 
+kill each other, and get used to it !" 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 255 
+
+And Grantaire, after this fit of eloquence, had a fit of congh* 
+ing, which was well earned. 
+
+*' À propos of revolution," said J0I3', " it is decidedly abbarent 
+that Barius is in lub.*' 
+
+^' Does any one know with whom?" demanded Laigle. 
+
+*' Do." 
+
+*'No?" 
+
+'* Do ! I tell you." 
+
+^^ Marius' love afifairs !" exclaimed Grantaire. ^'I can im* 
+agine it. Marius is a fog, and he must have found a vapor. 
+Marius is of the race of poets. He who says poet, says fool, 
+madman, Tymbrœus Apollo. Marius and his Marie, or his 
+Marion, or his Maria, or his Mariette. They must make a queer 
+pair of lovers. I know just wliat it is like. Ecstasies in which 
+they forget to kiss. Pure on earth, but joined in heaven. They 
+are souls possessed of senses. They lie among the stars." 
+
+Grantaire was attacking his second bottle and» possibly, his 
+second harangue, when a new personage emerged from the 
+square aperture of the stairs. It was a boy less than ten years 
+}f age, ragged, very small, yellow, with an odd phiz, a viva* 
+JÎOUS eye, an enormous amount of hair drenched with rain, and 
+wearing a contented air. 
+
+The child unhesitatingly making his choice among the three, 
+•iddressed himself to Laigle de Meaux. 
+
+" Are you Monsieur Bossuet? " 
+
+'* That is my nickname," replied Laigle. " What do you 
+want with me ? " 
+
+*^ This. A tall blonde fellow on the boulevard said to 
+vne : ^ Do you know Mother Hucheloup? ' I said : ^ Yes, Rue 
+Chanvrerie, the old man's widow ; * be said to me : ' Gp there. 
+There you will find M. Bossuet. Tell him from me : ^ A B C* 
+It's a joke that they're playing on you, isn't it? He gave me 
+'>en sous." 
+
+'^Joly, lend me ten sous," said Laigle; and, tuiiiing to 
+Grantaire : ^^ Grantaire, lend me ten sous." 
+
+This made twenty sous, which Laigle handed to the lad. 
+
+" Thank you, sir," said the urchin. 
+
+" What is your name?" inquired Laigle. 
+
+** Navet, Gavroche's friend/' 
+
+"Stay with us," said Laigle. 
+
+" Breakfast with us," said Grantaire. 
+
+The child replied : — 
+
+" I can't, I belong in the procession, I'm the one to shout 
+Down with Polignac 1 ' " 
+
+
+
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+856 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+And executing a prolonged scrape of his foot behind him, which 
+is the most respectful of all possible salutes, he took his 
+departure. 
+
+The child gone, Gran taire took the word : — 
+
+" That is the pure-bred gamin. There are a great many 
+varieties of the gamin species. The notary's gamin is called Skip- 
+the-Gutter, the cook's gamin is called a scullion, the baker's 
+gamin is called a mitron.^ the lackey's gamin is called a groom, 
+the marine gamin is called the cabin-boy, the soldier's gamin is 
+called the drummer-hoy, the painter^s gamin is called paint- 
+grinder, the tradesman's gamin is called an errand-boy, the conr- 
+tesan gamin is called the minion, the kingly gamin is called the 
+dauphin, the god gamin is called the bambino." 
+
+In the meantime, Laigle was engaged in reflection ; he said 
+half aloud: — 
+
+"ABC, that is to say : the burial of Lamarque." 
+
+"The tall blonde," remarked Grantaire, " is Enjolras, who n 
+sending you a warning." 
+
+" Shall we go? " ejaculated Bossuet. 
+
+** It's raiding," said Joly . *' I have sworn to go through fire, 
+bnt not through water. 1 don't wand to gcd a gold." 
+
+'' I shall stay here," said Grantaire. " I prefer a breakfast to 
+a hearse." 
+
+" Conclusion : we remain," said Laigle. "Well, then, let as 
+drink. Besides, we might miss the funeral without missing the 
+riot." 
+
+*' Ah ! the riot, I am with you ! " cried Joly. 
+
+Laigle rubbed his hands. 
+
+" Now we're going to touch up the revolution of 1830. As 
+a matter of fact, it does hurt the people along the seams." 
+
+"I don't think much of your revolution," said Grantaire. "I 
+don't execrate this Govemment. It is the crown tempered bv 
+the cotton night-cap. It is a sceptre ending in an umbrella. 
+In fact, I think that to-day, with the present weather, Louis 
+Philippe might utilize his royalty in two directions, he might 
+extend the tip of the sceptre end against the people, and open 
+the umbrella end against heaven." 
+
+The room was dark, large clouds had just finished the extinc- 
+tion of daylight. There was no one in the wine-shop, or in the 
+street, every one having gone off " to watch events." 
+
+" Is it mid-day or midnight? " cried Bosauet. "You can't see 
+your hand before your face. Gibelotte, fetch a light." 
+
+Grantaire was drinking in a melancholy way. 
+
+" Enjolras disdains me," he muttered. " Enjolras said : 'Joly 
+
+
+
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+SAINT^DENIS. 251 
+
+is ill, Grantaire is drunk/ It was to Bossuet that he sent Navet. 
+If he had eome for me, I would have followed him. So much 
+the worse for Enjolras! I won't go to his funeral." 
+
+This resolution once arrived at, Bossuet, Joly, and Grantaire 
+did not stir from the wine*shop. By two o'clock in the after- 
+noon, the table at which they sat was covered with empty hot* 
+ties. Two candles were burning on it, one in a flat copper can- 
+dlestick which was perfectly green, the other in the neck of a 
+cracked cavaffe. Grantaire had seduced Joly and Bossuet to 
+wine ; Bossuet and Joly had conducted Grantaire back towards 
+cheerfulness. 
+
+As for Grantaire, he had got beyond wine, tibat merely mod- 
+erate inspirer of dreams, ever since mid-day. Wine enjoys 
+only a conventional populaiity with serious drinkers. There is, 
+in fact, in the matter of inebriety, white magic and black 
+magic; wine is only white magic. Grantaire was a daring 
+drinker of dreams. The blackness of a terrible fit of drunken- 
+ness yawning before him, far from arresting him, attracted him. 
+He had abandoned the bottle and taken to the beer-glass. The 
+beer-glass is the abyss. Having neither opium nor hashish on 
+hand, and being desirous of filling his brain with twilight, he had 
+had recourse to that fearful mixture of brandy, stout, absinthe, 
+which produces the most terrible of lethargies. It is of these three 
+vapors, beer, brandy, and absinthe, that the lead of the soul is 
+composed. They are three glooms ; the celestial buttei-fly is 
+drowned in them ; and there are formed there in a membraneous 
+smoke, vaguely condensed into the wing of the bat, three mute 
+furies. Nightmare, Night, and t)eath, which hover above the 
+Blambering Psyche. 
+
+Grantaire had not yet reached that lamentable phase ; far 
+from it. He was tremendously gay, and Bossuet and Joly 
+retorted. They clinked glasses. Grantaire added to the eccen- 
+tric accentuation of words and ideas, a peculiarity of gesture ; 
+he rested his left fist on his knee with dignity, his arm forming 
+a right angle, and, with cravat untied, seated astride a stool, his 
+full glass in his right hand, he hurled solemn words at the big 
+maid-servant Matelote : — 
+
+*' Let the doors of the palace be thrown open ! Let every 
+one be a member of the French Academy and have the right to 
+embrace Madame Hucheloup. Let us drink." 
+
+And turning to Madame Hucheloup, he added : — 
+
+'^ Woman ancient and consecrated bv U4e, draw near that I 
+may contemplate thee ! " 
+
+And Joly exclaimed : «* 
+
+
+
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+858 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+'^ Matelote and Gibelotte, docUt gib Grantaire anything more 
+to dilnk. Ue bas already devoured, since this bording, in wild 
+prodigality, two francs and ninety-live centibes." 
+
+And Grantaire began again : — 
+
+^^ Who has been unhooking the stars without my permission, 
+and putting them on the table in tlie guise of candles?" 
+
+Bossuet, though very drunk, presented his equanimity. 
+
+He was seated on the sill of the open window, wetting biv^ 
+back in the falling rain, and gazing at his two friends. 
+
+All at ouce, he heard a tumult behind him, hunied footsteps, 
+cries of ^^To arms!" He turned round and saw in the Rue 
+Saint-Denis, at tiie end of the Rue de la Chauvrerie, Ënjolras 
+passing, gun in hand, and Gavroche with his pistol, Feuilly witli 
+bib sword, Courfeyrac with his sword, and Jean Frouvaire with 
+his blunderbuss, Combeferre with his gun, Bahorel with hisguo, 
+and the whole armed and stormy rabble which was following 
+them. 
+
+The Rue de la Chanvrerie was not more than a gunshot long. 
+Bossuet improvised a speaking-trumpet from his two hands 
+placed around his mouth, and shouted : — 
+
+** Courfeyrac ! Courfeyrac ! Hohée ! " 
+
+Courfeyrac heard the shout, caught sight of Bossuet, and 
+advanced a few paces into the Rue de la Chanvrerie, shouting: 
+''What do you want?" which crossed a ''Where are yon 
+going?" 
+
+" To make a bamcade," replied Courfeyrac. 
+
+" Well, here 1 This is a good place ! Make it here Î " 
+
+" That's true, Aigle," said Courfeyrac. 
+
+And at a signal from Courfeyrac, the mob flung themselves 
+into the Rue de la Chanvrerie. 
+
+III. — Night begins to descend upon Grantaire. 
+
+The BiK)t was, in fact, admirably adapted, the entrance tu 
+the street widened out, the other extremity narrowed together 
+into a pocket without exit. Corinthe created an obstacle, the Rue 
+Mondétour was easily barricaded on the right and the left, no 
+attack was possible except from the Rue Saint-Denis, that is to 
+say, in front, and in full sight. Bossuet had the comprehensive 
+glance of a fasting Hannibal. 
+
+Terror had seized on the whole street at the iiTuption of the 
+mob. There was not a passer-by who did not get out of sight 
+In the space of a flash of lightning, in the rear, to right and 
+left, shops, stables, area-doors, windows, blinds, attic sky- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+SAINT-DENIS. 259 
+
+Jghts, shatters of every description were closed, from the 
+ground floor to the roof. A terrified old woman fixed a mat- 
+tress in front of her window on two clothes-polcs for drying 
+linen, in order to deaden the effect of musketry. The wine-shop 
+alone remained open ; and that for a very good reason^ that the 
+inob had rushed into it. — "Ah my God! Ah my God!" 
+3ighed Mamc Hucheloup. 
+
+Bossuet had gone down to meet Conrfeyrac. 
+
+Joly, who had placed himself at the window, exclaimed : — 
+
+*' Courfeyrac, you ought to have brought an umbrella. Yott 
+will gatch gold.'* 
+
+In the meantime, in the space of a few minutes, twenty iron 
+bars had been wrenched from the grated front of the wine-shop, 
+ten fathoms of street had been unpaved ; Gavroche and Bahorel 
+had seized in its passage, and overturned, the dray of a lime- 
+dealer named Anceau ; this dray contained three barrels of 
+lime, which they placed beneath the piles of paving-stones: 
+Ënjolras raised the cellar trap, and all the widow Huchelonp's 
+empty casks were used to flank the barrels of lime ; Feuilly, 
+with his fingers skilled in painting the delicate sticks of fans, 
+had backed up the barrels and the dray with two massive heaps 
+of blocks of rough stone. Blocks which were improvised like 
+the rest and procured no one knows where. The beams which 
+served as props were torn from the neighboring house-fronts 
+and laid on the casks. When Bossuet and Courfeyrac turned 
+round, half the street was already barred with a rampart higher 
+than a man. There is nothing like the hand of the populace 
+for building everything that is built by demolishing. 
+
+Matelote and Gibelotte had mingled with the workers. Gibe* 
+lotte went and came loaded with rubbish. Her lassitude helped 
+on the barricade. She served the barricade as she would have 
+served wine, with a sleepy air. 
+
+An omnibus with two white horses passed the end of the street. 
+
+Bossuet strode over the paving-stones, ran to it, stopped 
+the driver, made the passengers alight, offered his hand to ''the 
+ladies," dismissed the conductor, and returned, leading the vehi- 
+cle and the horses by the bridle. 
+
+•'Omnibuses," said he, "do not pass the Corinthe. Non 
+Hcet omnibus adire Corinthum.** 
+
+An instant later, the horses were unharnessed and went oft 
+at their will, through the Rue Mondé tour, and the omnibus 
+lying on its side completed the bar across the street. 
+
+Mama Hucheloup, quite upset, had taken refuge in the first 
+story. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+260 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Her eyes were vague, and stared without seeing anything, 
+and she cried in a low tone. Her terrified shrieks did not dar« 
+to emerge from her throat. 
+
+*' The end of the world has come," she muttered. 
+
+Joly deposited a kiss on Mame Hucheloup's fat, red, wrinkled 
+neck, and said to Grantaire : ^' My dear fellow, 1 have always 
+regarded a woman's neck as an infinitely delicate thing." 
+
+But G ran taire attained to the highest regions of dithryuml». 
+Matelote had mounted to the first floor once more, Grantaire 
+seized her round her waist, and gave vent to long bursts of 
+laughter at the window. 
+
+*' Matelote is homely ! " he cried : " Matelote is of a dream 
+of ugliness ! Matelote is a chimaera. This is the secret of her 
+birth : a Gothic Pygmalion, who was making gargoyles for 
+cathedrals fell in love with one of them, the most horrible, ont 
+fine morning. He besought Love to give it life, and this pro- 
+duced Matelote. Look at her, citizens ! She has chromate-of- 
+lead-colored hair, like Titian's mistress, and she is a good girl. 
+I guarantee that she will fight well. Every good girl contains 
+a iiero. As for Mother Hucheloup, she's an old warrior. Look 
+at her moustaches ! She inherited them from her husband. A 
+hussar indeed ! She will fight too. These two alone will 
+strike terror to the heart of the banlieue. Comrades, we shall 
+overthrow the government as true as there are fifteen interme- 
+diary acids between margaric acid and formic acid ; however, 
+that is a matter of perfect indifference to me. Gentlemen, my 
+father always detested me because I could not understand 
+mathematics. I understand only love and liberty. I am 
+Grantaiie, the good fellow. Having never had any money, I 
+never acquired the habit of it, and the result is that I have 
+never lacked it ; but, if I'had been rich, there would have l>een 
+no more poor people ! You would have seen ! Oh, if the kind 
+hearts only had fat purses, how much better things would g(» ! 
+Ï picture myself Jesus Christ with Rothschild's fortune Î How 
+much good he would do ! Matelote, embrace me ! You are 
+voluptuous and timid ! You have cheeks which invite the kiss 
+of a sister, and lips which claim the kiss of a lover." 
+
+** Hold your tongue, you cask ! " said Courfeyrac. 
+
+Grantaire retorted : — 
+
+"I am the capitoul * and the master of the floral games ! " 
+
+Enjolras, who was standing on the crest of the barricaile, 
+gun in hand, raised his beautiful, austere face. Enjolras, as 
+
+^ Municipal officer of Toalonse. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 261 
+
+the reader knows, had something of the Spartan and of the 
+I'uritan in his composition. He would have perished at Ther- 
+mopylae with Leonidas, and burned at Drogheda with 
+Cromwell. 
+
+*'*' Gran taire," he shouted, ^^ go get rid of the fumes of your 
+wine somewhere else than here. This is the place for enthu-^ 
+siasm, not for drunkenness. Don't disgrace the barricade I " 
+
+This angry speech produced a singular effect on Grantaire. 
+One would have said that he had had a glass of cold water 
+flung in his face. He seemed to be rendered suddenly sober. 
+
+He sat down, put his elbows on a table near the window, 
+looked at Enjolras with indeseribable gentleness, and said to 
+him : — 
+
+*' Let me sleep here." 
+
+*' Go and sleep somewhere else," cried Enjolras. 
+
+But Grantaire, still keeping his tender and troubled eyes 
+fixed on him, replied : — 
+
+^* Let me sleep here, — until I die." 
+
+Enjolras regarded him with disdainful eyes : — 
+
+^^ Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of 
+willing, of living, and of dying." 
+
+Grantaire replied in a grave tone : — 
+
+^* You will see." 
+
+He stammered a few more unintelligible words, then his 
+head fell heavily on the table, and, as is the usual' effect of the 
+second period oi inebriet}-, into which Enjolras had roughly and 
+abruptly thrust him, an instant later he had fallen asleep. 
+
+
+
+IV. — An Attebipt to console tiïk Widow Huchelotjp. 
+
+Bahorel, in ecstasies over the barricade, shouted : — 
+
+'^Here's the street in its low-necked dress! How well it 
+looks 1 " 
+
+Courfeyrac, as he demolished the wine-shop to some extent, 
+sought to console the widowed proprietress. 
+
+" Mother Hucheloup, weren't you complaining the other day 
+becaase you had had a notice served on you for infringing the 
+law, because Gibelotte shook a counterpane out of your 
+window?" 
+
+" Yes, my good Monsieur Courfeyrac. Ah 1 good Heavens, 
+are you going to put that tnble of mine in your horror, too? 
+And it was for the counterpane, and also for a pot of flowers 
+which fell from the attic window into the street, that the govern^ 
+
+
+
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+262 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+ment collected a fine of a hundred francs. If that isn't sa 
+
+abomination, what is ! " 
+
+^^ Well, Mother Hucheloup, we are avenging you.'* 
+
+Mother Hucheloup did not appear to understand very clearly 
+the benefit which she was to derive from these reprisals made 
+on her account. She was satisfied after the manner of tb&t 
+Arab woman, who, having received a box on the ear from her 
+husband, went to complain to her father, and cried for ven- 
+geance, saying: *' Father, you owe m}' husband affront for af- 
+front." The father asked: '*0n which cheek did vou receive 
+the blow?" **0n the left cheek," The father slapped her 
+right cheek and said: ^^ Now you are satisfied. Go tell your 
+husband that he boxed my daughter's ears, and that I have 
+accordingly boxed his wife's." 
+
+The rain had ceased. Recruits had arrived. Workmen bad 
+brought under their blouses a barrel of powder, a basket con- 
+taining bottles of vitriol, two or three carnival torches, and a 
+basket filled with fire-pots, ^'left over from the King's festival." 
+This festival was very recent, having taken place on the 1st of 
+May. It was said that these munitions came from a grocer in 
+the Faubourg Saint- Antoine named Pépin. They smashed the 
+only street lantern in the Rue de la Chanvrerie, the lantern cor- 
+responding to one in the Rue Saint-Denis, and all the lanterns 
+in the surrounding streets, de Mondétour, du Cygne, des 
+Prêcheurs, and de la Grande and de la Petite-Truanderie. 
+
+Ënjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac directed everytiiing. 
+Two barricades were now in process of construction at once, 
+both of them resting on the Corinthe house and forming a right 
+angle ; the larger shut off the Rue de la Chanvrerie, the other 
+closed the Rue Mondétour, on the side of the Rue de Cygne. 
+This last barricade, which was very narrow, was constructed onlr 
+of casks and paving-stones. There were about fifty workers on 
+it ; thirty were armed with guns ; for, on their way, they had 
+effected a wholesale loan from an armorer's shop. 
+
+Nothing could be more bizarre and at the same time more motley 
+than this troop . One had a round-jacket, a cavalry sabre» and two 
+holster-pistols, another was in his shirt-sleeves, with a round bat, 
+and a powder-horn slung at his side, a third wore a plastron of 
+nine sheets of gray paper and was armed with a saddler's awl. 
+There was one who was shouting: ^' Let us exterminate them 
+to the last man and die at the point of our bayonet." This 
+man had no bayonet. Another spread out over his ooat Uie 
+cross-belt and cartridge-box of a National Guardsman, the cover 
+of the cartridge-box being ornamented with this inscription io 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+SAINT^DENIS. 363 
+
+red worsteii: Publie Order. There were a great manj guns 
+bearing the numbers of the legions, few hats, no cravats, many 
+bare arms, some pikes. Add to this, all ages, all sorts of faces, 
+small, pale young men, and bronzed longshoremen. All were in 
+haste ; and as they helped each other, they discussed the possi- 
+ble chances. That they would receive succor about three 
+o'clock in the morning — that they were sure of one regiment, 
+that Paris would rise. Terrible sayings with which was mingled 
+a sort of cordial jovialty. One would have pronounced them 
+brothers, but they did not know each other's names. Great 
+perils have this fine characteristic, that they bring to light the 
+fraternity of strangers. A fire had been lighted in the kitchen, 
+and there they were engaged in moulding into bullets, pewter 
+mugs, spoons, forks, and all the brass table-ware of the estab- 
+lishment. In the midst of it all, they drank. Caps and buck- 
+shot were mixed pell-mell on the tables with glasses of wine. 
+In the billiard-hall, Mame Hncheloup, Matelote, and Gibelotte, 
+variously modified by terror, which had stupefied one, rendered 
+another breathless, and roused the third, were tearing up old 
+dish-cloths and making lint; three insurgents were assisting 
+them, three bushy-haired, jolly blades with beards and mous- 
+taches, who plucked away at the linen with the fingers of seam- 
+stresses and who made them tremble. 
+
+The man of lofty stature whom Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and 
+Enjolras had observed at the moment when he joined the mob 
+at the comer of the Rue des Billettes, was at work on the 
+smaller barricade and was making himself useful there. Gav- 
+roche was working on the larger one. As for the young man 
+who had been waiting for Courfeyrac at his lodgings, and who 
+had inquired for M. Marius, he had disappeared at about the 
+time when the omnibus had been overturned. 
+
+Gavroche, completely carried away and radiant, had under- 
+taken to get everything in readiness. He went, came, mounted, 
+descended, re-mounted, whistled, and sparkled. He seemed to 
+be there for the encouragement of all. Had he any incentive? 
+Yes, certainly, his poverty ; had he wings? yes, certainly, his joy. 
+Gavroche was a whirlwind. He was constantly visible, he was 
+incessantly audible. He filled the air, as he was everywhere at 
+once. His was a sort of almost irritating ubiquity; no halt 
+was possible with him. The enormous barricade felt him on its 
+haunches. He troubled the loungers, he excited the idle, he 
+reanimated the weary, he grew impatient over the thoughtful, 
+he inspired gavety in some, and breath in others, wrath in 
+Others, movement in all, now pricking a student, now biting au 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+«64 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+artisan ; he alighted, paused, flew off again, hoTered over the 
+tumult, and the effort, sprang from one partv to another, mur- 
+muring and humming, and liarassed the whole company ; a fly 
+on the Mnmense revolutionary coach. 
+
+Perpetual motion was in his little apms and perpetual clamor 
+în his little lungs. 
+
+^^ Courage! more paving-stones! more casks! more ma- 
+shines ! Where are you now? A hod of plaster for me to stop 
+this hole with ! Your barricade is very small. It must be car- 
+ried up. Put everything on it, fling everything there, stick it 
+all in. Break down the house. A barricade is Mother 6iboa*9 
+tea. Hullo, here's a glass door." 
+
+This elicited an exclamation fmm the workers. 
+
+^^ A glass door ? what do you expect us to do with a glass door, 
+tubercle?" 
+
+*' Hercules j'ourselves ! " retorted Gavroche. " A glass door 
+is an excellent thing in a banicade. It does not prevent an at- 
+tack, but it prevents the enemy taking it. So you've nerei 
+prigged apples over a wall where there were broken bottles ? A 
+glass door cuts the corns of the National Guard when they trv 
+to mount on the barricade. Pardi ! glass is a treacherous thing. 
+Well, you haven't a very wildly lively imagination, comrades." 
+
+However, he was furious over his triggerless pistol. He 
+went from one to another, demanding : ^^ A gun, I want a gun ! 
+Why don't you give me a gun ? " 
+
+" Give you a gun Î " said Combeferre. 
+
+"Come now!" said Gavroche, *'why ^not? I had one in 
+1830 when we had a dispute with Charles X." 
+
+Enjolras shrugged his shoulders. 
+
+'^ When there ai-e enough for the men, we will give some to 
+the children." 
+
+Gavroche wheeled round haughtily, and answered : — 
+
+*' If you are killed before me, I shall take yours." 
+
+*' Gamin ! " said Enjolras. 
+
+*' Greenhorn I " said Gavroche. 
+
+A dandy who had lost his wa^^ and who lounged past fbe end 
+3f the street created a diversion ! Gavroche shouted to him : — 
+
+*' Come with us, young fellow ! well now, don't we do any- 
+thing: for this old country of ours?" 
+
+The dandy fled. 
+
+V. — Preparations. 
+
+The journals of the day which said that that nearly imprff 
+nable structure^ of the barricade of tlie Rue de la Chanvreria 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 265 
+
+as they call it, reached to the level of the first floor, were mis- 
+taken. The fact iS) that it did not exceed an average height of 
+six or seven feet. It was built in such a manner that the com- 
+batants could, at their will, either disappear behind it or domi- 
+nate the barrier and even scale its crest by means of a quadru- 
+ple row of paving-stones placed on top of each other and 
+arranged as steps in the interior. On the outside, the front of 
+the barricade, composed of piles of paving-stones and casks 
+bound together by beams and planks, which were entangled in 
+the wheels of Anceau's dray and of the overturned omnibus, 
+bad a bristling and inextricable aspect. 
+
+An aperture large enough to allow a man to pass through had 
+been made between the wall of the houses and the extremity of 
+the barricade which was furthest from the wnne-shop, so that 
+an exit was possible at this point. The pole of the omnibus 
+was placed upright and held up with ropes, and a red flag, fas- 
+tened to this pole, floated over the barricade. 
+
+The little Mondétour barricade, hidden behind the wine-shop 
+building, was not visible. The two barricades united formed 
+a veritable redoubt. £ujolras and Ck>urfeyrac ha(| not thought 
+fit to barricade the other fragment of the Rue Mondétour which 
+opens through the Rue des Prêcheurs an issue into the Halles, 
+wishing, no doubt, to preserve a possible communication with 
+the out^de, and not entertaining much fear of an attack through 
+the dangerous and difiicult street of the Rue des Prêcheurs. 
+
+With the exception of this issue which was left fi'ee, and 
+which constituted what Folard in his strategical style would 
+have termed a branch, and taking into account, also, the narrow 
+cutting arranged on the Rue de la Chanvrerie, the interior of the 
+barricade, where the wine-shop formed a salient angle, presented 
+an irregular square, closed on all sides. There existed an in- 
+terval of twenty paces between the grand barrier and the lofty 
+houses which formed the background of the street, so that 
+one might say that the barricade rested on these houses, all in 
+habited, but closed from top to bottom. 
+
+All this work was performed without any hindrance, in less 
+than an hour, and without this handful of bold men seeing a 
+single bear-skin cap or a single bayonet make their appearance. 
+The very bourgeois who still ventured at this hour of riot to enter 
+the Rue Saint-Denis, cast a glance at tbe Rue de la Chanvrerie, 
+caught sight of the barricade, and redoubled their pace. 
+
+The two barricades being finished, and the flag run up, a table 
+was dragged out of the wine-shop ; and Courfeyrac mounted on 
+the table. Ëujolras brought the souare coffer, and Courfeyrac 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+266 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+opened it. This coffer was filled with cartridges. When tbf 
+mob saw the cartridges, a tremor ran through the bravest, and 
+a momentary silence ensued. 
+
+Courfejrac distributed them with a smile. 
+
+£ach one received thirty cartridges. Many had powder, and 
+set about making others with the bullets which they had ran. As 
+for the barrel of powder, it stood on a table on one side, near 
+the door, and was held in reserve. 
+
+The alarm beat which ran through all Paris, did not cease, 
+but it had finally come to be nothing more than a monotonaus 
+noise to which they no longer paid any attention. This noise 
+retreated at times, and again drew near, with melancholy 
+undulations. 
+
+They loaded the guns and carbines, all together, without 
+haste, with solemn gravity. Enjolras went and stationed three 
+sentinels outside the barricades, one in the Rue de la Chan- 
+vrerie, the second in the Rue des Prêcheurs, the third at the 
+comer of the Rue de la Petite Truanderie. 
+
+Then, the barncades having been built, the posts assigned, 
+the guns loaded, the sentinels stationed, they waited, alone in 
+those redoubtable streets through which no one passed any 
+longer, surrounded by those dumb houses which seemed dead 
+and in which no human movement palpitated, enveloped in the 
+deepening shades of twilight which was drawing on, in the midst 
+of that silence through which something could be felt advanc- 
+ing, and which had about it something tragic and terrifying, 
+isolated, armed, determined, and tranquil. 
+
+
+
+VI. — Waïtino. 
+
+During those hours of waiting, what did they do? 
+
+We must needs tell, since this is a matter of history. 
+
+While the men made bullets and the women lint, while a largn 
+saucepan of melted brass and lead, destined to the bnllet-mouid 
+smoked over a glowing brazier, while the sentinels watched, 
+weapon in hand, on the barricade, w^hile Enjolras, whom it was 
+impossible to divert, kept an eye on the sentinels, Combeferre, 
+Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvaire, Feuilly, Bossuet, Joly, Bahorel, 
+and some others, sought each other out and united as in the 
+most peaceful days of their conversations in their student life, 
+and, in one corner of this wine-shop which had been converteil 
+into a casement, a couple of paces distant from the redoubt 
+which they had built, with their carbines loaded and primed 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-^DENIS. 267 
+
+resting against the backs of their chairs, these fine young 
+Fellows, so c|ose to a supreme hour, began to recite love verses. 
+What verses ? These : — 
+
+Voiu rappelez-YoiiB notre douce vie, 
+Lorsque nous e'tions si jeunes tous deux. 
+
+Et que nous n'avions au cœur d'autre envie 
+Que d'être bien mis et d'être amoureux, 
+
+Lorsqu'en ajoutant votre age à mon age, 
+Nous ne comptions pas à deux quarante anSy 
+
+Et que, dans notre humble et petit ménage, 
+Tout, même l'hiver, nous était printemps ? 
+
+Beaux jours ! Manuel était fier et sage. 
+
+Fans s'asseyait à de saints banquets, 
+Foy lançait la foudre, et votre corsage 
+
+Avait une c'pingle où je me piquais. 
+
+Tout vous contemplait. Avocat sans causefly 
+
+Quand je vous menais au Prado dîner, 
+Vous e'tiez jolie au point que les roses 
+
+Me faisaient l'effet de se retourner. 
+
+Je les entendais dire : Est elle belle ! 
+
+Comme elle sent bon ! Quels cheveux à flotal 
+Sous son mantelet elle cache une aile. 
+
+Son bonnet charmant est à peine éclos. 
+
+J'errais avec toi, pressant ton bras souple. 
+
+Les passants crevaient que l'amour charmé 
+Avait marié, dans notre heureux couple, 
+
+Le doux mois d'avril au beau mois de mai. 
+
+Nous vivions cachés, contents, porte close. 
+
+Dévorant l'amour, bon fruit défendu, 
+Ma bouche n'avait pas dit une chose 
+
+Que déjà ton cœur avait répondu. 
+
+La Sorbonne était l'endroit bucolique 
+
+Oil je t'adorais du soir au matin. 
+C'est ainsi qu'une àme amoureuse applique 
+
+La carte du Tendre au pays Latin. 
+
+O place Maubert I ô place Dauphine I 
+Quand, dans le taudis frais et printaniti^ 
+
+Tu tirais ton bas sur ton jambe fine, 
+Je voyais un astre au fond du grenier. 
+
+J'ai fort lu Platon, mais rien ne m'en reste ; 
+
+Mieux que Malebranche et que Lamennaift 
+Tu me démontrais la bonté céleste 
+
+Arec une fleur que tu me donnais. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+268 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Je t'ob^ssiiis, tu m' étais soumise ; 
+
+O gr<;uier iloro ! te lacer 1 te voir 
+Aller et venir «li*s l'aube en clieniise. 
+
+Mirant ton jeune front à ton vieux miroir. 
+
+Et qui donc pourrait perdre la me'moire 
+
+De ee8 temps d'aurore et de firmament» 
+De rubans, de fleurs, de ^7.e et de moire. 
+
+Oil l'amour bégaye un argot charmant 1 
+
+Nos jardins étaient un pot de tulipe; 
+
+Tu masquais la vitre avec un jupon; 
+J^ prenais le bol de terre de pipe, 
+
+Et je te donnais le tasse en japon. 
+
+Et ces grands mallieurs qui nous faisaient rire! 
+
+Ton manchon brûlo, ton boa perdu! 
+Et ce cher portrait du divin Shakespeare 
+
+Qu'un soir pour souper nons avons vendal 
+
+J'étais mendiant et toi charitable. 
+
+Je baisais au vol tes bras frais et ronds. 
+Dante in folio nons servait de table 
+
+Pour manger gai ment un cent de marrons. 
+
+La première fois qu'en mon joyeux bouge 
+Je pris un baiser a ton lèvre en feu, 
+'^ ^uand tu t'en allais décoiffée et rouge, 
+
+Je restai tout pâle et je crus en Dieul 
+
+Te rappelles-tu nos bonheurs san8 nombre, 
+• Et tous ces fichus changés en chiffons ? 
+Oh que de soupirs, de nos cœurs pleins d'ombra. 
+Se sont envolés dans les cieux profonds ! ^ 
+
+l Do you remember our sweet life, when we were both so young, and whea 
+we had no other desire in our hearts than to be well dressed and in love? 
+When, by adding your age to my age, we could not count forty years between 
+IIS, and when, in our humble and tiny household, everything wais spring to u.-* 
+eveu in winter. Fair days I Manuel was proud and wise, Paris sat at sacxed 
+banquets, Foy launched tliunderbolts, and your corsage had a pin on which I 
+pricked mysi-lf. Everything gazed upon you. A briefless lawyer, when I took 
+V ou to the'l'raiio to<line, you were so beautiful that the roses seemed to me to 
+. urn round, and I heard them say : Is she not beautiful ! How good she smell$l 
+VVhat billowing hair! Beneath her mantle she hides a wing. Her charming 
+bonnet is hardly unfolded. I wandered with thee, pressing thy supple ann. 
+The passers-by thought that love bewitched had wedded, in our*happy couple, 
+the gentle month of April to the fair month of May. We lived concealed, con- 
+1 ent, with closed doors, devouring love, that swcec forbidden fruit. My month 
+had not uttered a thing when tliy heart had already responded. The Sor- 
+bonne was the bucolic spot where I adored thee from eve till mom. *Tis thus 
+that an amorous soul applies the chart of the Tender to the Latin country. O 
+Place ManbortI O Flare Danphinel "When in the fresh spring-like hut thou 
+didst draw thy stocking on thy delicate leg, I saw a star in the depths of the 
+earret. I have read a «jroat deal of Plat^, but nothing of it remains by rae; 
+bettor than Malebranrhe aufl than Tjimennais thou didst demonstrate to me 
+celestial gorKliif^ss with a flower which thou gayest to me. I obeyed the** 
+||m>u didst submit to me; oh gilded garret! to laoe tbeel to heboid thee going 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINTE-DENIS. 269 
+
+The hour, the spot, these souvenirs of youth recalled, a few 
+stara which began to twinkle in the sky, the funeral repose of 
+those deserted streets, the immiuence of the inexorable adven- 
+ture which was in preparation, gave a pathetic charm to these 
+verses murmured in a low tone in the dusk by Jean Prouvaire, 
+who, as we have said, was a gentle poet. 
+
+In the meantime, a lump had been lighted in the small barri* 
+cade, and in the large one, one of those wax torches such as arc 
+to be met with on Shrove-Tuesday in front of vehicles loaded 
+with masks, on their way to la Courtille. These torches, as ihe 
+reader has seen, came from the Faubourg Saint- Antoine. 
+
+The torch had been placed in a sort of cage of paving-stones 
+closed on three sides to shelter it from the wind, and disposed 
+in such a fashion that all the light fell on the flag. The street 
+and the barricade remained sunk in gloom, and nothing was to 
+be seen except the red flag formidably illuminated as by an 
+enormous dark-lantern. 
+
+This light enhanced the scarlet of the flag, with an indescrib* 
+able and tenible purple. 
+
+VII. — The Man recrutted in the Rub des Billettes. 
+
+Night was fully come, nothing made its appearance. All 
+that they heard was confused noises, and at intervals, fusil- 
+lades ; but these were rare, badl^' sustained and distant. This 
+respite, which was thus prolonged, was a sign that the Govern- 
+ment was taking its time, and collecting its forces. These fifty 
+men were waiting for sixty thousand. 
+
+Enjolras felt attacked by that impatience which seizes on 
+strong souls on the threshold of redoubtable events. He went 
+in search of Gavroche, wlio had set to making cartridges in the 
+tap-room, by the dubious light of two candles placed on the 
+
+ttnd coming f^om dawn in thy chemise, gazing at tliy young brow in tliine 
+ancient mirror! And wlio, tiien, would forego the memory of those days of 
+virora and the firmament, of liowers, of gauze and of moire, when love stam- 
+men) a charming slang ? Our gardens consisted of a pot of tulips ; thou didst 
+mask the window with thy petticoat; I took the earthenware bowl and I gave 
+thee the Japanese cup. And those great misfortunes which made us laugh! 
+Thy cnfl scorched, thy boa lost! And that dear portrait of the divine Shake- 
+speare which we sold one evening that we might sup! I was a beggar and thou 
+Wert charitable. I kissed thy fresh round arms in haste. A folio Danto served 
+ns a.s a table on which to eat merrily a centime's worth of chostnnts. The 
+first time that, in m^ Joyous den, I snatched a kiss from thy fiery lip, when 
+thou wentest forth, aishevelled and blushing» I turned deathly pale and I be> 
+lieved in Grod. Dost thou recall our innumerable joys, and all those flchui 
+changed to rags? Oh! what sighs from oar hearts full of gloom fiutteretf 
+forth to the hearenly depths I 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+270 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+counter by way of precaution, on account of the powder whicii 
+was scattered on the tables. These two candles cast no gleam 
+outside. The insurgents had, moreover, taken pains not to 
+have any light in the upper stories. 
+
+Gavroche was deeply preoccupied at that moment, bot nd 
+precisely with his cartridges. The man of the Rue des Billettea 
+had just entered the tap*room and had seated himself at the table 
+which was the least lighted. A musket of large model had 
+fallen to his share, and he held it between his legs. Gavroche, 
+who had been, up to that moment, distracted by a hundred 
+^^ amusing" things, had not even seen this man. 
+
+When he entered. Gavroche followed him mechanically with 
+his eyes, admiring his gun ; then, all at once, when the man 
+was seated, the street urchin sprang to his feet. Any one who 
+had spied upon that man up to that moment, would have seen 
+that he was observing everything in the barricade and in the 
+band of insurgents, with singular attention ; but, from the mo- 
+ment when he had entei-ed this room, he had fallen into a sort 
+of brown study, and no longer seemed to see anything that 
+was going on. The gamin approached this pensive personage, 
+and began to step ai*6und him on tiptoe, as one walks in tl^ 
+vicinity of a person whom one is afraid of waking. At the sam^ 
+time, over his childish countenance, which was, at once so 
+impudent and so serious, so giddy and so profound, so gay and 
+so heart-breaking, passed all those grimaces of an old mas 
+which signify : Ah bah ! impossible ! My sight is bad ! I anv 
+dreaming! can this be? no, it is not! but yes! why, no! etc. 
+Gavroche balanced on his heels, clenched both fists in his 
+pockets, moved his neck around like a bird, expended in a 
+gigantic pout all the sagacity of his lower lip. He was as« 
+tounded, uncertain, incredulous, convinced, dazzled. He had 
+the mien of the chief of the eunuchs in the slave mart, dis- 
+covering a Venus among the blowsy females, and the air of an 
+amateur recognizing a Raphael in a heap of daubs. • His whole 
+being was at work, the instinct which scents out, and the intel- 
+ligence which combines. It was evident that a great event had 
+happened in Gavroche's life. 
+
+It was at the most intense point of this preoccupatlcMi that 
+Enjolras accosted him. 
+
+''You are small," said Enjolras, '* you will not be seen. Gc 
+out of the barricade, slip along close to the houses, skirmish 
+about a bit in the streets, and come back and tell me what ia 
+going on." 
+
+Gavroche raised himself on his haoncbes. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+8AINT-DENI8. 271 
+
+** So the little chaps are good for something ! that's ver^ 
+facky ! I'll go ! lu the meau while, trust to tbe little fellows, 
+aud distrust the big ones/' And Gavroche, raising his heaà 
+and lowering his voice, added, as he indicated the man of the 
+Bue des Billettes : — 
+
+^^ Do you see that big fellow there?'* 
+. **WeU?" 
+
+" He's a police spy." 
+
+** Are you sure of it? " 
+
+^^It isn't two weeks since he pulled me off the cornice of the 
+Port Royal, where I was taking the air, by my ear." 
+
+Ënjolras hastily quitted the urchin and murmured a few 
+words in a very low tone to a longshoreman from the wine* 
+docks who chanced to be at hand. The man left the room, and 
+returned almost immediately, accompanied by three others. 
+The four men, four porters with broad shoulders, went and 
+placed themselves without doing anything to attract his atten- 
+tion, behind the table on which the man of the Rue des Billettes 
+was leaning with his elbows. They were evidently ready to 
+hurl themselves upon him. 
+
+Then Enjolras approached the man and demanded of him : — 
+
+'* Who are you?" 
+
+At this abrupt query, the man started. He plunged his gaze 
+deep into Enjolras' clear eyes and appeared to grasp the latter's 
+meaning. He smiled with a smile than which nothing more 
+disdainful, ifiore energetic, and more resolute could be seen in 
+the world, and replied with haughty gravity : — 
+
+*' I see what it is. Well, yes 1 " 
+
+*'You are a police spy?" 
+
+^^ I am an agent of the authorities*" 
+
+*' And your name?" 
+
+''Javert." 
+
+Enjolras made a sign to the four men. In the twinkling of 
+an eye, before Javert had time to turn round, he was collared, 
+thrown down, pinioned and searched. 
+
+They found on him a little round card pasted between two 
+pieces of glass, and bearing on one side Uie arms of France, 
+engraved, and with this motto : Supervision and vigilance^ and 
+on the other this note: ^^ Javert, inspector of police, aged 
+fifty-two," and the signature of the Prefect of Police of that 
+day, M. Gisquet. 
+
+Besides this, he had his watch and his purse, which contained 
+several gold pieces. They left him his purse and his watch. 
+Under the watch, at the bottom of his fob, they felt and seized 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+272 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+a paper In an envelope, which Ënjolras anfolded, and on whidi 
+he read these five lines, written in the very hand of the Pœfc>et 
+of Police ; — 
+
+*^ As soon as his political mission is accomplished, Inspector 
+Javert will make sure, by special supervision, whether it is tru# 
+that the malefactors have instituted intrigues on the right bank 
+of the Seine, near the Jena bridge." 
+
+The search ended, they lifted Javert to his feet, bound hi£ 
+arms behind his back, and fastened him to that celebrated pos' 
+in the middle of the room which had formerly given the wine- 
+shop its name. 
+
+Gavroolie, who had looked on at the whole of this scene anv^ 
+had approved of everything with a silent toss of his head, 
+stepped up to Javert and said to him : — 
+
+'' It's the mouse who has cauglit the cat." 
+
+All this was so ra[)iilly executed, that it was all over whe^ 
+those about the wine-shop noticed it. 
+
+Javert had not uttered a single cry. 
+
+At the sight of Javert bound to the post, Courfeyrac, Boo 
+suet, Joly, Combeferre, and the men scattered over the twii 
+barricades came running up. 
+
+Javert, with his back to the post, and so surrounded with 
+ropes that he could not make a movement, raised his h&aA 
+with the intrepid serenity of the man who has never lied. 
+
+'" He is a police spy, ' said Ënjolras. 
+
+And turning to Javert: ^^ You will be shot ten minutes befom 
+the barricade is taken." 
+
+Javert replied in his most imperious tone : — 
+
+''Why not at once?" 
+
+'' We are saving our powder." 
+
+" Then finish the business with a blow from a knife." 
+
+" Spy," said the handsome Ënjolras, " we are judges and nd 
+assassins." 
+
+Then he called Gavroche : — 
+
+" Here you ! go about your business I Do what I told you ! ' 
+
+'* I'm going ! " cried Gavroche. 
+
+And halting as he was on the point of setting out : — 
+
+*' By the way, you will give me his gun ! " and he added : ** 1 
+leave you the musician, but I want the clarinet." 
+
+The gamin made the military salute and passed gayly throogb 
+the opening in the lai^e barricade. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINTE-DENIS. 878 
+
+
+
+VIII. — Mamt Interrogation Points with Regard to a 
+Certain Le Cabuc whose Name may not have been 
+Le Cabuo. 
+
+The ti*agic picture which we have ondertaken would not be 
+complete, the reader would not see these grand moments of 
+Bocial birth-pangs in a revolntionary birth, which contain con- 
+vulsion mingled with effort, in their exact and real relief, 
+were we to omit, in the sketch here outlined, an incident full ol 
+epic and savage horror which occurred almost immediatel}' after 
+Gavroche's departure. 
+
+Mobs, as the reader knows, arc like a snowball, and collect 
+as they roll along, a throng of tumultuous men. These men do 
+not ask each other whence they come. Among the passers-by 
+who had joined the rabble led by Enjolrns, CombefeiTe, and 
+Courfeyrac, there had been a pei-son wearing the jaiket of a 
+street porter, which was very threadbare on the shoulders, who 
+gesticulated and vociferated, and who had the look of a drunken 
+savage. This man, whose name or nickname was Le Cabuc, and 
+who was, moreover, an utter stranger to those who pretended 
+to know him, was very drunk, or assumed the appearance of 
+being so, and had seated himself with several others at a table 
+which they had dragged outside of the wine-shop. This Cabuc, 
+while making those who vied with him drunk, seemed to be ex- 
+amining with a thoughtful air the large house at the extremity of 
+the barricade, whose five stories commanded the whole street 
+and faced the Rue Saint-Denis. All at once he exclaimed : — 
+
+*' Do you know, comrades, it is from that house yonder that 
+we must fire. When we are at the windows, the deuce is in it 
+if any one can advance into the street ! " 
+
+*' Yes, but the house is closed," said one of the drinkers. 
+
+" Let us knock ! '* 
+
+" They will not open.** 
+
+** Let us break in the door !" 
+
+Le Cabuc runs to tiie door, which had a very massive knocker, 
+and knocks. The door opens not. He strikes a second blow. 
+No one answere. A third stroke. The same silence 
+
+" Is there any one here?'* shouts Cabuc. 
+
+Nothing stirs. 
+
+Then he seizes a gun and begins to batter the door wWi the 
+butt end. 
+
+It was an anciont alley door, low, vaulted, narrow, -jolid, 
+entirely of oak, lined on the msfde with a sheet oL >'on and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+«74 lES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+iron stays, a genuine prison postern. Tlie blows from the butt end 
+of the gua made the house tremble, but did not sliake the door. 
+
+Nevertheless, it is probable that the inhabitants were dis- 
+turbed, for a tiny, square window was finally seen to open on 
+tbe third story, and at this apeiture appeared the reverend and 
+ternfied face of a gray- haired old man, who was the porteff anc 
+who held a candle. 
+
+The man who was knocking paused. 
+
+** Gentlemen," said the porter, " what do you want?* 
+
+" Open ! " said Cabuc. 
+
+*'*' That cannot be, gentlemen." 
+
+*'Open, nevertheless." 
+
+" Impossible, gentlemen." 
+
+Le Cabuc took his gun and aimed at the porter ; but aa he 
+was below, and as it was very dark, tlie porter did noi> see him. 
+
+'* Will you open, yes or no?" 
+
+*' No, gentlemen." 
+
+" Do you say no?" 
+
+" I say no, niv good — '* 
+
+The porter did not finish. The shot was fired: the ball 
+entered under his chin and came out at the nape of his neck, 
+after traversing the jugular vein. 
+
+The old man fell back without a sigh. The candle fell and 
+was extinguished, and nothing more was to be seen except a 
+motionless head lying on the sill of the small window, and a litUe 
+whitish smoke which floated off towards the roof. 
+
+'* There I " said Le Cabuc, dropping the butt end of his guo 
+to the pavement. 
+
+He had hardly uttered this word, when he felt a hand laid on 
+nis shoulder with the weight of an eaglets talon, and he beard 
+a voice saying to him : — 
+
+" On your knees." 
+
+The murderer turned round and saw before him Enjolras' cold 
+white face. 
+
+Ënjolras held a pistol in his hand. 
+
+He had hastened up at the sound of the discharge. 
+
+He had seized Cabuc's collar, blouse, shirt, and sospendei 
+with his left hand. 
+
+*' On your knees ! " he repeated. 
+
+And, with an imperious motion, t^e frail young man of 
+twenty years bent the thickset and sturdy porter like a reed, 
+and brought him to his knees in the mire. 
+
+I^ Cabuc attempted to resist, but he seemed to have beer 
+seized by a superb umnji hand. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 27Û 
+
+EQJdras, pale, with bare neck and dishevelled hair, and hia 
+woman's face, had about him at that moment sometliing of the 
+antique Themis. liis dilated nostrils, his downcast eyes, gave 
+to his implacable Greek profile that expression of wrath and 
+that expression of Chastity which, as the ancient world viewed 
+the matter, befit Justice. 
+
+The whole barricade hastened np, then all ranged them* 
+selves in a circle at a distance, feeling that it was impossible tc 
+utter a word in the presence of the thing which they were about 
+to behold. 
+
+Le Cabuc, vanquished, no longer tried to struggle, and 
+orembled in every limb* 
+
+Enjolras released him and drew out his watch. 
+
+'^Collect yourself," said he. ^^ Think or pray. Tou have 
+one minute." 
+
+^^ Mercy I " murmured the murderer ; then he dropped his head 
+and stammered a few inarticulate oaths. 
+
+Enjolras never took his eyes off of him : he allowed a minute 
+to pass, then he replaced his watch in his fob. That done, he 
+gras[)ed Le Cabuc by the hair, as the latter coiled himself into 
+a ball at his knees aud shrieked, and placed the muzzle of the 
+pistol to his ear. Many of those intrepid men, who had so 
+tranquilly entered upon the most terrible of adventures, turned 
+aside their heads. 
+
+An explosion was heard, the assassin fell to the pavement 
+face downwards. 
+
+Enjolras straightened himself up, and cast a convinced and 
+severe glance around him. Then he spurned the corpse with 
+his foot and said : — 
+
+" Tlu-ow that outside." 
+
+Three men raised the body of the unhappy wretch, which was 
+still agitated by the last mechanical convulsions of the life that 
+had fl^, and flung it over the little barricade into the Rue Mondé- 
+tour. 
+
+Enjolras was thoughtful. It is impossible to say what grandi- 
+ose shadows slowly spread over his redoubtable serenity. All 
+at onoe he raised his voice. 
+
+A silence fell upon them. 
+
+^^ Citizens,*' said Enjolras, ^^what that man did is frightful, 
+what I have done is horrible. He killed, therefore I killed him. 
+I had to do it, because insurrection must have its discipline. 
+Assassination is even more of a crime here than elsewhere ; we 
+are under the eyes of the Revolution, we are the priests of the 
+Republic, we are the vîp.tims of duty, and must not be possibU 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+176 I*ES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+to slander our combat. I have, therefore, tiied that luau, and 
+oondemued him to death. As for myself, coustiaioed as 1 &!v 
+to do what I have done, and yet abhorring it, I have judged 
+myself also» and you shall soon see to what I hiave oondemneo 
+myself." 
+
+Those who listened to him shuddered. 
+
+** We will share thy fate,*' cried Combeferre. 
+
+*'So be it," replied Enjokas. ''One word more. In exe- 
+cuting this man, I have obeyed necessity ; but necessity is a 
+monster of the old world, necessity's name is Fatality. Now, 
+the law of progress is, that monsters shall disappear before the 
+augels, and that Fatality shall vanish before Fraternity. It is 
+a bad moment to pronounce the word love. No matter, I do 
+pronounce it. And I glorify it. Love, the future is thiDe. 
+Death, I make use of thee, but I hate thee. Citizens, in the 
+Ibture there will be neither darkness nor thunderbolts ; neither 
+ferocious ignorance, nor bloody retaliation. As there will be 
+no more Satan, there will he no more Michael. In tlie future 
+no one will kill any one else, the earth will beam with radiance, 
+the human race will love. The day will come, citizens, when 
+all will be concord, harmony, light, joy and life; it will come, 
+and it is in order that it may come that ^e are about to die." 
+
+Enjolras ceased. His vii-gin lips closed ; and he remained for 
+some time standing on the spot where he had shed blood, in 
+marble immobility. His staring eye caused those about him to 
+speak in low tones. 
+
+Jean Prouvaire and Combeferre pressed each other's hands 
+silently, and, leaning against each other in an angle of the bar- 
+ricade, they watched with an admiration in which there was 
+some compassion, that grave young man, executioner and priest, 
+composed of light, like crystal, and also of rock. 
+
+Let us say at once that later on, after the action, when the 
+bodies were taken to the morgue and searcihed, a police agents 
+card was found on Le Cabuc. The author of this book had in 
+his hands, in 1848, the special report on this subject maile to 
+the Prefect of Police in 1832. 
+
+We will add, that if we are to believe a tradition of the police, 
+which is strange but probably well founded, Le Cabuc was Cla- 
+I quesous. The fact is, that dating from the death of Le Cabac, 
+
+' there was no longer any question of Claquesous. Claquesoas 
+
+had nowhere left any trace of his disappearance ; he would seem 
+to have amalgamated himself with the invisible. His life had 
+I been all shadows, his end was night. 
+
+i The whole insurgent ^roup was still under the influence of tL 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 277 
+
+eniotion of that tragic case which had been so quickly tried and 
+so quickly terminated, when Cour fey rac again beheld on the 
+barricade, the small young man who had inquired of him that 
+rooming for Marius. 
+
+This lad, who had a bold and reckless air, had come by night 
+t.o Join the insurgents. 
+
+
+
+BOOK THIRTEENTH. — MARIUS ENTERS THE 
+SHADOW. 
+
+I. — ("bom the Rus Plumet to the Quarheb Saikt-Dbki& 
+
+The voice which had summoned Marius through the twilight 
+to the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, had produced on 
+him the effect of the voice of destiny. He wished to die ; the 
+opportunit}' presented itself; he knocked at the door of the 
+tomb, a hand m the darkness offered him the key. Tbese melan- 
+choly openings which take place in the gloom before despair, 
+are tempting. Marius thrust aside the bar which had so often 
+allowed him to pass, emerged from the gardeu, and said : ^^ I will 
+
+go." 
+
+Mad with grief, no longer conscious of anything fixed or solid 
+in his brain, incapable of accepting anything thenceforth of fate 
+after those two months passed in the intoxication of youth and 
+love, overwhelmed at once by all the reveries of despair, he had 
+but one desire remaining, to make a speedy end of all. 
+
+He set out at rapid pace. He found himself most opportunely 
+armed, as he had Javert's pistols with him. 
+
+The young man of whom he thought that he had caught a 
+glimpse, had vanished from his sight in the street. 
+
+Marius, who had emerged from the Rue Plumet by the boule- 
+vard, traversed the Esplanade and the bridge of the Invalides, 
+the Champs Élysées, the Place Louis XV,, and reached the Rue 
+de Rivoli. The shops were open there, the gas was burning 
+under the arcades, women were making their purchases in the 
+stalls, people were eating ices in tlie Café Laitcr, and nibbling 
+small cakes at the English pastry-cook's shop. Only a few 
+posting-chaises were setting out at a gallop from the Hôtel des 
+Princes and the Hôtel Meurice. 
+
+Marius entered the Rue Saint-Honoi-é through the Passa<re 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+278 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+J)eiorme. There the shops were closed» the merchants wera 
+chatting in front of their half -open doors, people were walking 
+about, the street lanterns were lighted, beginning with the first 
+floor, all the windows were lighted as usual. There was carair? 
+on the Place du Falais-Royal. 
+
+Marius followed the Rue Saint-Honoré. In proportion as he 
+left the Palais-Royal behind him, there were fewer lighted win- 
+dows, the shops were fast shut, no one was chatting on the 
+thresholds, the street grew sombre, and, at the same time, th« 
+crowd increased in density. For the passers-by now amoonted 
+to a crowd. No one could be seen to speak in this throng, and 
+yet there arose from it a dull, deep murmur. 
+
+Near the fountain of the Arbre-8ec, there were ^' assemblages" 
+motionless and gloomy gi-oups which were to those who went 
+and came as stones in the midst of running water. 
+
+At the entrance to the Rue des Prouvaires, the crowd no 
+longer walked. It formed a resisting, massive, solid, compact, 
+almost impenetrable block of people who were huddled tc^ther, 
+and conversing in low tones. There were hardly any black coats 
+or round hats now, but smock frocks, blouses, caps, and bristling 
+and cadaverous heads. This multitude undulated confusedly in 
+the nocturnal gloom. Its whisperings had the hoarse accent of a 
+vibration. Although not one of them was walking, a dull tram- 
+pling was audible in the mire. Beyond this dense portion of the 
+throng, in the Rue du Roule, in the Rue des Prouvaires, and in 
+the extension of the Rue Saint-Honoré, there was no longer a 
+single window in which a candle was burning. Only the solitary 
+and diminishing rows of lanterns could be seen vanishing into 
+the street in the distance. The lanterns of that date resembled 
+large red stars, hanging to ropes, and shed upon the pavement 
+a shadow which had the form of a huge spider. These staisetb 
+were not deserted. There could be descried piles of guns, 
+moving bayonets, and troops bivouacking. No cuiious ob^rver 
+passed that limit. There circulation ceased. There the rabbk 
+ended and the army began. 
+
+Marius willed with the will of a man who hopes no more. 
+He had been summoned, he must go. He found a means to 
+traverse the throng and to pass the bivouac of the trooi», he 
+shunned the patrols, he avoided the sentinels. He made a cir- 
+cuit, reached the Rue de Béthisy, and directed his course towards 
+the Halles. At the corner of the Rue des Bourdonnais, there 
+were no longer any lanterns. 
+
+After having passed the zone of the crowd, he had passed the 
+limits of the troops ; he found himself in something startiiog. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'-DENIS. 279 
+
+There was no longer a passer-by, no longer a soldier, uo longer 
+a light, there was no one ; solitade, silence, night, I know not 
+what chill which seized hold upon one. Entering a street waë 
+Uke entering a cellar. 
+
+He continued to advance. 
+
+He took a few steps. Some one passed close to him at a run. 
+Was it a man ? Or a woman ? Were there many of them ? he 
+could not have told. It had passed and vanished. 
+
+Proceeding from circuit to circuit, he reached a lane which 
+he judged to be the Rue de la Poterie ; near the middle of this 
+street, he came in contact with an obstacle. He extended his 
+hands. It was an overturned wagon ; his foot recognized pools 
+of water, gullies, and paving-stones scattered and piled up. A 
+barricade had been begun there and abandoned. He climbed 
+over the stones and found himself on the other side of the bar- 
+rier. He walked very near the street-posts, and guided himself 
+along the walls of tl\e houses. A little beyond the barricade, 
+it seemed to him that he could make out something white in 
+front of him. He approached, it took on a form. It was two 
+white horses ; the horses of the omnibus harnessed by Bossuet 
+in the morning, who had been straying at random all day fi*om 
+street to street, and had finally halted there, with the weary pa- 
+tience of brutes who no more understand the actions of men, 
+than man understands the actions of Providence. 
+
+Marins left the horses behind him. As he was approaching 
+a street which seemed to him to be the Rue du Contrat-Social, a 
+shot coming no one knows whence, and traversing the darkness 
+at random, whistled close by him, and the bullet pierced a brass 
+shaving-dish sns|jended above his head over a hair-dresser's shop. 
+This pierced shaving-dish was still to be seen in 1848, in the 
+Rue du Contrat-Social, at the corner of the pillars of the market. 
+
+This shot still betokened life. From that instant forth he 
+encoimtered nothing more. 
+
+The whole of this itinerary resembled a descent of black steps. 
+
+Nevertheless, Marina pressed forwards. 
+
+n. — An Owl's View of Paris. 
+
+A BEING who could have hovered over Paris that night with 
+the wing of tlie bat or the owl would have had beneath his eyes 
+a gloomy spectacle. 
+
+All that old quarter of the Halles, which is like a city within a 
+?ity, through which run the Rues Saint-Denis and Saint-Martin, 
+cher*) a thousand lanes cross, and of whicii the insurgents had 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+290 ^^S MISÉRABLES. 
+
+made tbeir redoubt and their stronghold, would have appeared 
+to him like a dark and enormous cavity hollowed out in the cen- 
+tre of Paris. There the glance fell into an abyss. Thanks to 
+the broken lanterns, thanks to the closed windows, there all ra« 
+diance, all life, all sound, all movement ceased. The invisible 
+police of the insuiTection were on the watch everywhere, and 
+maintained order, that is to say, night. The necessary tacUcê 
+of insurrection are to drown small numbei-s in a vast obscu- 
+rity, to multiply every combatant by the possibilities whicfc 
+that obscuiity contains. At dusk, every window where a' can* 
+die was burning received a shot. The light was extinguished, 
+someiimes the inhabitant was killed. Hence nothing was stir- 
+ring. There was nothing but fright, mourning, stupor in the 
+houses ; and in the streets, a sort of sacred hoiTor. Not even 
+the lokig rows of windows and stores, the indentations of the 
+chimneys, and the roofs, and the vague reflections which are 
+cast b&ok by the wet and muddy pavements, were visible. Ad 
+eye ca^w upward at tliat mass of shadows might, perhaps, have 
+caught a glimpse here and there, at intervals, of indistinct 
+gleams which brought out broken and eccentric lines, and pro- 
+files of aingular buildings, something like the lights which go and 
+come in ruins ; it was at such points that the barricades were 
+situated. The rest was a lake of obscurity, foggy, heavy, and 
+funereal, above which, in motionless and melancholy outlines, 
+rose the tower of Saint-Jacques, the church of Saint-Merry, and 
+two or three more of those grand edifices of which man makes 
+giants and the night makes phantom». 
+
+All around this deserted and disquieting labyrinth, in the quar* 
+ters where the Parisian circulation had not been annihilated, and 
+where a few street lanterns still burned, the aerial observer 
+might have distinguished the metallic gleam of swords and bayo- 
+nets, the dull rumble of artillery, and the swanniug of silent 
+battalions whose ranks were swelling from minute to minute ; a 
+formidable girdle which was slowly drawing in and around the 
+insurrection. 
+
+The invested quarter was no longer anything more than a 
+monstrous cavern ; everything there appeared to be asleep on 
+motionless, and, as we have just seen, any street which one 
+might come to offered nothing but darkness. 
+
+A wild darkness, full of traps, full of unseen and formidable 
+shocks, into which it was alarming to penetrate, and in wiiicb it 
+was terrible to remain, where tho.se who entered shivered before 
+those whom they awaited, where those who waited shuddered 
+before those who were coming. Invisible combatants werf^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'DENJS. 281 
+
+Intrenched at erery corner of the street ; snares of the sepul- 
+v-lire concealed in the density of night. All was over. No more 
+Hglit was to be hoped for, henceforth, except the lightning of 
+guns, no further encounter except the abrupt and rapid appaii- 
+tiou of deatii. Where? How? When? No one knew, but it 
+was certain and inevitable. In this place which had been marked 
+out for the straggle, the Goveniment and the insurrection, the 
+National Guard, and popular societies, the bourgeois and the 
+uprising, groping their way, were about to come into contact. 
+Tlie necessity was the same for both. The only possible issue 
+thenceforth was to emerge thence killed or conquerors. A sit- 
+uation so extreme, an obscurity so powerful, that the most timid 
+felt themselves seized with resolution, and the most daring with 
+terror. 
+
+Moreover, on both sides, the fury, the rage, and the determina- 
+tion were equal. For the one party, to advance meant death, 
+and no one dreamed of retreating; for the other, to remain 
+meant death, and no one dreamed of flight. 
+
+It was indispensable that all should be ended on the following 
+day, that triumph should rest either here or there, that the in* 
+surrection should prove itself a revolution or a skirmish. The 
+Government understood this as well as the parties ; the most 
+iusignificant bourgeois felt it. Hence a thought of anguish which 
+fniiigled with the impenetrable gloom of this quarter where all 
+was at the point of being decided ; hence a redoubled anxiety 
+around that silence whence a catastrophe was on the point of 
+emerging. Here only one sound was audible, a sound as heart-* 
+rending as the death rattle, as menacing as a malediction, the 
+tocsin of Saint-Merry. Nothing could be more blood-curdlino 
+than the clamor of that wild and desperate bell, wailing amid 
+the shadows. 
+
+As it often happens, nature seemed to have fallen into accord 
+with what men were about to do. Nothing disturbed the har- 
+mony of the whole effect. The stars had diHappeared, heavy 
+clouds filled the horizon with their melancholy folds. A black 
+sky rested on these dead streets, as though an immense winding- 
+sheet were being outspread over this immense tomb. 
+
+WTiile a battle that was still wholly political was in pre]>ara- 
+tion in the same locality which had already witnessed so many 
+revolutionary events, while youth, the secret associations, the 
+ftchools, in the name of principles, and the middle classes, in 
+the name of interests, were approaching preparatory to dashing 
+themselves together, clasping and throwing each other, while 
+each one hastened and in\ited the last and decisive hour of th« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+282 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+erisii}, far away and quite outside of this fatal quarter, m the 
+most profound depths of the unfathomable ca\ities of thai 
+wretched old Paris which disappears under the splendor of 
+happy and opulent Paris, the sombre voice of the people c^uld 
+be heard giving utterance to a dull roar. 
+
+A fearful and sacred voice which is composed of the roar of 
+the brute and of the word of God, which terrifies the weak aod 
+which warns the wise, which comes both from below like the voice 
+^f the lion, and from on high like the voice of the thunder. 
+
+
+
+III. — The Extbeub Edgb. 
+
+Harius had reached the Halles. 
+
+There everything was still calmer, more obacure and more 
+motionless than in the neighboring streets. One would havt 
+said that the glacial peace of the sepulchre had sprung forth from 
+the earth and had spread over the heavens. 
+
+Nevertheless, a red glow brought out against this black back- 
+ground the lofty roofs of the houses which baiTed the Rue de k 
+Chan vrerie on the Saint-Ëustache side. It was the reflection of ilu' 
+torch which was burning in the Corinthe barricade. Marius iti- 
+rected his steps towards that red light. It had drawn him to the 
+Marché-anx-Poirées, and he caught a glimpse of the dark moutli 
+of the Rue des Prêcheurs. He entered it. The insurgeuts' 
+sentinel, who was guarding the other end, did not see him. He 
+felt that he was very close to that which he had come in seaivli 
+of, and he walked on tiptoe. In this manner he reached the 1 1* 
+bow of that short section of the Rue Mondétour which was, as 
+the reader will remember, the only communication which Kiijol- 
+ras had preserved with the outside world. At the corner of ilu' 
+last house, on his left, he thrust his head forward, and lookeil 
+into the fragment of the Rue Mondétour. 
+
+A little beyond the angle of the lane and the Rue de la Chan- 
+vrerie which cast a broad curtain of shadow, in which he wa^ 
+himself engulfed, he perceived some light on the pavement, a 
+bit of the wine-shop, and beyond, a flickering lamp within a sort 
+of shapeless wall, and men crouching down with guns on (htir 
+knees. All this was ten fathoms distant from him. It was the 
+interior of the barricade. 
+
+The houses which bordered the lane on the right concealeti 
+the rest of the wine-shop, the large barricade, and the flag froir 
+him. 
+
+Marius had but a step more to take. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS 283 
+
+Tliea the unhappy young man seated himself on a post, folded 
+his arms, and fell to thinking about his father. 
+
+He thought of that heroic Colonel Pontraercy, who had been 
+BO proud a soldier, who had guarded the frontier of France under 
+the Republic, and had touched the frontier of Asia under Napo- 
+leon, who had beheld Genoa, Alexandria, Milan, Turin, Madrid, 
+Vienna, Dresden, Berlin, Moscow, who had left on all the vic- 
+torious battle-fields of Europe drops of that same blood, which 
+he, Marius, had in his veins, who had grown gray before hie 
+time in discipline and command, who had lived with his sword- 
+belt buckled, his epaulets falling on his breast, his cockade 
+blackened with powder, his brow furrowed with his helmet, ia 
+barracks, in camp, in the bivouac, in ambulances, and who, at 
+the expiration of twenty years, had returned from the great wars 
+with a scarred cheek, a smiling countenance, tranquil, admirable, 
+pure as a child, having done everything for France and nothiug 
+against her. 
+
+He said to himself that his day hid also come now. that his hour 
+had struck, that following his fatner, he too was about to show 
+himself brave, intrepid, bold, to run to meet the bullets, to ofifei 
+his breast to bayonets, to shed his blood, to seek the enemy, 
+to seek death, that he was about to wage war in his turn and 
+descend to the field of battle, and that the field of battle upon 
+which he was to descend was the street, and that the war in 
+which be was about to engage was civil war ! 
+
+He beheld civil war laid open like a gulf before him, and into 
+this he was about to fall. Then he shuddered. 
+
+He thought of his father's sword, which his grandfather had 
+sold to a second-hand dealer, and which he had so mournfully re 
+«rretted. He said to himself that that chaste and valiant sword 
+had (lone well to escape from him, and to depart in wrath into 
+the gloom ; that if it had thus fled, it was because it was intelligent 
+an I because it had foreseen the future ; that it had had a pre- 
+st'iitiment of this rebellion, the war of the gutters, the war of tlie 
+pavements, fusilades through cellar-windows, blows given and 
+i* 'ceived in the rear; it was because, coming from Marengo and 
+Friedland, it did not wish to go to the Rue do la Chanvrerie ; it 
+was because, after what it had done with the father, it did not 
+wish to do this for the son ! He told himself that if that sword 
+wt;re there, if after taking possession of it at his father's pillow, 
+Ik» had dared to take it and carry it off for this combat of dark- 
+ness between Frenchmen in the streets, it would assuredly have 
+K<*orohed his hands and burst out aflame before his eyes, like the 
+i^ord of the angel ! He told himself that it was fortunate thai 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+i84 LES MISERABLE:^. 
+
+it was not there and that it had disapiHîared^ that that was well, 
+that that was just, that his grandfather had been the true guar- 
+dian of his father's glory, and that it was far better that the 
+colonel's sword sliouid be sold at auction, sold to the old-clothes 
+man, thrown among the old junk, than that it should, to-day. 
+wound the side of his countr}'. 
+
+And then he fell to weeping bitterly. 
+
+This was horrible. But what was he to do ! Live without 
+Cosette he could not. Since she was gone, he must needs 
+die. Had he not given her his word of honor that he would 
+die ? She had gone knowing that ; this meant that it please 
+her that Marius should die. And then, it was clear that she no 
+longer loved him, since she had departed thus without warning, 
+without a word, without a letter, although she knew his address ! 
+What was the gootl of living, and why should he live now ? Ami 
+then, what ! should he retreat after going so far ! should he flee 
+from danger after having approached it ! should he slip awar 
+after having come and peeped into the barricade ! slip away, 
+all in a tremble, saying : ^^ After all, I have had enongh of it as 
+it is. I have seen it, that suffices, this is civil war, and I shall 
+take my leave ! " Should he abandon his friends who were ex- 
+pecting him ! Who were in need of him possibly ! who were a 
+mere handful against an army ! Should he be untrue at once 
+to his love, to country, to his word ! Should he give to bis cow- 
+ardice the pretext of patriotism ! But this was impossible, and 
+if the phantom of his father was there in the gloom, and beheld 
+him retreating, he would beat him on the loins with the flat of 
+his sword, and shout to him : ^' March on, you poltroon ! " 
+
+Thus a prey to the conflicting movements of his thoughte, he 
+dropped his head. 
+
+All at once he raised it. A sort of splendid rectification had 
+just been effected in his mind. There is a widening of the 
+sphere of thought which is peculiar to the vicinity of the grave ; 
+it makes one see clearly to be near death. The vision of the 
+action into which he felt that he was, perhaps, on the point of 
+entering, api>cared to him no more as lamentable, but as superb. 
+The war of the street was suddenly transfigured b3' some 
+unfathomable inward working of his soul, before the eye of hi* 
+thought. All the tumultuous interrogation points of rever]f 
+recurred to him in throngs, but without troubling him. He ieft 
+none ot ihem unanswered. 
+
+Let us see, why should his father be indignant? Are there 
+not cases where insurrection rises to the dignity of duty ? What 
+was there that was degrading for the son of Colonel Pontmerecf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 285 
+
+in the eombat which was about to begin? It is no longer Mont- 
+miraii nor Champaubert ; it is something quite different. Tht 
+question is no longer one of sacred territory, — but of a holy 
+idea. The country wails, that may be, but humanity applauds. 
+Hut is it true that the country does wail ? France bleeds, but 
+liberty smiles ; and in the presence of liberty's smile, France 
+forgets her wound. And then if we look at things from a still 
+more lofty point of view, why do we speak of civil war? 
+
+Civil war — what does that mean ? Is there a foreign war ? 
+Is not all war between men war between brothers? War is 
+qualiOed only by its object. There is no such thing as foreign 
+or civil war ; there is only just and unjust war. Unt' that day 
+when the grand human agreement is concluded, war, tha^ at 
+least which is the effort of the future, which is hastening oq 
+against the past, which is lagging in the rear, may be necessary. 
+What have we to reproach that war with? War does not 
+become a disgrace, the sword does not become a disgrace, 
+except when it is used for assassinating the right, progress, 
+reason, civilization, truth. Then war, whether foreign or civil, 
+is iniquitous ; it is called crime. Outside the pale of that holy 
+thing, justice, by what right does one form of man despise 
+another? By what right should the sword of Washington dis- 
+own the pike of Camille Desmoulins? Lconidas against the 
+stranger, Timoleon against the tyrant, which is the greater? the 
+one is the defender, the other the liberator. Shall we, brand 
+every appeal to arms within a city's limits without taking the 
+object into a consideration ? Then note the infamy of Brutus, 
+Marcel, Amould von Blankenhcim, Coligny. Hedgerow war? 
+War of the streets? Why not? That was the war of Ambi- 
+orix, of Artevelde, of Marnix, of Pelagius. But Ambiorix fought 
+against Rome, Artevelde against France, Marnix against Spain, 
+Pelagius against the Moors ; all against the foreigner. Well, the 
+monarchy is a foreigner ; oppression is a stranger ; the right divine 
+is a stranger. Despotism violates the moral frontier, an invasion 
+violates the geographit;al frontier. Driving out the tyrant or driv- 
+ing out the English, in both cases, regaining possession of one's 
+own territory. There comes an hour when protestation no longer 
+suffices ; after philosophy, action is required ; live force finishes 
+what the idea has sketched out; Prometheus chained begins, 
+Aristogeiton ends ; the encyclopedia enlightens souls, the 10th of 
+August electrifies them. After jEschylus , Thrasybulns ; after 
+Diderot, Danton Multitudes have a tendency to accept the mas- 
+ter. Their mass bears witness to apathv. A crowd is easily led as 
+awhole toobedience. Men moat be stirred up, pushed on, treated 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+28ê LES MISERABLES. 
+
+roaghiy by the very benefit of their deliverance, their eyes i 
+be wounded by the true, light muat be hurled at them in ternL4e 
+haudfuls. They must be a little thunderstruck themselves al 
+their own well-being ; this dazzling awakens them. ' Uence tht 
+'necessity of toesins and wara. Great combatants must rise, 
+must enligliten nations with audacity, and shake up that ss« 
+humanity which is covered with gloom by the right diviue. 
+Caesarian glory, force, fanaticism, irre6))ou8ible power, auu 
+absolute majesty ; a rabble stupidly occupied in the contempla- 
+tion, in their twilight splendor, of these sombre triumphs of tiie 
+night. Down with the tyrant ! Of whom are you speaking? Do 
+vou call Louis Philippe the tyrant? No; no more than Louii 
+XVI. Both of them arc what history is in the habit of calling 
+good kings ; but principles are not to be parcelled out, the logic 
+of the true is rectilinear, the peculiarity of truth is that it lackâ 
+complaisance ; no concessions, then ; all encroachments on mao 
+should be repressed. There is a divine right in Louis XVL , there 
+is because a Bourbon in Louis Philippe ; both represent id s 
+certain measure the confiscation of right, and, in order to 
+clear away universal insurrection, they must be combated; it 
+must be done, France being always the one to begin. ^Vhea 
+the master falls in France, he falls everywhere. In short, what 
+cause is more Just, and consequently, what war is greater, than 
+that which re-establishes social truth, restores her throne to 
+liberty, restores the people to the people, restores sovereigntj 
+to man, replaces the purple on the head of France, restores 
+equity and reason in their plenitude, suppresses every germ of 
+antagonism by restoring each one to himself, annihilates the 
+obstacle which royalty presents to the whole immense nniversal 
+concord, and places the human race once more on a level with 
+the right? These wars build up peace. An enormous fortress 
+of prejudices, privileges, superstitions, lies, exactions, abuses 
+violences, iniquities, and darkness still stands erect in this world, 
+with its towers of hatred. It must be cast down. This mon- 
+strous mass must be made to crumble. To conquer at Auster- 
+Utz is grand ; to take the Bastille Is immense. 
+
+There is no one who has not noticed it in his own case — the 
+K>ul, — and therein lies ,the marvel of its unity complicated with 
+ubiquity, has a strange aptitude for reasoning almost coldly io 
+the most violent extremities, and it often happens that heart- 
+broken passion and profound despair in the very agony of theL* 
+blackest monologues, treat subjects and discuss theses. Lc^^ 
+is mingled with convulsion, and the thread of the syllogisme: 
+floats, without breaking, in the mournful storm of thought 
+This was the situation of Marius' milMA^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'-DENIS. 387 
+
+As he meditated thus, dejected bat resolute, hesitating in 
+every direction, and, in short, shuddering at what he was about 
+to do, his glance strayed to the interior of the baiTicade. The 
+insurgents were here conversing in a low voice, without moving 
+and there was perceptible that quasi-silence which marks th< 
+ost stage of expectation. Overhead, at the small window in 
+ihe third story, Marins descried a sort of spectator whc 
+appeared to hun to be singularly attentive. This was the por- 
+ter who had been killed by Le Cabuc. Below, by the lights oi 
+the torch, which was thrust between the paving-stones, this head 
+could be vaguely distinguished. Nothing could be stranger, in 
+that sombre and uncei1;ain gleam, than that livid, motionless, 
+astonished face, with its bristling hair, its eyes fixed and star- 
+ing, and its yawning mouth, bent over the street in an attitude of 
+curiosity. One would have said that the man who was dead was 
+surveying those who were about to die. A long trail of blood 
+which had flowed from that head, descended in reddish threads 
+from the window to the height of the first floor, where il 
+stopped. 
+
+
+
+BOOK FOURTEENTH. — THE GRANDEURS OP 
+DESPAIR- 
+
+I. — The Flag: Act First. 
+
+As yet, nothing had come. Ten o'clock had sounded fron 
+Sivint-Meri7. Enjolras and Combeferre had gone and seatec 
+themselves, carbines in hand, near the outlet of the grand barri- 
+cade. They no longer addressed each other, they listened, seeking 
+to catch even the faintest and most distant sound of marching. 
+
+Suddenly, in the midst of the dismal calm, a clear, gay, 
+young voice, which seemed tocome from the Rue Saint Denis, 
+rose and began to sing distinctly, to the old popular air of " B3 
+the Light of the Moon," this bit of poetry, terminated by a crj 
+like the crow of a cock : — 
+
+Mon nez est en larmes. 
+Mon ami Bugeaud, 
+Prête moi tes gendarmes 
+"Pour leur dire un mot. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+
+286 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+En capote bleue, 
+La poule au shako^ 
+Voici la banlieue 1 
+Co-cocorico l * 
+
+Thej pressed each other's hands. 
+
+" That is Gavroche," said Ënjolras. 
+
+" He is warning us," said Combeferre. 
+
+A hasty rush troubled the deserted street; they beheld a 
+being more agile than a clown climb over the omnibas, and 
+Gavroche bounded into the barricade, all breathless, sa3'ing : — 
+
+" My gun ! Here they are ! " 
+
+An electric quiver shot through the whole barricade, and the 
+sound of hands seeking their guns became audible. 
+
+'* Would you like my carbine?" said Ënjolras to the lad. 
+
+*' I want a big gun," replied Gavroche. 
+
+And he seized Javert's gun. 
+
+Two sentinels had fallen back, and had come in almost 
+at the same moment as Gavroche. They were the sentinels 
+from the end of the street, and the vidette of the Rue de la 
+Petite-Truanderie. The vidette of the Lane des Prêcheurs 
+had remained at his post, which indicated that nothing was 
+approaching from the direction of the bridges and Halles. 
+
+The Rue de la Chanvrerie, of which a few paving-stones 
+alone were dimly visible in the reflection of the light projected 
+on the flag, offered to the insurgents the aspect of a vast black 
+door vaguely opened into a smoke. 
+
+Each man had taken up his position for the conflict. 
+
+Forty-three insurgents, among whom were Ënjolras, Combe- 
+ferre, Courfeyrac, Boss net, Joly, Bahorel, and Gavroche, were 
+kneeling inside the large barricade, with their heads on a level 
+with the crest of the bai-rier, the barrels of their guns and 
+carbines aimed on the stones as though at loop-holes, attentive. 
+mute, ready to fire. Six, commanded by Feuilly, had installed 
+themselves, with their guns levelled at tlieir shoulders, at the 
+windows of the two stories of'Corinthe. 
+
+Several minutes passed thus, then a sound of footsteps, 
+measured, heavy, and numerous, became distinctly audible in 
+the direction of Saint-Leu. This sound, faint at first, then 
+precise, then heavy and sonorous, approached slowly, without 
+halt, without intermission, with a tranquil and temble conti- 
+nuity. Nothing was to be heard but this. It was that com- 
+
+1 My nose is In tears, my friend Bu^eaad, lend me thy gendarmes that T nay 
+say a word to them. With a pine capote and a chieken in hia shako, hiwe'a th« 
+banlieue, co-cocorico. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 289 
+
+bined silence and sound, of the statue of the oommander, but 
+this slony step had something indescribably enormous and 
+multiple about it which awakened the idea of a throng, and, at 
+the same time, the idea of a spectre. One thought one heard 
+the terrible statue Legion marching onward. This tread drew 
+near ; it drew still nearer, and stopped. It seemed as though 
+the breathing of many men could be heard at the end of the 
+street. Nothing was to be seen, however, but at the bottom of 
+that dense obscurity there could be distinguished a multitude 
+of metallic threads, as fine as needles and almost imperceptible, 
+which moved about like those indescribable phosphoric net- 
+works which one sees beneath one's closed eyelids, in the first 
+mists of slumber at the moment when one is dropping off to 
+sleep. These were bayonets and gun-barrels confusedly illu- 
+minated by the distant reflection of the torch. 
+
+A pause ensued, as though both sides were waiting. All at 
+once, from the depths of this darkness, a voice, which was all 
+the more sinister, since no one was visible, and which appeared 
+to be the gloom itself speaking, shouted : — 
+. *' Who goes there?" 
+
+At the same time, the click ot guns, as they were lowered 
+into position, was heard. 
+
+Enjolras replied in a haughty and vibrating tone ; — 
+
+*' The French Revolution I " 
+
+*' Fire ! " shouted the voice. 
+
+A flash empurpled all the façades in the street as though the 
+door of a furnace had been flung open, and hastily closed again. 
+
+A fearful detonation burst forth on the barricade. The red 
+flag fell. The discharge had been so violent and so dense that 
+it had cat the staff, that is to say, the very tip of the omnibus 
+pole. 
+
+JBullets which had rebounded from the oornices of the houses 
+penetrated the barricade and wounded several men. 
+
+The impression produced by this first discharge was freezing. 
+The attack had been rough, and of a nature to inspire reflec- 
+tion in the boldest. It was evident that they had to deal with 
+an entire regiment at tlie very least. 
+
+^^ Comrades!" shouted Courfcyrae, ^Met us not waste oui 
+rowder. Let us wait until they are in the street before re- 
+plying." 
+
+*^And, above all," said Enjolras, "let us raise the flag again.** 
+
+He picked up the flag^ which had fallen precisely at his feet. 
+. out side, the clatter of the ramrods in the guns could be 
+beard ; the troops were re-loading their arms. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+290 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+EDjolras went on : — 
+
+^' Who is there here with a bold heart? Who will plant tkb 
+flag on the barricade again ? ** 
+
+Not a man responded. To mount on the barricade at the 
+very moment when, without any doubt, it was again the object 
+of their aim, was simply death. The bravest hesitated to pro 
+nonnoe his own condemnation. Enjolras hmiaelf foltathnlL 
+He repeated:^ — 
+
+^^ Doea no one volunteer?" 
+
+
+
+II. — The Flag: Act Secokd. 
+
+Since they had arrived at Corinthe, and had begun the ooo- 
+struetion of the barricade, no attention had been paid to Father 
+Mabeuf . M. Mabeuf had not quitted the mob, however ; be had 
+entered the grouud-floor of the wine-shop and had seated him- 
+self behind the counter. There he had, so to speak, retreated 
+into himself. He no longer seemed to look or to think. 
+Courfeyrac and others had accosted him two or three times, 
+warning him of his peril, beseeching him to withdraw, but he 
+did not hear them« When they were not speaking to him, his 
+mouth moved as though he were replying to some one, and as 
+soon as he was addressed, his lips became motionless and his 
+eyes no longer had the appearance of being alive. 
+
+Several hours before the barricade was attacked, he had as- 
+sumed an attitude which he did not afterwards abandon, with 
+both fists planted on his knees and his head thrust forward as 
+though he were gazing over a precipice. Nothing had beeo 
+able to move him from this attitude ; it did not seem as tiiough 
+his mind were in the barricade. When each had gone to take 
+up his position for the combat, there remained in the tap-room 
+where Javert was bound to the post, only a single insargent 
+with a naked sword, watching over Javert, and himself, Ma- 
+beuf. At the moment of the attack, at the detonation, the phys 
+leal shock had reached him and had, as it were, awakened himj 
+he started up abruptly, crossed the room, and at the in 
+stant when Enjolras repeated his appeal : '*Does no one volnn 
+teer?" the old man was seen to make his appearance on th€ 
+threshold of the wine-shop. His presence produced a sort of 
+commotion in the different groups. A shout went up : — 
+
+''It is the voter! It is the member of the Convention I It 
+is the representative of the people ! " 
+
+It is probable that he did not hear them. 
+
+He strode straight up to Enjolras, the insorgents withdrawing 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. S91 
+
+before him with a religioas fear ; he tore the flag from Enjobraa, 
+vvho recoiled in amazement, and then, since no one daied to stop 
+or to assist him, this old man of eighty, with shaking head but 
+firm foot, began slowly to ascend the staircase of paving-stones 
+arranged in the bairicade. This was so melancboiy and so grand 
+that all around bim cried: ^^Off with your hats I" At every 
+(>tep that he mounted, it was a frightful spectacle; his white 
+Ic^oks, his decrepit face, his lofty, bald, and wrinkled brow, 
+ills amazed and open mouth, his aged arm upholding the red 
+banner, rose through the gloom and were enlarged in the bloody 
+light of the torch, and the bystanders thought that they beheld 
+the spectre of '93 emerging from the earth, with the flag of ter- 
+ror ill his hand« 
+
+When he had reached the last step, when this trembling and 
+terrible phantom, erect on that pile of rubbish in the presence 
+of twelve hundred invisible guns, drew himself np in the face 
+of death and as though he were more powerful than it, the 
+whole barricade assumed amid the darkness, a supernatural and 
+colossal form. 
+
+There ensued one of those silences which occur only in the 
+presence of prodigies. In the midst of this silence, the old 
+man waved the red flag and shouted : — 
+
+^^ Long live the lie volution ! Long live the Republic I Fra- 
+ternity I Equality ! and Death I " 
+
+Those in the barricade heard a low and rapid whisper, like 
+the murmur of a priest who is despatching a prayer in iiaste. 
+It was probably the commissary of police who was making the 
+legal summons at the other end of the street. 
+
+Then the same piercing voice which had shouted : *^ Who 
+goes there ? " shouted : — 
+
+''Retire!" 
+
+M. Mabeuf, pale, haggard, his eyes lighted up with the 
+mournful flame of aberration, raised the flag above his head and 
+repeated : — 
+
+'' Long live the Republic!" 
+
+*' Fire 1 " said the voice. 
+
+A second dischai^e, similar to the flrst, rained down upon the 
+barricade. 
+
+The old man fell on his knees, then rose again, dropped the 
+flag and fell backwards on the pavement, like a log, at full 
+length, with outstretched arms. 
+
+Rivulets of blood flowed beneath him. His aged head, pale 
+and sad, seemed to be gazing at the sky. 
+
+One of those emotions which are superior to man, whiob 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+
+293 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+make him forget even to defend hUnflelf , seized apoo tiie to 
+Burgents, and the}* approached the body with respectful awe. 
+
+*' Wliat men these regicides were ! " said Enjoints. 
+
+Courfeyrac bent down to Enjolras' ear : — 
+
+4' This is for yourself alone, I do not wish to dampen the 
+enthusiasm. But this man was anything rather than a rt^t- 
+eide. I knew him. His name was Father Mabeuf. I do nul 
+know what was the matter with him to-day. But he was a brare 
+blockhead. Just look at his head/' 
+
+^'The head of a blockhead and the heart of a Bratos/' re- 
+plied Eajolras. 
+
+Then he raised his voice : — 
+
+^^ Citizens ! Tbis is the example which the old give to tlte 
+young. We hesitated, he came I We were drawing back. Le 
+Julvauced! This is what those who are trembling with a^e 
+teach to those who tremble with fear ! This aged man is au- 
+gust in the eyes of his country. He has had a long life and % 
+magnificent death ! Now, let us place the body under oo^er. thai 
+each one of us may defend this old man dead as he would his 
+father living, and may his presence in oor midst render the bar- 
+ricade impregnable ! " 
+
+A murmur of gloomy and enei^tie assent followed theae 
+words. 
+
+Eajolras bent down, raised the old man's head, and fierce u 
+he was, he kissed him on the brow, then, throwing wide his 
+arms, and handling; this dead man with tender precaution, ^ 
+though he feared to hurt it, he removed his coat, showed the 
+bloody holes in it to all, and said : — 
+
+'* This is our flag now." 
+
+III. — Gayboche would have done better to aogkft 
+Enjolras' Carbine. 
+
+They threw a long black shawl of Widow Hucheloup's ovei 
+Father Mabeuf. Six men made a litter of their guns ; on this 
+they laid the body, and bore it, with bared heads, with soiemo 
+slowness, to the large table in the tap-room. 
+
+These men, wholly absorbed in the grave and sacred task id 
+which the}' were engaged, thought no more of the perilous sit- 
+uation in which they stood. 
+
+When the corpse passed near Javert, who was still impassive, 
+Enjolras said to the spy : — j 
+
+'' It will be your turn presently ! " 
+
+Daring all this time. Little Gavrocbei who alone bad oor 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS, ^0 
+
+qnitted his post, bat had remained on guard, thought be espied, 
+some men stealthily approaching the barricade. Ail at once 
+lie shouted : — 
+
+"Lookout!" 
+
+Courfeyrac, Ënjolras, Jean Prouvaire, Combefenre^ Joly, Ba- 
+horel, Bossuet, and all the rest ran tutnultuously from the wine- 
+shop. It was almost too late. They saw a glistening density 
+of bayonets undulating above the barricade. Municipal guards 
+of lofty stature were making their way in, some striding over 
+the omnibusi, others through the cut, thrusting before them the 
+urchin, who retreated, but did not flee. 
+
+The moment was critical. It was that first, redoubtable mo* 
+ment of inundation, when the stream rises to the level of the 
+levee and when the water begins to filter through the fissures of 
+dike. A second more and the barricade would have been taken* 
+
+Bahorel dashed upon the first municipal guard who was enter- 
+ing, and killed him on the spot with a blow from his gun ; the 
+second killed Bahorel witli a blow from his bayonet. Another 
+had already overthrown Courfeyrac, who was shouting: "Fol- 
+lo'w me ! " The largest of all, a sort of colossus, marched on 
+Gavroche with his bayonet fixed. The urchin took in his arms 
+Javert's immense gun, levelled it resolutely at the giant, and 
+fired. No discharge followed. Javert's gun was not loaded. 
+The municipal guard burst into a laugh and raised his bayonet 
+at the child. 
+
+Before the bayonet had touched Gavroche, the gim slipped 
+from the soldier^s grasp, a bullet had struck the municipal 
+^Tuardsman in the centre of the forehead, and he fell over on his 
+back. A second bullet struck the other guard, who had as- 
+saulted Courfeyrac in the breast, and laid him low on the pave- 
+ment. 
+
+This was the work of Marius, who had Just entered the barri- 
+cade. 
+
+IV. -^ The Babrbl op Powder. 
+
+Makiits, still concealed in the tura of the Rue Mondétoar^ 
+had witnessed, shuddering and irresolute, the first phase of the 
+combat. But he had not long been able to resist that mysteri- 
+ous and sovereign vertigo which may be designated as the call of 
+the ab3'ss. In the presence of the imminence of the peril, in the 
+presence of the death of M. Mabeuf , that melancholy enigma, 
+in the presence of Bahorel killed, and Courfeyrac shouting; 
+(^ Follow me ! '* of that child threatened, of his friends to suooof 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+294 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+or to avenge, all hesitation had vanished, and he had flang 
+himself into the conflict, his two pistols in hand. With his 
+first shot he had saved Gavroche, and with tlie second delivered 
+Courfeyrac. 
+
+Amid the sound of the shots, amid the cries of the assaulted 
+guards, the assailants had climbed the entrenchment, on whose 
+snmmit Municipal Guards, soldiers of the line and National 
+Guards from the suburbs could now be seen, gun in hand 
+rearing themselves to more than half the height of their lKxiie& 
+
+They already covered more than two-thirds of the barrier, 
+but they did not leap into the enclosure, as though wavering in 
+the fear of some trap. They gazed into the dark barricade as 
+one would gaze into a lion's den. The light of the torch illn* 
+minated only their bayonets, their bear-skin caps, and the upper 
+part of their uneasy and angrj' faces. 
+
+Marius had no longer any weapons ; he had flung away his 
+discharged pistols after firing them ; but he had caught sight of 
+the barrel of powder in the tap-room, near the door. 
+
+As he turned half round, gazing in that direction, a soldier 
+took aim at him. At the moment when the soldier was sighting 
+Marius, a hand was laid on the muzzle of the gun and obstructed 
+it. This was done by some one who had darted forward, — the 
+young workman in velvet trousers. The shot sped, traversed 
+the hand and possibly, also, the workman, since he fell, but the 
+ball did not strike Marius. All this, which was rather to be 
+apprehended than seen through the smoke, Marius, who was 
+entering the tap-room, hardly noticed. Still, he had, in a con- 
+fused way, perceived that gun-barrel aimed at him, and the 
+hand which had blocked it, and he had heard the dischai^e. 
+But in moments like this, the things which one sees vacillate 
+and are precipitated, and one pauses for nothing. One feels 
+obscurely impelled towards more darkness still, and all is cloud. 
+
+The insurgents, surprised but not terrified, had rallied. Eq- 
+jolras had shouted : ** Wait ! Don't fire at random ! " In the 
+first confusion, they might, in fact, wound each other. The 
+majority of them had ascended to the window on the first 
+«ïtory and to the attic windows, whence they commanded the 
+assailants. 
+
+The most determined, with £njolpas, Courfeyrac, Jean Proa- 
+vaire, and Combeferre, had proudly placed themselves with their 
+backs against the houses at the rear, unsheltered and facing the 
+ranks of soldiers and guards who crowned the barricade. 
+
+All this was accomplished without haste, with that strange 
+and threatening gravity which precedes engagements. Tbej 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+S4INT^DEmS. 29A 
+
+look aim, point blank, on both sides : they were so close that 
+they could talk together without raising their voices. 
+
+When they had reached this point where the spark is on the 
+Orink of darting forth, an ofHcer in a gorget extended his sword 
+and said : — 
+
+*' Lay down your arms I " 
+
+" Fire ! " replied Enjolras. 
+
+The two dischai^es took place at the same moment, and all 
+disapp^red in smoke^ 
+
+An acrid and stifling smoke in which dying and wounded lay 
+with weak, dull groans. When the smoke cleared away, the 
+combatants on both sides could be seen to be thinned out, but 
+still in the same positions, reloading in silence. All at once, 
+a thundering voice was heard, shouting : — 
+
+'' Be oflf with you, or I'll blow up the barricade ! "' 
+
+All turned in the direction whence the voice proceeded. 
+
+Mariua had entered the tap-room, and had seized the barrel 
+of powder, then he had taken advantage of the smoke, and the 
+sort of obscure mist which filled the entrenched enclosure, to 
+glide along the barricade as far as that cage of paving-stones 
+where the torch was fixed. To tear from it the torch, to replace 
+it by the barrel of powder, to thrust the pile of stoues under 
+the barrel, which was instantly staved in, with a sort of horri- 
+ble obedieAce, — all this had cost Marins but the time necessary 
+to stoop and rise again ; and now all, National Guards, Muni« 
+cipal Guards, officers, soldiers, huddled at the other extremity 
+of the barricade, gazed stupidly at him, as he stood with his 
+foot on the stones, his torch in his hand, his haughty face 
+illuminated by a fatal resolution, drooping the flame of the 
+torch towards that redoubtable pile where they could make out 
+the broken barrel of powder, and giving vent to that startling 
+cry: — 
+
+'' Be off with you, or I'll blow up the barricade Î " 
+
+Marius on that barricade after the octogenarian was the vision 
+»f the 3'oung revolution after the apparition of the old. 
+
+^'Blow up the barricade!" said a sergeant, ^^and yourself 
+with it!" 
+
+Marius retorted : ^^ And myself also." 
+
+And he dropped the torch towards the barrel of powder. 
+
+Bat there was no longer any one on the barrier. The assail- 
+ants, abandoning their dead and wounded, flowed back pell« 
+meU and in disorder towards the extremity of the street, and 
+there were again lost in the night. It was a headlong flight. 
+
+The barricade was free. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+296 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+V. — Ehd of THE Verses of Jean Prouyaibx. 
+
+All flocked around Marias. Conrfeyrac flung himself on hk 
+
+neck. 
+
+" Here you are ! " 
+
+'* What luck ! " said Combeferre. 
+
+** You came in opportunely ! " ejaculated Bossaet. 
+
+*'If it had not been for you, I should have been dead!* 
+began Courfeyrac again. 
+
+" If it had not been for you, I should have been gobbled up ! " 
+added Gavroche. 
+
+Marins asked : — 
+
+*' Where is the chief ?** 
+
+"You are he ! " said Enjolras. 
+
+Marius had had a furnace in his brain all day long ; now h 
+was a whirlwind. This whirlwind which was within him, pro- 
+duced on him the effect of being outside of him and of beariog 
+him away. It seemed to him that he was already at an immense 
+distance from life. His two luminous months of Joy and love, 
+ending abruptly at that frightful precipice, Cosette lost to him, 
+that barricade, M. Mabeuf getting himself killed for the 
+Republic, himself the lender of the insurgents, — all these things 
+appeared to him like a tremendous nightmare. He was obliged 
+to make a mental effort to recall the fact that all that suironnded 
+him was real. Marius had already seen too much of life not to 
+know that nothing is more imminent than the impossible, anâ 
+that what it is always necessary to foresee is the unforeseen. 
+He had looked on at his own drama as a piece which one does 
+not understand. 
+
+In the mists which enveloped his thoughts, he did not reoc^- 
+nize Javert, who, bound to his post, had not so much as moved 
+his head during the whole of the attack on the barricade, and 
+who had gazed on the revolt seething around him with the 
+resignation of a martyr and the majesty of a judge. Manas 
+had not even seen him. 
+
+In the meanwhile, the assailants did not stir, they could be 
+heard marching and swarming through at the end of the street, 
+but they did not venture into it, either because they were await- 
+ing orders or because they were awaiting reinforcements before 
+hurling themselves afresh on this impregnable redoubt. Th# 
+insurgents had posted sentinels, and some of them, who were 
+medical students, set abortt caring for the wounded. 
+
+They had thrown the tables out of the wine-shop, with ths 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 29? 
+
+exception of the two tables reserved for lint and cartridges, and 
+of the one on which lay Father Mabeuf ; they had added them 
+to the barricade, and had replaced them in the tap-room with 
+mattresses from the bed of the wiuow Uucheloup and her ser- 
+vants. On these mattresses they had laid the wounded. As 
+for the three poor creatures who inhabited Corinthe, no one 
+knew what had become of them. They were finally found, 
+liowever, hidden in the cellar. 
+
+A poignant emotion clouded the jo}^ of the disencumbered 
+aarricade. 
+
+The roll was called. One of the insurgents were missing. 
+And who was it? One of the dearest. One of the most 
+valiant. Jean Pronvaire. He was sought among the wounded, 
+he was not there. He was sought among the dead, he was not 
+there. He was evidently a prisoner. Combeferre said to 
+Knjolras : — 
+
+*' They have our friend; we have tiieir agent. Are you set 
+on the death of that spy?" 
+
+*^ Yes," replied Enjolras; '^but less so than on the life of 
+Jean Prouvaire." 
+
+This took place in the tap-room near Javert's post. 
+
+*'Well," resumed Combeferre, '*! am going to fasten my 
+handkerchief to my cane, and go as a flag of l^ice, to offer to 
+exchange our man for theirs." 
+
+^^ Listen," said Enjolras, laying his hand on Combeferre's 
+arm. 
+
+At the end of the street there was a significant clash of 
+arras. 
+
+They heard a manly voice shout : — 
+
+"Vive la France! Long live France I Long live the 
+fbtare ! " 
+
+The}' recognized the voice of Prouvaire. 
+
+A flash passed, a report rang out. 
+
+Silence fell again. 
+
+*' They have killed him," exclaimed Combeferre^ 
+
+Enjolras glanced at Javert, and said to him : — 
+
+'* Your friends have just shot you." 
+
+VT. — The Agony op Death after the Agony of Life. 
+
+A PECULTARmr of this species of war is, that the attack of 
+tlie barricades is almost always made from the front, and that 
+the assailants generally abstain from turning the position, 
+either because they fear ambuslies, or because they are afraid ci 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+298 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+getting entangled in the tortaous streets. The insui^ents^ wMe 
+attention had been directed, therefore, to the grand barricade, 
+which was, evidently, the spot alwaj's menaced, and there tlie 
+struggle would infallibly recommence. But Marius though' 
+of the little barricade, and went thither. It was deserted and 
+guarded only by the fire-pot which trembled between the paviDtr- 
+atones. Moreover, the Mondétour alley, and the branches of 
+the Rue de la Petite Truanderie and the Rue du Cygne were 
+profoundly calm. 
+
+As Marius was withdrawing, after concluding his inBpectioD^ 
+he heard his name pronounced feebly in the darkness. 
+
+" Monsieur Marius !" 
+
+He started, for he recognized the voice which had called to 
+him two hours before tlirough the gate in the Rue Plumet. 
+
+Only, the voice now seemed to be nothing more than s 
+breath. 
+
+He looked about him, but saw no one. 
+
+Marius thought he had been mistaken, that it was an illusion 
+added by his mind to the exti*aordinary realities which were 
+clashing around him. He advanced a step, in order to quit the 
+distant recess where the barricade lay. 
+
+'' Monsieur Marius ! " repeated the voice. 
+
+This time he could not doubt that he had heard it distincUj ; 
+he looked and saw nothing. 
+
+" At your feet," said the voice. 
+
+He bent down, and saw in the darkness a form which was 
+dragging itself towards him. 
+
+It was crawling along the pavement. It was this that had 
+spoken to him. 
+
+The fire-pot allowed him to distinguish a blouse, torn tron- 
+sers of coarse velvet, bare feet, and something which resembled 
+a pool of blood. Marius indistinctly made out a pale head which 
+was lifted towards him and which was saying to him : — 
+
+" You do not recognize me?** 
+
+" No." 
+
+*'Éponine." 
+
+Marius bent hastUy down. It was, in fact, that onhappy 
+child. She was dressed in men's clothes. 
+
+'* How come you here? What are you doing here?" 
+
+'* I am dying," said she. 
+
+There are words and incidents which arouse dejected beings* 
+Marius cried out with a start : — 
+
+*" You are wounded ! Wait, I will carry you into the roomi 
+They will attend to you there. Is it serious? How most 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 299 
+
+tmke hold of yon in order not to hurt yon? Where do you 
+sufifer ? Help ! My God ! But why did you come hither ? " 
+
+And he tried to pass his arm under her, in order to raise her. 
+
+She uttered a feehle cry. 
+
+** Have I hurt you? " asked Marins. 
+
+" A little." 
+
+" But I only touched your hand." 
+
+She raised her hand to Marius, and in the middle of that 
+hand Marius saw a black hole. 
+
+^^ What is the matter with your hand? " said he* 
+
+'* It is pierced." 
+pierced?" 
+' Yes." 
+
+"What with?" 
+
+" A bullet." 
+
+**How?" 
+
+** Did you see a gun aimed at you?** 
+
+*^ Yes, and a hand stopping it." 
+
+*' It was mine." 
+
+Marius was seized with a shudder. 
+
+^^ What madness! Poor child! But so much the better, if 
+that is all, it is nothing, let me carry you to a bed. They will 
+dress your wound ; one does not die of a pierced hand." 
+
+She murmured : — 
+
+*' The bullet traversed my hand, but it came out through my 
+back. It is useless to remove me from this spot. I will tell 
+you how you can care for me better than any surgeon. Sit 
+down near me on this stone." 
+
+He obeyed ; she laid her head on Marius' knees, and, with- 
+out looking at him, she said : — 
+
+^^ Oh ! How good this is ! How comfortable this is ! 
+There ; I no longer suffer." 
+
+She remained silent for a moment, then she turned her face 
+with an effort, and looked at Marius. 
+
+" Do you know what, Monsieur Marius? It puzzled me be- 
+cause you entered that garden ; it was stupid, because it was 
+I who showed you that house ; and then, I ought to have said 
+to myself that a young man like you — " 
+
+She paused, and overstepping the sombre transitions that 
+undoubtedly existed in her mind, she resumed with a heart- 
+rending smile : — 
+
+" You thought me ugly, didn't you?" 
+
+She continued : — 
+
+** You see, you are lost! Now, no one can get out of the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+800 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+barricade. It was I who led you here, by the way ! Ton an 
+going to die,'! count upon that. And yet, when I saw them 
+taking aim at you, 1 put my hand on the muzzle of the goo. 
+How queer it is ! But it was because I wanted to die before 
+you. When I received that bullet, I dragged myself here, no 
+one saw me, no one picked me up, I was waiting for you, I 
+said : ^ So he is not coming ! ' Oh, if you only knew. I bit 
+my blouse, I suffered so ! Now I am well. Do you remember 
+the day I entered your chamber and when I look^ at myself in 
+your mirror, and the day when I came to you on the boulevard 
+near tiie washerwomen ? How the birds sang ! That was a 
+long time ago. You gave me a hundred sous, and I said to 
+you : ' I don't want your money.' I hope you picked up your 
+coin? You are not rich. I did not think to tell you to pick it 
+up. The sun was shining bright, and it was not cold. Do 
+you remember. Monsieur Marius? Oh! How happy I am! 
+Every one is going to die." 
+
+She had a mad, grave, and heart-breaking air. Her torn 
+blouse disclosed her bare throat. 
+
+As she talked, she pressed her pierced hand to her breast, 
+where there was another hole, and whence there spurted from 
+moment to moment a stream of blood, like a jet of wine from 
+an open bung-hole. 
+
+Marius gazed at this unfortunate creature with profound 
+compassion. 
+
+^^ Oh ! '* she resumed, ^^ it is coming again, I am stifling ! " 
+
+She caught up her blouse and bit it, and her limbs stiffened 
+on the pavement. 
+
+At that moment the young cock's crow executed by little 
+Gavroche resounded through the barricade. 
+
+The child had mounted a table to load his gun, and w» 
+sinking gayly the song then so popular : — 
+
+** En Yoy anc Lafayette, " On beholding Lafayette, 
+
+Le gendarme répète : — The gendarme repeats : — 
+Sauvons nous ! sauvons nous 1 Let us flee ! let us flee ! 
+
+sauvons nous Î " let us flee ! " 
+
+Éponine raised herself and listened ; then she murmured:^ 
+
+*' It is he/' 
+
+And turning to Marius : — 
+
+^^My brother is here. He must not see me. He would 
+scold me." 
+
+*' Your brother?" inquired Marius, who was meditating ia the 
+most bitter and sorrowful depths of his heart on the duties to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 801 
+
+ifae Théuardiers which his father had bequeathed to him ; ^' who 
+i? your brother?" 
+
+*' That little fellow." 
+
+^^The one who is singing?" 
+
+'* Yes." 
+
+Harius made a movement. 
+
+** Oh ! don't go away," said she, " it will not be long now." 
+
+She was sitting almost upright, but her voice was very low 
+and broken by hiccoughs. 
+
+At intervals, the death rattle inten'upted her. She put her 
+face as near that of Marius as possible. She added with a 
+strange expression : — 
+
+"Listen, I do not wish to play you a trick. I have a letter 
+in my pocket for you. I was told to put it in the post. I kept 
+it. I did not want to have it reach you. But perhaps you will 
+t)e angry with me for it when we meet again presently ? Take 
+your letter." 
+
+She grasped Marius' hand convulsively with her pierced hand, 
+but she no longer seemed to feel her sufferings. She put 
+Mariua' hand in the pocket of her blouse. There, in fact, 
+Marius felt a paper. 
+
+" Take it," said she. 
+
+Maiius took the letter. 
+
+She made a sign of satisfaction and contentment. 
+
+*' Now, for my trouble, promise me — " 
+
+And she stopped. 
+
+*' What? " asked Marius. 
+
+** Promise me!" 
+
+*' I promise." 
+
+'* Promise to give me a kiss on my brow when I am dead. 
+-I shall feel it." 
+
+She dropped her head again on Marius' knees, and her eye- 
+fids closed. He thought the poor soul had departed. Éponine 
+remained motionless. All at once, at the veiy moment when 
+Marius fancied her asleep forever, she slowly opened her eyes 
+in which appeared the sombre profundity of death, and said to 
+him in a tone whose sweetness seemed sdready to proceed from 
+another world : — 
+
+" And by the way, Monsieur Marius, I believe that I was a 
+little bit in love with you." 
+
+She tried to smilç once more and expired. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+302 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+
+
+VII. — Gavroche as a Profound Calculator of Distakces 
+
+Marics kept his proinme. lie dropped a kiss on that livid 
+brow, where the icy perspiration stood in beads. 
+
+This was no inlidelity to Cosette ; it was a gentle and pen- 
+sive farewell to an unha]>])y soul. 
+
+It was not without a tremor that he had taken the lettef 
+which Époniue had given him. lie had immediately felt that it 
+was an event of weight. He was impatient to read it. The 
+heart of man is so constituted Uiat the unhappy child had hardly 
+closed her eyes when Marins began to think of unfolding this 
+paper. 
+
+lie laid her gently on the ground, and went away. Some- 
+thing told him that he could not peruse that letter in the pr»> 
+enec of that body. 
+
+lie diew near to a candle in the tap-room. It was a small 
+note, folded and sealed with a woraan*s elegant care. The 
+address was in a woman's hand and ran : — 
+
+^^ To Monsieur, Monsieur Marins Pontmercy, at M. Courfey* 
+rac*s. Rue de la Verrerie, No. 16." 
+
+He broke the seal and read : — 
+
+'* My dearest, alas ! my father insists on onr setting ont im- 
+mediately. We shall be this evening in the Rue de TUonmie 
+Armé, No. 7. In a week we shall be in England. Cosette. 
+June 4th." 
+
+Such was the innocence of their love that Marina was not 
+even acquainted with Cosette's handwriting. 
+
+What had taken place may be related in a few words. 
+Éponine had been the cause of eveiything. After the evening 
+of the 3d of June she had cherished a double idea, to defeat 
+the projects of her father and the ruffians on the house of the 
+Rue Plumet, and to separate Marius and Cosette. She had 
+exchanged rags with the first young scamp she came across whc 
+had thought it amusing to dress like a woman, while Éponine dis 
+guised herself like a man. It was she who had conveyed to 
+Jean Valjean in the Champ de Mars the expressive warning : 
+'' Leave your house." Jean Valjean had, in fact, returned 
+home, and had said to Cosette : '^ We set out this evening and 
+we go to the Rue de THomme Armé with Toussaint. Next 
+week, we shall be in Ix)ndon." Cosette, utterly overwhelmed 
+by this unexpected blow, had hastily penned a couple of lines 
+to Marius. But how was she to get the letter to the post? She 
+never went out alone, and Toussaint, surprised at such a commi»- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'DENIS. 30& 
+
+cnon, would certainly show the letter to M. Fanchelevent. In 
+this dilemma, Cosette had caught sight through the fence, o£ 
+Éponine in man's clothes, who now prowled incessantly around 
+the garden. Cosette had called to ^^ this young workman " and 
+had handed him five francs and the letter, saying : '^ Carry this 
+letter immediately to its address." Éponine had put the letter 
+in her pocket. The next day, on the ôth of June, she went to 
+Courfeyrac's quarters to inquire for Marins, not for the purpose 
+of delivering the letter, but, — a thing which every jealous and 
+loving soul will comprehend, — "to see." There she had waited 
+for Marins, or at least for Courfeyrac, still for the purpose of 
+seeing. When Courfeyrac had told her : '* We are going to tlie 
+barricades," an idea flashed through her mind, to fling herself 
+into that death, as she would have done into any other, and to 
+thrust Marius into it also. She had followed Courfeyrac, had 
+made sure of the locality where the barricade was in process of 
+construction ; and, quite certain, since Marius had received no 
+warning, and since she had intercepted the letter, that he would 
+go at dusk to his trysting-place for every evening, she had 
+betaken herself to the Rue Plumet, had there awaited Marius, 
+and had sent him, in the name of his friends, the appeal which 
+would, she thought, lead him to the barricade. She reckoned 
+on Marius* despah* when he should fail to find Cosette ; she 
+was n:>t mistaken. She had retm-ned to the Rue de la Chan- 
+TTerie herself. What she did there the reader has just seen. 
+She died with the tragic joy of jealous hearts who drag the 
+beloved being into their own death, and who say : " No one 
+shall have him ! " 
+
+Marius covered Cosette's letter with kisses. So she loved 
+him ! For one moment the idea occurred to him that he ought 
+not to die now. Then he said to himself : " She is going away. 
+Her father is taking her to England, and my grandfather refuses 
+his consent to the marriage. Nothing is changed in our fates." 
+Dreamers like Marius are subject to supreme attacks of 
+dejection, and desperate resolves are the result. The fatigue of 
+liTin«^ is insupportable; death is sooner over with. Then he 
+reflected that he had still two duties to fulfil : to inform Cosette 
+of his death and send her a final farewell, and to save from 
+the impending catastrophe which was in preparation, that poor 
+child, Éponine's brother and Thénardier's son. 
+
+He had a pocket-book about him ; the same one which had 
+contained the note-book in which he had inscribed so many 
+thoughts of love for Cosette. He tore out a leaf and wrote on 
+it a few lines in pencil : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+804 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+*^ Oor maniage was impossible. I asked my grandfather, hi 
+refused ; I have no fortune, neither hast thou. I hastened tc 
+thee, thou wert no longer there. Thou knowest the promise 
+that I gave thee, I shall keep it. I die. I love thee. When 
+thou teadest this, my soul will be near thee, and than wilt 
+smile.^ 
+
+Haying nothing wherewith to seal this letter, he contented 
+himself with folding the paper in four, and added the address : — 
+
+^'To Mademoiselle Cosette Fiiuebelevent, at M. Fauchele- 
+rent's, Rue de lllomme Armé, No. 7." 
+
+Having folded the letter, he stood in thought for a moment, 
+drew out his pocket-book again, opened it, and wrote, with the 
+same pencil, these four lines on the first page : — 
+
+''My name is Marias Pontmercy. Carry my body to mj 
+grandfather, M. Gillenormand, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 
+6, in the Marais." 
+
+He pat his pocket-book back in bis pocket, then he called 
+Gkivroche. 
+
+The gamin, at the sound of Marius' voice, ran up to him with 
+his merry and devoted air. 
+
+** Will you do something for me?" 
+
+«'Anything," said Gavroche. '«Good God I If it had not 
+been for you, I should have been done for.'* 
+
+" Do you see this letter? " 
+
+"Yee.** 
+
+" Take it. Leave the barricade instantly '*( Gavroche began 
+io scratch his ear uneasily) " and to-morrow morning, you will 
+deliver it at its address to Mademoiselle Cosette, at M. Fauche- 
+\event*s, Rue de F Homme Armé, No. 7," 
+
+The heroic child replied: — 
+
+" Well, but! in the meanwhile the barricade will be taken, 
+ind I shall not be there." 
+
+^' The barricade will not be attacked until daybreak, accord- 
+ng to all I4>pearances, and will not be taken before to-morrov 
+loon." 
+
+The hesh respite which the assailants were granting to the 
+aarricade had, in fact, been prolonged. It was one of thoea 
+intermissions which frequently occur in nocturnal combats, 
+which are always followed by an mcrease of rage. 
+
+*' Well," said Gavroche, "what if I were to go and carry 
+your letter to-morrow ? " 
+
+'* It will be too late. The barricade will probably be block 
+aded, all the streets will be guarded, and you will aot be aUe 
+to get out. Go at onoe/' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'-DENIS. tOfl 
+
+GrftVTOche oonld think of no reply to this, and stood there is 
+indecision, scratching his ear sadly. 
+
+All at once, he took the letter with one of those Urdliks 
+movements which were common with him. 
+
+" AU right," said he. 
+
+And he started off at a run through Mondétour lane. 
+
+An idea had occurred to Gavroche which had brought him to 
+a decision, but he had not mentioned it for fear that Marius 
+might offer some objection to it. 
+
+This was the idea : — 
+
+'^ It is barely midnight, the Rue de Tllomme Armé is not fai 
+off ; I will go and deUver the letter at once, and I shall get 
+back in tiiD6«^ 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIFTEENTH.— THE RUE DE L'HOMME ARMÉ 
+
+I.-* A Drinker is a Babbler. 
+
+What are the convulsions of a city in comparison with the 
+insurrections of. the soul? Man is a depth still greater than the 
+people. Jean Val jean at that very moment was the prey of a 
+terrible upheaval. P^very sort of gulf had opened again within 
+him. He also was trembling, like Paris, on the brink of an 
+obscure and formidable revolution. A few hours had sufficed 
+to bring this about. His destiny and his conscience had sud- 
+denly been covered with gloom. Of him also, as well as of 
+Paris, it might have been said '^The two principles are face to 
+face. The white angel and the black angel are about to seize 
+each other on the bridge of flie abyss. Which of the two will 
+burl the other over? Who will carry the day ? " 
+
+On the evening preceding this same 5th of June, Jean Val« 
+Jean, accompanied by Cosette and Toussaint had installed him« 
+self in the Rue de l'Homme Armé. A change awaited him 
+there. 
+
+Cosette had not quitted the Rue Plumet without making an 
+efifort at resistance. For the first time since they had lived 
+dide by side, Cosette's will and the will of Jean Valjean had 
+proved to be distinct, and had been m opposition, at least, if 
+they had not clashed. There had been objections on one side 
+and inflexibility on the other. The abrupt advice: ^^Leavf 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+90€ LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+your house/' hurled at Jean Valjean by a Bta*anger, oad alarmei) 
+Aim to the extent of rendering him peremptory. lie thought 
+that he hod been traced and followed. C-osette had btio 
+obliged to give way. 
+
+Both had airived in the Rue de Tllomme Armé without o|K*n- 
+ing their lips, and witliout uttering a wonl, each being absoi-l>tn] 
+In his own personal preoccupation ; Jean Valjean so uneasy th:a 
+he did not notice Ck)eette'8 sadness, Cosette so sad that she did 
+not notice Jean Valjean's uneasiness. 
+
+Jean Valjean had taken TouHsaint with him, a thing which be 
+had never done in his previous absences. He perceived the 
+possibility of not retiuning to the Rue Plumet, and he coulJ 
+neither leave Toussaint behind nor confide his secret to her. 
+Besides, he felt tliat she was devoted and trustworthy. Treach- 
+ery between master and servant begins in curiosity. Now 
+Toussaint, as tiiough she had been destined to be Jean A'al- 
+jean's servant, was not curious. She stammered in her peasant 
+dialect of Baruenlle : '* I am made so ; I do my work ; the 
+rest is no affair of mine.^' 
+
+lu this departure from the Rue Plumet, which had been al- 
+most a flight, Jean Valjean bad carried away nothing but the 
+little embalmed valise, baptized by Cosette "the inseparable." 
+Full tnmks would have requireil }K>rters, and porters are wit- 
+nesses. A fiacre had been summoned to the door on the Rue 
+de biibylone, and they had t^ken their departure. 
+
+It was with diihculty that Toussaint had obtained permission 
+to pack up a little linen and clothes and a few toilet articles. 
+Cosete had taken only her ix)rtfolio and her blotting-book. 
+
+Jean Valjean, with a view to augmenting the solitude and 
+the mystery of this departure, had arranged to quit the pavilion 
+of the Rue Plumet only at dusk, which had allowed Cosette 
+time to write her note to Marius. They had arrived in the Rue 
+de riiomiu. Armé after night had fully fallen. 
+
+They had gone to bed in silence. 
+
+The lodgings in the Rue de l'Homme Armé were situated on 
+A back court, on the second floor, and were composed of two 
+sleeping-rooms, a dining-room and a kitchen adjoining the 
+dining-room, with a gurnet where there was a folding-bed, and 
+which fell to Toussaint's . !iare. The dining-room was an ante- 
+chamber as well, and separated the two bedrooms. The apart- 
+ment was provided with all necessary utensils. 
+
+People re-acquire confidence as foolishly as they lose it ; hu- 
+man nature is so constituted. Hîirdly had Jean Valjean reaehe<f 
+th< Rue de l'Homme Armé when his anxiety waa lightened acr 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. 807 
+
+0j degrees dissipated: There are soothing spots which act in 
+i»ome sort mechamcally on the mind. An obscure street, peace- 
+able inhabitants. Jean Valjeau experienced an indescribable 
+contagion of tranquillity in tiiat alley of ancient Paris, which is 
+so narrow that it is barred against carriages by a transverse 
+beam placed on two posts, which is deaf and dumb in the midst of 
+the clamorous city, dimly lighted at mid-day, and is, so to speak, 
+incapable of emotions between two rows of lofty houses cen- 
+tunes old, which hold their peace like ancients as they are. There 
+was a touch of stagnant oblivion in that street. Jean Valjean 
+drew his breath once more there. How could he be found there ? 
+
+His first care was to place the inseparable beside him. 
+
+He sl^ w^. Night brings wisdom; we may add, night 
+sooths. On the following morning he awoke in a mood that 
+was almost gay. He thought the dining-room charming, though 
+it was hideous, furnished with an old round table, a loug side- 
+board surmounted by a slanting mirror, a dilapidated arm-chair, 
+and several plain chairs which were encumbered with Tous- 
+sainfs packages. In one of these packages Jean Valjean's uni- 
+form of a National Guard was visible through a rent. 
+
+As for Cosette, she had had Toussaint take some broth to her 
+room, and did not make her appearance until evening. 
+
+About five o'clock, Toussaint, who was going and coming and 
+busying herself with the tiny establishment, set on the table a 
+cold cMcken, which Cosette, out of deference to her father, con- 
+sented to glance at. 
+
+That done, Cosette, under the pretext of an obstinate sick 
+headache, had bade Jean Valjean good night and had shut her- 
+self np in her chamber. Jean Valjean had eaten a wing of the 
+chicken with a good appetite, and with his elbows on the table, 
+having gradually recovered his serenity, had regained posses- 
+sion of his sense of security. 
+
+While he was discussing this modest dinner, he had, twice oi 
+thrice, noticed in a confused way, Toussaint's stammering 
+words as she said to him : *' Monsiem*, there is something going 
+on, they are fighting in Paris." But absorbed in a throng of 
+inward calculations, he had paid no heed to it. To tell the 
+truth, he had not heard her. He rose and began to pace from 
+the éoor to the window and from the window to the door, grow- 
+ing ever more serene. 
+
+With this calm, Cosette, his sole anxiety, recurred to his 
+Hioughts. Not tiiat he was troubled by this headache, a little 
+nervous crisis, a young girl's fit of sulks, the cloud of a ma 
+ment, ^ere would be nothing left of it in a day or two \ but ha 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+808 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+meditated on liie fatnre, and, as was his habit, he thought ot 
+it with pleasure. After all, he saw no obstacle to tiieir happj 
+hfe resuming its course. At certain hours, everything seems 
+impossible, at others everything appears easy ; Jean Valjeaa 
+was in the midst of one of these good hours. They generaUj 
+succeed the bad ones, as day follows night, by virtue of thai 
+law of succession and of contrast which lies at tîie very founda* 
+tion of nature, and which superficial minds call antithesis. In 
+this {peaceful street where he had taken refuge, Jean Yaljeao 
+got rid of all that had been troubling him lot some time past 
+Tins very fact, that he had seen many shadows, made him begin 
+to perceive a. little azure. To have quitted the Rue Plumet 
+without complications or incidents was one good step already 
+accomplished. Perhaps it would be wise to go abroad, if only 
+for a few months, and to set out for London. Well, they 
+would go. What difference did it make to him whether he was 
+in France or in England, provided he had Cosette beside him? 
+Cosette was his nation. Cosette sufficed for his happiness ; the 
+idea that he, perhaps, did not suffice for Cosette's happiness, 
+that idea which had formerly be3n the cause of his fever and 
+sleeplessness, did not even present itself to his mind. He was 
+va a state of collapse from all his past sufferings, and he was 
+fully entered on optimism. Cosette was by his side, she 
+seemed to be his ; an optical illanon which <^very one has expe- 
+rienced. He arranged in his own mind, w:th «ùl sorts of felid- 
+touB devices, his departure for England with Cosette, and he 
+beheld his felicity reconstituted wherever he pleased, in the 
+perspective of his revery. 
+
+As he paced to and fro with long strides, his glance suddenly 
+encountered something strange. 
+
+In the inclined mirror facing him which surmounted the side- 
+board, he saw the four lines which îcWaw : — 
+
+^^ My dearest, alas ! my father insists on our setting out imme^ 
+dtately. We shall be this evening in the Rue de l'Homme 
+Armé, No. !• In a week we shall be in England. CosBTTt. 
+June 4th." 
+
+Jean Val jean halted, perfectly haggard. 
+
+Cosette on her arrived had placed her blotting-book on the 
+sideboard in front of the miiTor, and, utterly absorbed in her 
+agony of grief, had foi^otten it and left it there, without even 
+observing that she had left it wide open, and open at precisely 
+tiie page on which she had laid to dry the four lines which she 
+had penned, and which she had given in charge of the young 
+workman in the Rue Plumet. The writing had been printed oil 
+on the blotter. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT'-DENIS. 309 
+
+The mirror reflected the writing. 
+
+The result was, what is called in geometry, the symmetricok 
+image; so that the writing, reversed ou the blotter, was righted. 
+in the mirror and presented its natural appearance ; and Jean 
+Valjean had beneath his eyes the letter written by Cosette to 
+Marius on tiie preceding evening. 
+
+It was simple and withering. 
+
+Jean Valjean stepped up to the mirror. He read Hie four lines 
+again, bnt he did not believe them. They produced on him the 
+effect of appearing in a flash of lightning. It was a halluciDa< 
+tion, it was impossible. It was not so. 
+
+Little by little, his perceptions became more precise , he looked 
+at Cosette's bloUing-book, and the consciousness of the reality 
+returned to him. He caught up the blotter and said : ''It comes 
+from there." He feverishly examined the four lines imprinted 
+on the blotter, the reversal of the letters converted into an odd 
+scrawl, and he saw no sense in it. Then he said to hi&iself : 
+**' But this signifies nothing ; there is nothing written here.*' And 
+he drew a long breath wiôi inexpressible relief. lYho has not 
+experienced those foolish joys in horrible instants ? The soul 
+does not surrender to despair until it has exhausted all illusions. 
+
+He held the blotter in his hand and contemplated it in stupid 
+• lelight, almost ready to laugh at the hallucination of which he 
+Irad been the dupe. All at once his eyes fell upon the mirror 
+again, and again he beheld the vision. There were the four 
+lines outlined with inexorable clearness. This time it was no 
+mirage. The recurrence of a vision is a reality; it was pal- 
+pable, it was the writing restored in the mirror. He understood. 
+
+Jean Valjean tottered, dropped the blotter, and fell into the old 
+arm-chair beside the buffet, with drooping head, and glassy eyes, 
+in utter bewilderment. He told himéelf that it was plain, that 
+the light of the world had been eclipsed forever, and that Cosette 
+had written that to some one. Then he heard his soul, which 
+had become terrible once more, give vent to a dull roar m the 
+gloom. Try then the effect of taking from the lion the dog 
+which he has in his cage I 
+
+Strange and sad to say, at that very moment, Marius had not 
+yet received Cosettc's letter ; chance had treacherously carried it 
+to Jean Valjean before delivering it to Marius. Up to that day, 
+Jean Valjean had not been vanquished by trial. He had been 
+subjected to fearful proofs ; no violence of bad fortune had been 
+spared him ; the ferocity of fate, armed with all vindictiveness 
+and all social scorn, had taken him for her prey and had raged 
+against him. He had accepted every extremity when it had 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+810 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+been necessary ; he had sacrificed his inviolability as a reformed 
+inan, had yielded up his liberty, risked his head, lost everything, 
+suffered everything, and he had remained disinterested and stoi- 
+cal to such a point that he might have been thought to be ab- 
+sent from himself like a martyr. Ilis conscience inured to every 
+assault of destiny, might have appeared to be forever impregna- 
+ble. Well, any one who had beheld his spiritual self would 
+have been obliged to concede that it weakened at that moment. 
+It was because, of all the tortures which he had undergone in 
+the course of this long inquisition to which destiny had doomed 
+him, this was the most terrible. Never had such pincers seized 
+him hitherto. He felt the mysterious stirring of all his latent 
+sensibilities. He felt the plucking at the strange chord. Alas I 
+the supreme trial, let us say rather, the only trial, is the loss of 
+the beloved being. 
+
+Poor old Jean Valjean certainly did not love Cosette other 
+wise than as a father ; but we have already remarked, above, 
+that into this paternity the widowhood of his life had introduced 
+all the shades of love ; he loved Cosette as his daughter, and he 
+loved her as his mother, and he loved her as his sister ; and, as 
+he had never had either a woman to love or a wife, as nature i» 
+a creditor who accepts nu protest, that sentiment also, the most 
+impossible to lose, was mingled with the rest, vague, ignorant, 
+pure with the purity of blindness, uncouscious, celestial, angelic, 
+divine ; less like a sentiment than like an instinct, less like an 
+instinct Uian like an imperceptible and invisible but real attrac- 
+tion ; and love, properly speaking, was, in his immense tender- 
+ness for Cosette, like the thread of gold in the mountain, concealed 
+and virgin. 
+
+Let the reader recall the situation of heart which we have al- 
+ready indicated. No marriage was possible between them ; not 
+even that of souls ; and yet, it is certain that their destinie^s 
+were wedded. With the exception of Cosette, that is to say, 
+with the exception of a childliood, Jean Valjean had never, in 
+the whole of his long life, known anything of that which may 
+be loved. The passions and loves which succeed eadi other 
+had not produced in him those successive green growths, tender 
+green or dark green, which can be seen in foUage which passes 
+through the winter and in men who pass fifty. In short, and 
+we have insisted on it more than once, all this interior fusion, 
+all this whole, of which the sum totiU was a lofty virtue, ended 
+in rendering Jean Valjean a father to Cosette. A strange father, 
+forged from the grandfather, the son,' the brotlier, and the hus- 
+band, that existed in Jean Valjean; a father in whom there 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DENIS. «IJ 
+
+Was included even a mother ; a father who loved Ck>sette and 
+adored her, and who held that child as his light, his horne^ hi£ 
+Jamily, his country, iiis paradise. 
+
+Thus when he saw that the end had absolutely come, that shf 
+was escaping from him, that she was slipping from his hands, 
+that she was gliding from him, like a cloud, like water, when he 
+bad before his eyes this crushing proof : ^^ another is the goal 
+of her heart, another is the wish of her life ; there is a deares 
+one, I am no longer anything but her father, I no longer exist'' 
+when he could no longer doubt, when he said to himself : ^^ Shi 
+is going away from me 2 " the grief which he felt surpassed th( 
+bounds of possibility. To have xione all that he had done foi 
+the purpose of ending like this ! And the very idea of being 
+nothing I Then, as we have just said, a quiver of revolt ran 
+tlu*ough him from head to foot. He felt, even in the very roote 
+of his hair, the immense re-awakening of egotism, and the / in 
+this man's abyss howled. 
+
+There is such a thing as the sudden giving way of the inward 
+subsoil. A despairing certainty does not make its way into a 
+man without thrusting aside and breaking certain profound ele* 
+inents which, in some cases, are the very man himself. Grief, 
+when it attains this shape, is a headlong flight of all the forces 
+of the conscience. These are fatal crises. Few among us 
+emerge from them still like ourselves and firm in duty. When 
+the limit of endurance is overstepped, the most imperturbable 
+virtue is disconcerted. Jean Valjeau took the blotter again, 
+and convinced himself afresh ; he remained bowed and as though 
+petrified and with staring eyes, over those four unobjectionable 
+lines ; and there arose within him such a cloud that one might 
+have thought that everything in this soul was crumbling away. 
+
+He examined this revelation, athwart the exaggerations of rev- 
+ery, with an apparent and terrifying calmness, for it is a fearful 
+thing when a man's calmness reaches the coldness of the statue. 
+
+He measui-ed the terrible step which his destiny had takeo 
+without his having a suspicion of the fact ; he recalled his fears 
+of the preceding siunmer, so foolishly dissipated ; he recognized 
+the precipice, it was still the same ; onlj-, Jean Valjeau was no 
+longer cu the brink, he was at the bottom of it. 
+
+The unprecedented and heart-rending thing aboutit was thai 
+he had fallen without perceiving it. All the light of his life 
+had departed, while he still fancied that he beheld the sun. 
+
+His instinct did not hesitate. He put together certain cir 
+cumstances, certain dates, certain blushes and certain pallor» 
+oa CosetteV part, and he said to himself ; ^^ It is he." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+012 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The divination of despair is a sort of mysterions bow whid 
+never misses its aim. He struck Marius witli his first conjec- 
+ture. He did not know the name, but he found the man in» 
+stantly. He distinctly perceived, in the background of the im- 
+placable conjuration of his memories, the unknown prowler of 
+the Luxembourg, that wretched seeker of love adventures, that 
+idler of romance, that idiot, that coward, for it is cowardly to 
+oome and make eyes at young girls who have beside them a 
+father who loves them. 
+
+After he had thoroughly verified the fact that this young man 
+was at the bottom of this situation, and that, everything pro- 
+ceeded from that quarter, he, Jean Val jean, the regenerated 
+man, the man who had so labored over his soul, the man who 
+had made so many efforts to resolve all life, all misery, and aO 
+onhappiness into love, looked into his own breast and there 
+beheld a spectre. Hate. 
+
+Great griefs contain something of dejection. They dis- 
+courage one with existence. The man into whom they entef 
+feels something within him withdraw from him. In his youth, 
+their visits are lugubrious ; later on they are sinister Alas, if 
+despair is a fearful thing when the blood is hot, when the haii 
+is black, when the head is erect on the body like the flame od 
+the torch, when the roll of destiny still retains its fuU thick- 
+ness, when the heart, full of desirable love, still possesses beat^ 
+which can be returned to it, when one has time loi redress, 
+when all women and all smiles and all the future and all the 
+horizon are before one, when the force of life is complete» what 
+is it in old age, when the years hasten on, growing ever paler, 
+to that twilight hour when one begins to behold the stars of 
+the tomb? 
+
+While he was meditating, Toussaint entered. Jean Valjeao 
+rose and asked her : — 
+
+'* In what quarter is it? Do you know ? " 
+
+Toussaint was struck dumb, and could only answer him : — 
+
+** What is it, sir?" 
+
+Jean Valjean began again : *^ Did you not tell me that just 
+BOW that there is fighting going on ? " 
+
+^^ Ah! yes, sir," replied Toussaint. ^' It is in the direction 
+of Saint-Merry." 
+
+There is a mechanical movement which oomes to us, uncon- 
+sciously, from the most profound depths of our thought It 
+was, no doubt, under the impulse of a movement of this sort, 
+and of which he was hardly conscious, that Jean Valjean, fivr 
+minutes later, found himself in the street. 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
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+
+
+SATNT^DENIS. 313 
+
+Bareheaded, he sat upon tiie stone post at the door of his 
+house. He seemed to be listening. 
+Night had come. 
+
+n. — The Street Urchin an Enemt op Light. 
+
+How long did he remain thus ? What was the ebb and flow 
+of this tragic meditation? Did he straighten up? Did he 
+remain bowed ? Had he been bent to breaking? Could lie still 
+rise and regain his footing in his conscience upon sonjetliing 
+solid? He probably would not have been able to tell himself. 
+
+The street was deserted. A few uneasy bourgeois, who 
+were rapidly returning home, hardly saw him. Each one for 
+himself in times of peril. The lamp-lighter came as usual to 
+light the lantern which was situated precisely opposite the door 
+of No. 7, and then went away. Jean Valjean would not have 
+appeared like a living man to any one who had examined him 
+in that shadow. He sat there on the post of his door, motion- 
+less as a form of ice. There is congealment in despair. The 
+alarm bells and a vague and stormy uproar were audible. In 
+the midst of all these, convulsions of the bell mingled with the 
+revolt, the clock of Saint-Paul struck eleven, gravely and with- 
+out haste ; for the tocsin is man ; the hour is God. The pas- 
+sage of the hour produced no effect on Jean Valjean; Jean 
+Valjean did not stir. Still, at about that moment, a brusque 
+report burst fortli in the direction of the Halles, a second yet 
+more violent followed ; it was probably that attack on the bar- 
+ricade in the Rue de la Chanvrerie which we have just seen re- 
+pulsed by Marius. At this double discharge, whose fury 
+seemed augmented by the stupor of the night, Jean Valjean 
+started ; he rose, turning towards the quarter whence the noise 
+proceeded ; then he fell back upon the post again, folded his 
+arms, and his head slowly sank on his bosom again. 
+
+He resumed his gloomy dialogue with himself. 
+
+All at once, he rtvisod his eyes ; some one was walking in the 
+street, he heard steps near him. He looked, and by the light 
+of the lanterns, in the direction of the street which ran into the 
+Rue-aux -Archives, he perceived a young, livid, and beaming face. 
+
+Gavroche had just arHved in the Rue l'Homme Armé. 
+
+Gavroche was staring into the air, apparently in search of 
+something. He saw Jean Valjean perfectly well, but he took 
+no notice of him. 
+
+Gavroche after staring into the air, stared below ; he raised 
+himself on tiptoe, and felt of the doors and windows of the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+314 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+ground-floor ; they were all shut, bolted, and padlocked. After 
+having authenticated the fronts of five or six barricaded houses 
+in this manner, the urchin shrugged his shoulders, and took 
+himself to task in these terms : — 
+
+" Pardi ! " 
+
+Then he began to stare into the air again. 
+
+Jean Valjean, who, an instant previously, in his then state of 
+mind, would not have spoken to or even answered any one, felt 
+irresistibly impelled to accost that child. 
+
+"What is the matter with you, my little fellow?" he said. 
+
+" The matter with me is that T am hungry," replied Gavroche 
+frankly. And he added : " Little fellow yourself." 
+
+Jean Valjean fumbled in his fob and pulled out a five-franc piece. 
+
+But Gavroche, who was of the wagtail species, and who 
+skipped vivaciously from one gesture to another, had jost 
+picked up a stone. He had caught sight of the lantern. 
+
+"See here," said he, "you still have your lanterns here. 
+Yon are disobeying the regulations, my friend. This is dis- 
+orderly. Smash that for me." 
+
+And he flung the stone at the lantern, whose broken glass fell 
+with such a clatter that the bourgeois in hiding behind their 
+curtains in the opposite house cried : " There is ' Ninety-three' 
+come again." 
+
+The lantern oscillated violently, and went out. The street 
+had suddenly became black. 
+
+"That's right, old street," ejaculated Gavroche, "put on 
+your night-cap." 
+
+And turning to Jean Valjean : — 
+
+" What do you call that gigantic monument that you have 
+there at the end of the street? It's the Archives, isn't it? I 
+must crumble up those big stupids of pillars a bit and make 
+a nice barricade out of them." 
+
+Jean Valjean stepped up to Gavroche. 
+
+" Poor creature," he said in a low tone, and speaking to him- 
+self, " he is hungry." 
+
+And he laid the hundred-sou piece in his hand. 
+
+Gavroche raised his face, astonished at the size of this sou; 
+he stared at it in the darkness, and the whiteness of the \% 
+son dazzled him. He knew five-franc pieces by hearsay ; their 
+reputation was agreeable to him ; he was delighted to see one 
+close to. He said : — 
+
+" Let us contemplate the tiger." 
+
+He gazed at it for several minutes in ecstasy ; then, turning 
+to Jean Valjean, he held out the coin to* him, and s$i(l 
+majestically to him : — 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 815 
+
+«' Bourgeois, I prefer to smash lanterns. Take back yoar 
+ferocious beast. You can't bribe me. That has got five daws ; 
+but it doesn't scratch me.'* 
+
+** Haye you a mother? " asked Jean Valjean. 
+
+Gavroche replied : — 
+
+*' More than you have, perhaps." 
+
+^^ Well/' returned Jean Vaijean, *' keep the money for your 
+mother !" 
+
+Gavroche was touched. Moreover, he had just noticed that 
+the man who was addressing him had no hat, and this inspired 
+him with confidence. 
+
+" Truly," said he, " so it wasn't to keep me from breaking 
+the lanterns ? " 
+
+" Break whatever you please." 
+
+" You're a fine man," said Gavroche. 
+
+And he put the five-franc piece into one of his pockets. 
+
+His confidence having increased, he added : — 
+
+** Do you belong in this street?" 
+
+"Yes, why?" 
+
+** Can you tell me where No. 7 is? " 
+
+" What do you want with No. 7? " 
+
+Here the child paused, he feared that he had said too much ; 
+he thrust his nails energetically into his hair and contented him- 
+self with replying : — 
+
+*«Ah! Here it is." 
+
+An idea flashed through Jean Valjean's mind. Anguish does 
+have these gleams. He said to the lad : — 
+
+"Are you the person who is bringing a letter that I am 
+expecting?" 
+
+" You?" said Gavroche. " You are not a woman." 
+
+** The letter is for Mademoiselle Cosette, is it not?" 
+
+** Cosette," muttered Gavroche. *' Yes, I believe that is the 
+queer name." 
+
+** Well," resumed Jean Valjean, "I am the person to whom 
+you are to deliver the letter. Give it here." 
+
+" In that case, you must know that I was sent from the barri- 
+cade." 
+
+** Of course," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+Gavroche engulfed his hand in another of his pockets and 
+drew out a paper folded in four. 
+
+Then he made the military salute. 
+
+" Respect for despatches," said he. " It comes from the 
+Provisional Government." 
+
+" Give it to me," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+316 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+GaTYOohe held the paper elevated above his head. 
+
+^^ Doo't go and fancy it's a love letter. It is for a womanf 
+but it's for the people. We men fight and we respect the f&ir 
+Bex. We are not as they are in fine society, where there are 
+fions who send chickens ^ to camels." 
+
+" Give it to me." 
+'. "After all," oontinuQd Gavroche, "you have the air of »e 
+honest man." 
+
+" Give it to me quick." 
+
+" Catch hold of it." 
+
+And he handed the paper to Jean Valjean. 
+
+" And xoake haste, Monsieur What's-your-name, for Mamselle 
+Cosette is waiting." 
+
+Gavroche was satisfied with himself for having produced this 
+remark. 
+
+Jean Valjean began again : — 
+
+" Is it to Saint-Merry that the answer is to be sent? " 
+
+"There you are making some of those bits of pastay \ti1- 
+garly called brioches [blunders]. This letter comes from the 
+barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, and I'm going back 
+there. Good evening, citizen." 
+
+That said. Gavroche took himself off, or, to describe it 
+more exactly, fluttered away in the direction whence he had 
+come with a flight like that of an escaped bird. He plunged 
+back into the gloom as though he made a hole in it, with the 
+rigid rapidity of a projectile ; the alley of THomrae Armé be- 
+came silent and solitary once more ; in a twinkling, that strange 
+child, who had about, him something of the shadow and of tlio 
+dream, had buried himself in the mists of the rows of bla<.*À 
+houses, and was lost tliere, like smoke in the dark ; ami one 
+might have thought that he had dissipated and vanished, had 
+there not taken place, a few minutes after his disappearance. » 
+startling shiver of glass, and had not the magnificent cra^h of :i 
+lantern rattling down on the pavement onoe more abru|)t1y 
+awakened the indignant bourgeois. It was Gavroche upon hi.* 
+way through the Bue du Chaume. 
+
+
+
+m. — Whilb Cosettk and Toussaint are Aslebp. 
+
+Jean Valjean went into the house with Marins* letter. 
+He groped his way up the stairs, as pleased with the darkness 
+as an owl who grips his prey, opened and shut his door softly. 
+
+■ 1 Love lettem. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+8AINT--DEN1S. «17 
+
+Hstened to see whether he could hear any noise, -^ made sure 
+that, to all appearances Cosette and TouBSaint were asleep., and 
+[>lnnged three or four matches into the bottle of the Fumade 
+lighter before he could evoke a «park, so greatly did his hand 
+tremble. What he had just done smacked of Ùieft. At. last 
+the candle was lighted ; he leaned his elbows on the table, -un 
+folded the paper, and read. 
+
+In violent emotions, one does not read, one flings to thi 
+earth, so to speak, the paper which oqq Isolds,, 09c cmtches i\ 
+like a victim, one crushes it, one digs into it the nails of one's 
+wrath, or of one's joy ; one hastens to the end, odd leaps to the 
+beginning ; attention is at f-ever heat ; it takes up in .liho gross, 
+as it were, the essential points ; it seizes on one point, and the 
+rest disappears. In Marius' note to Cosette, Jean Yaljean saw 
+only these words. 
+
+'' I die. When thou readest this, my soul wiU be near thee." 
+
+In the presence of these two lines, he was horribly dazzled ; 
+he remained for a moment, crushed, as it were, by the change of 
+emotion which was taking place within him, he stared at 
+M anus' note with a sort of intoxicated amazeiAent, he had 
+before his eyes that splendor, the death of a hated indi\adual. 
+
+He uttered a frightful cry of inward joy. So it was all over. 
+The catastrophe had arrived sooner than he had dared to hope. 
+The being who obstnicted his destiny was disappearing. That 
+man had taken himself off of his own accord, freely, willingly. 
+This man was going to his death, and he, Jean Valjean, had had 
+no hand in the matter, and it was through no fault of his. Per- 
+haps, even, he is already dead. Here his fever entered into calcu- 
+lations. No, he is not dead yet. The letter had evidently been 
+intended for Cosette to read on the following morning ; after 
+the two discharges that were heard between eleven o'clock and 
+midnight, nothing more has taken place ; the barricade will not 
+be attacked seriously until daybreak ; but tiiat makes no differ- 
+ence, from the moment when '' that man" is concerned in this 
+war, he is lost ; he is caught in the gearing. Jean Valjean felt 
+himself delivered. So he was about to find himself alone with 
+Cosette once more. The rivalry would cease ; the future was 
+beginning again. He had but to keep this note in his pocket. 
+Cosette would never know what had become of that man. All 
+that there requires to be done is to let things take their own 
+course. This man cannot escape. If he is not already dead, it 
+is certain that he is about to die. What good fortune ! 
+
+Having said all this to himself, he became gloomy. 
+
+Then he went down stairs and woke up the porter. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+818 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+About an hour later, Jean Yaljean went oat in the complete 
+oostome of a National Guard, and with his arms. The porte 
+had easily found in the neighborhood the wherewithal to com- 
+plete his equipment. He haui a loaded gun and a cartridge-box 
+filled with cartridges. 
+
+He strode off in the direction of the markets. 
+
+
+
+IV. — Gaybochb's Excess of Zbai.* 
+
+In the meantime, Gavroche had had an adventure. 
+
+Gavroche, after having conscientiously stoned the lantern in 
+the Rue du Chaume, entered the Rue des Vielles-Haudriettes« 
+and not seeing ^^ even a oaf there, he thought the oppcntunitj 
+a good one to strike up all the song of which he was capable. 
+His march, far from being retarded by his singing, was accel- 
+erated by it. He began to sow along the sleeping oi terrified 
+houses these incendiary couplets : — 
+
+" L'oiseau mëdit dans les charmiUei^ 
+Et prétend qu'hier Atala 
+Avec un Russe s'en alla. 
+Où vont les belles flUes» 
+Lon la. 
+
+" Mon ami Pierrot, tu babiUes, 
+Parce que l'autre jour Mila 
+Cogna sa vitre et m'appela. 
+Où vont les belles fillet 
+Lon la. 
+
+** Les drôlesses sont fort gentilles^ 
+Leur poison qui m'ensorcela 
+Griserait Monsieur Orfila. 
+Où vont les belles filles, 
+Lon la. 
+
+^J'aime l'amour et les bisbilles. 
+J'aime Agnès, j'aime Pam^a, 
+Lise en m'allumant se brûla. 
+Où vont les belles filles, 
+Lon la. 
+
+''Jadis, quand je vis les mantilles 
+De Suzette et de Zéi\ti, 
+Mon ame à leurs plis se mêla. 
+Où vont les belles filles. 
+Lon la. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENJS. 319 
+
+** Amour, quand dans Tombre oh tu brillfib. 
+Tu coiffes de roses Lola, 
+Je me damnerais pour cela. 
+OU vont les belles filles, 
+Lon la. 
+
+** Jeamie ^ ton miroir tu t'habilles! 
+
+ÎCon cœur un beau jour s'envola. 
+
+Je crois que c'est Jeanne qui Ta. 
+
+Oh vont les belles filles, 
+
+lion la. 
+
+*Le soir, en sortant des quadrillei, 
+Je montre aux ëtoiles Stella, 
+Et je leur dis : * Régardez-la.' 
+Oh vont les belles filles, 
+LonU."i 
+
+Gavroche, as he sang, was lavish of his pantomime Gesture 
+is the strong point of the refrain. His face, an inexhaustible 
+repertory of masks, produced grimaces more convulsing and 
+more fantastic than the rents of a cloth torn in a high gale. 
+Unfortunately, as he was alone, and as it was night, this was 
+neither seen nor even visible. Such wastes of riches do occur. 
+
+All at once, he stopped short. 
+
+'* Let us inten*upt the romance,'* said he. 
+
+His feline eye had just descried, in the recess of a carriage 
+door what is called in painting, an ensemble, that is to say, a 
+person and a thing ; the thing was a hand-cart, the person was a 
+man from Auvergene who was sleeping therein. 
+
+The shafts of the cart rested on the pavement, and the Au 
+vergnat's head was supported against the front of the cart. His 
+body was coiled up on this inclined plane and his feet touched 
+the ground. 
+
+Gavroche, with his experience of the things of this world, reo- 
+
+^ The bird slanders in the elms. 
+And pretends that yesterday, Atala 
+Went off with a Russian, 
+Where fair maids go, 
+i Lon la. 
+
+My friend Pierrot, thou pratest, because fifila knocked at her pane the other 
+day and called me. The jades are very charming, their poison which be- 
+witched me would intoxicate Monsieur Orfila. I'm fond of love and its bicker- 
+ings, I love Agnes, I love Pamela, Lise burned herself in setting me aflame. 
+In former days when I saw the mantillas of Snzette and of Zéila, my soul 
+mingled with their folds. Love, when thou gleamest in the dark thou crown- 
+est Lola with roses, I would lose my soul for that. Jeanne, at thy mirror thou 
+deckest ihyself I One fine day, my heart fiew forth. I think that it Is Jnanne 
+who has it. At night, when I come from the quadrilles, I show Stella to the 
+itars, and I saj to them : " Behold her.' ' Where fair maids go, lon Iil 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+320 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+ognized a drunkeD man. He was some corner errand-man wht 
+had drank too much and was sleeping too much. 
+
+''There now," thought Gavroche, ''that's what the summer 
+nights are good for. We'll take the cart for the Republic, and 
+leave the Auvergnat for the Monarchy." 
+
+His mind had just been illuminated by this flash of light :~ 
+
+" How bully that cart would look on our barricade ! " 
+
+The Auvergnat was snoring. 
+
+Gavroche gently tugged at tSe cart from behind, and at the Aih 
+vergnat from the front, that is to say, by the feet, and at the 
+expiration of another minute the imperturbable Auvergnat was 
+reposing flat on the pavement. 
+
+The cart was free. 
+
+Gavroche, habituated to facing the unexpected in all quarters, 
+had everything about him. He fumbled in one of his i)Ockels, 
+and pulled from it a scrap of paper and a bit of red pencil filched 
+from some carpenter. 
+
+He wrote : — 
+
+** Received thy cart." 
+
+And he signed it: " Gavroche." 
+
+That done, he put the paper in the pocket of the still snoring 
+Auvergnates velvet vest, seized the cart shafls in both hands, 
+and setoff in the direction of the Halles, pushing the cart before 
+him at a hard gallop with a glorious and triumphant uproar. 
+
+This was perilous. There was a post at the Royal Printing 
+Establishment. Gavroche did not think of this. This post was 
+occupied by the National Guards of the suburbs. The squad 
+began to wake up, and heads were raised from camp beds. Two 
+sti'eet lanterns broken in succession, that ditty sung at the top 
+of the lungs. This was a great deal for those cowardly streets, 
+which desire to go to sleep at sunset, and which put tlie extin- 
+guisher on their candles at such an early hour. For the last 
+hour, that boy had been creating an uproar in that peaceable 
+arrondissement, the uproar of a fly in#a bottle. The sergeant 
+of the banlieue lent an ear. He waited. He was a prudent man. 
+
+The mad rattle of the cart, filled to overflowing the possible 
+measure of waiting, and decided the sergeant to make a recon- 
+naisance. 
+
+♦* There's a whole band of them there ! " said he, " let us pro- 
+ceed gently." 
+
+It was clear that the hydra of anarchy had emerged from ite 
+box and that it was stalking abroad through the quarter. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT-DEMS. 821 
+
+And the sergeant ventured out of the post with cautious tread. 
+
+All at once, Gavroche, pushing his cart in iront of him, and 
+at the ver^^ momeut when he was about to turn into the Rue des 
+Vielles-Uaudriettes, found himself face to face with a uniform, 
+A shako, a plume, and a gun. 
+
+For the second time, he stopped short. 
+
+** Hullo," said he, '* it's him. Good '^a.y, public order.*' 
+
+Gavroche's amazement was always brit,* and speedily thawed. 
+
+'* Where are you going, you rascal?" shouted the sergeant. 
+
+*' Citizen/' retorted Gavroche, ^'I haven't caiieJ you 'hour 
+gaois' yet. Why do you insult me ? " 
+
+'* Where are you going, you rogue? " 
+
+*' Monsieur,'* retorted Gavroche, *' perhaps you were a man 
+of wit yesterday) but you have degenerated this morning." 
+
+'' I adk yon where you are going, you villain?" 
+
+Gavroche replied : — 
+
+*' You speak prettily. Really, no one would suppose you as 
+old as you are. You ought to sell all your hair at a hundred 
+francs apiece. That would yield you five hundred francs." 
+
+•^ Where are you going? Where are you going? Where are 
+you going, bandit?" 
+
+Gavroche retorted again : — 
+
+*' What villanous words ! You must wipe your mouth better 
+the first time that they give you suck." 
+
+The sergeant lowered his bayonet. 
+
+** Will you tell me where you are going, you wretch?" 
+
+"General," said Gavroche, 'Tm on my way to look for a 
+doctor for my wife who is in labor." 
+
+** To arms !" shouted the sergeant. 
+
+The master-stroke of strong men consists in saving them- 
+selves by the very means that have ruined them ; Gavroche took 
+in the whole situation at a glance. It was the cart which had told 
+\gainst him, it was the cart's place to protect hini. 
+
+At the moment when the sergeant was on the point of making 
+his descent on Gavroche, tlie cart, converted into a projectile 
+and launched with all the letter's might, rolled down upon him 
+furiously, and the sergeant^ struck full In the stomach, tumbled 
+over backwards into the gutter while his gun went off in the air. 
+
+The men of the post had rushed out pell-mell at the sergeant**! 
+fihout ; the shot brought on a general random discharge, after 
+which they re-loaded their weapons and began again. 
+
+This blind-man*s-bnff musketry lasted for a quarter of an 
+hour and killed several panes of glass. 
+
+Id the meanwhile, Gavroche, who had retraced his steps at 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+822 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+full speed, halted five or six streets distant^ aod seated himself, 
+panting, on the stone poet which forms the corner of the £o' 
+fants-Rouges. 
+
+He listened. 
+
+After panting for a few minutes, he turned in the directioo 
+where the fusillade was raging, lifted his left hand to a level 
+with his nose and thrust it forwards three times, as he slapped 
+the back of his head with his right hand ; an imperious gesture 
+in which Parisian street-urchindom has condensed French irany, 
+and which is evidently efficacious, since it has already lasted 
+half a century. 
+
+This gajety was troubled by one bitter reflection. 
+
+'^ Yes," said he, ^^ I'm splitting with laughter, I'm twisting 
+with delight, I abound in joy, but Tm losing my way, I shall 
+have to take a roundabout way. If I only reach the barricade 
+in season !" 
+
+Thereupon he set out again on a iim. 
+
+And as he ran : — 
+
+" Ah, by the way, where was I?" said he. 
+
+And he resumed his ditty, as he plunged rapidly throogh the 
+streets, and this is what died away in the gloom : — • 
+
+** Mais il reste encore des bastilles. 
+Et je vais mettre le holà 
+Dans Torde public que voilà. 
+OU vont les belles flUea, 
+Lon la. 
+
+"Quelqu'un veut-il jouer aux quilles 1 
+Tout l'ancien monde s'écroula 
+Quand la grosse boule roula. 
+OU vont les belles filles, 
+Lon la. 
+
+** Vieux bon peuple, à coups de bequiUet» 
+Cassons ce Louvre ou sVtala 
+La monarchie en falbala. 
+Ob vont les belles flUea» 
+Lon la. 
+
+*'NouB en avons force les grilloir 
+Le roi Charles-Dix ce jour Vk^ 
+Tenait mal et se décolla. 
+Oin vont les belles filles» 
+Lon la." ï 
+
+1 But some prisons still remain, and I am going to put a stop to this sort of 
+public order. Does any one wish to play at skittles ? The whole ancient 
+world fell in ruin, when the big ball rolled. Good old folks, let us smisb 
+with our crutches that Louvre where tlie monarchy displayed itself in furbe- 
+lows. We have forced it» gates. On that day. King Charles X. did not «tick 
+well and came unglued. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+SAINT^DENIS. 3S«I 
+
+The poBlf s reooorse to arms was not without result. The 
+cart was conquered, the drunken man was taken prisoner. 
+The first was put in the pound, the second was Uiter on some- 
+what harassed before the councils of war as an accomplice. 
+The public ministry of the da}' proved its indefatigable zeal in 
+the defence of society, in this instance. 
+
+GavTOche's adventure, which has lingered as a tradition in 
+the quarter of the Temple, is one of the most terrible souvenirs 
+of the elderly bourgeois of the Marais, and is entitled in their 
+memories: <^The nocturnal attack by the post of the Royal 
+Printing Establishment." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+
+A SECOND BULLET STOPPED HIM SHORT. 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+LES MISERABLES. 
+
+
+
+Htan baljean. 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIRST.— THE WAR BETWEEN POUR WALLSc 
+I. — The Ohartbdis of the Fauboubq Saint Aj^toinb ajtp 
+
+THE SOYLLA OF THE FauBOTJRQ DU TeMP];.E«. . . 
+
+The two most memorable barricades which the observer o£ 
+social maladies can name do not belong to the period in 
+which the action of this work is laid. These two barricades, 
+both of them symbols, under two different aapects, of a.redoubt' 
+able situation, sprang from the earth at the time of the fatal 
+insurrection of June, 1848, the greatest war of the streets thati 
+history has ever beheld. 
+
+It sometimes happens that, even contrary to principles^ 
+even contrary to liberty, equality, and fraternity, even con-» 
+trary to the universal vote, eVen contrary to the government, 
+by all for all, from the depths of its anguish, of its discour- 
+agements and its destitutions, of its fevers, of its distresses, 
+of its miasmas, of its ignorances, of its darkness, that great 
+and despairing body, the rabble, protests against, and that the 
+populace wages battle against, the people. 
+
+Beggars attack the common right; the ochlocracy rises 
+against demos. 
+
+These are melancholy days ; for there is always a certain 
+amount of night even in this madness, there is suicide in this 
+duel, and those words which are intended to be insults -^ 
+beggars, canaille, ochlocracy, populace — exhibit, alas ! rather 
+the fault of those who reign than the fault of those who suf- 
+fer ; rather the fault of the privileged than the fault of the 
+disinherited. 
+
+For our own part, we never pronounce those words without 
+pain and without respect, for when philosophy fathoms the 
+facts to which they correspond, it often finds many a grandeur 
+beside these miseries. Athens was an ochlocracy; the beg' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+2 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+gars were the making of Holland ; the populace saTed Rome 
+more than once ; and the rabble followed Jesus Christ. 
+
+There is no thinker who has not at times contemplated tbe 
+magnificences of the lower classes. 
+
+It was of this rabble that Saint Jerome was thinking, no 
+doubt, and of all these poor people and all these vagabonds 
+and all these miserable people whence sprang the apostles and 
+the martyrs, when he uttered this mysterious saying : *' Fex 
+urbis, lex orhisy^ — the dregs of the city, the law of the eartk 
+
+The exasperations of this crowd which suffers and bleeds, 
+its violences contrary to all sense, directed against the princi- 
+ples which are its life, its masterful deeds against the right, 
+are its popular coups d^état and should be repressed. The man 
+of probity sacrifices himself, and out of his very love for this 
+crowd, he combats it. But how excusable he feels it even 
+while holding out against it ! How he venerates it even while 
+resisting it ! This is one of those rare moments, when, while 
+doing that which it is one's duty to do, one feels something 
+which disconcerts one, and which would dissuade one from 
+proceeding further; one persists, it is necessary, but con- 
+science, though satisfied, is sad, and the accomplishment of 
+duty is complicated with a pain at the heart. 
+
+June, 1848, let us hasten to say, was an exceptional fact, and 
+almost impossible of classification, in the philosophy of his- 
+tory. All the words which we have just utterôd, must be 
+discarded, when it' becomes a question of this extraordinary 
+revolt, in which one feels the holy anxiety of toil claiming its 
+rights. It was necessary to combat it, and this was a duty, 
+for it attacked the republic. But what was June, 1848, at bot- 
+tom ? A revolt of the people against itself. 
+
+Where the subject is not lost sight of, there is no digression ; 
+may we, then, be permitted to arrest the reader's attention 
+for a moment on the two absolutely unique barricades of which 
+we have just spoken and which characterized this insurrection 
+
+One blocked the entrance to the Faubourg Saint Antoine; 
+the other defended the approach to the Faubourg du Temple; 
+those before whom these two fearful masterpieces of civil 
+war reared themselves beneath the brilliant blue sky of June, 
+will never forget them. 
+
+The Saint-Antoine barricade was tremendous ; it was three 
+stories high, and seven hundred feet wide. It barred the vast 
+opening of the faubourg, that is to say, three streets, from 
+angle to angle ', ravined, jagged, cut up, divided, crenelated, 
+irith an imsc^n&e i^nt, buttressed with piles that were bas 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 3 
+
+feions in themselves, throwing ont capes here and tfaere^ power- 
+fully backed up by two great promontories of houses of the 
+faubourg, it reared itself like a cyclopean dike at the end of 
+the formidable place which had seen the 14th of Julyl Nine- 
+teen barricades were ranged, one behind the other, in the 
+depths of the streets behind this principal barricade. At the 
+very sight of it, one felt the agonizing suffering in the immense 
+faubourg, which had reached that point of extremity when a 
+distress may become a catastrophe. Of what was that barri- • 
+cade made? Of the ruins of three six-story houses demol- 
+ished expressly, said some. Of the prodigy of all wraths, said 
+others. It wore the lamentable aspect of all constructions of 
+hatred, ruin. It might be asked; Who built this? It might 
+also be said: Who destroyed this? It was the improvisa- 
+tion of the ebullition. Hold ! take this door I this grating ! this 
+penthouse ! this chimney-piece ! this broken brazier I this 
+cracked pot ! Give all I cast away all 1 Push this roll, dig, 
+dismantle, overturn, ruin everything I It was the collaboration 
+of the pavement, the block of stone, the beam, the bar of iron, 
+the rag, the scrap, the broken pane, the unseated chair, the 
+cabbage-stalk, the tatter, the rag, and the malediction. It was 
+grand and it was petty. It was the abyss parodied on the 
+public place by hubbub. The mass beside the atom ; the 
+strip of ruined wall and the broken bowl, — threatening frater- 
+nization of every sort of rubbish. Sisyphus had thrown his 
+rock there and Job his potsherd. Terrible, in short It was 
+the acropolis of the barefooted. Overturned carts broke the 
+uniformity of the slope ; an immense dray was spread out 
+there crossways, its axle pointing heavenward, and seemed a 
+scar on that tumultuous façade ; an omnibus hoisted gayly, by 
+main force, to the very summit of the heap, as though the 
+architects of this bit of savagery had wished to add a touch of 
+the street urchin humor to their terror, presented its horseless, 
+unharnessed pole to no one knows what horses of the air. This 
+gigantic heap, the alluvium of the revolt, figured to the mind an 
+Ossaon Pelion of all revolutions ; '93 on '89, the 9th of Thermi- 
+dor on the 10th of August, the 18th of Brumaire on the 11th of 
+January, Vendémiaire on Prairial, 1848 on 1830. The situation 
+deserved the trouble and this barricade was worthy to figure 
+on the very spot whence the Bastille had disappeared. If the 
+ocean made dikes, it is thus that it would build. The fury of 
+the flood was stamped upon this shapeless mass. What flood ? 
+The crowd. One thought one beheld hubbub petrified. One 
+thought one heard humming above this barricade as though 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+4 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+there had been over their hive, enormous, dark bees of violent 
+progress. Was it a thicket ? Was it a bacchanalia ? Was 
+it a fortress? Vertigo seemed to have constructed it with 
+blows of its wings. There was something of the cess-pool in 
+that redoubt and something Olympian in that confusion. One 
+there beheld in a pell-mell full of despair, the rafters of roofs, 
+bits of garret windows with their figured paper, window 
+sashes with their glass planted there in the ruins awaiting 
+the cannon, wrecks of chimneys, cupboards, tables, benches, 
+a howling topsyturveydom, and those thousand poverty- 
+stricken things, the very refuse of the mendicant, which con- 
+tain at the same time fury and nothingness. One would 
+have said that it was the tatters of a people, rags of wood, of 
+iron, of bronze, of stone, and that the Faubourg Saint Antoine 
+had thrust it there at its door, with a colossal flourish of the 
+broom making of its misery its barricade. Blocks resembling 
+headsman's blocks, dislocated chains, J)ieces of woodwork with 
+brackets having the form of gibbets, horizontal wheels pro- 
+jecting from the rubbish, amalgamated with this edifice of 
+anarchy the sombre figure of the old tortures endured by the 
+people. The barricade Saint Antoine converted everything 
+into a weapon ; everything that civil war could throw at the 
+head of society proceeded thence ; it was not combat, it was 
+a paroxysm; the carbines which defended this redoubt 
+among which there were some blunderbusses, sent bits of 
+earthenware, bones, coat-buttons, even the casters from 
+night-stands, dangerous projectiles on account of the brass. 
+This barricade was furious ; it hurled to the clouds an inex- 
+pressible clamor ; at certain moments, when provoking the 
+army, it was covered with throngs and tempest ; a tumultuous 
+crowd of flaming heads crowned it ; a swarm filled it ; it had a 
+thorny crest of guns, of sabres, of cudgels, of axes, of pikes 
+and of bayonets ; a vast red flag flapped iu the wind ; shouts of 
+3omir and, songs of attack, the roll of drums, the sobs of women 
+and bursts of gloomy laughter from the starving were to be 
+heard there. It was huge and living, and, like the back of an 
+electric beast, there proceeded from it little flashes of lightn'mg* 
+The spirit of revolution covered with its cloud this summit 
+where rumbled that voice of the people which resembles the 
+voice of God ; a strange majesty was emitted by this titanic 
+basket of rubbish. It was a heap of filth and it was Sinai. 
+
+As we have said previously, it attacked in the name of 
+the revolution — what? The revolution. It — that barri- 
+cade, chance, hazaid, disorder, terror, misunderstanding, the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 6 
+
+unknown — had facing it the Constituent Assembly, the 
+sovereignty of the people, universal suffrage, the nation, 
+the republic ; and it was the Carmagnole bidding defiance to 
+the Marseillaise. 
+
+Immense but heroic defiance, for the old faubourg is a hero. 
+
+The faubourg and its redoubt lent each other assistance. 
+The faubourg shouldered the redoubt, the redoubt took its 
+stand under cover of the faubourg. The vast barricade spread 
+out like a cliff against which the strategy of the African 
+generals dashed itself. Its caverns, its excrescences, its warts, 
+its gibbosities, grimaced, so to speak, and grinned beneath 
+the smoke. The mitraille vanished in shapelessness ; the 
+bomba plunged into it; bullets only succeeded in making 
+holes in it ; what was the use of cannonading chaos ? nnd the 
+regiments, accustomed to the fiercest visions of war, gazed 
+with uneasy eyes on that species of redoubt, a wild beast in 
+its boar-like bristling and a mountain by its enormous size. 
+
+A quarter of a league away, from the corner of the Rue àx9 
+Temple which debouches on the boulevard near the Chàteau- 
+d'Eau^ if one thrust one's head boldly beyond the point formed 
+by the front of the Dallemagne shop, one perceived in the 
+distance, beyond the canal, in the street which mounts the 
+slopes of Belleville at the culminating point of the rise, a 
+strange wall reaching to the second story of the house 
+fronts, a sort of hyphen between the houses on the right 
+and the houses on the left, as though the street had folded 
+back on itself its loftiest wall in order to close itself abruptly. 
+This wall was built of paving-stones. It was straight, cor* 
+rect, cold, perpendicular, levelled with the square, laid out by 
+rule and line. Cement was lacking, of course, but, as in the 
+case of certain Koman walls, without interfering with its rigid 
+architecture. The entablature was mathematically parallel 
+with the base. From distance to distance, one could distin- 
+guish on the gray surface, almost invisible loopholes which 
+resembled black threads. These loopholes were separated 
+from each other by equal spaces. The street was deserted as 
+far as the eye could reach. All windows and doors were 
+closed. In the background rose this barrier, which made a 
+blind thoroughfare of the street, a motionless and tranquil 
+wall ; no one was visible, nothing was audible ; not a cry, not 
+a sound, not a breath. A sepulchre. 
+
+The dazzling sun of June inundated this terrible thing witli 
+Ught. 
+
+It was the barricade of the Faubourg of the lemple. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+e LES MISERABLES. 
+
+As soon as one arrived on the spot, and canght sight of ^^^ 
+it was impossible, even for the boldest, not to become thought- 
+f u I before this mysterious apparition. It was ad j usted, jointed, 
+imbricated, rectilinear^ symmetrical and funereal. Science 
+and gloom met there. One felt that the chief of this barri- 
+cade was a geometrician or a spectre. One looked at it and 
+spoke low. 
+
+From time to time, if some soldier, an officer or representa- 
+tive of the people, chanced to traverse the deserted highway. 
+a faint, sharp whistle was heard, and the passer4)y fell dead 
+or wounded, or, if he escaped the bullet, sometimes a biscalen 
+was seen to ensconce itself in some closed shutter, in the 
+interstice between two blocks of stone, or in the plaster of a 
+wall. For the men in the barricade had made themselves tw« 
+small cannons out of two cast-iron lengths of gas-pipe, plugged 
+up at one end with tow and iire-clay. There was no waste of 
+useless powder. Nearly every shot told. There were corpses 
+here and there, and pools of blood on the pavement. I re- 
+member a white butterfly which went and came in the street 
+Summer does not abdicate. 
+
+In the neighborhood, the space beneath the portes cochàres 
+were encumbered with wounded. 
+
+One felt oneself aimed at by some person whom one did 
+not see, and one understood that guns were levelled at the 
+whole length of the street 
+
+Massed behind the sort of sloping ridge which the vaulted 
+canal forms at the entrance to the Faubourg du Temple, the 
+soldiers of the. attacking column, gravely and thoughtfully, 
+watched this dismal redoubt, this immobility, this passivity, 
+whence sprang death. Some crawled flat on their faces as 
+far as the crest of the curve of the bridge, taking care that 
+their shakos did not project beyond it. 
+
+The valiant Colonel Monteynard admired this barricade 
+with a shudder. — "How that is built !" he said to a Repre- 
+sentative. "Not one paving-stone projects beyond its neigh- 
+bor. It is made of porcelain." — At that moment, a bullet 
+broke the cross on his breast, and he fell. 
+
+" The cowards ! " people said. " Let them show themselves! 
+Let us see them ! They dare not ! They are hiding ! * 
+
+The barricade of the Faubourg du Temple, defended by 
+eighty men, attacked by ten thousand, held out for three 
+days. On the fourth, they did as at Zaatcha, as at Constaii- 
+tine, they pierced the houses, they came over the roi^fs, 
+the barricade was taken. Not one of the eighty coward£ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 7 
+
+thought of flight, all were killed there with the exception of 
+the leader, Barthélémy, of whom we shall speak presently. 
+
+The Saint-Antoine barricade was the tumult of thunders-, 
+the barricade of the Temple was silence. The difference 
+between these two redoubts was the difference between the 
+formidable and the' sinister. One seemed a maw ; the other a 
+mask. 
+
+Admitting that the gigantic and gloomy insurrection of 
+Jnne was composed of a wrath and of an enigma, one divined 
+in the first barricade the dragon, and behind the second the 
+sphinx. 
+
+These two fortresses had been erected by two men named, 
+the one, Cournet, the other, Barthélémy. Coumet made the 
+Saint-Antoine barricade; Barthélémy the barricade of the 
+Temple. Each was the image of the man who had built it. 
+
+Coumet was a man of lofty stature ; he had broad shoulders, 
+a red face, a crushing fist, a bold heart, a loyal soul, a sincere 
+and terrible eye. Intrepid, energetic, irascible, stormy; the 
+most cordial of men, the most formidable of combatants. 
+War, strife, conflict, were the very air he breathed and put 
+him in a good humor. He had been an officer in the navy, and, 
+from his gestures and his voice, one divined that he sprang 
+from the ocean, and that he came from the tempest; he 
+carried the hurricane on into battle. With the exception of 
+the genius, there was in Cournet something of Danton, as, 
+with the exception of the divinity, there was in Danton some- 
+thing of Hercules. 
+
+Barthélémy, thin, feeble, pale, taciturn, was a sort of 
+tragic street urchin, who, having had his ears boxed by a 
+policeman, lay in wait for him, and killed hint, and at seven- 
+teen was sent to the galleys. He came out and made this 
+barricade. 
+
+Later on, fatal circumstance, in London, proscribed by all, 
+Barthélémy slew Cournet. It was a funereal duel. Some time 
+afterwards, caught in the gearing of one of those mysterious 
+adventures in which .passion plays a part, a catastrophe in 
+which French justice sees extenuating circumstances, ard in 
+which English justice sees only death, Bartholeniy was hanged. 
+The sombre social construction is so made that, thanks to 
+material destitution, thanks to moral obscurity, that unhappy 
+being who possessed an intellipfonce, certainly firm, ]K)ssibly 
+great, began in France with the galleys, and ended in Eng- 
+land with the gallows. Barthélémy, oti occasion, flew bat 
+one flag, the black flag. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+IL — What Is to Be Donk in the Abyss ip One Dut? 
+
+Not Convkiwk. 
+
+SixTKKN years count m the subterranean education of insnr 
+ret'tion, and June, 1848, knew a great deal* more about it than 
+June, 1S'A2. So the barricade of the line de la Chanvrerie was 
+only an outline, and an embryo compared to the two colossal 
+barricades which we have just sketched; but it was formi- 
+dable for that epocn. 
+
+The insurgents, under the eye of Enjolras, for Marins no 
+longer looked after anything, had made good use of the night 
+The barri(iade had been not only repaired, but augmented 
+They had raised it two feet. Bars of iron planted in the 
+pavement resembled lances in rest. All sorts of rubbish 
+brought and added from all directions complicated the ex- 
+ternal confusion. The redoubt had been cleverly made over 
+into a wall on the inside and a thicket on the outside. 
+
+The staircase of paving-stones which permitted one to 
+mount it like the wall of a citadel had been reconstructed. 
+
+The barricade hail been put in order, the tap-room disen- 
+cumbered, the kitchen appropriated for the ambulance, the 
+dressing of the wounded completed, the powder scattered on 
+the ground and on the tables had been gathered up, bullets 
+run, cartridges manufactured, lint scraped, the fallen weapons 
+re-distributed, the interior of the redoubt cleaned, the rub- 
+bish swept up, corpses removed. 
+
+They laid the dead in a heap in the Mondétonr lane, of 
+which they were still the masters. The pavement was red 
+for a long time at that spot. Among the dead there were 
+four National Guardsmen of the suburbs. Enjolras had their 
+uniforms laid aside. 
+
+Enjolras had advised two hours of sleep. Advice from 
+Enjolras was a command. Still, only three or four took 
+advantage of it. 
+
+Feuilly employed these two hours in engraving this inscrip 
+tion on the wall which faced the tavern : — 
+
+LONG LIVE THE PEOPLES! 
+
+These four words, hollowed out in the rough stone with a 
+nail, could still be read on the wall in 1848. 
+
+The three women had profited b^" the respite of the night 
+to vanish definitively; which allowed the insurgents to breathe 
+more freely. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAJH. 9 
+
+They had found means of taking refuge in some neighbor, 
+ing house. 
+
+The greater part of the wounded were able, and wished, to 
+fight stilL On a litter of mattresses and trusses of straw in 
+the kitchen, which had been converted into an ambulance, 
+there were five men gravely wounded, two of whom were 
+municipal guardsmen. The municipal guardsmen were at- 
+•iended to first. 
+
+In the tap-room there remained only Mabeuf tinder his 
+olack cloth and Javert bound to his post. 
+
+" This is the hall of the dead," said Enjolras. • 
+
+In the interior of this hall, barely lighted by a candle at one 
+end, the mortuary table being behind the post like a horizon- 
+tal bar, a sort of vast, vague cross resulted from Javert erect 
+and Mabeuf lying prone. 
+
+The pole of the omnibus, although snapped off by the fusil- 
+lade, was still sufficiently upright to admit of their fastening 
+the flag to it 
+
+Enjolras, who possessed that quality of a leader, of always 
+doing what he said, attached to this staff the bullet-ridden 
+and bloody coat of the old man's. 
+
+No repast had been possible. There was neither bread nor 
+meat. The fifty men in the barricade had speedily exhausted 
+the scanty provisions of the wine-shop during the sixteen 
+hours which they had passed there. At a given moment, 
+every barricade inevitably becomes the raft of la Méduse, 
+They were obliged to resign themselves to hunger. They 
+had then reached the first hours of that Spartan day of the 
+6th of June when, in the barricade Saint-Merry, Jeanne, sur- 
+rounded by the insurgents who demanded bread, replied to 
+all combatants crying: "Something to eat !" with :" Why ? 
+It is three o'clock; at four we shall be dead." 
+
+As they could no- longer eat, Enjolras forbade them to 
+irinki He interdicted wine, and portioned out the brandy. 
+
+They had found in the cellar fifteen full bottles hermeti- 
+cally sealed. Enjolras and Combeferre examined them. 
+Combeferre when he came up again said: — "Tt^s the old 
+stock of Father Hucheloup, who began business as a grocer.'' 
+— " It must be real wine," observed Bossuet. " It's lucky that 
+Grantaire is asleep. If he were on foot, there would be a 
+good deal of difiiculty in saving those bottles." — Enjolras, in 
+spite of all murmurs, placed his veto on the fifteen bottles, 
+and, in order that no one might touch them, he had them 
+plaotf y under the table on which Father Mabeuf was lying. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+10 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+About two o'clock in the morning, they reckoned up their 
+strength. There were still thirty-seven of them. 
+
+The day began to dawn. The torch, which had been re- 
+placed in its cavity in the pavement, had just been extin* 
+guished. The interior of the barricade, that species of tiny 
+court-yard appropriated from the street, was bathed in shadowsi, 
+and resembled, athwart the vague, twilight horror, the deck of 
+a disabled ship. The combatants, as they went and camo, 
+moved about there like black forms. Above that terrible 
+nesting-place of gloom the stories of the mute houses were 
+lividly outlined; at the very top, the chimneys stood palely 
+out. The sky was of that charming, undecided hue, which 
+may be white and may be blue. Birds flew about in it with 
+cries of joy. The lofty house which formed the back of the 
+barricade, being turned to the East, had upon its roof a rosy 
+reflection. The morning breeze ruffled the gray hair on the 
+head of the dead man at the third-story window. 
+
+"I am delighted that the torch has been extinguished,'' 
+said Courfeyrac to Feuilly. "That torch flickering in the 
+wind annoyed me. It had the appearance of being afraid. 
+The light of torches resembles the wisdom of cowards; it 
+gives a bad light because it trembles." 
+
+Dawn awakens minds as it does the birds ; all began to 
+talk. 
+
+Joly, perceiving a cat prowling on a gutter, extracted phi- 
+losophy from it. 
+
+"What is the cat?*' he exclaimed. "It is a corrective. 
+The good God, having made the mouse, said : * Hullo ! I have 
+committed a blunder.' And so he made the cat. The cat is 
+the erratum of the mouse. The mouse, plus the cat, is the 
+proof of creation revised and corrected." 
+
+Combeferre, surrounded by students and artisans, was 
+speaking of the dead, of Jean Prouvaire, of Bahorel, of 
+Mal)euf, and even of Cabuc, and of Enjolras' sad severity. 
+He said: 
+
+" Harmodius and Aristogiton, Brutus, Chereas, Stephanus, 
+Cromwell, Charlotte Cord ay, Sand, have all had their moment 
+of agony when it was too late. Our hearts quiver so, and 
+human life is such a mystery that, even in the case of a 
+civic murder, even in a murder for liberation, if there be 
+such a thing, the remorse for having struck a man surpasses 
+the joy of having served the human race." 
+
+Ancl, such are the windings of the exchange of speech, that, 
+a moment later, by a transition brought about through Jeac 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. U 
+
+Prouvaire's verses, Conibeferre was comparing the translators 
+of the Georgics, Raux with Cournaud, Cournand with Delille, 
+pointing out the passages translated by Maliilatre, particularly 
+the prodigies of Caesar's death ; and at that word, C(esar, the 
+conversation reverted to Brutus. 
+
+" Caesar," said Combeferre, " fell justly. Cicero was severe 
+towards Caesar, and he was right. That severity is not dia- 
+tribe. When Zoilus insults Homer, when Maevius insults 
+Virgil, when Visé insults Molière, when Pope insults Shaks 
+peare, when Frederic insults Voltaire, it is an old law of 
+envy and hatred which is being carried out ; geniuses attract 
+insult, great men are always more or less barked at. But 
+Zoilus and Cicero are two different persons. Cicero is an 
+arbiter in thought, just as Brutus is an arbiter by the 
+sword. For my own part, I blame that last justice, the 
+blade; but antiquitjr admitted it. Caesar, the violater of 
+the Rubicon, conferring, as though they came from him, the 
+dignities which emanated from the people, not rising at the 
+entrance of the senate, committed the acts of a king and 
+almost of a tyrant, regia ac pene tyrannica. He was a 
+great man ; so much the worse, or so much the better ; the 
+lesson is but the more exalted. His twenty-three wounds 
+touch me less than the spitting in the face of Jesus Christ. 
+Caesar is stabbed by the senators ; Christ is cuffed by lackeys. 
+One feels the God through the greater outrage." 
+
+Bossuet, who towered above the interlocutors from the 
+summit of a heap of paving-stones, exclaimed, rifle in hand: 
+
+"Oh Cydathenaeum, Oh Myrrhinus, Oh Probalinthus, Oh 
+graces of the ^Eantides ! Oh ! Who will grant me to pro- 
+nounce the verses of Homer like a Greek of Laurium or of 
+Edapteon ? " 
+
+III. — Light and Shadow. 
+
+Enjolras had been to make a reconnoissance. He had 
+made his way out through Mondetour lane, gliding along 
+close to the houses. 
+
+The insurgents, we will remark, were full of hope. The 
+manner in which they had repulsed the attack of the preced- 
+ing night had caused them to almost disdain in advance the 
+attack at dawn. They waited for it with a smile. They had 
+no more doubt as to their success than as to their cause. 
+Moreover, succor was, evidently, on the way to them. 
+They reckoned on it. With that facility of triumphant 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+12 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+prophecy which is one of the sources of strength in the 
+French combatant, they divided the day whicyi was at hand 
+into three distinct phjises. At six o'clock in the morning a 
+regiment "which had been labored with," would turn; at 
+noon, the insurrection of all Pai'is ; at sunset, revolution. 
+
+They heard the alarm bell of Saint-Merry, which had not 
+been silent for an instant since the night before; a pnx^f 
+that the other barricade, the great one, Jeanne's, still held out 
+
+All these hopes were exchanged between the different 
+groups in a sort of gay and formidable whisper which resem 
+bled the warlike hum of a hive of bees. 
+
+Enjolras re-appeared. He returned from his sombre eagle 
+flight into outer darkness. He listened for a moment to all 
+this joy with folded arms, and one hand on his mouth. 
+Then, fresh and rosy in the growing whiteness of the dawn, 
+lie said : 
+
+"The whole army of Paris is to strike. A third of the 
+army is bearing down upon the barricades in which y^ou row 
+are. There is the National Guard in addition. I have picked 
+out the shakos of the fifth of the line, and the standard-bearers 
+of the sixth legion. In one hour you will be attacked. As 
+for the populiice, it was seething yesterday, to-day it is not 
+stirring. There is nothing to expect; nothing to hope for. 
+Neither from a faubourg nor from a regiment. You are 
+abandoned." 
+
+These words fell upon the buzzing of the groups, and pro- 
+duced on them the eifect caused on a swarm of bees by the 
+first drops of a storm. A moment of indescribable silence 
+ensued, in which death might have been heard flitting by. 
+
+This moment was brief. 
+
+A voice from the obscurest depths of the groups shouted tc 
+Eu jolras : 
+
+" So be it. Let us raise the barricade to a height of twenty 
+feet, and let us all remain in it. Citizens, let us offer the 
+protest of corpses. Let us show that, if the people abandon 
+the republicans, the republicans do not abandon the people.'' 
+
+These words freed the thought of all from the painlui 
+cloud of individual anxieties. It was hailed with an enthusi- 
+astic acclamation. 
+
+No one ever has known the name of the man who spoke 
+thus ; he was some unknown blouse-weai-er, a stranger, a 
+man forgotten, a passing hero, that gieat anonymous always 
+mingled in human crises and in social genèses who, at a given 
+moment, utters in a supreme fashion the decisive word, and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 13 
+
+wîio vanishes into the shadows after having represented for a 
+minute, in a lightning flash, the people and God. 
+
+This inexorable resolution so thorougly impregnated the air 
+of the 6th of June, 1832, that, almost at the very same hour, 
+on the barricade Saint-Merry, the insurgents were raising 
+that clamor which has become a matter of history and which 
+has been consigned to the documents in the case : — " What 
+matters it whether they come to our assistance or not ? Let 
+us get ourselves killed here, to the very last man/' 
+
+As the reader sees, the two barricades, though materially 
+isolated, were in communication with each other. 
+
+IV. — Minus Five, Plus One. 
+
+After the man who decreed the *^ protest of corpses " had 
+spoken, and had given this formula of their common soul, 
+there issued from all mouths a strangely satisfied and terrible • 
+cry, funereal in sense and triumphant in tone : 
+
+" Long live death ! Let us all remain here 1 " 
+
+« Why all ? '' said Enjolras. 
+
+«All! All!" 
+
+Enjolras resumed : 
+
+" The position is good ; the barricade is fine. Thirty men 
+are enough. Why sacrifice forty ? " 
+
+They replied : 
+
+*' Because not one will go away." 
+
+"Citizens," cried Enjolras, and there was an almost irritated 
+vibration in his voice, " this republic is not rich enough in 
+men to indulge in useless expenditure of them. Vain-glory 
+is waste. If the duty of some is to depart, that duty should 
+be fulfilled like any other." 
+
+Enjolras, the man-principle, had over his co-religionists that 
+sort of omnipotent power which emanates from the absolute 
+Still, great as was this omnipotence, a murmur arose. A leader 
+to the very finger-tips, Enjolras, seeing that they murmured, 
+insisted. He resumed haughtily : 
+
+"Let those who are afraid of not numbering more than 
+thirty say so." 
+
+The murmurs redoubled. 
+
+" Besides,'* observed a voice in one group, " it is easy enough 
+to talk about leaving. The barricade is hemmed in." 
+
+" Not on the side of the Hallos," said Enjolras. " The Rue 
+Mondetour is free, and through the Rue des Prêcheurs one can 
+reach the Marche des Innocents" 
+
+
+
+.Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+14 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+"And there," went on another voice, "you would he cajv 
+tured. You would fall in with some grand guard of the line 
+or the suburbs ; they will spy a man passing in blouse and cap. 
+* Whence come you ? ' * Don't you belong to the barricade ? ' 
+And they will look at your hands. You smell of powder. 
+Shot." 
+
+Enjolras, without making any reply, touched Combeferre's 
+shoulder, and the two entered the tap-room. 
+
+They emerged thence a moment later. Enjolras held in his 
+outstretched hands the four uniforms which he had laid aside. 
+Combeferre followed, carrying the shoulder-belts and the 
+shakos. 
+
+" With this uniform," said Enjolras, " you can mingle with 
+the ranks and escape ; here is enough for four." And he 
+flung on the ground, deprived of its pavement, the four uni- 
+forms. 
+
+No wavering took place in his stoical audience. Combeferre 
+took the word. 
+
+"Come," said he, "you must have a little pity. Do pu 
+know what the question is here ? It is a question of women. 
+See here. Are there women or are there not ? Are there 
+children or are there not ? Are there mothers, yes or no, who 
+rock cradles with their foot and who have a lot of little ones 
+around them ? Let that man of you who has never beheld a 
+nurse's breast raise his hand. Ah ! you want to get yourselves 
+killed, so do I — I, who am speaking to you ; but I do not want 
+to feel the phantoms of women wreathing their arras around 
+me. Die, if you will, but don't make others die. Suicides 
+like that which is on the brink of accomplishment here are 
+sublime ; but suicide is narrow, and does not admit of exten- 
+sion ; and as soon as it touches your neighbors, suicide is mur- 
+der. Think of the little blond heads; think of the white 
+locks. Listen, Enjolras has just told me that he saw at the 
+corner of the Rue du Cygne a lighted casement, a candle in a 
+poor window, on the fifth floor, and on the pane the quivering 
+shadow of the head of an old woman, who had the air of hav- 
+ing spent the night in watching. Perhaps she is the mother 
+of some one of you. Well, let that man go, and make haste 
+to say to his mother : 'Here! am, mother ! ' Let him feel at 
+ease, the task here will be performed all the same. When one 
+supports one's relatives by one's toil, one has not the right 
+to sacrifice oneself. That is deserting one's family. Anti 
+those who have daughters ! what are you thinking of ? You 
+get yourselves killed, you are dead, that is well. And to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 16 
+
+morrow? Young girls without bread — that is a terrible 
+thing. Man begs^ woman sells. Ah! those charming and 
+gracious beings, so gracious and so sweet, who have bonnets 
+of flowers, who fill the house with purity, who sing and prat- 
+tle, who are like a living perfume, who prove the existence 
+of angels in heaven by the purity of virgins on earth, that 
+Jeanne, that Lise, that Mimi, those adorable and honest créa* 
+cures who are your blessings and your pride, ah ! good God, 
+they will suffer hunger I What do you want me to say to 
+5rou ? There is a market for human flesh ; and it is not with 
+your shadowy hands, shuddering around them, that you will 
+prevent them from entering it I Think of the street, think 
+of the pavement covered with passers-by, think of the shops 
+past which women go and come with necks all bare, and 
+through the mire. These women, too, were pure once. Think 
+of your sisters, those of you who have them. Misery, pros- 
+titution, the police, Saint-Lazare — that is what those beauti- 
+ful, delicate girls, those fragile marvels of modesty, gentle- 
+ness and loveliness, fresher than lilacs in the month of May, 
+will come to. Ah ! you have got yourselves killed ! You are 
+no longer on hand ! That is well ; you have wished to release 
+the people from Royalty, and you deliver over your daughters 
+to the police. Friends, have a care, have mercy. Women, 
+unhappy women, we are not in the habit of bestowing much 
+thought on them. We trust to the women not having received 
+a man's education, we prevent their reading, we prevent 
+their thinking, we prevent their occupying themselves with 
+politics; will you prevent them from going to the dead- 
+house this evening, and recognizing your bodies? Let us 
+see, those who have families must be tractable, and shake 
+hands with us and take themselves off, and leave us here 
+alone to attend to this affair. I know well that courage 
+is required to leave, that it is hard ; but the harder it is, the 
+more meritorious. You say : * 1 have a gun, I am at the bar- 
+ricade; so much the worse, I shall remain there.* So much 
+the worse is easily said. My friends, there is a morrow ; you 
+will not be here to-morrow, but your families will; and what 
+sufferings! See, here is a pretty, healthy child, with cheeks 
+like an apple, who babbles, prat des, chatters, who laughs, 
+who smells sweet beneath your kiss, — and do you know what 
+becomes of him when he is abandoned ? I have seen one, a 
+very small creature, no taller than that. His father was dead. 
+Poor people had taken him in out of charity, but they had 
+bread only for themselves. The child was always hungry. It 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+16 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+was winter. He did not cry. You could see him approaeli 
+the stove, in which there was never any fin», and whose pij^e, 
+you know, was of mastic and yellow clay. His breathintc was 
+hoarse, his face livid, his limbs fliiccid, his belly promineut 
+He said nothing. H you spoke to him, he did not answer. 
+He is dead. He was taken to the Necker Hospital, where I 
+saw him. I was house-surgeon in that hospital. Now, if 
+there are any fathers among you, fathers whose happiness it 
+is to stroll on Sundays holding their child's tiny hand in their 
+robust hand, let each one of those fathers imagine that this 
+child is his own. That poor brat, I remember, and I seem to 
+see him now, when he lay nude on the dissecting table, how 
+his ribs stood out on his skin like the graves beneath the grass 
+în a cemetery. A sort of mud was found in his stomach. 
+There were ashes in his teeth. Come, let us examine ourselves 
+conscieîitiously and take counsel with our heart. Statistics 
+show that the mortality among abandoned children is fifty- 
+five per cent. I repeat, it is a question of worn^n. it concerns 
+mothers, it concerns young girls, it concerns little children. 
+Who is talking to you of yourselves? We know well what 
+you are ; we know well that you are all brave, parblen ! we 
+know well that yon all have in your souls the joy and the 
+glory of giving your life for the great cause ; we know well 
+that you feel yourselves elected to die usefully and macrnifi- 
+contly, and that each one of you clings to his slwre in the 
+triumph. Very well. But you are not alone in this world. 
+There are other beings of whom you must think. Yoo iPO»t 
+not be egoists." 
+
+All dropped their heads with a gloomy air. 
+
+Strange contradictions of the human heart at its most sub- 
+lime moments. Combeferre, who spoke thus, was not an or- 
+phan. He recalled the mothers of other men. and forgot his 
+own. He was about to get himself killed. He was "an 
+egoist." 
+
+Marius, fasting, fevered, having emerged in succession from 
+all hope, and having been stranded in grief, the most sombre 
+of shipwrecks, and saturated with violent emotions and con- 
+scious that the end was near, had plunged deeper and deepei 
+into that visionary stupor which always precedes the faial 
+hour voluntarily accepted. 
+
+A physiologist mi.i:^ht have studied in him the growing 
+symptoms of that febrile absorption known to, and classified 
+by, science, and which is to suffering what voluptuousness is 
+to pleasure. Despair, also, has its ecstasy. Marius hail 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 1? 
+
+reached this point. He looked on at everything as from 
+without; as we have said, things which passed before him 
+seemed far away ; he made out the whole, but did not per- 
+ceive the details. He beheld men going and coming as 
+through a flame. He heard voices speaking as at the bottom 
+of an abyss. 
+
+But this moved him. There was in this scene, a point 
+which pierced and roused even him. He had but one idea 
+now, to die ; and he did not wish to be turned aside from it, 
+but he reflected, in his gloomy somnambulism, that while de- 
+stroying himself, he was not prohibited from saving some one 
+else. 
+
+He raised his voice. 
+
+"Enjolras and Combeferre are right," said he ; *^ no unnec- 
+essary sacrifice. I join them, and you must make haste. 
+Combeferre has said convincing things to you. There are 
+some among you who have families, mothers, sisters, wives, 
+children. Let such leave the ranks." 
+
+No one stirred. 
+
+** Married men and the supporters of families, step out of 
+the ranks ! " repeated Marius. 
+
+His authority was great. Enjolras was certainly the head- 
+of the barricade, but Marius was its savior. 
+
+" I order it," cried Enjolras. 
+
+" I entreat you," said Marius. 
+
+Then, touched by Combeferre's words, shaken by Enjol- 
+ras' order, touched by Marius^ entreaty, these heroic men 
+began to denounce each other. — " It is true," said one young 
+man to a full grown man, " you are the father of a family. 
+Go."— ^"It is your duty rather," retorted the man, "you 
+have two sisters whom you maintain." — And an unprece- 
+dented controversy broke forth. Each struggled to determine 
+which should not allow himself to be placed at the door of the 
+tomb. 
+
+" Make haste," said Courfeyrac, " in another quarter of an 
+hour it will be too late." 
+
+"Citizens," pursued Enjolras, "this is the Republic, and uni. 
+versai suffrage reigns. Do you yourselves designate those 
+who are to go." 
+
+They obeyed. After the expiration of a few minutes, five 
+were unanimously selected and stepped out of the ranks. 
+
+"There are five of them ! " exclaimed Marius. 
+
+There were only four uniforms. 
+
+** Well," began the five, " one must stay behind.^' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+18 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+And then a struggle arose as to who should remain, and 
+who should find reasons for the others not remaining. The 
+generous quarrel began afresh. 
+
+" You have a wife who loves you." — ** You have your ^ed 
+mother." — " You have neither father nor mother, and what 
+is to become of your three little brothers ?" — " You are the 
+father of five children." — " You have a right to live, you are 
+only seventeen, it is too early for you to die." 
+
+These great revolutionary barricades were assembling 
+points for heroism. The improbable was simple there. These 
+men did not astonish eacli other. 
+
+" Be quick," repeated Courfeyrac. 
+
+Men shouted to Marius from the groups : 
+
+"Do you designate who is to remain." 
+
+" Yes," said the five, " choose. We will obey you." 
+
+Marius did not believe that he was capable of another emo- 
+tion. Still, at this idea, that of choosing a man for death, 
+his blood rushed back to his heart. He would have turned 
+pale, had it been possible for him to become any paler. 
+
+He advanced towards the five, who smiled upon him, and 
+each, with his eyes full of that grand fiame which one beholds 
+in the depths of history hovering over Thermopylae, cried to 
+him: 
+
+"Me! me I me!" 
+
+And Marius stupidly counted them ; there were still five of 
+them ! Then his glance dropped to the four uniforms. 
+
+At that moment, a fifth uniform fell, as if from heaven, 
+upon the other four. 
+
+The fifth man was saved. 
+
+Marius raised his eyes and recognized M. Fauchelevent. 
+
+Jean Val jean had just entered the barricade. 
+
+He had arrived by way of Mondetour lane, whether by dint 
+of inquiries made, or by instinct, or chance. Thanks to his 
+dress of a Kational Guardsman, he had maile his way without 
+difficulty. 
+
+The sentinel stationed by the insurgents in the Rue Mon- .- 
+détour, had no occasion to give the alarm for a single National 
+Guardsman, and he had allowed the latter to entangle himself in 
+the street, saying to himself : " Probably it is a reinforcement, 
+in any case it is a prisoner," The moment was too grave to 
+admit of the sentinel abandoning his duty and his post of 
+observation. 
+
+At the moment when Jean Valjean entered trie i-edoubt, no 
+one had noticed him, all eyes being fixed on the five chosen 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN, 19 
+
+men and the four uniforms. Jean Yaljean also had seen and 
+heard, and he had silently removed his coat and flung it on 
+the pile with the rest. 
+
+The emotion aroused was indescribable. 
+
+" Who is this man ? " demanded Bossuet. 
+
+•< Hè is a man who saves others," replied Combeferre, 
+
+Marius added in a grave voice : 
+
+" I know him." 
+
+This guarantee satisfied every one. 
+
+Enjolras turned to Jean Val jean. 
+
+" Welcome, citizen." 
+
+And he added : 
+
+" You know that we are about to die." 
+
+Jean Val jean, without replying, helped the insurgent whom 
+he was saving to don his uniform. 
+
+V. — The Horizon Which One Beholds from the Sum- 
+mit OF A Barricade. 
+
+The situation of all in that fatal hour and that pitiless 
+place, had as result and culminating point Enjolras' supreme 
+melancholy. 
+
+Enjolras bore within him the plenitude of the revolution ; 
+he was incomplete, however, so far as the absolute can be 
+so ; he had too much of Saint-Just about him, and not enough 
+of Anacharsis Cloots ; still, his mind, in the society of the 
+Friends of the ABC, had ended by undergoing a certain 
+polarization from Coml)eferre's ideas; for some time past, 
+he had been gradually emerging from the narrow form of 
+dogma, and had allowed himself to incline to the broadening 
+influence of progress, and he had come to accept, as a definitive 
+and magnificent evolution, the transformation of the great 
+French Uepublic, into the immense human republic. As far 
+as the immediate means were concerned, a violent situation 
+being given, he wished to be violent ; on that point, he never 
+varied; and he remained of that epic and redoubtable school 
+which is summed up in the words: "Eighty-three." Enjol- 
+ras was standing erect on the staircase of paving-stones, one 
+elbow resting on the stock of his gun. He was engaged in 
+thought; he quivered, as at the passage of prophetic breaths; 
+places where death is have these effects of tripods. A sort 
+of stifled fire darted from his eyes, which were filled with 
+au inward look. All at once he threw back his head, his 
+blond locks fell back like those of an angel on the sombre 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+20 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+quadriga made of stars, they were like the mane of a startled 
+lion in the flaming of an halo, and Enjolras cried : 
+
+" Citizens, do you picture the future to yourselves ? Tk* 
+streets of cities inundated with light, green branches on the 
+thresholds, nations sisters, men just, old men blessing children, 
+the past loving the present, thinkers entirely at liberty-, believ- 
+ers on terms of full equality, for religion heaven, God the direct 
+priest, human conscience become an altar, no more hatreds, 
+the fraternity of the workshop and the school, for sole penalty 
+and recompense fame, work for all, right for all, peace over 
+all, no more bloodshed, no more wars, happy mothers ! To 
+conquer matter is the first step ; to realize the ideal is tbe 
+second. Reflect on what progress has already accompIishe<i. 
+Formerly, the first human races beheld with terror the hydra 
+pass before their eyes, breathing on the waters, the dragou 
+which vomited flame, the griffin who was the monster of the 
+air, and who flew with the wings of an eagle and the talons of 
+a tiger ; fearful beasts which were above man. Man, neverthe- 
+less, spread his snares, consecrated by intelligence, and finally 
+conquered these monsters. We have vanquished the hydri 
+and it is called the locomotive ; we are on the point of van- 
+quishing the griffin, we already grasp it, and it is called the 
+balloon. On the day when this Promethean task shall be 
+accomplished, and when man shall have definitively har- 
+nessed to his will the triple ChiraaBra of antiquity, the 
+hydra, the dragon and the griffin, he will bo the master of 
+water, fire, and of air, and he will be for the rest of animated 
+creation that which the ancient gods formerly were to him. 
+Courage, and onward ! Citizens, whither are we going ? To 
+science made government, to the force of things become the 
+sole public force, to the natural law, having in itself its 
+sanction and its penalty and promulgating itself by evidence, 
+to a dawn of truth corresponding to .a dawn of day. We are 
+advancing to the union of peoples ; we are advancing to the 
+unity of man. No more fictions; no more parasites. The 
+real governed by the true, that is the goal. Civilization will 
+hold its assizes at the summit of Europe, and, later on, at the 
+centre of continents, in a grand parliament of the intelligence. 
+Something similar has already been seen The amphict^'on^ 
+had two sittings a year, one at Delphos, the seat of the gods, 
+the other at Thermopyliï^, the place of heroes. Europe n ill 
+have her amphictyons ; the globe will have its amphictyons. 
+France bears this sublime future in her breast. This is the 
+gestation of the nineteenth century. That which Greece 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 21 
+
+• 
+sketched out is worthy of being finished by France. Listen 
+to me, you, Feuilly, valiant artisan, man of the people. I 
+revere you. Yes, you clearly behold the future, yes, you are 
+right. You had neither father nor mother, Feuilly; you 
+adopted humanity for your mother and right for your father. 
+You are about to die, that is to say to triumph, here. Citi- 
+zens, whatever happens tcniay, through our defeat as well as 
+through our victory, it is a revolution that we are about to create. 
+As conflagrations light up a whole city, so revolutions illumi- 
+nate the whole human race. And what is the revolution that 
+we shall cause ? I have just told you, the Revolution of the 
+True. From a political point of view, there is but a single 
+principle; the sovereignty of man over himself. This sov- 
+ereignty of myself over myself is called Liberty. Where 
+two or three of these sovereignties are combined, the state 
+begins. But in that association there is no abdication. Each 
+sovereignty concedes a certain quantity of itself, for the pur- 
+pose of forming the common right. This quantity is the 
+same for all of us. This identity of concession which each 
+makes to all, is called Equality. Common right is nothing 
+else than the protection of all beaming on the right of each. 
+This protection of all over each is called Fraternity. The 
+point of intersection of all these assembled sovereignties is 
+called society. This intersection being a junction, this point 
+is a knot. Hence what is called the social bond. Some say 
+social contract ; which is the same thing, the word contract 
+being etymologically formed with the idea of a bond. Let us 
+come to an understanding about equality ; for, if liberty is 
+the summit, equality is the base. Equality, citizens, is not 
+wholly a surface vegetation, a society of great blades of grass 
+and tiny oaks ; a proximity of jealousies which render each 
+other null and void; legally speaking, it is all aptitudes 
+possessed of the same opportunity ; politically, it is all votes 
+possessed of the same weight ; religiously, it is all con- 
+sciences possessed of the same right. Equality has an 
+organ : gratuitous and obligatory instruction. The right to 
+the alphabet, that is where the beginning must be made. The 
+primary school imposed on all, the secondary school offered 
+to all, that is the law. From an identical school, an identical 
+society will spring. Yes, instruction ! light ! light ! every- 
+thing comes from light, and to it everything returns. Citi- 
+zens, the nineteenth century is great, but the twentieth 
+century will be happy. Then, there will be nothing more 
+like the history of old, we shall no longer, as to-day, have ta 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+22 LES MISEliABLES. 
+
+• 
+fear a conquest, an invasion, a usurpation, a rivalry rf 
+nations, arms in hand, an interruption of civilization de- 
+pending on a marriage of kings, on a birth in hereditary 
+tyrannies, a partition of peoples by a congress, a dismember- 
+ment because of the failure of a dynasty, a combat of two 
+religions meeting face to face, like two bucks in the dark, 
+on the bridge of the infinite; we shall no longer have to fnxi 
+famine, farming out, prostitution arising from distress, miserr 
+from the failure of work and the scaffold and the sword, aii'i 
+battles and the ruffianism of chance in the forest of evenu^ 
+(hie might almost say: There will be no more events. 
+We shall be happy. The human race will accomplish its law, 
+as the terrestriîil globe accomplishes its law; harmony wi! 
+be re-established between the soul and the star ; the soul wil, 
+gravitate around the truth, as the planet around the light. 
+Friends, the present hour in which I am addressing yen, Ls a 
+gloomy hour ; but these are terrible purchases of the fuliin*. 
+A revolution is a toll. Oh ! the human race will be delivervi. 
+raised up, consoled ! We aiUrm it on this barrier. Wheinv 
+should proceed that cry of love, if not from the heights of 
+sacrifice ? Oh my brothers, this is the point of junction, of 
+those who think aud of those who suffer ; this barricade is n<.*t 
+made of paving-stones, nor of joists, nor of bits of iron ; it i> 
+made of two heaps, a heap of ideas, and a heap of woes 
+Here misery meets the ideal. The day embraces the night, 
+and says to it : * I am about to die, and thou shalt be born 
+again with me.' From the embrace of all desolations faith 
+leaps forth. Sufferings bring hither their agony and ideas 
+their immortality. This agony and this immortality are 
+about to join and constitute our death. Brothers, he who 
+dies here dies in the radiance of the future, and we are enter- 
+ing a tomb all flooded with the dawn." 
+
+Enjolras paused rather than became silent; his lips con- 
+tinued to move silently, as though he were talking to himseh 
+which caused them all to gaze attentively at him, in the en- 
+deavor to hear more. There was no applause ; but they whis- 
+pered together for a long time. Speech being a breath, the 
+rustling of intelligences resembles the rustling of leaves. 
+
+VI. — Mabius Hagoard, Javkrt Lacoxic 
+
+Lkt us narrate what was passing in Marins' thoughts. 
+Let the reader recall the state of his soul. We have just 
+recalled it, everything was a vision to him now. His judg 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAy. 23 
+
+ment was disturbed. Marius, let us insist on this point, was 
+under the shadow of the great, dark wings which are spread 
+over those in the death agony. He felt that he had entered 
+the toiJib, it seemed to him that he was already on the other 
+side of the wall, and, he no longer beheld the faces of the 
+living except with the eyes of one dead. 
+
+How did M. Fauchelevent come there ? Why was he there ? 
+What had he come there to do? Marius did not address all 
+these questions to himself. Besides, since our despair has 
+this peculiarity, that it eiwelops others as well as ourselves, 
+it seemed logical to him that all the world should come 
+thither to die. 
+
+Only, he thought of Cosette with a pang at his heart. 
+
+However, M. Fauchelevent did not speak to him, did not 
+took at him, and had not even the air of hearing him, when 
+Marius raised his voice to say : "I know him." 
+
+As far as Marius was concerned, this attitude of M. Fauche- 
+levent was comforting, and, if such a word can be used for 
+such impressions, we should say that it pleased him. He had 
+always felt the absolute impossibility of addressing that enig- 
+matical man, who was, in his eyes, both equivocal and impos- 
+ing. Moreover, it had been a long time since he had seen 
+him ; and this still further augmented the impossibility for 
+Marius' timid and reserved nature. 
+
+The five chosen men left the barricade by way of Mondototir 
+lane; they bore a perfect resemblance to members of the 
+National Guard. One of them wept as he took his leave. 
+Before setting out, they embraced those who remained. 
+
+When the five men sent back to life had taken their depar- 
+ture, Enjolras thought of the man who had been condemned 
+to death. 
+
+He entered the tap-room. Javert, still bound to the post; 
+was engaged in meditation. 
+
+•*Do you want anything? " Enjolras asked him. 
+
+Javert replied : ** When are you going to kill me ? " 
+
+" Wait. We need all our cartridges just at present.'* 
+
+"Then give me a drink," said Javert. 
+
+Enjolras himself offered him a glass of water, and, as Ja 
+vert was pinioned, he helped him to drink. 
+
+" Is that all ? " inquired Enjolras. 
+
+" I am uncomfortable against this post," replied Javeï*. 
+" You are not tender to have left ine to pass the night here 
+Bind me as you please, but you surely might lay me out ou a 
+table like that other man." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+
+24 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+And with a motion of the head, he indicated the body of 
+M. Mabeuf. 
+
+There was^ as the reader will remember^ a long, broad tabla 
+Ht the end of the room, ou which they had been running bul- 
+lets and making cartridges. All the cartridges having been 
+made, and all the powder used, this table was free. 
+
+At Ënjolras' command, four insurgents unbound Jarert 
+from the post While they were loosing him, a fifth held a 
+bayonet against his breast. 
+
+LeaviUg his arms tied behind his back, they placed about 
+his feet a slender but stout whip-cord, us is done to men on 
+the point of mounting the scaffold, which allowed him to take 
+steps about fifteen inches in length,and made him walk to the 
+table at the end of the room, where they laid him down, 
+closely bound about the middle of the body. 
+
+By way of further security, and by means of a rope fas- 
+tened to his neck, they added to the system of ligatures which 
+rendered every attempt at escape impossible, that sort of bond 
+which is called in prisons a martingale, which, starting at the 
+neck, forks on the stomach, and meets the hands, after pass- 
+ing between the legs. 
+
+While they were binding Javert, a man standing on the 
+threshold was surveying him with singular attention. The 
+shadow cast by this man made Javert turn his head. He 
+raised his eyes, and recognized Jean Valjean. He did not evec 
+start, but dropped his lids proudly and confined himself to 
+the remark : " It is perfectly simple." 
+
+VII. — The Situation Becomes Aggravated. 
+
+The daylight was increaslDg rapidly. Not a window was 
+opened, not a door stood ajar; it waa the dawn but not the 
+awaking. The end of tlie Rue de la Chanvrerie, opposite the 
+barricade, had been evacuated by the troops, as we have 
+stated, it seemed to be free, and presented itself to passers-bv 
+with a sinister tranquillity. The Rue Saint-Denis was as 
+dumb as the avenue of Sphinxes at Thebes. Not a living 
+being in the cross-roads, which gleamed white in the light of 
+the sun. Nothing is so mournful as this light in deserted 
+streets. Nothing was to be seen, but there was sometliing to 
+be heard, A mysterious movement was going on at a certaio 
+distance. It was evident that the critical moment was ap- 
+proaching. As on the previous evening, the sentinels had 
+come in ; but this time all had come. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN V AU RAN. 26 
+
+The barricade was stronger than on the occasion of the 
+first attack. Since the departure of the five, they had in- 
+creased its height still further. 
+
+On the advice of the sentinel who had examined the region 
+of the Halles, Enjolras, for fear of a surprise in the rear, came 
+to a serious decision. He had the small gut of the Mondetour 
+lane, which had been left open up to that time, barricaded. 
+For this purpose, they tore up the pavement for the length of 
+several houses more. In this manner, the barricade, walled 
+on three streets, in front on the Rue de la Chanvrerie, to the 
+left on the Rues du Cygne and de la Petite Truanderie, to the 
+right on the Rue Mondetour, was really almost impregnable ; it 
+is true that they were fatally hemmed in there. It had three 
+fronts, but no exit. — "A fortress but a rat hole too," said 
+Courfeyrac with a laugh. 
+
+Enjolras had about thirty paving-stones " torn up in excess," 
+said Bossnet, piled up near the door of the wine-shop. 
+
+The silence was now so profound in the quarter whence the 
+attack must needs come, that Enjolras had each man resume 
+his post of battle. 
+
+An allowance of brandy was doled out to each. 
+
+Nothing is more curious than a barricade preparing for an 
+assault. Each man selects his place as though at the theatre. 
+They jostle, and elbow and crowd each other. There are 
+some who make stalls of paving-stones. Here is a corner of 
+the wall which is in the way, it is removed ; here is a redan 
+which may afford protection, they take shelter behind it. Left- 
+handed men are precious ; they take the places that are incon- 
+venient to the rest. Many arrange to fight in a sitting posture. 
+They wish to be at ease to kill, and to die comfortably. In 
+the sad war of June, 1848, an insurgent who was a formidable 
+marksman, and who was firing from the top of a terrace upon 
+a roof, had a reclining-chair brought there for his use ; a 
+charge of grape-shot found him out there. 
+
+As soon as the leader has given the order to clear the decks 
+for action, all disorderly movements cease ; there is no more 
+pulling from one another; there are no more coteries; no 
+more asides, there is no more holding aloof ; everything in 
+their spirits converges in, and changes into, a waiting for the 
+assailants. A barricade before the arrival of danger is chaos ; 
+in danger, it is discipline itself. ]*eril produces order. 
+
+As soon as Enjolras had seized his double-barrelled rifle, 
+and had placed himself in a sort of embrasure which he had 
+reserved for himself, all -the rest held their peace. A series 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+
+26 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+of faint, sharp noises resounded confusedly along the wall of 
+paving-stones. It was the men cocking their guns. 
+
+Moreover, their attitudes were prouder, more confident than 
+ever ; the excess of sju^rifiw*. strengthens ; they no longer 
+cherished any hope, but they had desi>air, despair, — the last 
+«weapon, which sometimes gives victory; Virgil has said so. 
+Supi'eme resources spring from extreme resolutions. To em- 
+bark in death is sometimes the means of escaping a shipwreck; 
+and the lid of the coffin becomes a plank of safety. 
+
+As on the preceding evening, the attention of all was 
+directed, we might almost say leaned upon, the end of the 
+street, now lighted up and visible. 
+
+They had not long to wait. A stir began distinctly in the 
+Saint-Leu quarter, but it did not resemble the movement of 
+the first attîick. A clashing of chains, the uneasy jolting of 
+a mass, the click of brass skipping along the pavement, a sor» 
+of solemn uproar, announced that some sinister constnictiou 
+of iron (vas approaching. There arose a tremor in the bosoms 
+A these peaceful old streets, pierced and built for the fertile 
+circulation of interests and ideas, and which are not made fur 
+ihe horrible rumble of the wheels of war. 
+
+The fixity of eye in all the combatants upon the extiemitr 
+*>f the street became ferocious. 
+
+A cannon made its appearance. 
+
+Artillery-men were pusliing the piece; it was in firing 
+trim ; the fore-carriage had been detached ; two upheld the 
+gun-carriage, four were at the wheels ; others followed with 
+the caissoL». They could see the smoke of the burning liut- 
+stock. 
+
+" Fire I '' shouted Enjolraa. 
+
+The who<^ barricade fired, the report was terrible ; an ava- 
+lanche of 0«Qoke covered and effaced both cannon and men; 
+after a few seconds, the cloud dispersed, and the cannon and 
+men re-apreared; the gun-crew had just finished rolling il 
+slowly, correctly, without haste, into position facing the bar- 
+ricade. Not one of them had been struck. Then the captain 
+of the pi^îce, bearing down upon the breech in order to raise 
+the muzzle, began to point the cannon with the gravity of an 
+astronomer levelling a telescope. 
+
+" Bravo for the cannoneers ! " cried Bossuet. 
+
+And the whole barricade clap])ed their hands. 
+
+A moment hater, squarely planted in the very middle of 
+the street, astride of the gutter the piece was ready for action- 
+A formidable pair of jaws yawuQd on the barricade, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 27 
+
+"Come, merrily now ! " ejaculated Courfeyrac. "That's thî 
+brutal part of it. After the fillip on the nose, the blow from 
+the fist. The army is reaching out its big paw to us. The 
+barricade is going to be severely shaken up. The fusillade 
+tries, the cannon takes." 
+
+" It is a piece of eight, new model, brass," added Conibef erre. 
+" Those pieces are liable to burst as soon as the proportion of 
+ten parts of tin to one hundred of brass is exceeded. The 
+excess of tin renders them too tender. Then it comes to 
+pass that they have caves and chambers when looked at from 
+the vent hole. In order to obviate this danger, and to render 
+it possible to force the charge, it may become necessary to 
+return to the process of the fourteenth century, hooping, and 
+to encircle the piece on the outside with a series of unwelded 
+steel bands, from the breech to the trunnions. In the mean- 
+time, they remedy this defect as best they may ; they manage 
+to discover where the holes are located in the vent of a 
+cannon, by means of a searcher. But there is a better method, 
+with Gribeauyai's movable star." 
+
+" In the sixteenth century," remarked Bossuet, " they used 
+to rifie cannon." 
+
+" Yes," replied Combeferre, " that augments the projectile 
+force, but diminishes the accuracy of the firing. In firing at 
+short range, the trajectory is not as rigid as could be desired, 
+the parabola is exaggerated, the line of the projectile is no 
+longer sufficiently rectilinear to allow of its striking inter- 
+vening objects, which is, nevertheless, a necessity of battle, 
+the importance of which increases with the proximity of the 
+enemy and the precipitation of the discharge. This defect of 
+the tension of the curve of the projectile in the rifled cannon 
+of the sixteenth century arose from the smallness of the 
+charge ; small charges for that sort of engine are imposed by 
+the ballistic necessities, such, for instance, as the preservation 
+of the gun-carriage. In short, that despot, the cannon, cannot 
+do all that it desires ; force is a great weakness. A cannon- 
+ball only travels six hundred leagues an hour ; light travels 
+seventy thousand leagues a second. Such is the superiority 
+of Jesus Christ over Napoleon." 
+
+" Eeload your guns," said Enjolras. 
+
+How was the casing of the barricade going to behave under 
+the cannon-balls ? Would they effect a breach ? That was 
+the question. While the insurgents were reloading theii 
+guns, the artillery-men were loading the cannon. 
+
+The anxiety in the redoubt was profound. 
+
+
+
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+
+28 LE 8 MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The shot sped the report burst forth. 
+
+" Present ! " shouted a joyous voice. 
+
+And Gavroche flung himself into the barricade just as the 
+ball dashed against it. 
+
+He came from the direction of the Rue du Cygne, and he 
+had nimbly climbed over the auxiliary barricade which fronted 
+on ibhe labyrinth of the Rue de la Petite Truanderia 
+
+Gavroche produced a greater sensation in the barricade than 
+the cannon-ball. 
+
+The ball buried itself in the mass of rubbish. At the 
+most there was an omnibus wheel broken, and the old Anceau 
+cart was demolished. On seeing this, the barricade burst into 
+a laugh. 
+
+** Go on ! " shouted Bossuet to the artillerists. 
+
+
+
+VIII. — The Artillery-men Compel People to Take 
+Them Sbriouj^ly. 
+
+They flocked round Gavroche. But he had no time to tell 
+anything. Marius drew him aside with a shudder. 
+
+" What are you doing here ? " 
+
+" Hullo ! " said the child, *' what are you doing here your- 
+self?" 
+
+And he stared at Marius intently with his epic effrontery. 
+His eyes grew larger with the proud light within them. 
+
+It was with an accent of severity that Marius continued : 
+
+" Who told you to come back ? Did you deliver my letter 
+at the address ? " 
+
+Gavroche was not without some compunctions in the matter 
+of that letter. In his haste to return to the barricade, he 
+had got rid of it rather than delivered it. He was forced to 
+acknowledge to himself that he had confided it rather lightly 
+to that stranger whose face he had not been able to make out. 
+It is true that the man was bareheaded, but that was not 
+sufficient. In short, he had been administering to himself 
+little inward remonstrances and he feared Marius' reproaches. 
+In order to extricate himself from the predicament, he took 
+the simplest course ; he lied abominably. 
+
+"Citizen, I delivered the letter to the porter. The lady 
+was asleep. She will have the letter when she wakes up." 
+
+Marius had had two objects in sending that letter : to bid 
+farewell to Cosette and to save Gavroche. He was obliged to 
+content himself with the half of his desire. 
+
+The despatch of his letter and the presence of M, Fauche- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 29 
+
+lèvent in the barricade, was a coincidence which occurred to 
+him. He pointed out M. Faucheleveut to Gavroohe. 
+
+" Do you know that man ? " 
+
+" No," said Gavroche. 
+
+Gavroche had, in fact, as we have just mentioned, seen 
+Jean Valjean only at night. 
+
+The troubled and unhealthy conjectures which had outlined 
+themselves in Marius' miud, were dissipated. Did he know 
+M. Fauchelevent's opinions ? Perhaps M. Fauchelevent was 
+a republican. Hence his very natural presence in this com- 
+bat. 
+
+In the meanwhile. Gavroche was shouting, at the other end 
+of the barricade : *^ My gun ! " 
+
+Courfeyrac had it returned to him. 
+
+Gavroche warned <^ his comrades " as he called them, that 
+the barricade was blocked. He had had great difficulty in 
+reaching it. A battalion of the line whose arms were piled 
+in the Eue de la Petite Truanderie was on the watch on the 
+side of the Rue du Cygne ; on the opposite side, the munici- 
+pal guard occupied the Rue des Prêcheurs. The bulk of the 
+army was facing them in front. 
+
+This information given. Gavroche added : 
+
+" I authorize you to hit 'em a tremendous whack." 
+
+Meanwhile, Enjolras was straining his ears and watching at 
+his embrasure. 
+
+The assailants, dissatisfied, no doubt, with their shot, had 
+not repeated it. 
+
+A company of infantry of the line had come up and occu- 
+pied the end of the street behind the piece of ordnance. 
+The soldiers were tearing up the pavement and constructing 
+with the stones a small, low wall, a sort of side-work not 
+more than eighteen inches high, and facing the barricade. In 
+the angle at the left of this epaulement, there was visible the 
+head of the column of a battalion from the suburbs massed 
+in the Rue Saint-Denis. 
+
+Enjolras, on the watch, thought he distinguished the pe- 
+culiar sound which is produced when the shells of grape-shot 
+are drawn from the caissons, and he saw the commander of 
+the piece change the elevation and incline the mouth of the 
+cannon slightly to the left. Then the cannoneers began to 
+load the piece. The chief seized the lin-stock himself and 
+lowered it to the vent. 
+
+" Down with your heads, hug the wall 1 " shouted EnjolraSt 
+''and all on your knees along the barricade I " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+30 LE 3 MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The insurgents who were straggling in front of the wine» 
+shop, and who had quitted their posts of comhat on Ga- 
+vroche's arrival, rushed pell-mell towards the barricade ; but 
+before Enjolras' order could be executed, the discharge took 
+place with the terrifying rattle of a round of grape-shot. This 
+is what it was, in fact. 
+
+The charge had been aimed at the cut in the redoubt, and 
+had there rebounded from the wall ; and this terrible rebound 
+had produced two dead and three wounded. 
+
+If this were continued, the barricade was no longer tenable. 
+The grape-shot made its way in. 
+
+A mtu*mur of consternation arose. 
+
+" Let us prevent the second discharge," said Enjolras. 
+
+And, lowering his rifle, he took aim at the captain of the 
+gun, who, at that moment, was bearing down on the breach of 
+his gun and rectifying and definitely fixing its pointing. 
+
+The captain of the piece was a handsome sergeant of artiU 
+lery, very young, blond, with a very gentle face, and the 
+intelligent air peculiar to that predestined and redoubtable 
+weapon which, by dint of perfecting itself in horror, must 
+end in killing war. 
+
+Combeferre, who was standing beside Enjolras, scrutiniaœd 
+this young man. 
+
+** What a pity ! " said Combeferre. " What hideous things 
+these butcheries are ! Come, when there are no more kings, 
+there will be no more war. Enjolras, you are taking aim at 
+that sergeant, you are not looking at him. Fancy, he is a 
+charming young man; he is intrepid; it is evident that 
+he is thoughtful : those young artillery-men are very well 
+educated ; he has a father, a mother, a family ; he is probably 
+in love ; he is not more than five and twenty at the most; he 
+might be your brother." 
+
+" He is," said Enjolras. 
+
+" Yes, " replied Combeferre, "he is mine too. Well, let us 
+not kill him." 
+, '* Let me alone. It must be done." 
+
+And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras' marble cheek. 
+
+At the same moment, he pressed the trigger of his rifle. 
+The flame leaped forth. The artillery-man turned round 
+twice, his arms extended in front of him, his head uplifted, 
+as though for breath, then he fell with his side on the gun. 
+and lay there motionless. They could see his back, from the 
+centre of which there flowed directly a stream of blood. Thr 
+ball had traversed his breast from side to side. He was deail. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. St 
+
+He had to be carried away and replaced by another. Sev- 
+eral minutes were thus gained, in fact. 
+
+IX. — Employment of the Old Talents of a Poacher and 
+That Infallible Marksmanship Which Influenced 
+THE Condemnation of 1796. 
+
+Opinions were exchanged in the barricade. The firing 
+from the gun was about to begin again. Against that grape- 
+shot, they could not hold out a quarter of an hour longer. It 
+was absolutely necessary to deaden the blows. 
+
+Enjolras issued this command : 
+
+" We must place a mattress there." 
+
+** We have none," said Combef erre, " the wounded are lying 
+on them." 
+
+Jean Yaljean, who was seated apart on a stone post, at the 
+corner of the tavern, with his gun between his knees, had, up 
+to that moment, taken no part in anything that was going on. 
+He did not appear to hear the combatants saying around him : 
+" Here is a gun that is doing nothing." 
+
+At the order issued by Enjolras, he rose. 
+
+It will be remembered that, on the arrival of the rabble in 
+the Rue de la Chanvrerie, an old woman, foreseeing the bul- 
+lets, had placed her mattress in front of her window. This 
+window, an attic window, was on the roof of a six-story house 
+situated a little beyond the barricade. The mattress, placed 
+cross-wise, supported at the bottom on two poles for drying 
+linen, was uj^held at the top by two ropes, which, at that dis* 
+tance, looked like two threads, and which were attached to 
+two nails planted in the window frames. These ropes were 
+distinctly visible, like hairs, against the sky. 
+
+" Can some one lend me a double-barrelled rifle ? " said 
+Jean Val jean. 
+
+Enjolras, who had just re-loaded his, handed it to him. 
+
+Jean Val jean took aim at the attic window and fired. 
+
+One of the mattress ropes was cut. 
+
+The mattress now hung by one thread only. 
+
+Jean Val jean fired the second charge. The second rope 
+lashed the paneis of the attic window. The mattress slipped 
+between the two poles and fell into the street. 
+
+The barricade applauded. 
+
+All voices cried : 
+
+" Here is a mattress ! " 
+
+" Yes," said Combcferre, " but who will go and fetch it ? ** 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
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+
+82 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The mattress had, in fact, fallen outside the barricade, be. 
+tween besiegers and besieged. Now, the death of the ser- 
+geant of artillery having exasperated the troop, the soldiers 
+had, for several minutes, been lying flat on their stomachs 
+behind the line of paving-stories which they had erected, and, 
+in order to supply the forced silence of the piece, which was 
+quiet while its service was in course of reorganization, they 
+bad opened fire on the barricade. The insurgents did not rt? 
+ply to this musketry, in order to spare their ammunition. The 
+fusillade broke against the barricade ; but the street, which it 
+filled, was terrible. 
+
+Jean Valjean stepped out of the cut, entered the street, 
+traversed the storm of bullets, walked up to the mattress, 
+hoisted it upon his back, and returned to the barricade. 
+
+He placed the mattress in the cut with his own hands. He 
+fixed it there against the wall in such a manner that the artil- 
+lery-men should not see it. 
+
+That done, they awaited the next discharge of grape-shot 
+
+It was not long in coming. 
+
+The cannon vomited forth its package of buck-shot with a 
+roar. But there was no rebound. The effect which they had 
+foreseen had been attained. The barricade was saved. 
+
+" Citizen," said Enjolras to Jean Valjean, " the Republic 
+thanks you." > 
+
+Bossuet admired and laughed. He exclaimed : 
+
+" It is immoral that a mattress should have so much power. 
+Triumph of that which yields over that which strikes with 
+lightning. But never mind, glory to the mattress which 
+annuls a cannon ! " 
+
+X. — Dawn. 
+
+At that moment, Cosette awoke. 
+
+Her chamber was narrow, neat, unobtrusive, witli a loni: 
+sash-window, facing the East on the back court-yard of the 
+house. 
+
+Cosette knew nothing of what was going on in Paris. She 
+had not been there on the preceding evening, and she had al 
+ready retired to her chamber when Toussaint had said: 
+
+" It appears that there is a row," 
+
+Cosette had slept only a few hours, but soundly. She had 
+had sweet dreams, which possibly arose from the fact that 
+her little bed was very white. Some one, who was Marius, 
+had appeared to her in the light She awoke with the sun 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 3S 
+
+in her eyes, which, at first, produced on her the effect of being 
+a continuation of her dream. Her first thought on emerging 
+from this dream was a smiling one. Gosette felt herself 
+thoroughly reassured. Like Jean Valjean, she had, a few 
+hours previously, passed through that reaction of the soul 
+which absolutely will not hear of unhappiness. She began to 
+cherish hope, with all her might, without knowing why. Then 
+she felt a pang at her heart. It was three days since she had 
+seen Marius. But she said to herself that he must have received 
+her letter, that he knew where she was, and that he was so 
+clever that he would find means of reaching her. — And that 
+certainly to-day, and perhaps that very morning. — It was 
+broad daylight, bulj the rays of light were very horizontal \ 
+she thought that it was very early, but that she must rise, 
+nevertheless, in order to receive Marius. 
+
+She felt that she could not live without Marius, and that, 
+consequently, that was sufficient and that Marius would come. 
+No objection was valid. All this was certain. It was mon- 
+strous enough already to have suffered for three days. Ma- 
+rius absent three days, this was horrible on the part of the 
+goo4 God. Now, this cruel teasing from on high had been 
+gone through with. Marius was about to arrive, and he would 
+bring good news. Youth is made thus ; it quickly dries its 
+eyes ; it finds sorrow useless and does not accept it. Youth 
+is the smile of the future in the presence of an unknown 
+quantity, which is itself. It is natural to it to be happy. It 
+seems as though its respiration were made of hope. 
+
+Moreover, Cosette could not remember what Marius had 
+said to her on the subject of this absence which was to last 
+only one day, and what explanation of it he had given her. 
+Every one has noticed with what nimbleness a coin which one 
+has dropped on the ground rolls away and hides, and with 
+what art it renders itself undiscoverable. There are thoughts 
+which play us the same trick ; they nestle away in a comer 
+of our brain ; that is the end of them ; they are lost ; it is im- 
+possible to lay the memory on them. Cosette was somewhat 
+vexed at the useless little effort made by her memory. She 
+told herself, that it was very naughty and very wicked of her, 
+to have forgotten the words uttered by Marius. 
+
+She sprang ont of bed and accomplished the two ablutions 
+of soul and body, her prayers and her toilet. 
+
+One may, in a case of exigency, introduce the reader into a 
+nuptial chamber, not into a virginal chamber. Verse would 
+hardly venture it, prose must not. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+U LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+It is tlie interior of a flower that is not yet unfolded, it 
+is whiteness in the dark, it is the private cell of a closed 
+iily, which must not be gazed upon by inan so long as tlie sun 
+has not gazed upon it. Woman in the bud is sacred. That 
+innocent bud which opens, that adorable half-nudity which is 
+afraid of itself, that white foot which takes refuge in a slip- 
+per, that throat which veils itself before a mirror as though a 
+mirror were an eye, that chemise which makes haste to rise 
+up and conceal the shoulder for a creaking bit of furniture oi 
+a passing vehicle, those cords tied, those clasps fastened, those 
+laces drawn, those tremors, those shivers of cold and modesty, 
+that exquisite "affright in every movement, that almost winged 
+uneasiness where there is no cause for alarm, the successive 
+phases of dressing, as charming as the clouds of dawn, — it 
+is not fitting that all this should be narrated, and it is too 
+much to have even called attention to it. 
+
+The eye of man must be more religious in the presence of 
+the rising of a young girl, than in the presence of the rising 
+of a star. The possibility of hurting should inspire an aug- 
+mentation of respect. The down on the peach, the bloom on 
+the plum, the radiated crystal of the snow, the wing of the 
+butterfly powdered with feathers, are coarse compared to that 
+chastity which does not even know that it is chaste. The 
+young girl is only the flash of a dream, and is not yet a statue. 
+Her bed-chamber is hidden in the sombre part of the ideal 
+The indiscreet touch of a glance brutalizes this vague penum- 
+bra. Here, contemplation is profanation. 
+
+We shall, therefore, show nothing of that sweet little flutter 
+of Cosette's rising. 
+
+An oriental tale relates how the rose was made white by 
+God, but that Adam looked upon her when she was unfolding, 
+and she was ashamed and turned crimson. We are of tlie 
+number who fall speechless in the presence of young girls and 
+flowers, since we think them worthy of veneration. 
+
+Cosette dressed herself very hastily, combed and dressed 
+her hair, which was a very simple matter in those days, when 
+women did not swell out their curls and bands with cushions 
+and puffs, and did not put crinoline in their locks. Then she 
+opened the window and cast her eyes around her in every di- 
+rection, hoping to desciy some bit of the street, an angle of 
+the house, an edge of pavement, so that she might be aWe to 
+watch for Marins there. But no view of the outside was to 
+be had. The back court was surrounded by tolerably hisjh 
+walls, and the outlook was only on several gardens, Cosette 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN valjean: as 
+
+pronounced these gardens hideous : for the first time in her 
+life, she found flowers ugly. The smallest scrap of the gutter 
+of the street would have met her wishes better. She decided 
+to gaze at the sky, as though she thought that Marius might 
+come from that quarter. 
+
+All at once, she burst into tears. Not that this was fickle- 
+ness of soul ; but hopes cut in twain by dejection — that was 
+her case. She had a confused consciousness of something 
+horrible. Thoughts were rife in the air, in fact. She told 
+herself that she was not sure of anything, that to withdraw 
+herself from sight was to be lost ; and the idea that Marius 
+could return to her from heav^sn appeared to her no longer 
+charming but mournful. 
+
+Then, as is the nature of these clouds, calm returned to her, 
+and hope and a sort of unconscious smile, which yet indi- 
+cated trust in God. 
+
+Every one in the house was still asleep. A country-like si- 
+lence reigned. Not a shutter had been opened. The porter's 
+lodge was closed. Toussaint had not risen, and Cosette, «nat- 
+urally, thought that her father was asleep. She must have 
+suffered much, and she must have still been suffering greatly, 
+for she said to herself, that her father had been unkind ; but 
+she counted on Marius. The eclipse of such a light was de- 
+cidedly impossible. Now and then, she heard sharp shocks in 
+the distance, and she said : ^' It is odd that people should be 
+opening and shutting their carriage gates so early.'' They 
+were the reports of the cannon battering the barricade. 
+
+A few feet below Cosette's window, in the ancient and 
+perfectly black cornice of the wall, there was a martin's nest ; 
+the curve of this nest formed a little projection beyond the 
+cornice, so that from above it was possible to look into 
+this little paradise. The mother was there, spreading her 
+wings like a. fan over her brood ; the father fluttered about, 
+flew away, then came back, bearing in his beak food and kisses 
+rhe dawning day gilded this happy thing, the great law, "Mul- 
+ciply,^' lay there smiling and august, and that sweet mystery 
+unfolded in the glory of the morning. Cosette, with her hair 
+in the sunlight, her soul absorbed in chiraœras, illuminated by 
+love within and by the dawn without, bent over mechanically, 
+and almost without daring to avow to herself that she was 
+thinking at the same time of Marius, began to gaze at these 
+birds, at this family, at that male and female, that mother and 
+hrr little ones, with the profound trouble which a nest pro. 
+duces on a virgin^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+86 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+
+
+XL — The Shot Which Misses Nothing and hills Ko 
+
+One. 
+
+The assailants' fire continued. Musketry and grape-shot al- 
+ternated, but without committing great ravages, to tell the 
+truth. The top alone of the Corinthe façade suffered; the 
+window on the first floor, and the attic window in the roof, 
+riddled with buck-shot and bisca'fens, were slowly losing their 
+shape. The combatants who had been posted there had been 
+obliged to withdraw. However, this is according to the tac- 
+tics of barricades ; to fire for a long while, in order to exhaust 
+the insurgents' ammunition, if they commit the mistake of re- 
+plying. When it is perceived, from the slackening of their fire. 
+that they have no more powder and ball, the assault is made, 
+Enjolras had not fallen into this trap ; the barricade did not 
+reply. 
+
+At every discharge by platoons, Gavroche puffed out his 
+cheek with his tongue, a sign of supreme disdain. 
+
+'* Good for you," said he, " rip up the cloth. We want some 
+lint." 
+
+Courfeyrac called the grape-shot to order for the little effect 
+which it produced, and said to the cannon : 
+
+** You are growing diffuse, my good fellow." 
+
+One gets puzzled in battle, as at a ball. It is probable that 
+this silence on the part of the redoubt began to render the be- 
+siegers uneasy, and to make them fear some unexpected inci-^ 
+dent, and that they felt the necessity of getting a clear view 
+behind that heap of paving-stones, and of knowing what was 
+going on behind that impassible wall which received blows 
+without retorting. The insurgents suddenly perceived a hel- 
+met glittering in the sun on a neighboring vooi. A fireman 
+had placed his back against a tall chimney, and seemed to be 
+jWîting as sentinel. His glance fell directly down into the bar- 
+ricade. 
+
+" There's an embarrassing watcher," said Enjoin». 
+
+Jean Valjean had returned Enjolras' rifle, but he had his 
+own gun. 
+
+Without saying a word, he took aim at the fireman, and, a 
+second later, the helmet, smashed by a bullet, rattled noisily 
+into the street. The terrified soldier made haste to disappear. 
+A second observer took his place. This one was an officer. 
+Jean Valjean, who had re-loaded his gun, took aim at the new- 
+comer and sent the ofiicer's casque to join the soldier's. The 
+oflicer did not persist, and retired speedily. Xhis time the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 87 
+
+warning was understood. No one made his appearance theTe> 
+after on that roof ; and the idea of sp3'ing on the barricade 
+was abandoned. 
+
+'' Why did you not kill the man ? '' Bossuet asked Jean 
+Valjean. 
+
+Jean Valjean made no reply. 
+
+XII. — Disorder a Partisan of Order. 
+
+Bossuet muttered in Combeferre's ear : 
+
+" He did not answer my question." 
+
+" He is a man who does good by gun-shots," said Combe- 
+ferre. 
+
+Those who have preserved some memory of this already 
+distant epoch know that the National Guard from the 
+suburbs was valiant against insurrections. It was particu- 
+larly zealous and intrepid in the days of June, 1832. A cer- 
+tain good dram-shop keeper of Pantin des Vertus or la Cunette, 
+whose " establishment " had been closed by the riots, became 
+leonine at the sight of his deserted danoe-hall, and got him- 
+self killed to preserve the order represented by a tea-garden. 
+In that bourgeois and heroic time, in the presence of ideas 
+whiiîh had their knights, interests had their paladins. The 
+prosiness of the originators detracted nothing from the 
+bravery of the movement. The diminution of a pile of 
+crowns made bankers sing the Marseillaise. They shed their 
+blood lyrically for the counting-house ; and they defended the 
+shop, that immense diminutive of the fatherland, with 
+Lacedœmonian enthusiasm. 
+
+At bottom, we will observe, there was nothing in all this 
+that was not extremely serious. It was social elements enter- 
+ing into strife, while awaiting the day when they should enter 
+into equilibrium. 
+
+Another sign of the times was the anarchy mingled with 
+governmentalism [the barbarous name of the correct party}. 
+People were for order in combination with lack of discipline. 
+
+The drum suddenly beat capricious calls, at the command 
+of such or such a Colonel of the National Guard ; such and 
+such a captain went into action through inspiration ; such and 
+such National Guardsmen fought, " for an idea," and on their 
+own account. At critical moments, on "days" they took 
+counsel less of their leaders than of their instincts. There 
+existed in the army of order, veritable guérilleros, some of the 
+Bword, like Fannioot, others of the pen, like Henri Fonfrede 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+38 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+Civilization, unfortunately represented at this epoch rather 
+by an aggregation of interests than by a group of principles, 
+was or thought itself, in peril ; it set up the cry of alarm; 
+each, constituting himself a centre, defended it, succored it, 
+and protected it with his own head ; and the first comer took 
+it upon himself to save society. 
+
+Zeal sometimes proceeded to extermination. A platoon of 
+the National Guard would constitute itself on its own 
+authority a private council of war, and judge and execute a 
+captured insurgent in live minutes. It was an improvisatio>i:^ 
+of this sort that had slain Jean Prouvaire. Fierce Lynch law, 
+with which no one party has any right to reproach the rest, 
+for it has been applied by the Republic in America, as well as 
+by the monarchy in Europe. This Lynch law was complicated 
+with mistakes. On one day of rioting, a young poet, named 
+Paul Aimé Gamier, was pursued in the Place Royale, with a 
+bayonet at his loins, and only escaped by taking refuge 
+under the porte-cochere of No. 6. They shouted : — '* There's 
+another of those Saint-Simonians ! '' and they wanted to kill 
+him. Now, he had under his arm a volume of the memoirs of 
+the Due de Saint-Simon. A National Guard had read the 
+words SaifU'Simon on the book, and had shouted : " Death ! " 
+
+On the 6th of June, 1832, a company of the National Guards 
+from the suburbs, commanded by the Captain Fanuicot, above 
+mentioned, had itself decimated in the Rue de la Chanvrerie 
+out of caprice and its own good pleasure. This fact, singular 
+though it may seem, was proved at the judicial investigation 
+opened in consequence of the insurrection of 1832. Captain 
+Fannicot, a bold and impatient bourgeois, a sort of condottiere 
+of the order of those whom we have just characterized, a 
+fanatical and intractable goverumentalist, could not resist the 
+temptation to fire prematurely, and the ambition of capturing 
+the barricade alone and unaided, that is to say, with hia 
+company. Exasperated by the successive apparition of the 
+red flag and the old coat which he took for the black flag, he 
+loudly blamed the generals and chiefs of tlie corps, who were 
+holding conncil and did not think that the moment for the 
+decisive assault had arrived, and who were allowing "the 
+insurrection to fry in its own fat," to use the celebrated ex- 
+pression of one of them. For his part, he thought the barri- 
+cade ripe, and as that which is ripe ought to fall, he made the 
+attempt. 
+
+He commanded men as resolute as iilmself, '^raging fei< 
+lows," as a witness said. His company, the same which had 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 8G 
+
+shot Jean Prouvaire the poet, was the first of the battalion 
+posted at the angle of tlie street. At the moment when they 
+were least expecting it, the captain launched his men against 
+the barricade. This movement, executed with more good will 
+than strategy, cost the Fannicot company dear. Before it 
+had traversed two thirds of the street it was received by a 
+general discharge from the barricade. Four, the most auda- 
+cious, who were running on in front, were mown down point 
+blank at the very foot of the redoubt, and this courageous 
+throng of National Guards, very brave men but lacking in 
+military tenacity, were forced to fall back, after some hesitar 
+tion, leaving fifteen corpses on the pavement. This momen- 
+tary hesitation gave the insurgents time to re-load their'weap- 
+ons, and a second and very destructive discharge struck the 
+company before it could regain the corner of the street, its 
+shelter. A moment more and it was caught between two fires, 
+and it received the volley from the battery piece which, not 
+having received the order, had not discontinued its firing. 
+
+The intrepid and imprudent Fannicot was one of the dead 
+fi-om this grape-shot. He was killed by the cannon, that is to 
+say, by order. 
+
+This attack, which was more furious than serious, irritated 
+Enjolras. — *^The fools ! " said he. "They are getting their 
+own men killed and they are using up our ammunition for 
+nothing." 
+
+Enjolras spoke like the real general of insurrection which 
+he was. Insurrection and repression do not fight with equal 
+weapons. Insurrection, which is speedily exhausted, has 
+only a certain number of shots to fire and a certain number of 
+combatants to expend. An empty cartridge-box, a man killed, 
+cannot be replaced. As repression has the army, it does not 
+count its men, and, as it has Vincennes, it does not count its 
+shots. Repression has as many regiments as the barricade 
+has men, and as many arsenals as the barricade has cartridge- 
+boxes. Thus they are struggles of one against a hundred, 
+which always end in crushing the barricade ; unless the 
+revolution, uprising suddenly, flings into the balance its flam- 
+ing archangel's sword. This does happen sometimes. Then 
+everything rises, the pavements begin to seethe, popular re- 
+doubts abound. Paris quivers su})remely, the quid dwinum is 
+given forth, a 10th of August is in the air, a 29th of July is 
+in the air, a wonderful light appears, the yawning maw of 
+force draws back, and the army, that lion, sees before it, erect 
+and tranquil, that prophet, France. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+40 LBS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+XIII. — Passing Gleams. 
+
+In the chaos of sentiments and passions which defend a 
+barricade, there is a little of everything; there is bravery, 
+there is youth, honor, enthusiasm, the ideal, conviction, the 
+rage of the gambler, and, above all, intermittences of hope. 
+
+One of these intermittences, one of these vs^^e quivers of 
+hope suddenly traversed the barricade of the Rue de la Chaz*- 
+vrerie at the moment when it was least expected. 
+
+''Listen," suddenly cried Enjolras, who was still on the 
+watch, " it seems to me that Paris is waking up." 
+
+It is certain that, on the morning of the 6th of June, the 
+insurrection broke out afresh for an hour or two, to a certain 
+extent. The obstinacy of the alarm peal of Saint-Merry 
+reanimated some fancies. Barricades were begun in the Rue 
+du Poirier and the Rue des Gravilliers. In front of the 
+Porte Saint-Martin, a young man, armed with a rifle, attacked 
+alone a squadron of cavalry. In plain sight, on the open 
+boulevard, he placed one knee on the ground, shouldered his 
+weapon, flred, killed the commander of the squadron, and 
+turned away, saying: "There's another who will do us no 
+more harm," 
+
+He was put to the sword. In the Rue Saint-Denis, a 
+woman fired on the National Guard from behind a lowered 
+blind. The slats of the blind could be seen to tremble at 
+every shot. A child fourteen years of a^e was arrested in 
+the Rue de la Cossonerie, with his pockets full of cartridges. 
+Many posts were attacked. At the entrance to the Rue 
+Bertin-Poirëe, a very lively and utterly unexpected fusillade 
+welcomed a regiment of cuirassiers, at whose head marched 
+Marshal General Cavaignac de Barague. In the Rue Planche- 
+Mibray, they threw old pieces of pottery and household 
+utensils down on the soldiers from the roofs ; a bad sign ; 
+and when this matter was reported to Marshal Soult, 
+Napoleon's old lieutenant grew thoughtful, as he recalled 
+Suchet's saying at Saragossa : " We are lost when the old 
+women empty their pots de chambre on our heads." 
+
+These general symptoms which presented themselves at the 
+moment when it was thought that the uprising had been ren- 
+dered local, this fever of wrath, these sparks which flew 
+hither and thither above those deep masses of combustibles 
+which are called the faubourgs of Paris, — all this, taken to- 
+gether, disturbed the military chiefs. They made haste to 
+stamp out these beginnings of conflagration. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 41 
+
+They delayed the attack on the barricades Maubuée, de la 
+Chanvrerie and Saint- Merry until these sparks had been ex- 
+tinguished, in order that they might have to deal with the 
+barricades only and be able to finish them at one blow. Col- 
+umns were thrown into the streets where there was fermenta- 
+tion, sweeping the large, sounding the small, right and left, 
+now slowly and cautiously, now at full charge. The troops 
+broke in the doors of houses whence shots had been fired ; at 
+the same time, manœuvres by the cavalry dispersed the groups 
+on the boulevards. This repression was not effected without 
+some commotion, and without that tumultuous uproar peculiar 
+to collisions between the army and the people. This was 
+what Enjolras had caught' in the intervals of the cannonade 
+and the musketry. Moreover, he had seen wounded men 
+passing the end of the street in litters, and he said to Cour- 
+feyrac : — " Those wounded do not come from us." 
+
+Their hope did not last long; the gleam was quickly 
+eclipsed. In less than half an hour, what was in the air van- 
+ished, it was a flash of lightning unaccompanied by thunder, 
+and, the insurgents felt that sort of leaden cope, which the in- 
+difference of the people casts over obstinate and deserted men, 
+fall over them once more. 
+
+The general movement, which seemed to have assumed a 
+vague outline, had miscarried ; and the attention of the min-. 
+ister of war and the strategy of the generals could now be 
+concentrated on the three or four barricades which still re- 
+mained standing. 
+
+The sun was mounting above the horizon. 
+
+An insurgent hailed Enjolras. 
+
+" We are hungry here. Are we really going to die like this, 
+without anything to eat ? " 
+
+Enjolras, who was still leaning on his elbows at his embra 
+sure, made an affirmative sign with his head, but without tak 
+ing his eyes from the end of the street. 
+
+XIV. — Wherein Will Appear the Name of Enjolras' 
+
+Mistress. 
+
+CovRFEYRAO, Seated on a paving-stone beside Enjolras, con- 
+tinued to insult the cannon, and each time that that gloomy 
+cloud of projectiles which is called grape-shot passed over- 
+head with its terrible sound he assailed it with a burst of 
+irony. 
+
+" You are wearing out your lungs, poor, brutal, old fellow. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+42 LES MISËRABI.Eîs. 
+
+you pain me, you are wasting your row. That's not thunder, 
+it's a couj^li.'' 
+
+And the bystanders laughed. 
+
+Courfeyrac and Bossue t, whose brave good humor increased 
+with the peril, like Madame Scarron, replaced nourishment 
+with pleasantry, and, as wine was lacking, they poured ont 
+gayety to all. 
+
+"I admire Enjolras," said Bossuet. "His impassive 
+temerity astounds me. He lives alone, which renders him a 
+littlC'Sad, perhaps; Enjolras complains of his greatness, which 
+binds him to widowhood. The rest of us have mistresses, 
+more or less, who make us crazy, that is to say, brave. WTien 
+a man is as much in love as a tiger, the least that he can do 
+is to fight like a lion. That is one way of taking our revenge 
+for the capers that mesdames our grisettes play on us. Roland 
+gets himself killed for Angélique ; all cur heroism comes 
+from our women. A man without a woman is a pistol 
+without a trigger; it is the woman that sets the man off. 
+Well, Enjolras has no woman. He is not in love, and yet he 
+manages to be intrepid. It is a thing unheard of that a man 
+should be as cold as ice and as bold as fire.'' 
+
+Enjolras did not aj>pear to be listening, but had any one 
+been near him, that person would have heard him mutter in a 
+low voice: "Patria.'' 
+
+Bossuet was still laughing when Courfeyrac exclaimed : 
+
+« Kews ! '* 
+
+And assuming the tone of an usher making an announoe- 
+ment, he added : 
+
+" My name is Eight-Pounder.'^ 
+
+In fact, a new personage had entered on the scene. This 
+was a second piece of ordnance. 
+
+The artillery-men rapidly performed their manœuvres in 
+force, and i)laced this second piece in line with the first 
+
+This outlined the catastrophe. 
+
+A few minutes later, the two pieces, rapidly served, were 
+firing poiutrblank at the redoubt ; the platoon firing of the 
+line and of the soldiers from the suburbs sustained the ar 
+tillery. 
+
+Another cannonade was audible at some distance. At the 
+same time that the two guns were furiously attacking the re- 
+doulit from the Kue de la Chanvrerie, two other cannons, 
+trained one from the Hue î^aint-Denis, the other from the Rue 
+Aubry-le-Boucher, wore riddling the Saint-Merry barricada 
+The four cannons echoed each other mournfully. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. ⣠
+
+The bkrkiîig of these sombre dogs of war replied to each 
+jther. 
+
+One of the two pieces which was now battering the barri- 
+cade on the Rue de la Chanvrerie waa firing grape-shot, the 
+other balls. 
+
+The piece which was firing balls was pointed a little high, 
+and the aim was calculated so that the ball struck the extreme 
+edge of the upper crest of the barricade, and crumbled the 
+stone down upon the insurgents, mingled with bursts of 
+grape-shot. 
+
+The object of this mode of firing was to drive the insurgents 
+from the summit of the redoubt, and to compel them to gather 
+close in the interior, that is to say, this announced the as- 
+sault. 
+
+The combatants once driven from the crest of the barricade 
+by balls, and from the windows of the cabaret by grape-shot, 
+the attacking columns could venture into the street without 
+being picked' off, perhaps, even, without being seen, could 
+briskly and suddenly scale the redoubt, as on the preceding 
+evening, and, who knows ? take it by surprise. 
+
+" It is absolutely necessary that the inconvenience of . thosa 
+guns should be diminished,", said Enjolras, and he shouted: 
+" Fire on the artillery-men ! " 
+
+All were ready. The barricade, which had long been silentji 
+poured forth a desperate fire ; seven or eight discharges fol- 
+lowed, with a sort of rage and joy ; the street was filled with 
+blinding smoke, and, at the end of a few minutes, athwart 
+this mist all streaked with flame, two thirds of the gunnera 
+could be distinguished lying beneath the wheels of the can- 
+nons. Those who were left standing continued to serve the 
+pieces with severe tranquillity, but the fire had slackened. 
+
+"Things are going well now," said Bossuet to Enjolras. 
+^ Success." 
+
+Enjolras shook his head and replied r 
+
+" Another quarter of an hour of this success, and there will 
+not be any cartridges left in the barricade." 
+
+It appears that Gavroche overheard this remark. 
+
+XV. — Gavhoche Outside. 
+
+CouRPEYRAC suddenly caught sight of some one at the base 
+of the barricade, outside in the street, amid the bullets. 
+
+Gavroche had taken a bottle basket from the wiue-sliop, 
+had made his way out througn the cut, and was quietly en 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+44 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+gaged in emptying the full cartridge-boxes of the National 
+Guardsmen who had been killed on the slope of the redoubt^ 
+into his basket. 
+
+" What are you doing there ? " asked Gourfeyrac» 
+
+Gavroche raised his face : — 
+
+" I'm filling my basket, citizen." 
+
+** Don't you see the grape-shot ? " 
+
+Gavroche replied : 
+
+<* Well, it is raining. What then ? " 
+
+Courf ey rac shouted : — " Come in ! '^ 
+
+"Instanter," said Gavroche. 
+
+And with a single bound he plunged into the street. 
+
+It will be remembered that Fannicot's company had left 
+behind it a trail of bodies. Twenty corpes lay scattered here 
+and there on the pavement, through the whole length of the 
+street. Twenty cartouches for Gavroche meant a provision 
+of cartridges for the barricade. 
+
+The smoke in the street was like a fog. Whoever has 
+beheld a cloud which has fallen into a mountain gorge be- 
+tween two peaked escarpments can imagine this smoke 
+rendered denser and thicker by two gloomy rows of lofty 
+houses. It rose gradually and was incessantly renewed; 
+hence a twilight which made even the broad daylight turn 
+pale. The combatants could hardly see each other from one 
+end of the street to the other, short aâ it was. 
+
+This obscurity, which had probably been desired and cal- 
+culated on by the commanders who were to direct the assault 
+on the barricade, was useful to Gavroche. 
+
+* Beneath the folds of this veil of smoke, and thanks to his 
+small size, he could advance tolerably far into the street 
+without being seen. He rifled the first seven or eight car- 
+tridge-boxes without much danger. 
+
+He crawled flat on his bell}', galloped on all fours, took 
+his basket in his teeth, twisted, glided, undulated, wound from 
+3ne dead body to another, and emptied the cartridge-box or 
+cartouche as a monkey opens a nut. 
+
+They did not dare to shout to him to return from the barri- 
+cade, which was quite near, for fear of attracting attention to 
+him. 
+
+On one body, that of a corporal, he found a powder-flask. 
+
+" For thirst," said he, putting it in his pocket. 
+By dint of advancing, he reached a point where the fog of 
+the fusillade became transparent. So that the sharpshooters 
+of the line ranged on the outlook behind their paving-stone 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 46 
+
+dike and the sharpshooters of the banlieue massed at the 
+corner of the street suddenly pointed out to each other some* 
+thing moving through the smoke. 
+
+At the moment when Gavroche was relieving a sergeant, 
+who was lying near a stone door-post, of his cartridges, a 
+bullet struck the body. 
+
+"Fichtre!" ejaculated Gavroche. "They are killing my 
+dead men for me." 
+
+A second bullet struck a spark from the pavement beside 
+him. — A third overturned his basket. 
+
+Gavroche looked and saw that this came from the men of 
+the banlieue. 
+
+He sprang to his feet, stood erect, with his hair flying in 
+the wind, his hands on his hips, his eyes fixed on the National 
+Guardsmen who were firing, and sang : 
+
+'< On est laid à Nanterre, " Men are ugly at Nanterre, 
+
+C'est la faute à Voltaire; 'Tis the fault of Voltaire; 
+
+Et bête à Palaiseau, And dull at Palaiseau, 
+
+C'est la faute à Rousseau. '^ 'Tis the fault of Rousseau. '» 
+
+Then he picked up his basket, replaced the cartridges which 
+had fallen from it, without missing a single one, and, advanc- 
+ing towards the fusillade, set about plundering another car- 
+tridge-box. There a fourth bullet missed him, again. Gav- 
+roche sang : 
+
+" Je ne suis pas notable, " I am not a notary, 
+
+C'est la faute à Voltaire; 'Tis the fault of Voltaire; 
+
+Je suis un petit oiseau, I'm a little bird, 
+
+C'est la faute à Rousseau. " 'Tis the fault of Rousseau. " 
+
+A fifth bullet only succeeded in drawing from him a third 
+couplet : 
+
+" Joie est mon caractère, ** Joy is my character, 
+
+C'est la faute à Voltaire; 'Tis the fault of Voltaire; 
+
+Misère est mon trousseau, Misery is my trousseau, 
+
+C'est la faute à Rousseau. '* 'Tis the fault of Rousseau. * 
+
+Thus it went on for some time. 
+
+It was a charming and terrible sight. Gavroche, though 
+shot at, was teasing the fusillade. He had the air of being 
+greatly diverted. It was the sparrow pecking at the sports- 
+men. " To each discharge he retorted with a couplet. They 
+aimed at him constantly, and always missed him. The Na- 
+tional Guardsmen and the soldiers laughed as they took aim 
+at him. He lay down, sprang to his feet, hid in the corner 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+46 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+of a doorway, then made a bound, disappeared, re-appeared, 
+
+scampered away, returned, replied to the grai»e-shot with his 
+thumb at his nose, and, all the while, went on pillaging 
+the cartouches, emptying the cartridge-boxes, and filling hib 
+basket. The insurgents, panting with anxiety, followed him 
+with their eyes. The barricade trembled ; he sang. He w^afi 
+not a child, he was not a man ; he was a strange gamin- 
+fairy. He might have been called the invulnei-able dwarf of 
+the fray. The bullets flew after him, he was more nimble 
+than they. He played a fearful game of hide and seek with 
+death; every time that the flat-nosed face of the spectre ap- 
+proached, the urchin administered to it a fillip. 
+
+One bullet, however, better aimed or more treacherous than 
+the rest, finally struck the will-o'-the-wisp of a child. Ga- 
+vroche was seen to stagger, then he sank to the earth. The 
+whole barricade gave vent to a cry ; but there was something oi 
+Antaeus in that i)ygmy ; for the gamin to touch the pavement is 
+the same as for the giant to touch the eai-th; Gavroche hail 
+fallen only to rise again ; he remained in a sitting posture, a 
+long thread of blood streaked his face, he raised both arms in 
+the air, glanced in the direction whence the shot had come, 
+and began to sing î 
+
+"Je suis tomb^ par terre, **I have fallen to the earth. 
+C'est la faute a Voltaire ; 'Tis the fault of Voludre ; 
+
+Le nez dans le ruisseau, With my nose in the gutter. 
+
+C'est la faute à . . . " 'Tis the fault of . . . " 
+
+He did not finish. A second bullet from the same marks- 
+man stopped him short. Thia time he fell face downward on 
+tlie pavement, and moved no more. This grand little soul 
+had taken its flight. 
+
+
+
+XVI. — How FROM A BliOTHER OXE BECOMES A FaTHER. 
+
+At that same moment, in the garden of the Luxembourg, — 
+for the gaze of the drama must b« everywhere present, — two 
+children were holding each other by the hand. One might 
+have been seven years old, the other five. The rain having 
+soaked them, they were walking along the pîiths on the sunny 
+si(l(^ ; the elder w.is leading the younger ; they were pale and 
+ragged ; they had the air of wild birds. The smaller of them 
+said : " I am very hungry." 
+
+The elder, who was already somewhat of a protector, was 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 4? 
+
+leading his brother with his left hand and in his right he 
+carried a small stick. 
+
+They were aloue in the garden. The garden was deserted, 
+the gates had been closed by order of the police, on account 
+of the insurrection. The troops who had been bivouacking 
+there had departed for the exigencies of combat. 
+
+How did those children come there ? Perhaps they had 
+escaped from some guard-house which stood ajar; perhaps 
+there was in the vicinity, at the Barrière d'Enfer, or on tlie 
+Elsplanade de l'Observatoire, or in the neighboring carrefour, 
+dominated by the pediment on which could be read: In- 
+venerunt parvulum pannis involutum^ some mountebank's 
+booth from which they had fled ; perhaps they had, on tlie 
+preceding evening, escaped the eye of tlie inspectors of the 
+garden at the hour of closing, and had passed the night in 
+some one of those sentry-boxes where people read the papers ? 
+The fact is, they were stray lambs and they seemed free. To 
+be astray and to seem free is to be lost. These poor little 
+creatures were, in fact, lost. 
+
+These two children were the same over whom Gavroche 
+had been put to some trouble, as the reader will recollect. Chilr 
+dren of the Thenai-diers, leased out to Magnon, attributed to 
+M. Gillenormand, and now leaves fallen from all these root- 
+less branches, and swept over the ground by the wind.. Their 
+clothing, which had been clean in Magnon 's day, and which 
+bad served her as a prospectus with M, Gillenormand, had 
+been converted into ra^s. 
+
+Henceforth these l)eings belonged to the statistics as 
+" Abandoned children," whom the police take note of, collect, 
+mislay and find again on the pavements of Paris. 
+
+It required the disturbance of a day like that to account 
+for these miserable little creatures being iu that garden. If 
+the superintendents had caught sight of them, they would 
+have driven such rags forth. Poor little things do not .enter 
+public gardens ; still, people should reflect that, as children, 
+they have a right to flowers. 
+
+These children were there, thanks to the locked gates. 
+They were there contrary to the regulations. They had slipped 
+into the garden and there they remained. Closed gates do not 
+dismiss the inspectors, oversight is supposed to continue, 
+but it grows slack and reposes ; and the inspectors, moved by 
+the public anxiety and more occupied with the outside than the 
+inside, no longer glanced into the garden, and had not seen the 
+two deliuquents. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+48 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+It had rained the night l)efore, and even a little in the 
+morning. But in June, showers do not count for much. An 
+hour after a storm, it can hardly be seen that the beautiful 
+blonde day has wept. The earth, in summer, is as quickly 
+dried as the cheek of a child. At that period of the solstice, 
+the light of full noonday is, so to speak, poignant. It takes 
+everything. It applies itself to the earth, and superposes it- 
+self with a sort of suction. One would say that the sun was 
+thirsty. A shower is but a glass of water ; a rainstorm is in- 
+stantly drunk up. In the morning everything was drippings in 
+the afternoon everything is powdered over. 
+
+Nothing is so worthy of admiration as foliage washed by 
+the rain and wiped by the rays of sunlight ; it is warm fresh- 
+ness. The gardens and meadows, having water at their roots, 
+and sun in their flowers, become perfuming-pans of incense, 
+and smoke with all their odors at once. Everything smiles, 
+sings and offers itself. One feels gently intoxicated. The 
+springtime is a provisional paradise, the sun helps man to 
+have patience. 
+
+There are beings who demand nothing further; mortals, 
+who, having the azure of heaven, say : " It is enough ! " dream- 
+ers absorbed in the wonderful, dipping into the idolatry of 
+nature, indifferent to good and evil, contemplators of cosmos 
+and radiantly forgetful of man, who do not understand how 
+people can occupy themselves with the hunger of these, aiid 
+the thirst of those, with the nudity of the poor in winter, with 
+the lymphatic curvature of the little spinal column, with the 
+pallet, the attic, the dungeon, and the rags of shivering young 
+girls, when they can dream beneath the trees ; peaceful and 
+terrible spirits they, and pitilessly satisfied. Strange to say, 
+the infinite suffices them. That great need of man, the finite, 
+which admits of embrace, they ignore. The finite which ad- 
+mits of progress, and sublime toil, they do not think about. 
+The indefinite, which is born from the human and divine com- 
+bination of the infinite and the finite, escapes them. Provided 
+that they are face to face with immensity, they smile. Joy 
+never, ecstasy forever. Their life lies in surrendering their 
+personality in contemplation. The history of humanity is for 
+them only a detailed plan. All is not there; the true All 
+remains without ; what is the use of busying oneself over that 
+detail, man ? Man suffers, that is quite possible ; but look at 
+Aldebaran rising ! The mother has no more milk, the new- 
+born babe is dying. I know nothing about that, but just look 
+at this wonderful rosette which a slice of wood^^Ua of the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 4Q 
+
+pine presents under the microscope ! Compare the most bean- 
+tiful Mechlin lace to that if you can ! These thinkers forget 
+to love. The zodiac thrives with them to such a point that it 
+prevents their seeing the weeping child. God eclipses their 
+souls. This is a family of minds which are, at once, great and 
+petty. Horace was one of them, so was Goethe. La Fon- 
+taine perhaps; magnificent egoists of the inhnite, tranquil 
+spectators of sorrow, who do not behold Nero if the weather 
+be fair, for whom the sun conceals the funeral pile, who would 
+look on at an execution by the guillotine in the search for an 
+effect of light,, who hear neither the cry nor the sob, nor the 
+death rattle, nor the alarm peal, for whom everything is well, 
+since there is a mouth of May, who, so long as there are clouds 
+of purple and gold above their heads, declare themselves 
+content, and who are determined to be happy until the radiance 
+of the stars and the songs of the birds are exhausted. 
+
+These are dark radiances. They have no suspicion that 
+they are to be pitied. Certainly they are so. He who does 
+not weep does not see. They are to be admired and pitied, as 
+one would both pity and admire a being at once night and day, 
+without eyes beneath his lashes but with a star on his brow. 
+
+The indifference of these thinkers, is, according to some, a 
+superior philosophy. That may be; but in this superiority 
+there is some infirmity. One may be immortal and yet limp : 
+witness Vulcan. One may be more than man and less than 
+man. There is incomplete immensity in nature. Who knows 
+whether the sun is not a blind man ? 
+
+But then, what? In whom can we trust? Solem quia 
+dicerefalsum audeat? Who shall dare to say that the sun is 
+false ? Thus certain geniuses, themselves, certain Very-Lofty 
+mortals, man-stars, may be mistaken ? That which is on 
+high at the summit, at the crest, at the zenith, that which 
+sends down so much light on the earth, sees but little, sees 
+badly, sees not at all ? Is not this a desperate state of things ? 
+No. But what is there, then, above the sun ? The god. 
+
+On the 6th of June, 1832, about eleven o'clock in the morn- 
+ing, the Luxembourg, solitary and depopulated, was charming. 
+The quincunxes and flower-beds shed forth balm and dazzling 
+beauty into the sunlight. The branches, wild with the brill- 
+iant glow of midday, seemed endeavoring to embrace. In 
+the sycamores there was an uproar of linnets, sparrows tri- 
+umphed, wood-peckers climbed along the chestnut trees, ad- 
+ministering little pecks on the bark. The flower-beds accepted 
+the legitimate royalty of the lilies ; the most august of pei^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+80 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+fumes is that which emanates from whiteness. The peppery 
+odor of the cii mations was perceptible. The old crows of 
+Marie de Medici were amorous in the tall trees. The sun 
+gilded, empurpled, set fire to and lighted up the tulips, which 
+are nothing but all the varieties of flame made into flowers. 
+All around the banks of tulips the bees, the sparks of these 
+flame-flowers, hummed. All was grace and gayety, even the 
+impending rain ; this relapse, by which the lilies ot the valley 
+and the honeysuckles were destined to i>rofit, had nothing 
+disturbing about it; the swallows indulged in the charming 
+threat of flying low. He who was there aspired to happiness j 
+life smelled good ; all nature exhaled candor, help, assistance, 
+paternity, caress, dawn. The thoughts which fell f i-om heaven 
+were as sweet as the tiny hand of a baby when one kisses it. 
+
+The statues under the trees, white and nude, ha<l robes of 
+shadow pierced with light ; these goddesses were all tattered 
+with sunlight; rays hung from them on all sides. Around 
+the great fountain, the earth was already dried up to the point 
+of being burnt. There was suflicient breeze to raise little in 
+surrections of dust here and there. A few yellow leaves, left 
+over from the autumn, chased each other merrily, and seemed 
+to be playing tricks on each other. 
+
+This abundance of light had something indescribably reas- 
+suring about it. Life, sap, heat, odors overflowed ; one was 
+conscious, beneath creation, of the enormous size of the source ; 
+in all these breaths permeated with love, in this interchange 
+of reverberations and reflections, in this marvellous expendi- 
+ture of rays, in this infinite outpouring of liquid gold, one 
+felt the prodigality of the inexhaustible ; and, behind this 
+splendor as behind a curtain of flame^ one caught a glimpse of 
+God, that millionaire of stars. 
+
+Thanks to the sand, there was not a speck of mud ; thanks 
+to the rain, there was not a grain of ashes. The clumps of 
+blossoms had just been bathed ; every sort of velvet, satin, 
+gold and varnish, which springs from the earth in the form of 
+flowers, was irreproachable. This magnificence was cleanly. 
+The grand silence of happy nature filled the garden. A celes- 
+tial silence that is compatible with a thousand sorts of music, 
+the cooing of nests, the buzzing of swarms, the flutterings of 
+the breeze. All the harmony of the season was complete in 
+one gracious whole ; the entrances and exits of spring took 
+place in proper order; the lilacs ended; the jasmines began; 
+some flowers were tanly, some insects in advance of their time ; 
+the van -guard of the red June butterflies fraternized with the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 51 
+
+rear-gaard of the white butterflies of May. The plantain 
+trees were getting their new skins. Tiie breeze hollowed out 
+undulations in the magnificent euonuity of the chestnut-trees. 
+It was splendid. A veteran from the neighboring barracks, 
+who was gazing through the fence, said : " Here is the Spiing 
+presenting arms and in full uniform.'' 
+
+All nature was breakfasting ; creation was at table ; this was 
+its hour; the great biue cloth was spread in the sky, and the 
+great green cloth on earth ; the sun lighted it all up brilliantly. 
+God was serving the universal repast. Each creature had his 
+pasture or his mess. The ring-dove found his hemp-seed, the 
+chaffinch found his millet, the goldfinch found chickweed, the 
+red-breast found worms, the green fin(^h found flies, the fly found 
+infusoriae, the bee found flowers. They ate each other some* 
+what, it is true, whicli is the misery of evil mixed with good ; 
+but not a beast of them all had an empty stomach. 
+
+The two little abamkmed creatures had arrived in the vioin» 
+ity of the grand fountain, and, rather bewildered by all this 
+light, they tried to hide themselves, the instinct of the poor 
+and the weak in the presence of even ini personal magniflcence } 
+and they kept behind the swans' hutch. 
+
+Here and there, at intervals, when the wind blew, shouts, 
+clamor, a sort of tumultuous death rattle, which was the firings 
+and dull blows, which were discharges of cannon, struck the 
+ear confusedly. Smoke hung over the roofs in the direction 
+of the Halles. A bell, which had the air of an appeal, was 
+ringing in the distance. 
+
+These children did not appear to notice these noises. Th« 
+little one repeated from time to time : " I am hungry." 
+
+Almost at the ^ime instant with the children, another 
+couple approached the groat basin. They consisted of a good- 
+man, about fifty years of age, who was leading by the haaid a 
+little fellow of six. No doubt, a father and his son. The 
+little man of six bad a big brioche. 
+
+At that epoch, certain houses abutting on the river, in the 
+Rues Madame and d'Enfer, had keys to the Luxembourg gar- 
+den, of which the lodgers enjoyed the use when the gates 
+were shut, a privilege which was suppressed later on. This 
+father and son came from one of these houses, no doubt. 
+
+The two poor little creatures watclied " that gentleman " 
+approaching, and hid themselves a little more thoroughly. 
+
+He was a bourgeois. The same person, perhaps, whom Ma- 
+rins had one day heard, through his love fever, near the same 
+grand basin, counsel lint,' his son " to avoid excesses." He ha^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+Sy Google 
+
+
+
+62 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+an affable and haughty air, and a mouth which was always 
+smiling, since it did not shut. This mechanical smile, pro 
+duced by too much jaw and too little skin, shows the teeth 
+rather than the soul. The child, with his brioche, which he 
+had bitten into but had not finished eating, seemed satiated 
+The child was dressed as a National Guardsman, owing to 
+the insurrection, and the father had remained clad as a 
+bourgeois out of prudence. 
+
+Father and son halted near the fountain where two swans 
+were sporting. This bourgeois appeared to cherish a special 
+admiration for the swans. He resembled them in this sense, 
+that he walked like them. 
+
+For the moment, the swans were swimming, which is their 
+principal talent, and they were superb. 
+
+If the two poor little beings had listened and if thej had 
+been of an age to understand, they might have gathered the 
+words of this grave man. The father was saying to his son : 
+
+"The sage lives content with little. * Look at me, my son. 
+I do not love pomp. I am never seen in clothes decked with 
+gold lace and stones ; I leave that false splendor to badly or- 
+ganized souls." 
+
+Here the deep shouts which proceeded from the direction 
+of the Halles burst out with fresh force of bell and uproar. 
+
+" What is that ? " inquired the child. 
+
+The father replied : 
+
+" It is the Saturnalia.'' 
+
+All at once, he caught sight of the two little ragged boys 
+behind the green swan-hutch. 
+
+"There is the beginning," said he. 
+
+And, after a pause, he added : 
+
+" Anarchy is entering this garden." 
+
+In the meanwhile, his son took a bite of his brioche, spit it 
+out, and suddenly burst out crying. 
+
+* Wliat are you crying about ? " demanded his father. 
+
+" I am not hungry any more," said the child. 
+
+The father's smile became more accentuated. 
+
+" One does not need to be hungry in order to eat a cake." 
+
+" My cake tires me. It is stale." 
+
+" Don't you want any more of it ? " 
+
+"No." 
+
+The father pointed to the swans. 
+
+" Throw it to those palmipeds." 
+
+The child hesitated. A person may not want any more of 
+his cake : but that is no reason for giving it f^Wfry. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. . M 
+
+iTie father went on : 
+
+'^Be humane. You must have compassion on animals.'^ 
+
+And, taking the cake from his son, he flung it into the 
+basin. 
+
+The cake fell very near the edge. 
+
+The swans were far away, in the centre of the basin, and 
+busy with some prey. They had seen neither the bourgeois 
+Qor the brioche. 
+
+The bourgeois, feeling that the cake was in danger of being 
+wasted, and moved by this useless shipwreck, entered upon a 
+telegraphic agitation, which finally attracted the attention of 
+the swans. 
+
+They perceived something floating, steered for the edge 
+like ships, as they are, and slowly directed their coui-se toward 
+the brioche, with the stupid majesty which befits white 
+creatures. 
+
+*'The swans [cygnes'^ understand signs \signes\^^ said the 
+bourgeois, delighted to make a jest. 
+
+At that moment, the distant tumult of the city underwent 
+another sudden increase. This time it was sinister. There 
+ue some gusts of wind which speak more distinctly than 
+others. The one which was blowing at that moment brought 
+clearly defined drum-beats, clamors, platoon firing, and the 
+dismal replies of the tocsin and the cannon. This coincided 
+with a black cloud which suddenly veiled the sun. 
+
+The swans had not yet reached the brioche. 
+
+"' Let us return home," said the father, " they are attacking 
+the Tuileries." 
+
+He «^iisped his son's hand again. Then he continued : 
+
+" From the Tuileries to the Luxembourg, there is but the 
+distance wliich separates Royalty from the peerage ; that is 
+not far. Shots will soon rain down." 
+
+He glanced at the cloud. 
+
+" Periiaps it is rain itself that is about to shower down ; 
+sliosky is joining in ; the younger branch is condemned. Let 
+IS return home quickly." 
+
+"I should like to see the swans eat the brioche," said the 
+child. 
+
+The father replied : 
+
+"That would be imprudent." 
+
+And he led his little bourgeois away. 
+
+The son, regretting the swans, turned his head back toward 
+the hasin until a corner of the quincunxes concealed it from him. 
+
+In the meanwhile, the two little waifs had approaclied the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+M . LK6 MlSÉEABLEa, 
+
+brioche at the same time as the swans. It was floating 
+on the water. The smaller of them stared at the cake, 
+the elder gazed after the retreating bourgeois. 
+
+Father and son entered the labyrinth of walks which leads 
+to the grand flight of steps near the clump of trees on the 
+side of the Eue Madame. 
+
+As soon as they had disappeared from yiew, the elder child 
+hastily flung himself flat on his stomach on the rounding curb 
+of the basin, and clinging to it with his left hand, and leaning 
+over the water, on the verge of falling in, he stretched out his 
+right hand with his stick towards the cake. The swans, per 
+ceiving the enemy, made haste, and in so doing, they produced 
+an effect of their breasts which was of service to the little 
+flsher ; the water flowed back before the swans, and one of 
+these gentle concentric undulations softly floated the brioche 
+towards the child's wand. Just as the swans came up, the 
+stick touched the cake. The child gave a brisk rap, drew id 
+the brioche, frightened away the swans, seized the cake, and 
+sprang to his feet. The cake was wet ; but they were hungry 
+and thirsty. The elder broke the cake into two portions, 
+a large one and a small one, took the small one for him- 
+self, gave the large one to his brother, and said to him - 
+
+<' Kam that into your muzzle.'^ 
+
+
+
+XVII. — MoRTuus Pater Filium Moritubxtm Expbctat. 
+
+Mari us dashed out of the barricade, Combeferre followed 
+him. But he was too late. Gavroche was dead. Combe- 
+ferre brought back the basket of cai'tridges ; Marius bore the 
+child. 
+
+" Alas ! " he thought, " that which the father had done foi 
+his father, he was requiting to the son ; only, Thévardier had 
+brought back his father alive ; he was bringing back the child 
+dead." 
+
+When Marius re-entered the redoubt with Gravroohe in his 
+arms, his face, like the child, was inundated with blood. 
+
+At the moment when he had stooped to lift Gavroche, 
+a bullet had grazed his head ; he had not noticed it 
+
+Courfeyrac untied his cravat and with it bandaged Marius' 
+brow. 
+
+They laid Gavroche on the same table with Mabeuf, and 
+spread over the two corpses the black shawl. There was 
+enough of it for both the old man and the child* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 56 
+
+Combeferre distributed the cartridges from the basket 
+srhich he had brought in. 
+
+This gave each man fifteen rounds to fire. 
+
+Jean Valjean was still in the same place, motionless on his 
+stone post. When Combeferre offered him his fifteen car- 
+tridges, he shook his head. 
+
+"Here's a rure eccentric," said Combeferre in a low voice 
+to Enjolras. " He finds a way of not fighting in this barri- 
+cade." 
+
+"Which 4^8 not prevent him from defending it," responded 
+Enjolras. 
+
+" Heroism has its originals," resumed Combeferre. 
+
+And Oourfeyrac, who had overheard, added : 
+
+" He' 9 another sort from Father Mabeuf." 
+
+On<^ thing which must be noted is, that the fire which was 
+battering lihe barricade hardly disturbed the interior. Those 
+who have never traversed the whirlwind of this sort of war can 
+form no idea of the singular moments of tranquillity mingled 
+with these convulsions. Men go and come, they talk, they 
+jest, they lounge. Some one whom we know heard a comba- 
+tant say to him in the midst of the grape-shot : " We are here 
+as at a bachelor breakfast." The redoubt of the Rue de la 
+Chanvrerie, we repeat, seemed very calm within. All mu- 
+tations and all phases had been, or were about to be, ex- 
+hausted. The position, from critical, had become menacing, 
+and, from menacing, was probably about to become desperate 
+In proportion as the situation grew gloomy, the glow of hero 
+ism empurpled the barricade more and more. Enjolras, who 
+was grave, dominated it, in the attitude of a young Spartan 
+sacrificing his naked sword to the sombre genius, Ejndotas. 
+
+Combeferre, wearing an apron, was dressing the wounds; 
+Bossuet and Feuilly were making cartridges with the powder- 
+flask picked up by Gavroche on the dead corporal, and 
+Bossuet said to Feuilly : " We are soon to take the diligence 
+for another planet " ; Courfeyrac was disposing and arranging 
+Dn some paving-stones which he had reserved for himself 
+near Enjolras, a complete arsenal, his sword-cane, his gun, 
+two holster pistols, and a cudgel, with the care of a young 
+girl setting a small dunkerque in order. Jean Valjean 
+stared silently at the wall opposite him. An artisan was 
+fastening Mother Huoheloup's big straw hat on his head 
+with a string, " for fear of sun-stroke," as he said. The 
+young men from the Cougourde d'Aix were chatting merrily 
+among themselves, as though eager to speak patois for the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+66 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+last time. Joly, who had taken Widow Hucheloup's mirro. 
+from the wall, was examining his tongue in it. Some comba- 
+tants, having discovered a few erusts of rather mouldy breail- 
+in a drawer, were eagerly devouring them. Marias was (lis- 
+tiirbed with regard to what his father was about to say tc 
+him. 
+
+
+
+XVIIT. — The Vultukb Become Prey. 
+
+Wb must insist upon one psychological f"vct peculiar tc 
+barricades. Nothing which is characteristic of that surpris 
+in g war of the streets should be omitted. 
+
+Whatever may liave been the singular inward tranquillitj- 
+which we have just mentioned, the barricade, for those who ai-e 
+inside it, remains, none the less, a vision. 
+
+There is something of the apocalypse in civil war, all the 
+mists of the unknown are commingled with fierce flashes, 
+revolutions are sphinxes, and any one who has passed thrt)ugh 
+a barricade thinks he has traversed a dream. 
+
+The feelings to which one is subject in these places we 
+have pointed out in the case of Marins, and we shall see the 
+consequences ; they are lK)th more and le^s than life. On 
+emerging from a barricade, one no Ignger knows what one 
+has seen there. One has l^een terrible, but one knows it not. 
+One has been surrounded with conflicting ideas which had 
+human faces ; one's head has been in the light of the future. 
+There were corpses lying prone there, and phantoms standing 
+erect. The hours were colossal and seemed hours of eternity. 
+One has lived in death. Shadows have passed by. What 
+were they ? 
+
+One has beheld hands on which there was blood ; there was 
+a deafening horror; there was also a frightful silence ; there 
+were open mouths which shouted, and other open mouths 
+which held their peace ; one was in the midst of smoke, of 
+night, perhaps. One fancied that one had touched the 
+sinister ooze of unknown depths; one stares at something 
+red on one's finger nails. One no longer remembers anything. 
+
+Let us return to the Rue de la Chanvrerie. 
+
+All at once, between two discharges, the distant sound of a 
+clock striking the hour became audible. 
+
+" It is mid(iay," said Combe ferre. 
+
+The twelve strokes had not finished striking when Enjolras 
+sprang to his feet, and from the summit of the barricade 
+hurled this thundering shout : 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VA LIE AN. 67 
+
+"Carry stones up into the houses; line the window-sills and 
+the roofs with them. Half the men to their guns, the other 
+half to the i>aving-s tones. There is not a minute to be 
+lost." 
+
+A squad of sappers and miners, axe on shoulder, had just 
+made their appearance in battle array at the end of the 
+street. 
+
+This could only be the head of a column ; and of what 
+column? The attacking column, evidently; the sappers 
+charged with the demolition of the barricade must always 
+precede the soldiers who are to scale it. 
+
+They were, evidently, on the brink of that moment 
+which M. Clermont-Tonnerre, in 1822, called "the tug of 
+war." 
+
+Enjolras' order was executed with the correct haste which 
+is peculiar to ships and barricades, the only two scenes of com- 
+bat where escape is impossible. In less than a minute, two 
+thirds of the stones which Enjolras had had piled up at the 
+door of Corinthe had been carried up to the first floor and 
+the attic, and before a second minute had elapsed, these 
+stones, artistically set one upon the other, walled up the 
+sash-window on the first floor and the windows in the roof to 
+half their height. A few loop-holes carefully planned by 
+Feuilly, the principal architect, allowed of the passage of the 
+gun-barrels. This armament of the windows could be effected 
+all the more easily since the firing of grape-shot had ceased. 
+The two cannons were now discharging ball against tlie centre 
+of the barrier in order to maRe a hole there, and, if possible, 
+a breach for the assault. 
+
+When the stones destined to the final defence were in 
+place, Enjolras had the bottles which he had set under the 
+table where Mabeuf lay, carried to the first floor. 
+
+"Who is to drink that ? " Bossuet asked him. 
+
+"They," replied Enjolras. 
+
+Then they barricaded the window below, and held in readi- 
+ness the iron cross-bars which served to secure the door of the 
+wine-shop at night. 
+
+The fortress was complete. The barricade was the rampart^ 
+the wine-shop was the dungeon. With the stones which 
+remained they stopped up the outlet. 
+
+As the defenders of a barricade are always obliged to be 
+sparing of their ammunition, and as the assailants know this, 
+the assailants combine their arrangements with a sort of 
+irritating leisure, expose themselves to fii'e prematurely, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+58 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+though in appearance more than in reality» and take their 
+ease. The preparations for attack are always made with a 
+certain methodical deliberation; after which, the lightning 
+strikes. 
+
+This deliberation permitted Enjolras to take a review of 
+everything and to perfect everything. He felt that, since 
+such men were to die, their death ought to be a masterpiece. 
+I He said to Marins : — " We are the two leaders. I will give 
+the last orders inside. Do you remain outside and observe." 
+
+Marius posted himself on the lookout upon the crest of the 
+barricade. 
+
+Enjolras had the door of the kitchen, which was the amba- 
+lauce, as the reader will remember, nailed up. 
+
+**No splashing of the wounded," he said. 
+
+He issued his final orders in the tap-room in a curt, but 
+profoundlv tranquil tone ; Feuilly listened and replied in the 
+name of all. 
+
+<< On the first floor, hold your axes in readiness to cut the 
+staircase. Have you them ? " 
+
+" Yes," said Fueilly. 
+
+<< How many ? " 
+
+" Two axes and a pole-axe." 
+
+''That is good. There are now twenty-six combatants of us 
+on foot. How many guns are there ? " 
+
+" Thirty-four." 
+
+'* Eight too many. Keep those eight guns loaded like the 
+rest and at hand. Swords and pistols in your belts. Twenty 
+men to the barricade. Six ambushed in the attic windows, 
+and at the window on the first floor to fire on the assailants 
+through the loop-holesin the stones. Let not a single worker 
+remain inactive here. Presently, when the drum beats the 
+assault, let the twenty below stairs rush to the barricade 
+
+The first to arrive will have the l)est places." 
+
+These arrangments made, he turned to Javert and said : 
+
+" I am not forgetting you." 
+
+And, laying a pistol on the table, he added : 
+
+"The last man to leave this room will smash the skull of 
+this spy." 
+
+" Here ? " inquired a voice. 
+
+" No, let us not mix their corpse with our own. The little 
+barricade of the Mondetour lane can be scaled. It is only 
+four feet high. The man is well pinioned. He shall be 
+taken thither and put to death." 
+
+There was some one who was more impa.ssive at that 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 69 
+
+moment than Enjolras, it was Javert. Here Jean Valjean 
+made his appearance. 
+
+He had been lost among the group of insurgents. He 
+stepped forth and said to Enjolras : 
+
+" You are the commander ? " 
+
+" Yes." 
+
+" You thanked me a while ago." 
+
+"In the name of the Republic. The barricade has two 
+saviors, Marius Pontmercy and yourself." 
+
+" Do you think that I deserve a recompense ? " 
+
+« Certainly." 
+
+"Well, I request one." 
+
+«What is it?" 
+
+"That I may blow that man's brains out." 
+
+Javert raised his head, saw Jean Valjean, made an almost 
+imperceptible movement, and said : 
+
+"That is just." 
+
+As for Enjolras, he had begun to re-load his rifle ; he oast 
+his eyes about him : 
+
+" No objections." 
+
+And he turned to Jean Valjean : 
+
+"Take the spy." 
+
+Jean Valjean did, in fact, take possession of Javert, by 
+seating himself on the end of the table. He seized the pistol, 
+and a faint click announced that he had cocked it. 
+
+Almost at the same moment, a blast of trumpets became 
+audible. 
+
+"Take care ! " shouted Marius from the top of the barricade. 
+
+Javert began to laugh with that noiseless laugh which was 
+peculiar to him, and gazing intently at the insurgents, he said 
+to them : 
+
+" You are in no better case than I am." • 
+
+"All out ! " shouted Enjolras. 
+
+The insurgents poured out tumultuously, and, as they went, 
+received in the back, — may we be permitted the expression, — 
+this sally of Javert's. 
+
+" We shall meet again shortly I " 
+
+XIX. — Jean Valjean Takes His Revenge. 
+
+When Jean Valjean was left alone with Javert, he untied 
+the rope which fastened the prisoner across the middle of the 
+body, and the knot of which was under the table. After this 
+he made him a sign to rise. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+60 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Javert obeyed witli that indefinable smile in which the 
+supremacy of enchained authority is condensed. 
+
+Jean Valjean took Javert by the martingale, as one would 
+take a Ix^ast of burden by the breast-band, and, dragging the 
+hitter after him, emerged from the wine-shop slowly, l)eea\ise 
+Javert, with his impeded limbs, could take only very short steps. 
+
+Jean Valjean had the pistol in his hand. 
+
+In this manner they crossed the inner trapezium of the 
+barricade. The insurgents, all intent o!i the attack, which 
+was imminent, had their backs turned to these two. 
+
+Marius alone, stationed on one side, at tlie extreme left of 
+the barricade, saw them pass. This grouj) of victim and exe- 
+cutioner was illuminated by the sepulchral light which he 
+bore in his own soul. 
+
+Jean Valjean with some difficulty, but without relaxing his 
+hold for a single instant, made Javert. pinioned as he was, 
+scale the little entrenchment in the Mondetour lane. 
+
+When they had crossed this barrier, they found themselves 
+alone in the lane. No one saw them. Among the heap they 
+could distinguish a livid face, streaming hair, a pierced hand 
+and the half nude breast of a woman. It was Éponine. The 
+corner of the houses hid them from the insurgents. The 
+corpses carried away from the barricade formed a terrible pile 
+a few paces distant. 
+
+Javert gazed askance at this body, and, profoundly calm, 
+said in a low tone : 
+
+" It strikes me that I know that girl." 
+
+Then he turned to Jean Valjean. 
+
+Jean Valjean thrust the pistol under his arm and fixed on 
+Javert a look which it required no words to interpret: 
+" Javert, it^is I." 
+
+Javert replied. 
+
+" Take 3'^our revenge." 
+
+Jean Valjean drew from his pocket a knife, and opened it. 
+
+" A clasi>-knife ! " exclaimed Javert, " you are right. That 
+suits you better." 
+
+Jean Valjean cut the martingale which Javert had about 
+his neck, then he cut the cords on his wrists, then, stooping 
+down, he cut the cord on his feet ; and, straightening himself 
+up, he said to him : 
+
+" You are free." 
+
+Javert was not easily astonished. Still, master of himself 
+though he was, he could not repress a start. He remained 
+open-mouthed and motionless. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 61 
+
+Jean Yaljean continued : 
+
+'' I do not think that I shall escape from this place. But if, 
+by chance, I do, I live, under the name of Fauchelevent, in 
+khe Rue de rHomme Armé, No. 7." 
+
+Javert snarled like a tiger, which made him half open one 
+corner of his mouth, and he muttered between his teeth : 
+
+"Have a care." 
+
+" Go,'' said Jean Valjean. 
+
+Javert began again : 
+
+" Thou saidst Fauchelevent, Bue de l'Homme Armé ? " 
+
+"Number 7." 
+
+Javert repeated in a low voice : — " Number 7." 
+
+He buttoned up his coat once more, resumed the military 
+stifiFness between his shoulders, made a half turn, folded his 
+arms and, supporting his chin on one of his hands, he set out 
+in the direction of the Halles. Jean Valjean followed him 
+with his eyes. 
+
+A few minutes later, Javert turned round and shouted to 
+Jean Valjean : 
+
+" You annoy me. Kill me, rather." 
+
+Javert himself did not notice that he no longer addressed 
+Jean Valjean as " thou." 
+
+" Be off with you," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+Javert retreated slowly. A moment later he turned the 
+comer of the Rue des Prêcheurs. 
+
+When Javert had disappeared, Jean Valjean fired hia 
+pistol in the air. 
+
+Then he returned to the barricade and said : 
+
+"It is done." 
+
+In the meanwhile, this is what had taken place. 
+
+Marins, more intent on the outside than on the interior, had 
+not, up to that time, taken a good look at the pinioned spy in 
+the dark background of the tap-room. 
+
+When he beheld him in broad daylight, striding over the 
+barricade in order to proceed to his death, he recognized him. 
+Something suddenly recurred to his miud. He recalled the 
+inspector of the Rue de Pontoise, and the two pistols which 
+the latter had handed to him and which he. Marins, had used 
+in this very barricade, and not only did he recall his face, but 
+his name as well. 
+
+This recollection was misty and troubled, however, like all 
+his ideas. 
+
+It was not an affirmation that he made, but a question 
+which he put to himself • 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+62 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+" Is not that the iuspector of police who told me that hiâ 
+name was Javert ? " 
+
+Perhaps there was still time to intervene in behalf of thut 
+man. But, in the first place, he must know whether this was 
+Javert. 
+
+Marins called to Enjolras, who had just stationed himself 
+at the other extremity of the barricade : 
+
+"Enjolras!" 
+
+"What?" 
+
+" What is the name of yonder man ? " 
+
+"Whatman?" 
+
+**The police agent. Do you know his name ? ^ 
+
+" Of course. He told us." 
+
+'•What is it?" 
+
+•^Javert." 
+
+Marius sprang to his feet. 
+
+At that moment, they heard the report of the pistoL 
+
+Jean Valjean re-appeared and cried : "It is done," 
+
+A gloomy chill traversed Marius' heart. 
+
+XX. — The Dead Are in the IIig«^t and the Litino 
+Are Not in the V iONo. 
+
+The death agony of the barricade '*^ «s about to begin. 
+
+Everything contributed to its tragic majesty at that supreme 
+moment ; a thousand mysterious crashes m the air, the breath 
+of armed masses set in movement in the streets which were not 
+visible, the intermittent gallop of cavalry, the heavy shock 
+of artillery on the march, the firing by squads, and the can- 
+nonades crossing each other in the labvrinth of Paris, the 
+smokes of battle mounting all gilded above the roofs, inde- 
+scribable and vaguely terrible cries, lightnings of menace 
+everywhere, the tocsin of Saint-Merry, which now had the 
+accents of a sob, the mildness of the weather, the splendor of 
+the sky filled with sun and clouds, the beauty of the day, and 
+the alarming silence of the houses. 
+
+For, since the preceding evening, the two rows of houses 
+in the Rue de la Chanvrerie had become two walls ; ferocious 
+walls, doors closed, windows closed, shutters closed. 
+
+In those days, so different from those in which we live, 
+when the hour was come, when the people wished to put an 
+end to a situation, which had lasted too long, with a charter 
+granted or with a legal country, when universal wrath was 
+diffused in the atmosphere, when the city consented to the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. «3 
+
+tearing up of the pavements, when insurrection made tlie 
+bourgeoisie smile by whispering its password in its ear, then 
+the inhabitant, thoroughly penetrated with the revolt, so to 
+speak, was the auxiliary of the combatant, and the house fra- 
+ternized with the improvised fortress which rested on it. 
+When the situation was not ripe, when the insurrection was 
+not decidedly admitted, when the masses disowned the move- 
+ment, all was over with the combatants, the city was changed 
+into a desert around the revolt, souls grew chilled, refuges 
+were nailed up, and the street turned into a defile to help the 
+army to take the barricade. 
+
+A people cannot be forced, through surprise, to walk more 
+quickly than it chooses. Woe to whomsoever tries to force 
+its hand ! A people does not let itself go at random. Then 
+it abandons the insurrection to itself. The insurgents become 
+noxious, infected with the plague. A house is an escarpment, 
+a door is a refusal, a façade is a wall. This wall hears, sees 
+and will not. It might open and save you. No. This wall is 
+a judge. It gazes at you and condemns you. What dismal 
+things are closed houses. They seem dead, they are living. 
+Life which is, as it were, suspended there, persists there. No 
+one has gone out of them for four and twenty hours, but no 
+one is missing from them. In the interior of that rock, peo- 
+ple go and come, go to bed and rise again ; they are a family 
+party there ; there they eat and drink ; they are afraid, a ter- 
+rible thing! Fear excuses this fearful lack of hospitality; 
+terror is mixed with it, an extenuating circumstance. Some- 
+times, even, and this has been actually seen, fear turns to 
+passion ; fright may change into fury, as prudence does into 
+rage; hence this wise saying; "The enraged moderates." 
+There are outbursts of supreme terror, whence springs wrath 
+like a mournful smoke. — "What do these people want ? Whsit 
+have they come there to do ? Let them get out of the scrape. 
+So much the worse for them. It is their fault. They are 
+only getting what they deserve. It does not concern us. 
+Here is our poor street all riddled with balls. They are a pack 
+of rascals. Above all things, don't open the door." — And the 
+house assumes the air of a tomb. The insurgent is in the 
+death-throes in front of that house ; he sees the grape-shot 
+and naked swords drawing near ; if he cries, he knows that 
+they are listening to him, and that no one will come ; there 
+^tand walls which might protect him, there are men who 
+might save him ; and these walls have ears of flesh, and these 
+meJi have bowels of stone. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+64 LES MISERA fiLES. 
+
+Whom shall he reprococh ? 
+
+No one and every one. 
+
+The incomplete times in which we live. 
+
+It is always at its •own risk and ])eril that Utopia is con- 
+verted into revolution, and from philosophical protest becomes 
+an armed protest, and from Minerva turns to Pallas. 
+
+The Utopia which grows impatient and becomes revolt 
+knows what awaits it ; it almost always comes too soon. 
+Then it becomes resigned, and stoically accepts catastrophe 
+in lieu of triumph. It serves those who deny it without com- 
+plaint, even excusing them, and even disculpâtes them, and its 
+magnanimity consists in consenting to abandonment It is 
+indomitable in the face of obstacles and gentle towards 
+ingratitude. 
+
+Is this ingratitude, however ? 
+
+Yes, from the point of view of the human race. 
+
+No, from the point of view of the individual. 
+
+Progress is man's mode of existence. The general life of 
+the human race is called Progress, the collective stride of the 
+human race is called Progress. Progress advances ; it makes 
+the great human and terrestrial journey towards the celestial 
+and the divine ; it has its halting places where it rallies the 
+laggard troop, it has its stations where it meditates, in the 
+presence of some splendid Canaan suddenly unveiled on its 
+norizon, it has its nights when it sleeps; and it is one of 
+the poignant anxieties of the thinker that he sees the 
+shadow resting on the human soul, and that he gropes in 
+darkness without being able to awaken that slumbering Prog- 
+
+
+
+" God is dead, perhaps," said Grerard de Nerval one day to 
+the writer of these lines, confounding progress with God, 
+and taking the interruption of movement tor the death of 
+Being. 
+
+He who despairs is in the wrong. Progress infallibly 
+awakes, and, in short, we may say that it marches on, even 
+when it is asleep, for it has incre^ised in size. When We lie- 
+hold it erect once more, we find it taller. To be always peace- 
+ful does not depend on progress any more than it does on 
+the stream ; erect no barriers, cast in no boulders ; olxstacles 
+make water froth and humanity boil. Hence arise troubles; 
+but after these troubles, we recognize the fact that ground has 
+been gained. Until order, which is nothing else than univer 
+sal peace, has been established, until harmony and unity reign, 
+progress will have revolutions as its halting-places. 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 65 
+
+What, then, is progress ? We have just enunciated it ; the 
+permanent life of the peoples. 
+
+Now, it sometimes happens, that the momentary life of in- 
+dinduals offers resistance to the eternal life of the human 
+race. 
+
+Let US admit without bitterness, that the individual has his 
+distinct interests, and can, without forfeiture, stipulate for his 
+interest, and defend it ; the present has its pardonable dose of 
+egotism ; momentary life has its rights, and is not bound to 
+sacrifice itself constantly to the future. The generation which 
+is passing in its turn over the earth, is not forced to abridge it 
+for the sake of the generations, its equal,, after all, who will 
+have their turn later on. — *^ I exist," murmurs that some one 
+whose name is All. " I am young and in love, I am old and 
+I wish to repose, I am the father of a family, I toil, I prosper, 
+I am successful in business, I have houses to lease, I have 
+money in the government funds, I am happy, I have a wife 
+and children, I have all this, I desire to live, leave me in 
+peace/' — Hence, at certain hours, a profound cold broods over 
+the magnanimous van-guard of the human race. 
+
+Utopia, moreover, we must admit, quits its radiant sphere 
+when it makes war. It, the tinith of to-morrow, borrows its 
+mode of procedure, battle, from the lie of yesterday. It, the 
+future, behaves like the past. It, pure idea, becomes a deed 
+of violence. It complicates its heroism with a violence for 
+which it is just that it should be held to answer ; a violence 
+of occasion and expedient, contrary to principle, and for 
+which it is fatally punished. The Utopia, insurrection, fights 
+with the old military code in its fist ; it shoots spies, it exe- 
+cutes traitors ; it suppresses living beings and flings them into 
+unknown darkness. It makes use of death, a serious matter. 
+It seems as though Utopia had no longer any faith in radi- 
+ance, its irresistible and incorruptible force. It strikes with 
+the sword. Now, no sword is simple. Every blade has two 
+edges; he who wounds with the one is wounded with the 
+other. 
+
+Having made this reservation, and made it with all se- 
+verity, it is impossible for us not to admire, whether they 
+succeed or not, those the glorious combatants of the future, 
+the confessors of Utopia. Even when they miscarry, they are 
+vorthy of veneration ; and it is, perhaps, in failure, that they 
+possess the most majesty. Victory, when it is in accord with 
+progress, merits the applause of the people; but a heroic 
+defeat merits their tender compassion. The one is magnifi* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+96 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+cent, the other sublime. For our own part, we prefer mai 
+tyrdom to success. John Brown is greater than Washingtoa. 
+and Pisacane is greater than Craribaldi. 
+
+It certainly is necessary that some one should take the part 
+of the vanquished. 
+
+We are unjust towards these great men who attempt the 
+future, when they fail. 
+
+Revolutionists are accused of sowing fear abroad. Every 
+barricade seems a crime. Their théorie» are incriminated, 
+their aim suspected, their ulterior motive is feared, their con 
+science denounced. They are reproached with raising, erecting, 
+and heaping up, against the reigning social state, a mass of 
+miseries, of griefs, of iniquities, of wrongs, of despairs, and 
+of tearing from the lowest depths blocks of shadow in order 
+therein to embattle themselves and to combat. People shout 
+to them: "You are tearing up the pavements of hell!*' 
+They might reply : " That is because our barricade is made of 
+good intentions." 
+
+The best thing, assuredly, is the pacific solution. In 
+short, let us agree that when we behold the pavement, we 
+think of the bear, and it is a good will which renders society 
+nneasy. But it depends on society to save itself; it is to its 
+own good will that we make our appeal. No violent remedy 
+is necessary. To study evil amiably, to prove its existence, 
+then to cure it. It is to this that we invite it. 
+
+However that may be, even when fallen, above all when 
+fallen, these men, who at every point of the universe, with their 
+eyes fixed on France, are striving for the grand work with the 
+inflexible logic of the ideal, are august ; they give their life a 
+free offering to progress ; they accomplish the will of provi- 
+dence ; they perform a religious act. At the appointed hour* 
+with as much disinterestedness as an actor who answers to his 
+cue, in obedience to the divine stage-manager, they enter the 
+tomb. And this hopeless combat, chis stoical disappearance they 
+accept in order to bring about the supreme and universal con- 
+sequences, the magnificent and irresistibly human movement 
+begun on the 14th of July, 1789 ; these soldiers are priests. 
+The French revolution is an act of God. 
+
+Moreover, there are, and it is proper to add this distinction 
+to the distinctions already pointed out in another chapter,— 
+there are accepted revolutions, revolutions which are called 
+revolutions ; there are refused revolutions, which are called 
+riots. 
+
+An insurrection which breaks out, is an idea which is pas» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 67 
+
+!n^ its examination before the people. If the people lets fall 
+a black ball, the idea is dried fruit ; the insurrection is a mere 
+skirmish. 
+
+Waging war at every summons and every time that Utopia 
+desires it, is not the thing for the peoples. Nations have not 
+always and at eyery hour the temperament of heroes and 
+martyrs. 
+
+They are positive. A priori^ insurrection is repugnant to 
+them, in the first place, because it often results in a catastro- 
+phe, in the second place, because it always has an abstraction 
+as its point of departure. 
+
+Because, and this is a noble thing, it is always for the ideal, 
+and for the ideal alone, that those who sacrifice themselves 
+do thus sacrifice themselves. An insurrection is an enthu- 
+siasm. Enthusiasm may wax wroth; hence the appeal to 
+arms. But every insurrection, which aims at a government or 
+a régime, aims higher. Thus, for instance, and we insist 
+upon it, what the chiefs of the insurrection of 1832, and, in 
+particular, the young enthusiasts of the Bue de la Chan- 
+vrerie were combating, was not precisely Louis Philippe. 
+The majority of them, when talking freely, did justice to this 
+king who stood midway between monarchy and revolution ; 
+no one hated him. But they attacked the younger branch of 
+the divine right in Louis Philippe as they had attacked its 
+elder branch in Charles X. ; and that which they wished to 
+overturn in overturning royalty in France, was, as we have 
+explained, the usurpation of man over man, and of privilege 
+over right in the entire universe. Paris without a king has 
+as result the world without despots. This is the manner in 
+which they reasoned. Their aim was distant no doubt, vague 
+perhaps, and it retreated in the face of their efforts ; but it 
+was great. 
+
+Thus it is. And we sacrifice ourselves for these visions, 
+which are almost always illusions for the sacrificed, but illu- 
+sions with which, after all, the whole of human certainty is 
+mingled. We throw ourselves into these tragic affairs and 
+become intoxicated with that which we are about to do. Who 
+knows ? We may succeed. We are few in number, we have 
+a whole army arrayed against us ; but we are defending right, 
+the natural law, the sovereignty of each one over himself 
+from which no abdication is possible, justice and truth, and 
+in case of need, we die like the three hundred Spartans. We 
+do not think of Don Quixote but of Leonidas. And we 
+march straight before us, and once pledged, we do not draw 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+68 LES MÏSÉKABLES. 
+
+back, and we rash onwards with bead held low, cherisbing as 
+our hope an unprecedented victory, revolution completed, prog 
+ress set free again, the aggrandizement of the human race, 
+universal deliverance; and in event of the worst, Ther- 
+mopylaB. 
+
+These passages of arms for the sake of progress often suffer 
+shipwreck, and we have just explained why. The arowd is 
+restive in the presence of the impulses of paladins. Heavy 
+masses, the multitudes which are fragile because of their very 
+weight, fear adventures ; and there is a touch of adventure 
+in the ideal. 
+
+Moreover, and we must not foi^t this, interests which are 
+not very friendly to the ideal and the sentimental are in the 
+way. Sometimes the stomach paralyzes the hearts 
+
+The grandeur and beauty of France lies in this, that she 
+takes less from the stomach than other nations : she more 
+easily knots the rope about her loins. She is the first awake, 
+the last asleep. She marches forwards. She is a seeker. 
+
+This arises from the fact that she is an artist. 
+
+The ideal is nothing but the culminating point of logic, the 
+same as the beautiful is nothing but the summit of the true. 
+Artistic peoples are also consistent peoples. To love beauty is 
+to see the light. This is why the torch of Europe, that is to 
+say of civilization, was first borne by Greece, who passed it 
+on to Italy, who handed it on to France. Divine, illuminât- 
+ing nations of scouts ! Vitœ lampada trddunt 
+
+It is an admirable thing that the poetry of a people is the 
+element of its progress. The amount of civilization is meas- 
+ured by the quantity of imagination. Only, a civilizing 
+people should remain a manly people. Corinth, yes ; Sybans, 
+no. Whoever becomes effeminate makes himself a bastard. 
+He must be neither a dilettante nor a virtuoso : but he must 
+be artistic. In the matter of civilization, he must not refine, 
+but he must sublime. On this condition, one gives to the 
+human race the pattern of the ideal. 
+
+The modern ideal has its type in art, and its means is sci- 
+ence. It is through science that it will realize Uiat axignst 
+vision of the poets, the socially beautiful. Eden will be 
+reconstructed by A-f-B. At the point which civilization has 
+now reached, the exact is a necessary element of the splendid, 
+and the artistic sentiment is not only served, but completed 
+by the scientific organ; dreams must be calculated. Art 
+which is the conqueror, should have for support soienoe, 
+whioh is the walker ; the solidity of the creature which is 
+
+
+
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 69 
+
+ridden is of importance. The modem spirit is the genius of 
+Greece with the genius of India as its vehicle ; Alexander on 
+the elephant. 
+
+Races which are petrified in dogma or demoralized by lucre 
+are unfit to guide civilization. Genuflection before the idol 
+or before money wastes away the muscles which walk and 
+the will which advances.; Hieratic or mercantile absorption 
+lessens a people's power of radiance, lowers its horizon by 
+lowering its level, and deprives it of that intelligence, at 
+once both human and divine of the universal goal, which 
+makes missionaries of nations. Babylon has no ideal ; Car- 
+thage has no ideal. Athens and konie have and keep, 
+throughout all the nocturnal darkness of the centuries, halos 
+of civilization. 
+
+France is the same quality of race as Greece and Italy. 
+She is Athenian in the matter of beauty, and Eoman in 
+her greatness. Moreover, she is good. She gives herself. 
+Oftener than is the case with other races, is she in the humbr 
+for self-devotion and sacrifice» Only, this humor seizes upon 
+her and again abandons her. And therein lies the great peril 
+for those who run when she desires only to walk, or who walk 
+on when she desires to halt. France has her relapses into 
+materialism, and, at certain instants, the ideas which obstruct 
+that sublime brain have no longer anything which recalls 
+French greatness and are of the dimensions of a Missouri or a 
+South Carolina. What is to be done in such a case ? The 
+giantess plays at being a dwarf; immense France has her 
+freaks of pettiness. That is all. 
+
+To this there is nothing to say. Peoples, like planets, 
+possess the right to an eclipse. And all is well, provided that 
+the light returns and that the eclipse does not degenerate 
+into night. Dawn and resurrection are synonymous. The re- 
+appearance of the light is identical with the persistence of 
+the/. 
+
+Let us state these facts calmly. Death on the barricade or 
+the tomb in exile, is an acceptable occasion for devotion. 
+The real name of devotion, is disinterestedness. Let the 
+abandoned allow themselves to be abandoned, let the exiled 
+allow themselves to be exiled, and let us confine ourselves to 
+entreating great nations not to retreat too far, when they do 
+retreat. One must not push too far in descent under pretext 
+of a return to reason. 
+
+Matter exists, the minute exists, interest exist, the stomach 
+exists; but the stomach must not be the sole wisdom. The 
+
+
+
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+70 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+life of the moment has its rights, we admit, but permanent 
+life has its rights also. Alas! the fact that one is mounted 
+does not preclude a fall. This can be seen in history more 
+frequently than is desirable : A nation is great, it tastes the 
+ideal, then it bites the mire, and finds it good ; and if it be 
+asked how it happens that it has abandoned Socrates for 
+Falstaff, it replies : " Because I love statesmen." 
+
+One word more before returning to our subject, the conflict. 
+
+A battle like the one which we are engaged in describing 
+is nothing else than a convulsion towards the ideal. Progress 
+trammelled is sickly, and is subject to these tragic epilepsies. 
+With that malady of progress, civil war, we have been obliged 
+to come in contact in our passage. This is one of the fatal 
+phases, at once act and entr'acte of that drama whose pivot is 
+8 social condemnation, and whose veritable title is Progress. 
+
+Progress ! 
+
+The cry to which we frequently give utterance is our 
+whole thought ; and, at the point of this drama which we 
+have now reached, the idea which it contains having still 
+more than one trial to undergo, it is, perhaps, permitted to as, 
+iî not to lift the veil from it, to at least allow its light to 
+Bhine through. 
+
+The book which the reader has under his eye at this 
+moment, is, from one end to the other, as a whole and in 
+detail, whatever may be its intermittances, exceptions and 
+faults, the march from evil to good, from the unjust to the 
+iust, from night to day, from appetite to conscience, from 
+rottenness to life, from hell to heaven, from nothingness to 
+God. Point of departure: matter; point of arrival: the 
+«oui. The hydra at the beginning, the angel at the end. 
+
+XXI. — The Heroes. 
+
+All at once, the drum beat the charge. 
+
+The attack was a hurricane. On the evening before, in the 
+jarkness, the barricade had been approached silently, as by a 
+boa. Now, in broad daylight, in that widening street, sur- 
+prise was decidedly impossible, rude force had, moreover, been 
+unmasked, the cannon had begun the roar, the army hurled 
+itself on the barricade. Fury now became skill. A powerful 
+detachment of infantry of the line, broken at regular intervals, 
+by the National Guard and the Municipal Guard on foot, and 
+supported by serried masses which could be heard though not 
+seen, debouched into the street at a run, with drums beating, 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VA LJ KANT. 71 
+
+tmmpets braying, bayonets levelled, the sappers at their head^ 
+and, imperturbable under the projectiles, charged straight for 
+the barricade with the weight of a brazen beam against a 
+wall. 
+
+The wall held firm. 
+
+The insui^ents fired impetuously. The barricade once 
+scaled had a mane of lightning flashes. The assault was 
+so furious, that for one moment, it was inundated with 
+assailants ; but it shook off the soldiers as the lion shakes ofP 
+the dogs, and it was only covered with besiegers as the cliff 
+is covered with foam, to re-appear, a moment later, beetling, 
+black and formidable. 
+
+The column, forced to retreat, remained massed in the street, 
+unprotected but terrible, and replied to the redoubt with a 
+terrible discharge of musketry. Any one who has seen fire- 
+works will recall the sheaf formed of interlacing lightnings 
+which is called a bouquet. Let the reader picture to himself 
+this bouquet, no longer vertical but horizontal, bearing a 
+bullet, buck-shot or a biscalen at the tip of each one of its 
+jets of flame, and picking off dead men one after another from 
+its clusters of lightning. The barricade was underneath it. 
+
+On both sides, the resolution was equal. The bravery ex- 
+hibited there was almost barbarous and was complicated with 
+a sort of heroic ferocity which began by the sacrifice of self. 
+
+This was the epoch when a National Guardsman fought= 
+like a Zouave. The troop wished to make an end of it, insur- 
+rection was desirous of fighting. The acceptance of the death 
+agony in the flower of youth and in the flush of health turns 
+intrepidity into frenzy. In this fray, each one underwent the 
+broadening growth of the death hour. The street was strewn 
+with corpses. 
+
+The barricade had Enjolras at one of its extremities and 
+Marius at the other. Enjolras, who carried the whole barricade 
+in his head, reserved and sheltered himself ; three soldiers 
+fell, one after the other, under his embrasure without having 
+even seen him ; Marius fought unprotected. He made himself 
+a target. He stood with more than half his body above the 
+breastworks. There is no more violent prodigal than the 
+avaricious man who takes the bit in his teeth ; there is no 
+man more terrible in action, than a dreamer. Marius was 
+formidable and pensive. In battle he was as in a dream. One 
+would have pronounced him a phantom engaged in firing a 
+gun. 
+
+The insurgents' cartridges were giving out : but not their 
+
+
+
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+
+72 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+sarcasms. In this whirlwind of the sepulchre in which 
+they stood, they laughed, 
+
+Courfeyrac was bare-headed. 
+
+" What have you done with your hat ? " Bossaet asked him, 
+
+Courfeyrac replied : 
+
+<< They have hnally taken it away ûrom me with cannon- 
+balls." 
+
+Or they uttered haughty comments. 
+
+" Can any one understand," exclaimed Feully bitterly, "those 
+mcMi, — [and he cited names, well-known names, even cele 
+bratod names, some belonging to the old army] — who had 
+promised to join us, and taken an oath to aid us, and who had 
+l)ledged their honor to it, and who are our generals, and who 
+abandon us I " 
+
+And Combef erre restricted himself to replying with a grave 
+amile. 
+
+" There are people who observe the rules of honor as one 
+observes the stars, from a great distance." 
+
+The interior of the barricade was so strewn with torn car- 
+tridges that one would have said that there had been a snow- 
+storm. 
+
+The assailants had numbers in their favor ; the insurgents 
+had position. They were at the top of a wall, and they thun- 
+dered point blank upon the soldiers tripping over the dead and 
+wounded and entangled in the escarpment. This barricade, 
+constructed as it was and admirably buttressed, was really one 
+of those situations where a handful of men hold a legion in 
+check. Nevertheless, the attacking column, constantly re- 
+cruited and enlarged under the shower of bullets, drew inex- 
+orably nearer, and now, little by little, step by step, but 
+surely, the army closed in around the barricade as the vice 
+grasps the wine-press. 
+
+(Jne assault followed another. The horror of the situation 
+kept increasing. 
+
+TJien there burst forth on that heap of paving-stones, in that 
+Rue de la Chanvrerie, a battle worthy of a wall of Troy. 
+These haggard, ragged, exhausted men, who had had nothing 
+to eat for four and twenty hours, who had not slept, who had 
+but a few more rounds to fire, who were fumbling in their 
+pockets which had been emptied of cartridges, nearly all of 
+whom were wounded, with head or arm bandaged wiài black 
+and blood-stained linen, with holes in their clothes from which 
+the blood trickled, and who were hardly armed with poor guns 
+and notched swords, became Titans. The barricade was ten 
+
+
+
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 73 
+
+times attacked, approached, assailed, scaled, and never cap* 
+tured. 
+
+In order to form an idea of this struggle, it is necessary to 
+ijnagiiie fire set to a throng of terrible courages, and then to 
+gaze at the conflagration. It was not a combat, it was- the 
+Ulterior of a furnace ; there mouths breathed the flame ; there 
+•countenances were extraordinary. The liumau form seemed 
+impossible there, the combatants flamed forth there, and it 
+was formidable to behold the going and coming in that red 
+glow of those salamanders of the fray. 
+
+The successive and simultaneous scenes of this grand slaugh- 
+ter we renounce all attempts at depicting. The epic alone has 
+the right to fill twelve thousand verses with a battle. 
+
+One would have pronounced this that hell of Brahmanism, 
+the most redoubtable of the seventeen abysses, which the 
+Veda calls the Forest of Swords. 
+
+They fought hand to hand, foot to foot, with pistol shots, 
+with blows of the sword, with their fists, at a distance, close 
+at hand, from above, from below, from everywhere, from the 
+roofs of the houses, from the windows of the wine-shop, from 
+the cellar windows, whither some had crawled. They were 
+one against sixty. 
+
+The façade of Corinthe, half demolished, was hideous. The 
+window, tattooed witli grape-shot, had lost glass aud frame 
+and was nothing now but a shapeless hole, tumultuously 
+blocked with paving-Stones. 
+
+Bossuet was killed ; Feuilly was killed ; Courfeyrac was 
+killed ; Combeferre, transfixed by three blows from a bayonet 
+in the breast at the moment when he was lifting up a wounded 
+soldier, had only time to cast a glance to heaven when he ex- 
+pired. 
+
+Marins, still fighting, was so riddled with wounds, particu- 
+larly in the head, that his countenance disappeared beneath 
+the blood, and one would have said that his face was covered 
+with a red kerchief. 
+
+Enjolras alone was not struck. When he had no longer any 
+weapon, he reached out his hands to right and left and an in- 
+surgent thrust some arm or other into his fist. All he had 
+left was the stumps of four swords ; one more than François I. 
+at Marignan. Homer says: "Dioniedes cuts the throat of 
+Axylus, son of Tenth ranis, who dwelt in happy Arisba ; Eury- 
+alus, son of Mecistaeus, exterminates Dresos and Opheltios, 
+Esepius, and that Pedasus whom the naiad Abarbarea bore to 
+the blameless Bucolion ; Ulysses overthrows Fidytes of Per 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+74 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+cosius ; Antilochas, Ablerus ; Polypaetes, Astyalus ; Poly 
+damas, Otos, of Cyllene ; and Teucer, Aretaon. Megaiithioe 
+dies under the. blows of Euripylus' pike. Agamemnon, king 
+of the heroes, flings to earth Elatos, born in the rocky city 
+which is laved by the sounding river Satnoîs." In our old 
+poems of exploits, Esplandian attacks the giant marquis 
+Swantibore with a cobbler's shoulder-stick of fire, and the 
+latter defends himself by stoning the hero with towers which 
+he plucks up by the roots. Our ancient mural frescoes show 
+us the two Dukes of Bretagne and Bourbon, armed, embla- 
+zoned and crested in war-like guise, on horseback and ap- 
+proaching each other, their battle-axes in hand, masked with 
+iron, gloved with iron, booted with iron, the one caparisoned 
+in ermine, the other draped in azure : Bretagne with his lion 
+between the two horns of his crown, Bourbon helmeted with 
+a monster fleur de lys on his visor. But, in order to be su- 
+perb, it is not necessary to wear, like Yvon, the ducal morion, 
+to have in the fist, like Esplandian, a living flame, or, like 
+Phyles, father of Polydamas, to have brought back from 
+Ephyra a good suit of mail, a present from the king of men, 
+Euphetes ; it suffices to give one's life for a conviction or a 
+loyalty. This ingenuous little soldier, yesterday a peasant of 
+Bauce or Limousin, who prowls with his clasp-knife by his 
+side, around the children's nurses in the Luxembourg gar- 
+den, this pale young student bent over a piece of anatomy or 
+a book, a blond youth who shaves his beard with scissors, — 
+take both of them, breathe upon them with a breath of duty, 
+place them face to face in the Carrefour Boucherat or in the 
+blind alley Planche-Mibray, and let the one fight for his flag, 
+and the other for his ideal, and let both of them imagine that 
+they are fighting for their country ; the struggle will be co- 
+lossal ; and the shadow which this raw recruit and this saw- 
+bones in conflict will produce in that grand epic field where 
+humanity is striving, will equal the shadow cast by Megaryon, 
+King of Lycia, tiger-filled, crushing in his embrace the im- 
+mense body of Ajax, equal to the gods. 
+
+XXIL — Foot to Foot. 
+
+When there were no longer any of the leaders left alive, 
+except Enjolras and Marius at the two extremities of the bar- 
+ricade, the centre, which had so long sustained Courfeyrac. 
+Joly, Bossuet, Feuilly and Combeferre, gave way. The can- 
+non, though it had not effected a practicable breach, had made a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+JEAN VAUEAN. T6 
+
+rather large hollow in the middle of the redoubt ; there, the 
+summit of the wall had disappeared before the balls, and had 
+crumbled away ; and the rubbish which had fallen, now inside, 
+now outside, had, as it accumulated, formed two piles in th j 
+nature of slopes on the two sides of the barrier, one on the 
+inside, the other oç the outside. The exterior slope presented 
+au inclined plane to the attack. 
+
+A final assault was there attempted, and this assault suc- 
+ceeded. The mass bristling with bayonets and hurled forward 
+at a run, came up with irresistible force, and the serried front 
+of battle of the attacking column made its appearance through 
+the smoke on the crest of the battlements. This time, it was 
+decisive. The group of insurgents who were defending the 
+centre retreated in confusion. 
+
+Then the gloomy love of life awoke once more in some of 
+them. Many, finding themselves under the muzzles of this 
+forest of guns, did not wish to die. This is a moment when 
+the instinct of self-preservation emits howls, when the beast 
+re-appeara in men. They were hemmed in by the lofty, six- 
+story house which formed the background of their redoubt. 
+This house might prove their salvation. The building was 
+barricaded, and walled, as it were, from top to bottom. Be- 
+fore the troops of the line had reached the interior of the 
+redoubt, there was time for a door to open and shut, the space 
+of a flash of lightning was sufficient for that, and the door of 
+that house, suddenly opened a crack and closed again instantly 
+was life for these despairing men. Behind this house, there 
+were streets, possible, flight, space. They set to knocking at 
+that door with the butts of their guns, and with kicks, shout- 
+ing, calling, entreating, wringing their hands. No one opened. 
+From the little window on the third floor, the head of the dead 
+man gazed down upon them. 
+
+But Enjolras and Marius, and the seven or eight rallied 
+about them, sprang forward and protected them. Enjolras 
+had shouted to the soldiers : " Don't advance ! " and as an of- 
+ficer had not obeyed, Enjolras had killed the officer. He was 
+now in the little inner court of the redoubt, with his back 
+planted against the Corinthe building, a sword in one hand, 
+a rifle in the other, holding open the door of the wine-shop 
+which he barred against assailants. He shouted to the des- 
+perate men : — " There is but one door open ; this one." — And 
+shielding them with his body, and facing an entire battalion 
+alone, he made them pass in behind him. All precipitated 
+themselves thither, Enjolras, executing with his rifle, which 
+
+
+
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+76 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+he now used like a carle, what single-stick players call a " cov- 
+ered rose " round his head, leveled the bayonets around and 
+in front of him, and was the last to enter ; and then ensued a 
+horrible moment, when the soldiers tried to make tlieir way 
+in, and the insurgents strove to bar them out. The door was 
+slammed with such violence, tliat, as it fell t)ack into its frame, 
+it showed the five fingers of a soldier who had been clinging 
+to it, cut off and glued to the post. 
+
+Marins remained outside. A shot had just broken his 
+collar bone, he felt that he was fainting and falling. At that 
+moment, with eyes already shut, he felt the shock of a vigor 
+ous hîind seizing him, and tlie swoon in which his senses 
+vanished, hardly allowed him time for the thought, mingled 
+with a last memory of Cosette : — "I am taken prisoner. I 
+shall be shot." 
+
+Enjolras, not seeing Marins among those who had taken 
+refuge in the wine-shop, had the same idea. But they had 
+reached a moment when eacli man has not the time to medi- 
+iate on his own death. Enjolras fixed the bar across tlie door, 
+and bolted it, and doubled-locked it with key and chain, while 
+those outside were battering furiously at it, the soldiers with 
+the butts of their muskets, the sapi)ers with their axes. The 
+assailants were grouped about that door. The siege of the 
+wine-shop was now beginning. 
+
+The soldiers, we will observe, were full of wrath. 
+
+The death of the artillery-sergeant had enraged them, and 
+then, a still more melancholy circumstance, during the few 
+hours which had preceded the attack, it had been reported 
+among them that the insurgents were mutilating their pris- 
+oners, and that there was the headless body of a soldier in 
+the wine-shop. This sort of fatal rumor is the usual accom- 
+paniment of civil wars, and it was a false report of this kind 
+which, later on, produced the catastrophe of the Rue Trans- 
+nonain. 
+
+When the door was barricaded, Enjolras said to the others ; 
+
+" Let us sell our lives dearly." 
+
+Then he approached the table on which lay Mabeuf and 
+ixavroche. Beneath the black cloth two straight and rigid 
+forms were visible, one large, the other small, and the two 
+faces wore vaguely outlined beneath the cold folds of the 
+shroud. A hand projected from beneath the winding sheet 
+and hung near the floor. It wa5 that of the old man. 
+
+Enjolras bent down and kissed that venerable hand, just as 
+he had kissed his brow on the preceding evening. 
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 77 
+
+These were the only two kisses which he had bestowed in 
+the course of his life. 
+
+Let us abridge the tale. The barricade had fought like a 
+gate of Thebes; the wine-shop fought like a house of Sara- 
+gossa. These resistances are dogged. No quarter. No flag 
+of truce possible. • Men are willing to die, provided their 
+opx>onent will kill them. 
+
+When Suchet says : — " Capitulate," — Palaf ox replies : 
+" After the war with cannon, the war with knives." Nothing 
+iwus lacking in the capture by assault of the Hucheloup wine- 
+shop; neither paving-stones raining from the windows and 
+the roof on the besiegers and exasperating the soldiers by 
+crushing them horribly, nor shots h red from the attic-win- 
+dows and the cellar, nor the fury of attack, nor, finally, when 
+the door yielded, the frenzied madness of extermination. 
+The assailants, rushing into the wine-shop, their feet en- 
+tangled in the panels of the door which had been beaten in 
+and flung on the ground, found not a single combatant there. 
+The spiral staircase, hewn asunder with the axe, lay in the 
+middle of the tap-room, a few wounded men were just breath- 
+ing their last, every one who was not killifed was on the first 
+floor, and from there, through the hole in the ceiling, which 
+had formed the entrance of the stairs, a terrific fire burst 
+forth. It was the last of their cartridges. When tliey were 
+exhausted, when these formidable men on the point of death 
+had no longer either powder or ball, each grasped in his hands 
+two of the bottles which Enjolras had reserved, and of which we 
+have spoken, and held the scaling party in check with these 
+frightfully fragile clubs. They were bottles of aqua-fortis. 
+
+We relate these gloomy incidents of carnaj^e as they oc- 
+curred. The besieged man, alas ! converts everything into a 
+weapon. Greek fire did not disgrace Archimedes, boiling 
+pitch did not disgrace Bayard. AH war is a thing of terrer, 
+and there is no choice in it. The musketry of the besiegers, 
+though confined and embarrassed by being directed from below 
+upwards, was deadly. The rim of the hole in the ceiling was 
+speedily surrounded by heads of the slain, whence dri]>ped 
+long, red and smoking streams, the uproar was indescrib- 
+able ; a close and burning smoke almost produced night over 
+this combat. Words are lacking to express horror wlien it 
+has reached this pitch.- There were no longer men in this 
+conflict; which was now infernal. They were no longer giants 
+matched with colossi. It resembled Milton and Dante rathei 
+than Homer. Demons attîicked, spectres resistedv 
+
+It was heroism become monstrous 
+
+
+
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+78 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+
+
+XXIII. — Orestes Fasting and Ptlades Dkukk. 
+
+At length, by dint of mounting on each other's backs, aid 
+ing tliemselves with the skeleton of thç staircase, climbing 
+up the walls, clinging to the ceiling, slashing away at the 
+very brink of the trap-door, the last one who offered resist 
+ance, a score of assailants, soldiers, National Guardsmen, mu- 
+nicipal guardsmen, in utter confusion, the majority disfigure<l 
+by wounds in the face during that redoubtable ascent, blinded 
+by blood, furious, rendered savage, made an irruption into the 
+apartment on the first#floor. There they found only one man 
+still on his feet, Enjolras. Without cartridges, without sword, 
+he had nothing in his hand now but the barrel of his gun 
+whose stock he had broken over the head of those who were 
+entering. He had placed the billiard-table between his assail- 
+ants and himself; he had retreated into the corner of the 
+room, and there, with haughty eye, and head borne high, with 
+this stump of a weapon in his hand, he was still so alarming 
+as to speedily create an empty space around him. A cry 
+arose : 
+
+" He is the leader ! It was he who slew the artillery-man. 
+It is well that he has placed himself there. Let him remain 
+there. Let us shoot him down on the spot." 
+
+" Shoot me," said Enjolras. 
+
+And flinging away his bit of gun-barrel, and folding his 
+arms, he offered his breast. 
+
+The audacity of a fine death always affects men. As soon 
+as Enjolras folded his arms and accepted his end, the din of 
+strife ceased in the room, and this chaos suddenly stilled into 
+a sort of sepulchral solemnity. The menacing majesty of 
+Enjolras disarmed and motionless, appeared to oppress this 
+tumult, and this young man, haughty, bloody, and charming, 
+who alone had not a wound, who was as indifferent as an in 
+vulnerable being, seemed, by the authority of his tranquil 
+glance, to constrain this sinister rabble to kill him resjiect- 
+fully. His beauty, at that moment augmented by his pride, 
+was resplendent, and he was fresh and rosy after the fearful 
+four and twenty hours which had just elapsed, as though he 
+could no more be fatigued than wounded. It was of him, pos- 
+sibly, that a witness spoke afterwards, before the council of 
+war : " There was an insurgent whom I heard called Apollo." 
+A National Guardsman who had taken aim at Enjolras, low- 
+ered his gun, saying : << It seems to me that I am about to 
+shoot a flower." 
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 79 
+
+Twelve men formed into a squad in the corner opposite 
+Enjolras, and silently made ready their guns. 
+
+Then a sergeant shouted : 
+
+" Take aim ! " 
+
+An officer intervened. 
+
+«Wait" 
+
+And addressing Enjolras : 
+
+*' Do you wish to have your eyes bandaged ? ^ 
+
+"No." 
+
+" Was it you who killed the artillery sergeant ? ^ 
+
+«Yes,'' 
+
+Grantaire had waked up a few moments before. 
+
+Grantaire, it will be remembered, had been asleep ever since 
+the preceding evening in the upper room of the wine-shop, 
+seated on a chair and leaning on the table; 
+
+He realized in its fullest sense the old metaphor of <^ dead 
+drunk." The hideous potion of absinthe-porter and alcohol, 
+had thrown him into a lethargy. His table being small, and 
+not suitable for the barricade, he had been left in possession 
+of it. He was still in the same posture, with his breast bent 
+over the table, his head lying flat on his arms, surrounded by 
+glasses, beer-jugs and bottles. His was the overwhelming 
+slumber of the torpid bear and the satiated leech. Nothing 
+had had any effect upon it, neither the fusillade, nor the can- 
+non-balls, nor the grape-shot which had made its way through 
+the window into the room where he was. Nor the tremendous 
+uproar of the assault. He merely replied to the cannonade, 
+now and then, by a snore. He seemed to be waiting there for 
+a bullet which should spare him the trouble of waking. Many 
+corpses were strewn around him; and, at the first glance, 
+there was nothing to distinguish him from those profound 
+sleepers, of death. 
+
+Noise does not rouse a drunken man ; silence awakens him. 
+The fall of everything around him only augmented Grantaire's 
+prostration ; the crumbling of all things was his lullaby. The 
+sort of halt which the tumult underwent in the presence of 
+Enjolras was a shock to this heavy slumber. It had the ef- 
+fect of a carriage going at full speed, which suddenly comes 
+to a dead stop. The persons dozing within it wake up. Gran- 
+taire rose to his feet with a start, stretched out his arms, 
+rubbed his eyes, stared, yawned, and understood. 
+
+A fit of drunkenness reaching its end resembles a curtain 
+which is torn away. One beholds, at a single glance and as a 
+whole, all that it has concealed. All suddenly presents itself 
+
+
+
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+80 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+to the memory ; and the drunkard who has known nothing of 
+what has been taking place during the last twenty-four houn, 
+has no sooner opened his eyes than he is perfectly informed. 
+Ideas recur to him with abrupt lucidity ; the obliteration of 
+intoxication, a sort of steam which has obscured the brain, is 
+dissipated, and makes way for the clear and sharply outlined 
+importunity of realities. 
+
+Relegated, as he was, to one corner, and sheltered behind 
+the billiard-table, the soldiers whose eyes were fixed on En- 
+jolras, had not even noticed Grantaire, and the sergeant was 
+preparing to repeat his order : " Take aim ! " when all at once, 
+they heard a strong voice shout beside them : 
+
+" Long live the Republic ! I'm one of them." 
+
+Grantaire had risen. The immense gleam of the whole 
+combat which he had missed, and in which he had had no 
+part, appeared in the brilliant glance of the transfigured 
+drunken man. 
+
+He repeated : " Long live the Republic ! " crossed the room 
+with a firm stride and placed himself in front of the guns 
+beside Enjolras. 
+
+" Finish both of us at one blow," said he. 
+
+And turning gently to Enjolras, he said to him : 
+
+" Do you permit it ? " 
+
+Enjolras pressed his hand with a smile. 
+
+This smile was not ended when the report resounded. 
+
+Enjolras, pierced by eight bullets, remained leaning agîiinst 
+the wall, as though the balls had nailed him there. Only, his 
+head was bowed. 
+
+Grantaire fell at his feet, as though struck by a thunder- 
+bolt. 
+
+A few moments later, the soldiers dislodged the last re- 
+maining insurgents, who had taken refuge at the top of the 
+house. They fired into the attic through a wooden lattice 
+They fought under the very roof. They flung bodies, some 
+of them still alive, out through the windows. Two light-in- 
+fantrymen, who tried to lift the shattered omnibus, were slain 
+by two shots fired from the attic. A man in a blouse was 
+flung down from it, with a bayonet wound in the abdomen, 
+and breathed his last on the ground. A soldier and an insur- 
+gent slipped together on the sloping slates of the roof, and, 
+as they would not release each other, they fell, clasped in a 
+ferocious embrace. A similar conflic^t went on in the cellar. 
+iShouts, shotS; a fierce trampling. Then silence. The barri 
+cade was> captured. 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 81 
+
+The soldiers began to search the houses round about, and to 
+pursue the fugitives. 
+
+XXIV. — Peisoner. 
+
+Mabius was, in fact, a prisoner. 
+
+The hand which had seized him from behind and whose 
+grasp he had felt at the moment of his fall and his loss of 
+consciousness, was that of Jean Valjean. 
+
+Jean Yaljean had taken no other part in the combat than 
+to expose himself in it. Had it not been for him, no one, in 
+that supreme phase of agony, would have thought of the 
+wounded. Thanks to him, everywhere present in the carnage, 
+like a providence, those who fell were picked up, transported 
+to the tap-room, and cared for. In the intervals, he re-appeared 
+on the barricade. But nothing which could resemble a blow, 
+an attack or even personal defence proceeded from his hands. 
+He held his peace and lent succor. Moreover, he had received 
+only a few scratches. The bullets would have none of him. 
+If suicide formed part of what he had meditated on coming 
+to this sepulchre, to that spot, he had not succeeded. But we 
+doubt whether he had thouglit of suicide, an irreligious act. 
+
+Jean Valjean, in the thick cloud of the combat, did not 
+appear to see Marius ; the truth is, that he never took his 
+eyes from the latter. When a shot laid Marius. low, Jean 
+Valjean leaped forward with the agility of a tiger, fell upon 
+him as on his prey, and bore him off. 
+
+The whirlwind of the attack was, at that moment, so 
+violently concentrated upon Enjolras and upon the door ot 
+the wine-shop, that no one saw Jean Valjean sustaining the 
+fainting Marius in his arms, traverse the unpaved field of the 
+barricade and disappear behind the angle of the Corinthe 
+building. 
+
+The reader will recall this angle which formed a sort of 
+cape on the street ; it afforded shelter from the bullets, the 
+gKipe-shot, and all eyes, and a few square feet of space. 
+There is sometimes a chamber which does not burn in the 
+midst of a conflagration, and iu the midst of raging seas, 
+beyond a promontory or at the^ extreniiity of a blind alley of 
+shoals, a tranquil nook. It was in this^sort of fold in the 
+interior trapezium of the barricade, that Eponiue had breathed 
+her last. 
+
+There Jean Valjean halted, let Marius slide to the ground, 
+placed his back against the wall, and cast his eyes about him. 
+
+
+
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+82 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The situation was alarming. 
+
+For an instant, for two or three perhaps, this bit of >rai! 
+was a shelter, but how was he to escape from this massacre '/ 
+He recalled the anguish which he had suffered in the Kue 
+Polonceau eight years before, and in what maimer he had con- 
+trived to make his escape ; it was difficult theu, to-day it was 
+impossible. He had before him that deaf and implaciible 
+house, six stories in height, which appeai-ed to be inhabited 
+only by a dead man leaning out of his window ; he liad on his 
+right the rather low barricade, which shut off the Rue de la 
+Petite Truanderie ; to pass this obstacle seemed easy, but 
+beyond the crest of the bamer a line of bayonets was visible. 
+The troops of the line were posted on the watch behind that 
+barricade. It was evident, that to pass the barricade was to 
+go in quest of the fire of the platoon, and that any head which 
+should run the risk of lifting itself above the top of that wall 
+of stones, would serve as a target for sixty shots. On his left 
+he had the field of battle. Death lurked round, the corner of 
+that wall. 
+
+What was to be done ? 
+
+Only a bird could have extricated itself from this predica- 
+ment. 
+
+And it was necessary to decide on the instant, to devise 
+some expedient, to come to some decision. Fighting was 
+going on a few paces away; fortunately, all were raging 
+around a single point, the door of the wine-shop ; but if it 
+should occur to one soldier, to one single soldier to turn the 
+corner of the house, or to attack him on the flank, all was over. 
+
+Jean Valiean gazed at the house facing him, he gazed at 
+the barricade at one side of him, then he looked at the ground, 
+with the violence of the last extremity, bewildered, and as 
+though he would have liked to pierce a hole there wivh his 
+eyes. 
+
+By dint of staring, something vaguely striking in such an 
+agony began to assume form and outline at his feet, as though 
+it had been a power of glance which made the thing desired 
+unfold. A few paces distant he perceived, at the base of the 
+small barrier so pitilessly guarded and watched on the 
+exterior, beneath a disordered mass of ,paving-stones which 
+partly concealed it, an iron grating, placed flat and on a level 
+with the soil. This grating, made of stout, transverse bars, 
+was about two feet square. The frame of paving stones which 
+supported it had been torn up, and it was, as it were, 
+unfastened. 
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 83 
+
+Through the bars a view could be had of a dark aperture, 
+something like the flue of a chimney, or the pipe of a cisfcern. 
+Jean Valjean darted forward. His old art of escape rose to 
+his brain like an illumination. To thrust aside the stones, to 
+raise the grating, to lift Marius who was as inert as a dead 
+body, upon his shoulders, to descend, with this burden on his 
+loins, and with the aid of his elbows and knees into that sort 
+of well, fortunately not very deep, to Jet the heavy trap, upon 
+which the loosened stones rolled down afresh, fall into its 
+place behind him, to gain his footing on a flagged surface 
+three metres below the surface, — all this was executed like 
+that which one does in dreams, with the strength of a giant 
+and the rapidity of an eagle ; this took only a few minutes. 
+
+Jean Valjean found himself with Marius, who was still un- 
+conscious, in a sort of long, subterranean corridor. 
+
+There reigned profound peace, absolute silence, night. 
+
+The impression which he had formerly experienced when 
+falling from the wall into the convent, recurred to him. Only, 
+what he was carrying to-day was not Cosette ; it was Marius. 
+He could barely hear the formidable tumult iu the wine-shop, 
+taken by assault, like a vague murmur overhead. 
+
+
+
+BOOK SECOND. — THE INTESTINE OF THE 
+LEVIATHAN. 
+
+I. — The Land Impoverished bt the Sea« 
+
+Paris casts twenty-five millions yearly into the water. 
+And this without metaphor. How, and in what manner? 
+Day and night.- With what object ? With no object. With 
+what intention ? With no intention. Why ? For no reason. 
+By means of what organ ? By means of its intestine. What 
+is its intestine ? The sewer. 
+
+Twenty-five millions is the most moderate approximative 
+figure which the valuations of special science have set upon it. 
+
+Science, after having long groped about, now knows that 
+the most fecundating and the most eflficacious of fertilizers is 
+human manure. The Chinese, let us confess it to our shame, 
+knew it before us. Not a Chinese peasant — it is Eckberg 
+who says this, — goes to town without bringing back with 
+
+
+
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+84 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+himi at the two extremities of his bamboo pole, two full 
+buckets of what we designate afi tilth. Thanks to human 
+dung, the earth in China is still as young as in the days of 
+Abraham. Chinese wheat yields a hundred fold of the seed. 
+There is no guano comparable in fertility with the detntus of 
+a capital. A great city is the most mighty of dung-makers. 
+Certain success would attend the experiment of employing the 
+city to manure the plain. If our gold is manure, our manure, 
+on the other hand, is gold. 
+
+What is done with this golden manure ? It is swept into 
+the abyss. 
+
+Fleets of vessels are despatched, at groat expense, to collect 
+the dung of petrels and penguins at the South Tole, and the 
+incalculable element of opulence which we have on hand, we 
+send to the sea. All the human and animal manure which 
+the world wastes, restored to the land instead of being cast 
+into the water, would suffice to nourish the world. 
+
+Those heaps of filth at the gate-posts, those tumbrils of 
+mud wliich jolt through the streets by night, those terrible 
+casks of the street clepartment, those fetid drippings of 
+subterranean mire, which the pavements hide from you, — 
+do you know what they are ? They are the meadow 
+in flower, the green grass, wild thyme, thyme and sage, they 
+are game, they are cattle, they are the satisfied bellows of 
+great oxen in the evening, they are perfumed hay, they 
+are golden wheat, they are tlie bread on your table, they are 
+the wann blood in your veins, they are health, they are joy, 
+they are life. This is the will of that mysterious creation 
+which is transformation on earth and transfiguration in 
+heaven. 
+
+Restore this to the great crucible ; your abundance will 
+flow forth from it. The nutrition of the plains furnishes the 
+nourishment of men. 
+
+You have it in your power to lose this wealth, and to con- 
+sider me ridi(;ulous to boot. This will form the master-piece 
+'^f your ignorance. 
+
+Statisticians have calculated that France alone makes a 
+deposit of half a milliard every year, in the Atlantic, through 
+the mouths of her rivers. Kote this : with five hundred mill- 
+ions we could pay one quarter of the expenses of our budget. 
+The cleverness of man is such that he prefers to get rid of 
+tliese ?ixe hundred millions in the gutter. It is the very 
+substance of the people that is carried off, here drop by drop, 
+there wave after wave, the wretched outpour of our sewers 
+
+
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+JEAir VAUEAN. 85 
+
+into the rivers, and the gigantic collection of our rivers into 
+the ocean. Every hiccough of our sewers costs us a thousand 
+francs. From tliis spring two results, the land impoverished, 
+and the water tainted. Hunger arising from the furrow, and 
+disease from the stieam. 
+
+It is notorious, for example, that at the present hour, the 
+Thames is poisoning London. 
+
+So far as Paris is concenied, it has become indispensable of 
+late, to transport the mouths of the sewers down stream, below 
+the last bridge. 
+
+A double tubular apparatus, provided with valves and 
+sluices, sucking up and driving back, a system of elementary 
+di-aiuage, simple as the lungs of aman, and which is already in 
+full working order in many communities in England, would 
+suffice to conduct the pure water of the fields into our cities, 
+and to send back to the helds the rich water of the cities, 
+and this easy exchange, the simplest in the world, would re- 
+tain among us the five hundred millions now thrown away. 
+People are thinking of other things. 
+
+The process actually in use, does evil, with the intention of 
+doing good. The intention is good, the result is melancholy. 
+Thinking to purge the city, the population is blanched like 
+plants raised in cellars. A sewer is a mistake. When drain- 
+age everywhere, with its double function, restoring what it 
+takes, shall have replaced the sewer, which is a simple im- 
+poverishing washing, then, this being combined with the data 
+of a now social economy, the product of the earth will be in- 
+creased tenfold, and the problem of misery will be singularly 
+lightened. Add the suppression of parasitism, and it will 
+be solved. 
+
+In the meanwhile, the public wealth flows away to the 
+river, and leakage takes place. Leakage is the word. Euroi)e 
+is being ruined in this manner by exhaustion. 
+
+As for France, we have just cited its figures. Now, Paris, 
+c^ontains one twenty-fifth of the total population of France, 
+and Parisian guano being the richest of all, we understate 
+the truth when we value the loss on the part of Paris at 
+twenty-five millions in the half milliard which France annually 
+rejects. These twenty-five millions, employed in assistance 
+and enjoyment, would double the splendor of T'aris. The 
+city spends them in sewers. So that we may say that Paris's 
+great prodigality, its wonderful festival, its 15eaujon folly, its 
+orgy, its stream of gold from full hands, its pomp, its luxury, 
+its magnificence, is its sewer system. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+86 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+It is in this manner that, in the blindness of a poor polit- 
+ical economy, we drown and allow to float down stream and 
+to be lost in the gulfs the well-being of all. There should be 
+nets at Saint-Cloud for the public fortune. 
+
+Economically considered, the matter can be summeii up 
+thus : Paris is a spendthrift. Paris, that model city, tluit 
+patron of well arranged capitîds, of which every nation strives 
+to possess a copy, that metropolis of the ideal, that august 
+country of the initiative, of impulse and of effort, that centre 
+and that dwelling of minds, that nation-city, that hive of tlie 
+future, that marvellous combination of Babylon and Ck>rinth, 
+would make a peasant of the Fo-Kian shrug his shoulders, 
+from the point of view which we have just indicated. 
+
+Imitate Paris and you will ruin yourselves. 
+
+Moreover, and particularly in this immemorial and sense- 
+less waste, Paris is itself, an imitator. 
+
+These surprising exhibitions of stupidity are not novel ; 
+this is no young folly. The ancients did like the moderns. 
+" The sewers of Rome," says Liebig, " have absorbed all tlie 
+well-being of the Koman peasant." When the Campagna of 
+Rome was ruined by the Roman sewer, Rome exhausted Italy, 
+and when she had put Italy in her sewer, she poured in Sicily, 
+then Sardinia, then Africa. The sewer of Rome has engulfed 
+the world. This cess-pool offered its engulfment to the city 
+and the universe. Urhi et orbL EternaJ city, unfathomable 
+sewer. 
+
+Rome sets the example for these things as well as for 
+others. 
+
+Paris follows this example with all the stupidity peculiar 
+to intelligcMit towns. 
+
+For the requirements of the operation upon the subject of 
+which we have just explained our views, Paris has beneath it 
+another Paris ; a Paris of sewers ; which has its streets, its 
+cross-roads, its squares, its blind-alleys, its arteries, and its 
+circulation, which is of n\>**e and minus the human form. 
+
+For nothing must be flattered, not even a great people ; 
+where there is everything there is also ignominy by the side of 
+sublimity ; and, if Paris contains Athens, the city of light, 
+Tyre, the city of might, Sparta, tte city of virtue, Nineveh, 
+the city of marvels, it also contains Lutetia, the city of mud. 
+
+However, the stamp of its power is there also, and tho 
+Titanic sink of Paris realizes, among monuments, that strange 
+ideal realized in humanity by some men like Macchiavelli, 
+Bacon and Mirabeau, grandiose vileness. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 87 
+
+The sub-soil of Paris, if the eye couhl jienetrate its surface, 
+wouUl present the aspect of a colossal madrepore. A sponge 
+has no more partitions and ducts than the mound of earth for 
+a circuit of six k^agues round about, on which rests the great 
+and ancient city. Not to mention its catacombs, which are a 
+separate cellar, not to mention the inextricable trellis-work of 
+gas pipes, without reckoning the vast tubular system for the 
+distribution of fresh water which ends in the pillar fountains, 
+the sewers alone form a tremendous, shadowy net-work under 
+the two banks ; a labyrinth which has its slope for its guiding 
+thread. 
+
+There appears, in the humid mist, the rat which seems the 
+product to which Paris has given birth. 
+
+
+
+II. — Ancient History op the Sewer. 
+
+Let the reader imagine Paris lifted off like a cover, the sub- 
+terranean net-work of sewers, from a bird's eye view, will 
+outline on the banks a species of large branch grafted on the 
+river. On the right bank, the belt sewer will form the trunk 
+of this branch, the secondary ducts will form the branches, 
+and those without exit the twigs. 
+
+This figure is but a summary one and half exact, the right 
+angle, which is the customary angle of this species of subter- 
+ranean ramifications, being very rare in vegetation. 
+
+A more accurate image of this strange geometrical plan can 
+be formed by supposing that one is viewing some eccentric 
+oriental alphabet, as intricate as a thicket, against a back- 
+ground of shadows, and the misshaj)en letters should be 
+welded one to another in apparent confusion, and as at hap- 
+hazard, now by their angles, again by their extremities. 
+
+Sinks and sewers played a great part in the Middle Ages, 
+m the Lower Ein])ire and in the Orient of old. The masses 
+regarded these beds of decomposition, these monstrous cradles 
+of death, with a fear that was almost religious. The vermin 
+ditch of Benares is no less conducive to giddiness than the 
+lions' ditch of Babylon. Teglath-Phalasar, according to the 
+rabbinical books, swore by the sink of Xincveh. It was from 
+the sewer of Miinster that John of Leyden produced his false 
+nioon, and it was from the cess-pool of Kekschob that oriental 
+menalchme, Mokanna, the veilcMl prophet of Ivhorassan, caused 
+his false sun to emerge. 
+
+The history of men is reflected in the history of sewers. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+88 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+The GremoniaB ^ narrated Rome. The sewer of Paris has been 
+an ancient and formidable thing. It has been a sepulchre, it 
+has served as an asylum. Crime, intelligence, social protest, 
+liberty of conscience, thought, theft, all that human laws per- 
+secute or have persecuted, is hidden in that bole ; the maUlo- 
+tins in the fourteenth century, the tire-laine of the fifteenth, 
+the Huguenots in the sixteenth, Morin's illuminated in the 
+seventeenth, the chauffeurs [brigands] in the eighteenth, Ji 
+hundred years ago, the nocturnal blow of the dagger emerged 
+thence, the pickpocket in danger slipped thither ; the forest 
+had its cave, Paris had its sewer. Vagrancy, that Gallic pica- 
+reriay accepted the sewer as the adjunct of the Cour des 
+Miracles, and at evening, it returned thither, fierce and sly 
+<;hrough the Maubuée outlet, as into a bed-chamber. 
+
+It was quite natural, that those who had the blind-alley 
+Vide-(T0usset, [Empty -Pocket] or the Rue Coupe-Gorge [Cut- 
+Throat], for the scene of their daily labor, should have for 
+their domicile by night the culvert of the Chemin- Vert, or the 
+catch basin of Hurepoix. Hence a throng of souvenirs. All 
+iorts of phantoms haunt these long, solitary corridors ; every- 
+where is putrescence and miasma ; here and there are breath- 
+ing-holes, where Villon within converses with Rabelais without. 
+
+The sewer in ancient Paris, is the rendez-vous of all exhaus- 
+tions and of all attempts. Political economy therein spies a 
+detritus, social philosophy there beholds a residuum. 
+
+The sewer is the conscience of the city. Everything 
+there converges and confronts everything else. In that livid 
+spot there are shades, but there are no longer any secrets. 
+Each thing bears its true form, or at least, its definitive form. 
+The mass of filth has this in its favor, that it is not a liar 
+Ingenuousness has taken refuge there. The mask of Basil is 
+to be found there, but one beholds its cardboard and its 
+strings and the inside as well as the outside, and it is accen- 
+tuated by honest mud. Scapin's false nose is its next^oor 
+neighbor. All the uncleannesses of civilization, once past 
+their use, fairinto this trench of truth, where the immense 
+social sliding ends. They are there engulfed, but they dis- 
+play themselves there. This mixture is a confession. Tht?re, 
+no more false appearances, no plastering over is possible, filth 
+removes its shirt, absolute denudation puts to the rout all 
+illusions and mirages, there is nothing more except whai 
+
+* Steps on the Aventine Ilill, leading to the Tiber, to which lh« 
+bodies of executed criminals were dragged by hooks to be thrown into th« 
+Tiber. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 89 
+
+feally exists, presenting the sinister form of that which is 
+coming to an end. There, the bottom of a bottle indicates 
+drunkennees, a basket-handle tells a tale of domesticity ; there 
+the core of an apple which has entertained literary opinions 
+becomes an apple-core once more ; the effigy on the big sou 
+becomes frankly covered with verdigris, Caiphas' spittle 
+meets Eal staff's puking, the louis-d'or which comes from the 
+gaming-house iostles the nail whence hangs the ropers end of 
+the suicide, a livid foetus rolls along, enveloped in the spangles 
+which danced at the Opera last Shrove-Tuesday, a cap which 
+has pronounced judgment on men wallows beside a mass of 
+rottenness which was formerly Margoton's petticoat; it is 
+more than fraternization, it is equivalent to addressing each 
+other as thou. All which was formerly rouged, is washed 
+free. The last veil is torn away. A sewer is a cynic. It tells 
+everything. 
+
+The sincerity of foulness pleases us, and rests the soul. 
+When one has passed one's time in enduring upon earth the 
+spectacle of the great airs which reasons of state, the oath, 
+political sagacity, human justice, professional probity, the 
+austerities of situation, incorruptible robes all assume, it 
+solaces one to enter a sewer and to behold the mire which 
+befits it. 
+
+This is instnictive at the same time. We have just said 
+that history passes through the sewer. The Saint Barthélé- 
+my s filter through there, drop by drop, between the paving- 
+stones. Great public assassinations, political and religious 
+butcheries, traverse this underground passage of civilization, 
+and thrust their corpses there. For the eye of the thinker, 
+all historic murderers are to be found there, in that hideous 
+penumbra, on their knees, with a scrap of their winding-sheet 
+for an apron, dismally sponging out their work. Louis XI. 
+is there with Tristan, François I. with Duprat, Charles IX. is 
+there with his mother, Richelieu is there with Louis XIII., 
+Ix^uvois is there, Letellier is there, Hobert, and Maillard are 
+there, scratching the stones, and trying to make the traces of 
+their actions disappear. Beneath these vaults one hears the 
+brooms of spectres. One there breathes the enormous fetid- 
+ness of social catastrophes. One beholds reddish reflections 
+in the corners. There flows a terrible stream, in which bloody 
+hands have been washed. 
+
+The social observer should enter these shadows. They 
+form a part of his laboratory. Philoso])hy is the microscope 
+of the thought. Everything desires to flee from it, but 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+90 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+nothing escapes it. Tergiversation is useless. What side 
+of oneself does one display in evasions? the shameful side, 
+philosophy pursues with its glance, probes the evil, and does 
+not permit it to escape into nothingness. In the obliteration 
+of things which disappear, in the watching of things which 
+vanish^ it recognizes all. It reconstructs the purple from the 
+rag, and the woman from the scrap of her dress. From the 
+i;ess-pool, it re-constitutes the city ; from mud, it reconstructs 
+-nanners ; from the potsherd it infers the amphora or the jug. 
+By the imprint of a finger-nail on a piece of parchment, it 
+recognizes the difference which separates the Jewry of the 
+Judengasse from the Jewry of the Ghetto. It re-discovers in 
+what remains that which has been, good, evil, the true, the 
+blood-stain of the palace, tlie ink-blot of the cavern, the drop 
+of sweat from the brothel, trials undergone, temptations wel- 
+comed, orgies cast forth, the turn which characters have 
+taken as they became abased, the trace of prostitution in 
+Houls of which their grossness rendered them capable, and on 
+the vesture of the porters of Eome the mark of Messalina's 
+elbowing. 
+
+III. — Bbunbsbau. 
+
+The sewer of Paris in the Middle Ages was legendary. 
+in the sixteenth century, Henri II. attempted a bore, which 
+failed. >{ot; a hundred yeai*s ago, the cess-pool. Mercier 
+attests the tact, was abandoned to itself, and fared as best it 
+might. 
+
+Such was this ancient Paris, delivered over to quarrels, to 
+indecision, and to gropings. It was tolerably stupid for a 
+long time. Later on, '89 showed how understanding comes to 
+cities. But in the good, old times, the capital had not much 
+head. It did not know how to manage its own affairs either 
+morally or materially, and could not sweep out tilth any better 
+than it could abuses. Everytliing presented an obstacle, every- 
+thing raised a question. The sewer, for example, was refrac- 
+tory to every itinerary. One could no more find one's bearings 
+in the sewer than one could understand one's position in the 
+city; above the unintelligible, below the inextricable; beneath 
+the confusion of tongues there reigned the confusion of cav- 
+erns ; Dtedalus backed up ]>abol. 
+
+Sometimes the Paris sower took a notion to overflow, as 
+though this misunderstood Nile were suddenly seized with a 
+tit of rage. There occurred, infamous to rekU», inundations 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 91 
+
+of the sewer. At times, that stomach of civilization digested 
+badly, the cess-pool flowed back into the throat of tlie city, 
+and Paris got an after-taste of her own filth. These resem- 
+blances of the sewer to remorse had their good points ; they 
+were warnings ; very badly accepted, however ; the city waxed 
+indignant at the audacity of its mire, and did not admit that 
+the filth should return. Drive it out better. 
+
+The inundation of 1802 is one of the actual memories of Paris- 
+ians of the age of eighty. The mud spread in cross-form over 
+the Place des Victoires, where stands the statue of Louis XIV.; 
+it entered the Rue Saint-Honore by the two mouths to the sewer 
+in the Champs-Elysées, the Rue Saint-Florentin through the 
+Saint-Florentih sewer, the Rue Pierre-à-Poisson through the 
+sewer de la Sonnerie, the Rue Popincoort, through the sewer 
+of the Chemin-Vert, the Rue de la Roquette, through the 
+sewev of the, Rue de Lappe ; it covered the drain of the Rue 
+des Champs-Elysées to the height of thirty-five centimetres ; 
+and, to the South, through the vent of the Seine, performing 
+its functions in ^inverse sense, it penetrated the Rue Mazarine, 
+the Rue de l'Echaudé, and the Rue des Marais, where it 
+stopped at a distance of one hundred and nine metres, a few 
+paces distant from the house in which Racine had lived, 
+respecting, in the seventeenth century, the poet more than 
+the King. It attained its maximum depth in the Rue Saint- 
+Pierre, where it rose to the height of three feet above the 
+flag-stones of the water-spout, and its maximum length in the 
+Rue Saint-Sabin, where it spread out ovex a stretch two hun- 
+dred and thirty-eight metres in length. 
+
+At the beginning of this century, the sewer of Paris was 
+still a mysterious place. Mud can never enjoy a good fame ; 
+but in this case its evil renown reached the verge of the terri- 
+ble. Paris knew, in a confused way, that she had under her a 
+terrible cavern. People talked of it as of that monstrous 
+bed of Thebes in which swanned centipedes fifteen long feet 
+in length, and which might have served Behemoth for a bath- 
+tub. The great boots of the sewermen never ventured further 
+than certain well-known points. We were then very near the 
+epoch when the scavenger's carts, from the summit of which 
+Sainte-Foix fraternized with the Marquis de Créqui, discharged 
+their loads directly into the sewer. As for cleaning out, — 
+that function was entrusted to the pouring rains which encum- 
+l)ered rather than swept away. Rome left some poetry to her 
+sewer, and called it the (Temonia^ ; Paris insulted hers, and 
+entitled it the Polypus-Hole. Science and superstition were 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+92 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+in accord, in horror. The Polypus hole was no less repugnant 
+to hygiene than to legend. The goblin was developed under 
+the fetid coving of the Mouffetard sewer ; the corpses of the 
+Marmousets had been cast into the sewer de la Barillerie ; 
+Fagon attributed the redoubtable malignant fever of 1685 to 
+the great hiatus of the sewer of the Marais, which remained 
+yawning luitil 1833 in the Rue Saint-Louis, almost opposite 
+the sign of the Gallant Messenger, The mouth of the sewer 
+3f the Rue de la Mortellerie was celebrated for the pestilences 
+which had their source there ; with its grating of iron, with 
+points simulating a row of teeth, it was like a dragon's maw 
+ir\ that fatal street, breathing forth hell upon men. The 
+popular imagination seasoned the sombre Parisian sink with 
+some indescribably hideous intermixture of the infinite. The 
+sewer had no bottom. The sewer was the lower world. The 
+idea of exploring these leprous regions did not even occur to 
+the police. To try that unknown thing, to cast the plummet 
+into that shadow, to set out on a voyage of discovery in that 
+abyss — who would have dared? It was alarming. Never- 
+theless, some one did present himself. The cess-pool had its 
+Christopher Columbus. 
+
+One day, in 1805, during one of the rare apparitions which 
+the Emperor made in Paris, the Minister of the Interior, 
+some Decres or Cretet or other, came to the master's inti- 
+mate levee. In the Carrousel there was audible the clank- 
+ing of swords of all tliose extraordinary soldiers of the great 
+Republic, and of the great Empire ; then Napoleon's door was 
+blocked with heroes ; men from the Rhine, from the Escaut, 
+from the Adige, and from the Nile ; companions of Joubert, 
+of Desaix, of Marceau, of Hoche, of Kîéber ; the aérostiers of 
+Fleurus, the grenadiers of Mayence, the pontoon-builders of 
+Genoa, hussars whom the Pyramids had looked down upon, 
+artillerists whom Junot's cannon-ball had spattered with mud, 
+cuirassiers who had taken by assault the fleet lying at anchor 
+in the Zuyderzee ; some had followed Bonaparte upon the 
+bridge of Lodi, others had accompanied Murat in the trenches 
+of Mantua, others had preceded Lannes in the hollow road of 
+Montebello. The whole army of that day was present there, 
+in the court-yard of the Tuileries, represented by a squadron 
+or a platoon, and guarding Napoleon in repose : and that was 
+the splendid epoch when the grand army had Marengo behind 
+it and Austerlitz before it. — ** Sire," said the Minister of the 
+Interior to Nai)oleon, "yesterday I saw the most intrepid man 
+in your Empire." — " What man is that */ " said the EmperoT 
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 93 
+
+brusquely, "and what, has he done?'' — "He wants to do 
+something, Sire," — " What is it ? " — " To visit the sewers of 
+Paris." 
+
+This man existed and his name was Bruneseau. 
+
+
+
+IV. 
+
+The visit took place. It was a formidable campaign; a 
+nocturnal battle against pestilence and suffocation. It was, 
+at the same time, a voyage of discovery. One of the survi- 
+vors of this expedition, an intelligent workingman, who was 
+very young at the time, related curious details with regard to 
+it, several years ago, which Bruneseau thought himself obliged 
+to omit in his report to the prefect of police, as unworthy of 
+official style. The processes of disinfection were, at that 
+epoch, extremely i-udimentary. Hardly had Bruneseau crossed 
+the first articulations of that subterranean network, when 
+eight laborers out of the twenty refused to go any further. 
+The operation was complicated ; the visit entailed the neces- 
+sity of cleaning ; hence it was necessary to cleanse and at the 
+same time, to proceed ; to note the entrances of water, to 
+count the gratings and the vents, to lay out in detail the 
+branches, to indicate the currents at the point where they 
+parted, to define the respective bounds of the divers basins, 
+to sound the small sewers grafted on the principal sewer, to 
+measure the height under the key -stone of each drain, and the 
+width, at the spring of the vaults as well as at the bottom, in 
+order to determine the arrangements with regard to the level 
+of each water-entrance, either of the bottom of the arch, or 
+on the soil of the street. They advanced with toil. The lan- 
+terns pined away in the foul atmosphere. From time to time, 
+a fainting sewerman was carried out. At certain points, there 
+were precipices. The soil had given away, the pavement had 
+crumbled, the sewer had changed into a bottomless well ; they 
+found nothing solid ; a man disappeared suddenly ; they had 
+great difficulty in getting him out again. On the advice of 
+Fourcroy, they lighted large cages, filled with tow steeped in 
+resin, from time to time, in spots which had been sufficiently 
+disinfected. In some places, the wall was covered with mis- 
+shapen fungi, — one would have said, tumors ; the very stone 
+seemed diseased within this unbreathable atmosphere. 
+
+Bruneseau, in his exploration, proceeded down hill. At the 
+point of separation of the two water-conduits of the Grand- 
+Hurleur, he deciphered upon a projecting stone the date of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+94 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+1550 ; this stone indicated the limits where Philibert Delorme, 
+eharjçed by Henri II. with visiting the subten-anean drains o£ 
+Paris, had halted. This stone was the mark of the sixteenth 
+century on the sewer ; Bruneseau found the handiwork of the 
+seventeenth century once more in the Ponceau drain of the 
+old Rue Vielle-du-Temple, vaulted between 1600 and 1650; 
+and the handiwork of the eighteenth in the western section of 
+the collecting canal, walled and vaulted in 1740. These two 
+vaults, especially the less ancient, that of 1740, were more 
+cracked and decrepit than the masonry of the belt sewer, 
+which dated from 1412, an epoch when the brook of fresh 
+water of Mëniluiontant was elevated to the dignity of the 
+Grand Sewer of Paris, an advancement analogous to that of a 
+peasant who should become first valet de chambre to tlie King; 
+something like Gros- Jean transformed into Lebel. 
+
+Here and there, particularly beneath the Court-House, they 
+thought they recognized the hollows of ancient dungeons, ex- 
+cavated in the very sewer itself. Hideous in-pace. An iron 
+neek-(^ollar was hanging in one of these cells. They w^alled 
+them all up. Some of their finds were singular ; among 
+others, the skeletou of an ourang-outan, who had disappeared 
+from the Jardin des Plantes in 1800, a disappearance probably 
+connected with the famous and indisputable apparition of the 
+devil in the Rue des Bernardins, in the last year of the eigh* 
+teenth century. The poor devil had ended by drowning him- 
+self in the sewer. 
+
+Beneath this long, arched drain which terminated at the 
+Arche-Marion, a perfectly preserved rag-picker's basket ex- 
+cited the admiration of all connoisseurs. Everywhere, the 
+mire, which the sewermen came to handle with intrepidity, 
+abounded in precious objects, jewels of gold and silver, 
+precious stones, coins. If a giant had filtered this cess- 
+pool, he would have had the riches of centuries in bis lair. 
+At the point where the two branches of the Rue du Temple 
+and of the Rue Sainte-Avoye separate, they picked up a sin- 
+gular Huguenot medal in copper, bearing on one side the pig 
+hooded with a cardinal's hat, and on the other, a wolf with a 
+tiara on his head. 
+
+The most surprising "encounter was at the entrance to the 
+Grand Sewer. This entrance had formerly been closed by a 
+grating of which nothing but the hinges remained. From one 
+of these hinges hung a dirty and shapeless rag which, ar- 
+rested there in its passage, no doubt, had floated there in the 
+darkness and finished its process of being torn apart Brune- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 9Ô 
+
+seau held his lantern close to this rag and examined it. It 
+was of very line batiste, and in one of the corners, less frayed 
+than the rest, they made out a heraldic coronet and embroid- 
+ered above these seven letters: LA\i3ESP. The crown was 
+the coronet of a Marquis, and the seven letters signified Lau- 
+bespine. They recognized the fact, that what they had before 
+their eyes was a morsel of the shroud of Marat. Marat in 
+his youth had had amorous intrigues. This was when he was 
+a member of the household of the Comte d'Artois, in the 
+capacity of physician to the Stables. From these love affairs, 
+historically proved, with a great lady, he had retained this 
+sheet. As a waif or a souvenir. At his death, as this was 
+the only linen of any fineness which he had in his house, they 
+buried him in it. Some old women had shrouded him for the 
+tomb in that swaddling-band in which the tragic Friend of the 
+people had enjoyed voluptuousness. Bruneseau passed on. 
+They left that rag where it hung ; they did not put the finish- 
+ing touch to it. Did this arise from scorn or from respect ? 
+Marat deserved both. And then, destiny was there suffi- 
+ciently stamped to make them hesitate to touch it. Besides, 
+the things of the sepulchre must be left in the spot which 
+they select. In short, the relic was a strange one. A Mar- 
+quise had slept in it ; Marat had rotted in it ; it had traversed 
+the Pantheon to end with the rats of the sewer. This cham- 
+ber rag, of which Watteau would formerly have joyfully 
+sketched every fold, had ended in becoming worthy of the 
+fixed gaze of Dante. 
+
+The whole visit to the subterranean stream of filth of Paris 
+lasted seven years, from 1806 to 1812. As he proceeded. 
+Bruneseau drew, directed, and completed considerable works ^ 
+in 1808 he lowered the arch of the Ponceau, and, everywhere 
+creating new lines, he pushed the sewer, in 1809, under thf* 
+line Saint-Denis as far as the fountain of the Innocents ; in 
+1810, under the Rue Froidmanteau and under the Salpêtriëre ; 
+in 1811 under the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Peres, under the Rue 
+du Mail, under the Rue de l'Écharpe, under the Place Royale ; 
+in 1812, under the Rue de la Paix, and under the Chaussée 
+d'Antin. At the same time, he had the whole net-work disin- 
+fected and rendered healthful. In the second year of his 
+work, Bruneseau engaged the assistance of his son-in-law 
+Nargaud. 
+
+It was thus that, at the beginning of the century, ancient 
+society cleansed its double bottom, and performed the toilet of 
+its sewer. There was that much clean, at all events. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+96 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Tortuous, cracked, unpaved, full of fissures, intersected bj 
+gullies, jolted by eccentric elbows, mounting and descending 
+illogically, fetid, wild, fierce, submerged in obscurity, with 
+cicatrices on its pavements and scars on its walls, terrible, — 
+such was, retrospectively viewed, the antique sewer of Pans. 
+Ramifications in every direction, crossings, of trenches, 
+branches, goose-feet, stars, as in military mines, cœcum, blind 
+alleys, vaults lined with saltpetre, pestiferous pools, scabby 
+sweats, on the walls, drops dripping from the ceilings, dark- 
+ness ; nothing could equal the horror of this old, waste cry]>t, 
+the digestive apparatus of Babylon, a cavern, ditch, gult 
+pierced with streets, a titanic mole-burrow, where the mind 
+seems to behold that enormous blind mole, the past, prowling 
+through the shadows, in the tilth which has been splendor. 
+
+This, we repeat^ was the sewer of the past. 
+
+V. — Present Progress. 
+
+Today the sewer is clean, cold, straight, correct. It almost 
+realizes the ideal of what is understood in England by the 
+word " respectable." It is proper and grayish ; laid out by 
+rule and line ; one might almost say as though it came out of 
+a bandbox. It resembles a tradesman who has become a coun- 
+cillor of state. One can almost see distinctly there. The 
+mire there comports itself with decency. At first, one might 
+readily mistake it for one of those subterranean corridors, 
+which were so common in former days, and so useful in flights 
+of monarchs and princes, in those good old times, " when the 
+people loved their kings." The present sewer is a beautiful 
+sewer ; the pure style reigns there ; the classical rectilinear 
+alexandrine which, driven out of ]>oetry, ap]>ears to have taken 
+refuge in architecture, seems mingled with all the stones of 
+that long, dark and whitish vault ; each outlet is an arcade ; 
+the Rue de Rivoli serves as pattern even in the sewer. How- 
+ever, if the geometrical line is in place anywhere, it is cer- 
+tainly in the drainage trench of a great city. There, every- 
+thing should be subordinated to the shortest road. The sewer 
+has, now-ardays, assumed a certain official aspect. The very 
+police reports, of which it sometimes forms the subject, no 
+loni::er are wantiîig in respect towards it. The words which 
+(^liîiractcrize it in adniinistrjitivt» language are sonorous and 
+(lif^'iiified. What usod to be calh^l a gut is now called a gal- 
+lery ; what used to be called a hole is now called a surveying 
+orifice. Villon would no longer meet with his ancient tern- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 97 
+
+porary provisional lodging. This net- work of cellars has its 
+immemorial population of prowlers, rodents, swarming in 
+greater numbers than ever ; from time to time, an aged and 
+veteran rat risks his head at the window of the sewer and 
+surveys the Parisians ; but even these vermin grow tame, so 
+satisfied are they with their subterranean palace. The cess- 
+pool no longer retains anything of its primitive ferocity. 
+The rain, which, in former days soiled the sewer, now washes 
+it. Nevertheless, do not trust yourself too much to it. Mias- 
+mas still inhabit it. It is more hypocritical than irreproach- 
+able. The prefecture of police and the commission of health 
+have done their best. But, in spite of all the processes of 
+disinfection, it exhales, a vague, suspicious odor like Tartuffe 
+after confession. 
+
+Let us confess that, taking it all in all, this sweeping is a 
+homage which the sewer pays to civilization, and as, from this 
+point of view, TartufPe's conscience is a progress over the 
+Augean stables, it is certain that the sewers of Paris have 
+been improved. 
+
+It is more than progress ; it is transmutation. Between the 
+ancient and the present sewer there is a revolution. What 
+has effected this revolution ? 
+
+The man whom all the world forgets, and whom we have 
+mentioned, Bruneseau. 
+
+VI. — Future Prooress. 
+
+The excavation of the sewer of Paris has been no slight 
+task. The last ten centuries have toiled at it without being 
+able to bring it to a termination, any more than they have 
+been able to finish Paris. The sewer, lin fact, receives all the 
+counter-shocks of the growth of Paris. Within the bosom of 
+the earth, it is a sort of mysterious polyp with a thousand 
+antennae, which expands below as the city expands above. 
+Every time that the city cuts a street, the sewer stretches out 
+an arm. The old monarchy had constructed only twenty-three 
+thousand three hundred metres of sewers; that was where 
+Paris stood in this respect on the 1st of January, 1806. Be- 
+ginning with this epoch, of which we shall shortly speak, the 
+work was usefully and energetically resumed and prosecuted ; 
+Napoleon built — the figures are curious — four thousand 
+eight hundred and four metres ; Louis XVIII., five thousand 
+seven hundred and nine ; Charles X., ton tliousand eight hun- 
+dred and thirty-six ; Louis-Philippe, eighty-nine thousand and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+98 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+twenty; the Republic of 1848, twenty -three thousand three 
+hundred and eighty-one ; the present government, seventy 
+thousand five hundred ; in all, at the present time, two hun- 
+dred and twenty-six thousand six hundred and ten metres ; 
+sixty leagues of sewers ; the enormous entrails of Paris. An 
+obscure ramification ever at work; a construction which is 
+immense and ignored. 
+
+As the reader sees, the subterranean labyrinth of Paris is 
+today more than ten times' what it was at the beginning of the 
+century. It is difficult to form any idea of all the persever- 
+ance and the efforts which have been requii-ed to bring this 
+cess-pool to the point of relative perfection in which it now is. 
+It was with great difficulty that the ancient monarchical pro 
+vostship and, during the last ten years of the eighteenth cen- 
+tury, the revolutionary mayoralty, had succeeded in perforating 
+the five leagues of sewer which existed previous to 1806. All 
+sorts of obstacles hindered this operation, some peculiar to 
+the soil, others inherent in the very prejudices of the laborious 
+population of Paris. Paris is built uj)on a soil which is sin- 
+gularly rebellious to the pick, the hoe, the bore, and to human 
+manipulation. These is nothing more difficult to pierce and 
+to penetrate than the geological formation upon which is 
+superposed the marvellous historical formation called Paris ; 
+as soon as work in any form whatsoever is begun and adven- 
+tures upon this stretch of alluvium, subterranean resistances 
+al>ound. There ar» liquid clays, springs, hard rocks, and 
+those soft and deep quagmires which special science calls 
+m^utardes,'^ The pick advances laboriously through the cal- 
+careous layers alternating with very slender threads of clay, 
+and schistose beds in plates incrusted with oyster-shells, the 
+contemporaries of the pre-Adamite oceans. Sometimes a 
+rivulet suddenly bursts through a vault that has been begun, 
+and inundates the laborers ; or a layer of marl is laid bare, 
+and rolls down with the fury of a cataract, breaking the 
+stoutest supporting beams like glass. Quite recently, at 
+Villette, when it became necessary to pass the collecting sewer 
+under the Saint-Martin canal without interrupting navigation 
+or emptying the canal, a fissure appeared in the basin of 
+the canal, water suddenly became abundant in the subterra- 
+nean .tunnel, which was beyond the power of the pumping 
+engines; it was necessary to send a diver to explore the 
+fissure which had been made in the narrow entrance of the 
+grand basin, and it was not without great difficulty that it was 
+
+1 Mustards. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 99 
+
+stopped ap. Elsewhere near the Seine, and even at a con- 
+siderable distance from the river, as for instance, at Belleville, 
+Grand-Rue and Lumière Passage, quicksands are encounteiTtl 
+in which one sticks fast, and in which a man sinks visibly. 
+Add suffocation by miasmas, burial by slides, and sudden 
+crumbling of the earth. Add the typhus, with which the 
+workmen become slowly impregnated. In our own day, after 
+having excavated the gallery of Clichy, with a banquette to 
+receive the principal water-conduit of Ourcq, a piece of work 
+which was executed in a trench ten metres deep ; after having, 
+in the midst of land-slides, and with the aid of excavations, 
+often putrid, and of shoring up, vaulted the Bievre from the 
+Boulevard de l'Hôpital, as far as the Seine ; after having, in 
+order to deliver Paris from the floods of Montmartre and in 
+order to provide an outlet for that river-like pool nine hectares 
+in extent, which crouched near the Barrière des Martyrs, after 
+(laving, let us state, constructed the line of sewers from the 
+Barrière Blanche to the road of Aubervilliers, in four months, 
+working day and night, at a depth of eleven metres ; after 
+having — a thing heretofore unseen — made a subterranean 
+sewer in the Rue Barre-du-Bec, without a trench, six metres 
+below the surface, the superintendent, Monnot, died. After 
+having vaulted three thousand metres of sewer in all quarters 
+jf the city, from the Rue Traversière-Saint- Antoine to the 
+Rue de POurcine, after having freed the Carrefour Censier- 
+Mouffetard from inundations of rain by means of the branch 
+of the Arbalète^ after having built the Saint-Georges sewer, 
+on rock and concrete in the fluid sands, after having directed 
+the formidable lowering of the flooring of the vault timber in 
+the Notre-Dame-de-Nazareth branch, Duleau the engineer died. 
+There are no bulletins for such acts of bravery as these, which 
+are more useful, nevertheless, than the brutal slaughter of the 
+field of battle. 
+
+The sewers of Paris in 1832, were far from being what they 
+are today. Bruneseau had given the impulse, but the cholera 
+was required to bring about the vast reconstruction which 
+took place later on. It is surprising to say, for example, that 
+in 1821, a part of the belt sewer, called the Grand Canal, as in 
+Venice, still stood stagnating uncovered to the sky, in the Rue 
+des Gourdes. It was only in 1821 that the city of Paris found 
+in its pocket the two hundred and sixty-six thousand eighty 
+francs and six centimes required for covering this mass of 
+filth. The three absorbing wells, of the Combat, the Cunette, 
+and Saint-Mandë^ with their discharging mouths, their appara- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+100 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+tus, their cess-pools, and their deparatorv branches, only Jate 
+from 1836. The intestinal sewer of Paris has been made over 
+anew, and, as we have said, it has been extended more thai» 
+tenfold within the last quarter of a century. 
+
+Thirty years ago, at the e\x>ch of the insurrection of the 5th 
+and 6th of June, it was still, in many localities, nearly the 
+same ancient sewer. A very great number of streets, which 
+are now convex were then sunken causeways. At the end of 
+a slope, where the tributaries of a street or cross-roads ended, 
+there were often to be seen large, square gratings with heavy 
+bars, whose iron, polished by the footsteps of the throng, 
+gleamed dangerous and slippery for vehicles, and caused 
+horses to fall. The official language. of the lioads and Bridges 
+gave to these gratings the expressive name of Cassis.^ 
+
+In 1832, in a number of streets, in the Rue de l'Étoile, the 
+Rue Saint-Louis, the Rue du Temple, the Rue Vielle-du- 
+Temple, the Rue Notre-Dame de Nazareth, the Rue Folie- 
+Mericourt, the Quai aux Fleurs, the Rue du Petit-Musc, the 
+Rue (lu Normandie, the Rue Pont-Aux-Biches, the Rue des 
+Marais, the Faubourg Saint-Martin, the Rue Notre Dame des- 
+Victoires, the Faubourg Montmartre, the Rue Grange- Batelière, 
+in the Champs-Elysées, the Rue Jacob, the Rue de Tournon, 
+the ancient gothic sewer still cynically displayed its maw. 
+It consisted of enormous voids of stone catch-basins some- 
+times surrounded by stone posts, with monumental effrontery. 
+
+Paris in 1806 still had nearly the same sewers numerically as 
+stated in 1663 ; five thousand three hundred fathoms. After 
+Bruneseau, on the 1st of January, 1832, it had forty thousand 
+three hundred metres. Between 1806 and 1831, there had 
+been built, on an average, seven hundred and fifty metres 
+annually, afterwards eight and even ten thousand metres of 
+galleries were constructed every year, in masonry, of small 
+stones, with hydraulic mortar which hardens under water, on 
+a cement foundation. At two hundred francs the metre, the 
+sixty leagues of Paris' sewers of the present day represent 
+forty-eight millions. 
+
+In addition to the economic progress which we have indi- 
+cated at the beginning, grave problems of public hygiene are 
+connected with that immense question : the sewers of Paris. 
+
+Paris is the centre of two sheets, a sheet of water and a 
+sheet of air. The sheet of water, lying at a tolerably great 
+depth underground, but already sounded by two bores, is fur- 
+nished by the layer of green clay situated between the chalk 
+
+1 From casser y to break : break-necks. 
+
+
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 101 
+
+and the Jurassic lime-stone ; this layer may be represented by 
+a disk live and twenty leagues in circumference ; a multitude 
+of rivers and brooks ooze there ; one drinks the Seine, the 
+Marne, the Yonne, the Oise, the Aisne, the Cher, the Vienne 
+and the Loire in a glass of water from the well of Grenelle. 
+The sheet of water is healthy, it comes from heaven in the 
+first place and next from the earth; the sheet of air is 
+unhealthy, it comes from the sewer. All the miasms of the 
+eess-pool are mingled with the breath of the city ; hence this 
+bad breath. The air taken from above a dung-heap, as has 
+been scientifically proved, is purer than the air taken from 
+above Paris. In a given time, with the aid of progress, mech- 
+anisms become perfected, and as light increases, the sheet of 
+water will be employed to purify the sheet of air ; that is to 
+say, to wash the sewer. The reader knows, that by " washing 
+the sewer " w^e mean : the restitution of the filth to the earth ; 
+the return to the soil of dung and of manure to the fields. 
+Through this simple act, the entire social community will 
+experience a diminution of misery and an augmentation of 
+health. At the present hour, the radiation of diseases from 
+Paris extends to hfty leagues around the Louvre, taken as the 
+hub of this pestilential wheel. 
+
+We might say that, for ten centuries, the cess-pool has been 
+the disease of Paris. The sewer is the blemish which Paris 
+has in her blood. The popular instinct has never been 
+deceived in it. The occupation of sewerman was formerly 
+almost as perilous, and almost as repugnant to the people, as 
+the occupation of knacker, which was so long held in horror 
+and handed over to the executioner. High wages were neces- 
+sary to induce a mason to disappear in that fetid mine ; the 
+ladder of the cess-pool cleaner hesitated to plunge into it ; it 
+was said, in proverbial form : " to descend into the sewer is to 
+enter the grave ; " and all sorts of hideous legends, as we have 
+said, covered this colossal sink with terror ; a dread sink-hole 
+which bears the traces of the revolutions of the globe as of the 
+revolutions of man, and where are to be found vestiges of all 
+eataclysms from the shells of the Deluge to the rag of Marat 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+102 LES MISÊRABLE&, 
+
+
+
+BOOK THIRD. —MUD BUT THE SOUL. 
+
+I. — The Sewek and Its Surprises. 
+
+It was in the sewers of Paris that Jean Valjean found 
+himself. 
+
+Stili another resemblance between Paris and the sea. As 
+in the ocean, the diver may disappear there. 
+
+The transition was an unheard-of one. In the very heart of 
+the city, Jean Valjean had escaped from the city, and, in the 
+twinkling of an eye, in the time required to lift the cover and 
+to replace it, he had passed from broatl daylight to complete 
+obscurity, from midday to midnight, from tumult to silence, 
+from the whirlwind of thunders to. the stagnation of the tomb, 
+and, by a vicissitude far more tremendous even than tliat of 
+the line Polonceau, from the most extreme peril to the most 
+absolute obscurity. 
+
+An abrupt fall into a cavern ; a disappearance into the secret 
+trap-door of Paris ; to quit that street where death was on 
+every side, for that sort of sepulchre where there was life, was 
+a strange instant. He remained for several seconds as though 
+bewildered; listening, stupefied. The waste-trap of safety 
+had suddenly yawne(l beneath him. Celestial goodness had, 
+in a manner, cai)tured him by treachery. Adorable ambus* 
+cades of providence ! 
+
+Only, the wounded man did not stir, and Jean Valjean did 
+not know whether that which he was carrying in that grave 
+was a living being or a dead corpse. 
+
+His first sensation was one of blindness. All of a sudden, 
+he could see nothing. It seemed to him too, that, in one 
+instant, he had become deaf. He no longer heard anything. 
+The frantic storm of murder which had been let loose a few 
+feet above his head, did not reach him, thanks to the thick- 
+ness of the earth which separated him from it, as we have 
+said, otherwise than faintly and indistinctly, and like a rum- 
+bling, in the depths. He felt that the ground was solid under 
+his feet ; that was all ; but that was enough. He extended 
+one arm and then the other, touched the walls on both sides, 
+and perceived that the passage was narrow ; he slipped, and 
+thus ])erceived that the pavement was wet. He cautiously 
+put forward one foot, fearing a hole, a sink, some gulf ; be 
+discovered that the paving continued. A gust of fetidness 
+informed him of the place in which he stood. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 103 
+
+After the lapse of a few minutes, he was no longer blind. 
+A little light fell through the man-hole through which he 
+had descended, and his eyes became accustomed to this 
+cavern. He began to distinguish something. The passage in 
+which he had burrowed — no other word can better express 
+the situation — was walled in behind him. It was one of 
+'»hose blind alleys, which the special jargon terras branches. 
+In front of him there was another wall, a wall like night. 
+The light of the air-hole died out ten or twelve paces from the 
+point where Jean Valjean stood, and barely cast a wan pallor 
+on a few metres of the damp walls of the sewer. Beyond, the 
+opaqueness was massive ; to penetrate thither seemed horrible, 
+and entrance into it appeared like an engulf ment. A man 
+could, however, plunge into that wall of fog and it was neces- 
+sary so to do. Haste was even requisite. It occurred to Jean 
+Valjean that the grating which he had caught sight of* under 
+the flag-stones, might also catch the eye of the soldiery, and 
+that everything hung upon this chance. They also might 
+descend into that well and search it. There was not a minute 
+to be lost. He had deposited Marins on the ground, he picked 
+him up again, — that is the real word for it, — placed him on 
+his shoulders once more, and set out. He plunged resolutely 
+into the gloom. 
+
+The truth is, that they were less safe than Jean Valjean 
+fancied. Perils of another sort and no less serious were 
+\waiting them, perchance. After the lightning-charged whirl- 
+wind of the combat, the cavern of miasmas and traps ; after 
+chaos, the sewer. Jean Valjean had fallen from one circle of 
+hell into another. 
+
+When he had advanced fifty paces, he was obliged to 
+halt. A problem presented itself. The passage terminated 
+in another gut which he encountered across his path. There 
+two ways presented themselves. Which should he take? 
+Ought he to turn to the left or to the right ? How was he to 
+find his bearings in that black labyrinth ? This labyrinth, to 
+which we have already called the reader's attention, has a 
+clue, which is its slope. To follow to the slope is to arrive at 
+the river. 
+
+This Jean Valjean instantly comprehended. 
+
+He said to himself that he w^as probably, in the sewer des 
+Halles ; that if he were to choose the path to the left and fol- 
+low the slope, he would arrive, in less than a quarter of an 
+hour, at some mouth on the Seine between tlie Pont au Change 
+and the Pont-Neuf, that is to say, he would make his appear- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+104 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+ance in broad daylight on the most densely peopled spot in Pari& 
+Perhaps he would come out on some man-hole at the intersec 
+tion of streets. Amazement of the passers-by at beholding two 
+bleeding men emerge from the earth at their feet. Arrival of 
+the police, a call to arms of the neighboring post of guards. 
+Thus they would be seized before they had even got out. It 
+would be better to plunge into that labyrinth, to confide them- 
+selves to that black gloom, and to trust to Providence for the 
+outcome. 
+
+He ascended the incline, and turned to the right. 
+
+When he had turned the angle of the gallery, the distant 
+glimmer of an air-hole disappeared, the curtain of obscurity 
+fell upon him once more, and he became blind again. Never- 
+theless, he advanced as rapidly as possible. Marius' two arms 
+were passed round his neck, and the former's feet dragged 
+behind him. He held both these arms with one hand, and 
+groped along the wall with the other. Marius' cheek touched 
+his, and clung there, bleeding. He felt a warm stream which 
+came from Marius trickling down upon him and making its 
+way under his clothes. But a humid warmth near his ear, 
+which the mouth of the wounded man touched, indicated 
+respiration, and consequently, life. The passage along which 
+Jean Valjean was now proceeding was not so narrow as the 
+first. Jean Valjean walked through it witli considerable diffi- 
+culty. The rain of the preceding day had not, as yet, entirely 
+run off, and it created a little torrent in the centre of the bot- 
+tom, and he was forced to hug the wall in order not to have 
+his feet in the water. 
+
+Thus he proceeded in the gloom. He resembled the beings 
+of the night groping in the invisible and lost beneath the 
+earth in veins of shadow. 
+
+Still, little by little, whether it was that the distant air> 
+holes emitted a little wavering light in this opaque gloom, or 
+whether his eyes had become accustomed to the obscurity, 
+some va.gue vision returned to him, and he began once more 
+to gain a confused idea, now of the wall which he touched, 
+now of the vault beneath which he was passing. The pupil 
+dilates in the dark, and the soul dilates in misfortune and 
+ends by finding God there. 
+
+It was not easy to direct his course. 
+
+The line of the sewer re-echoes, so to speak, the line of the 
+streets which lie above it. There were then in Paris two 
+thousand, two hundred streets. Let the reader imagine him- 
+self beneath that forest of gloomy branches which is called 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 105 
+
+the sewer. The system of sewers existing at that epoch 
+placed end to end, would have given a length of eleven 
+leagues. We have 'said above, that the actual network, 
+thanks to the special activity of the last thirty years, was 
+no less than sixty leagues in extent. 
+
+Jean Val jean began by committing a blunder. He thought 
+that he was beneath the Rue Saint-Denis, and it was a pity 
+that it was not so. Under the Rue Saint-Denis there is an 
+old stone sewer which dates from Louis XIII. and which runs 
+straight to the collecting sewer, called the Grand Sewer, with 
+but a single elbow, on the right, on the elevation of the ancient 
+Cour des Miracles, and a single branch, the Saint-Martin sewer, 
+whose four anns describe a cross. Rut the gut of the Retire- 
+Truanderie the entrance to which was in the vicinity of. the 
+Corinthe wine-shop has never communicated with the sewer 
+of the Rue Saint-Denis ; it ended at the Montmartre sewer, 
+and it was in this that Jean Valjean was entangled. There 
+opportunities of losing oneself abound. The Montmartre 
+sewer is one of the most labyrinthine of the ancient network. 
+Fortunately, Jean Valjean had left behind him the sewer of 
+the markets whose geometrical plan presents the appearance 
+of a multitude of parrots' roosts piled on top of each other ; 
+but he had before him more than one embarrassing encounter 
+and more than one street corner — for they are streets^ — pre- 
+senting itself in the gloom like an interrogation point ; first, 
+on his left, the vast sewer of the Plâtrière, a sort of Chinese 
+puzzle, thrusting out and entangling its chaos of Ts and Zs 
+under the Post-Oflice and under the rotunda of the Wheat 
+Market, as far as the Seine, where it terminates in a Y ; sec- 
+ondly, on his right, the curving corridor of the Rue du Cadran 
+with its three teeth, which are also blind courts ; thirdly, on 
+his left, the branch of the Mail, complicated, almost at its 
+inception, with a sort of fork, and proceeding from zig-zag to 
+zig-zag until it ends in the grand crypt of the outlet of the 
+Louvre, truncated and ramified in every direction ; and lastly, 
+the blind alley of a passage of the Rue des Jeûneurs, without 
+counting little ducts here and there, before reaching the belt 
+sewer, which alone could conduct him to some issue suffi- 
+ciently distant to be safe. 
+
+Had Jean Valjean had any idea of all that we have here 
+pointed out, he would speedily have perceived, merely by feel- 
+ing the wall, that he was not in the subterranean gallery of the 
+Rue Saint-Denis. Instead of the ancient stone, instead of the 
+antique architecture, haughty and royal even in the sewer, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+106 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+with pavement and string courses of granite and mortar cost 
+iug eight hundred livres the fathom, he would have felt under 
+his hand contemporary cheapness, economical expedients, jwr- 
+ous stone filled with mortar on a concrete foundation, wliieh 
+costs two hundred francs the metre, and the bourgeoise 
+masonry known as à petits matériaux — small stuff ; but of 
+all this he knew nothing. 
+
+He advanced with anxiety, but with calmness, seeing noth- 
+ing, knowing nothing, buried in chance, that is to say, engulfed 
+in providence. 
+
+By degrees, we will admit, a certain horror seized upon him. 
+The gloom which enveloped him penetrated his spirit. He 
+wklked in an enigma. This aqueduct of the sewer is formi- 
+dable ; it interlaces in a dizzy fashion. It is a melancholy 
+thing to be caught in this Paris of shadows. Jean Valjean was 
+obliged to find and even to invent his route without seeing it 
+In this unknown, every step that he risked might be his last. 
+How was he to get out ? should he find an issue ? should he 
+find it in time ? would that colossal subterranean sponge with 
+its stone cavities, allow itself to be penetrated and pierced ? 
+should he there eucounter some unexpected knot in the dark- 
+ness ? should he arrive at the inextricable and the impassable ? 
+would Marius die there of hemorrhage, and he of hunger ? 
+should* they end by both getting lost, and by furnishing two 
+skeletons in a nook of that night ? He did not know. He put 
+all these questions to himself without replying to them. The 
+intestines of Paris form a precipice. Like the prophet, he was 
+in the belly of the monster. 
+
+All at once, he had a surprise. At the most unforseen 
+moment, and without having ceased to walk in a straight 
+line, he perceived that he was no longer ascending ; the water 
+of the rivulet was beating against his heels, instead of meet- 
+ing him at his toes. The sewer was now descending. Why ? 
+Was he about to arrive suddenly at the Seine ? This danger 
+was a great one, but the peril of retreating was still greater. 
+He continued to advance. 
+
+It was not towards the Seine that he was proceeding. The 
+ridge which the soil of Paris forms on its right bank empties 
+one of its water-slieds into the Seine and the other into the 
+Grand Sewer. The crest of this ridge which determines the 
+division of the waters describes a very capricious line. The 
+culminating point, which is the point of separation of the 
+currents, is in the Sainte-Avoyo sewer, beyond the Rue Michel- 
+le-Gomte, in the sewer of the Louvre, near the boulevards, and 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 107 
+
+în the Montmartre sower, near the Halles. It was this cul- 
+minating point that Jean Valjean liad reached. He was 
+directing his course towards tlie belt sewer ; he was on the 
+right path. But he did not know it. 
+
+Every time that he encountered a branch, he felt of its 
+angles, and if he found that the opening which presentt^d it- 
+self was smaller than the j)assage in wliich he was, he did not 
+enter but continued his route, rightly judging that every 
+narrower way must needs terminate in a blind alley, and 
+could only lead him further from his goal, that is to say, tlie 
+"'outlet. Thus he avoided the quadruple trap which was set 
+for him in the darkness by the four labyrinths which we have 
+just enumerated. 
+
+At a certain moment, he perceived that he was emerging 
+from beneath the Paris which was petrified by the uprising, 
+where the barricades had suppressed circulation, and that he 
+was entering beneath the living and normal Paris. Overhead 
+he suddenly heard a noise as of thunder, distant but continu- 
+ous. It was the rumbling of vehicles. 
+
+He had been walking for about half an hour, at least accord- 
+ing to the calculation which he made in his own mind, and he 
+had not yet thought of rest ; he had merely changed the hand 
+with which he was holding Marius. The darkness was more 
+profound than ever, but its very depth reassured him. 
+
+All at once, he saw his shadow in front of him. It was out- 
+lined on a faint, almost indistinct reddish glow, which vaguely 
+empui-pled the flooring vault underfoot, and the vault overhead, 
+and gilded to his right and to his left the two viscous walls of 
+the passage. Stupefied, he turned round. 
+
+Behind him, in the portion of the passage which he had just 
+passed through, at a distance which appeared to him immense, 
+piercing the dense obscurity, flamed a sort of horrible star 
+which had the air of surveying him. 
+
+It was the gloomy star of the police which was rising in the 
+sewer- 
+In the rear of that star eight or ten forms were moving 
+about in a confused way, black, upright, indistinct, horrible, 
+
+II. — Explanation. 
+
+On the day of the sixth of June, a battue of the sewers had 
+been ordered. It was feared that the vanquished might have 
+taken to them for refu^^e, and Prefect Gisquet was to search 
+occult Paris while General Bugeaud swept public Paris ; a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+108 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+double and connected operation which exacted a double strategy 
+on the part of the public force, represented above by the army 
+and below by the police. Three squads of agents and sewer- 
+men explored the subterranean drain of Paris, the first on the 
+right bank, the second on the left bank, the third in the city. 
+The agents of police were armed with carabines, with blud- 
+geons, swords and poignards. 
+
+That which was directed at Jean Valjean at that moment, 
+was the lantern of the patrol of the right bank. 
+
+This patrol had just visited the curving gallery and the 
+three blind alleys which lie beneath the Rue du Cadran. 
+While they were passing their laiitem through the depths of 
+these blind alleys, Jean Valjean had encountered on his path 
+the entrance to the gallery, had perceived that it was narrower 
+than the principal passage and had not penetrated thither. 
+He had passed on. The police, on emerging from the gallery 
+du Cadran, had fancied that they heard the sound of footsteps 
+in the direction of the belt sewer. They were, in fact, the 
+steps of Jean Valjean. The sergeant in command of the patrol 
+had raised his lantern, and the squad had begun to gaze into 
+the mist in the direction whence the' sound proceeded. 
+
+This was an indescribable moment for Jv.*an Valjean. 
+
+Happily, if he saw the lantern well, the lantern saw him but 
+ill. It was light and he was shadow. He was very far off, 
+and mingled with the darkness of the place. He hugged the 
+wall and halted. Moreover, he did not understand what it 
+was that was moving behind him. The lack of sleep and food, 
+and his emotions had caused him also to pass into the state of 
+a visionary. He beheld a gleam, and around that gleam, forms. 
+What was it? He did not comprehend. 
+
+Jean Valjean having paused, the sound. ceased. 
+
+The men of the patrol listened, and heard nothing, they 
+looked and saw nothing. They held a consultation. 
+
+There existed at that epoch at this point of the Montmartre 
+aewer a sort of cross-roads called de service, which was after- 
+wards suppressed, on account of the little interior lake which 
+formed there, swallowing up the torrent of rain in heavy 
+storms. The patrol could form a cluster in this open space. 
+Jean Valjean saw these spectres form a sort of circle. These 
+bull-dogs' heads approached each other closely and whispered 
+together. 
+
+The result of this council held by the watch dogs was, that 
+they had been mistaken, that there had been no noise, that it 
+was useless to get entangled in the belt sewer, that it would 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAL JE AN. 109 
+
+only be a waste of time, but that they ought to hasten towards 
+Saint-Merry; that if there was anything to do, and any 
+" bousingot '' to track out, it was in that quarter. 
+
+From time to time, parties re-sole their old insults. In 1832, 
+the word bousingot formed the interim between the word 
+jacobin, which had become obsolete, and the word demagogue 
+which has since rendered guch excellent service. 
+
+The sergeant gave orders to turn to the left, towards the 
+watershed of the Seine. 
+
+If it had occurred to them to separate into two squads, and 
+to go in both directions, Jean Valjean would have been captured. 
+All hung on that thread. It is probable that the instructions 
+of the prefecture, foreseeing a possibility of combat and insur- 
+gents in force, had forbidden the patrol to part company. The 
+patrol resumed its march, leaving Jean Valjean behind it. 
+Of all this movement, Jean Valjean perceived nothing, except 
+the eclipse of the lantern which suddenly wheeled round. 
+
+Before taking his departure, the sergeant, in order to acquit 
+his policeman's conscience, discharged his gun in the direction 
+of Jean Valjean. The detonation rolled from echo to echo in 
+the crypt, like the rumbling of that titanic entrail. A. bit of 
+plaster which fell into the stream and splashed up the water a 
+few paces away from Jean Valjean, warned him that the ball 
+had struck the arch over his head. 
+
+Slow and measured steps resounded for some time on the 
+timber work, gradually dying away as they retreated to a 
+greater distance ; the group of black forms vanished, a glim- 
+mer of light oscillated and floated, communicating to the 
+vault a reddish glow which grew fainter, then disappeared ; 
+the silence became profound once more, the obscurity became 
+complete, blindness and deafness resumed possession of the 
+shadows ; and Jean Valjean, not daring to stir as yet, remained 
+for a long time leaning with his back against the wall, with 
+straining ears, and dilated pupils, watching the disappearance 
+of that phantom patrol. 
+
+
+
+III.— The "Spun'' Man. 
+
+This justice must be rendered to the police of that period, 
+that even in the most serious public junctures, it imperturbably 
+fulfilled its duties connected with theVsewers and surveillance. 
+A revolt was, in its eyes, no prtitext for allowing malefactors 
+to take the bit in their own mouths, and for neglecting society 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+110 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+for the reason that the governmeiit was in peril. The ordi* 
+nary service was perforiiied correctly in company with the 
+extraordinary service, and wjis not troubled by the latter. In 
+the midst of an incalculable political event already begun, 
+under the pressure of a possible revolution, a police agent 
+"spun " a thief without allowing himself to be distracted by 
+insurrection and barricades. 
+
+It was something precisely parallel which took place on the 
+afternoon of the 6th of June on the banks of the Seine, on 
+the slope of the right shore, a little beyond the Pont des 
+Invalides. 
+
+There is no longer any bank there now. The aspect of the 
+locality has changed. 
+
+On that bank, two men, separated by a certain distance, 
+seemed to be wat(;hing each other while mutually avoiding 
+each other. The one who was in advance was trying to get 
+away, the one in the rear wîis trying to overtake the other. 
+
+It was like a game of checkers played at a distance and in 
+silence. Neither seemed to be in any hurry, and both walked 
+slowly, as though each of them feared by too much haste to 
+make his partner redouble his pace. 
+
+One would have said that it was an appetite following its 
+prey, and purposely without wearing the air of doing sa 
+The prey was crafty and on its guard. 
+
+The proper relations between the hunted pole-cat and the 
+hunting dog were observed. The one who was seeking to 
+escape had an insignificant mien and not an impressive ap- 
+pearance ; the one who was seeking to seize him was rude of 
+aspect, and must have been rude to encounter. 
+
+The first, conscious that he was the more feeble, avoided the 
+second; but he avoided him in a manner which was deeply 
+furious ; any one who could have observed him woidd have 
+discerned in his eyes the sombre hostility of flight, and all 
+the menace that fear contains. 
+
+The shore was deserted; there were no passers-by; not 
+even a boatman nor a lighter-man was in the skiffs which 
+were moored here and there. 
+
+It was not easy to see these two men, except from the quay 
+opposite, and to any person who had scrutinized them at that 
+distance, the man who was in advance would have appeared 
+like a bristling, tattered, and equivocal being, who was uneasy 
+and trembling beneath %% ragged blouse, and the other like a 
+classic and official personage, wearing the frock-coat of aa 
+thority buttoned to the chin. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+byGoogle 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. Ill 
+
+Perchance the reader might recognize these two men, if he 
+were to see them closer at hand. 
+
+What was tlie object of the second man ? 
+
+Probably to succeed in clothing the first more warmly. 
+
+When a man clothed by the state pursues a man in rags, it 
+is in order to make of him a man who is also clothed by the 
+state. Only, the whole question lies in the color. To be 
+dressed in blue is glorious ; to be dressed in red is disagree- 
+able. 
+
+There is a purple from below. 
+
+Tt is probably some unpleasantness and some purple of this 
+sort which the first man is desirous of shirking. 
+
+If the other allowed him to walk on,. and had not seized 
+him as yet, it was, judging from all appearances, in the hope 
+of seeing him lead up to some significant meeting-place and to 
+some group worth catching. This delicate operation is called 
+" spinning." 
+
+What renders this conjecture entirely probable is that the 
+buttoned-up man, on catching sight from the shore of a hack- 
+ney-coach on the quay as it was passing along empty, made a 
+sign to the driver ; the driver understood, evidently recognized 
+the person with whom he had to deal, turned about and began 
+to follow the two men at the top of the quay, at a foot-pace. 
+This was not observed by the slouching and tattered personage 
+who was in advance. 
+
+The hackney-coach rolled along the trees of the Champs- 
+Elysées. The bust of the driver whip in hand, could be seen 
+moving along above the parapet. 
+
+One of the secret instnictions of the police authorities to 
+their agents contains this article : " Always have on hand a 
+hackney-coach, in case of emergency." 
+
+While these two men were manœuvring, each on his own 
+side, with irreproachable strategy, they approached an inclined 
+plane on the quay which descended to the shore, and which 
+permitted cab-drivers arriving from Passy to come to the river 
+and water their horses. This inclined plane was suppressed 
+later .on, for the sake of symmetry ; horses may die of thirst, 
+but the eye is gratified. 
+
+It is probable that the man in the blouse had intended to 
+ascend this inclined plane, with a view to making his escape 
+into the Champs-Elysées, a place ornamented with trees, but, 
+in return, much infested with i)olicemen, and where the other . 
+conUl easily exercise violenc^e. 
+
+This point on the quay is not very far distant from the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+112 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+house brought to Paris from Moret in 1824, by Colonel Brack, 
+and designated as " the house of François 1." A guard house is 
+situated close at hand. 
+
+To the great surprise of his watcher, the man who was being 
+tracked did not mount by the inclined plane for watering. 
+He continued to advance along the quay on the shore. 
+
+His position was visibly becoming critical. 
+
+What was he intending to do, if not to throw himself into 
+the Seine ? 
+
+Henceforth, there existed no means of ascending to the 
+quay ; there was no other inclined plane, no staircase ; and 
+they were near the spot, marked by the bend in the Seine 
+towards the Pont de Jena, where the bank, growing constantly 
+narrower, ended in a slender tongue, and was lost in the water. 
+There he would inevitably find himself blocked between the 
+perpendicular wall on his right, the river on his left and in 
+front of him, and the authorities on his heels. 
+
+It is true that this termination of the shore was hidden 
+from sight by a heap of rubbish six or seven feet in height, 
+produced by some demolition or other. But did this man hope 
+to conceal himself effectually behind that heap of rubbish, 
+which one need but skirt. The expedient would have been 
+puerile. He certainly was not dreaming of such a thing. 
+The innocence of thieves does not extend to that point. 
+
+The pile of rubbish formed a sort of projection at the 
+water's edge, which was prolonged in a promontory as far as 
+the wall of the quay. 
+
+The man who was being followed arrived at this little mound 
+and went round it, so that he ceased to be seen by the other. 
+
+The latter, as he did not see, could not be seen ; he took 
+advantage of this fact to abandon all dissimulation and to 
+walk very rapidly. In a few moments, he had reached the 
+rubbish heap and passed round it. There he halted in sheer 
+amazement. The man whom he had been pursuing was no 
+longer there. 
+
+Total eclipse of the man in the blouse. 
+
+The shore, beginning with the rubbish heap, was only about 
+thirty paces long, then it plunged into the water which beat 
+against the wall of the quay. The fugitive could not have 
+thrown himself into the Seine without being seen by the man 
+who was following him. What had become of him ? 
+
+The man in the buttoned-up coat walked to the extremity of 
+the shore, and remained there in thought for a moment, hie 
+fistft clenched, his eyes searching. All at once he smote hia 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. , 113 
+
+brow. He had just perceived, at the point where the land 
+came to an end and the water began, a large iron grating, low, 
+arched, garnished with a heavy lock and with three massive 
+hinges. This grating, a sort of door pierced at the base of 
+the quay, opened on the river as well as on the shore. A 
+blackish stream passed under it. This stream discharged into 
+the Seine. 
+
+Beyond the heavy, rusty iron bars, a sort of dark and vaulted 
+corridor could be descried. The man folded his arms and 
+stared at the grating with an air of reproach. 
+
+As this gaze did not suffice, he tried to thrust it aside ; he 
+shook it, it resisted solidly. It is probable that it had just 
+been opened, although no sound had been heard, a singular 
+circumstance in so rusty a grating ; but it is certain that it 
+had been closed again. This indicated that the man before 
+whom that door had just opened, had not a hook but a key. 
+
+This evidence suddenly burst upon the mind of the man 
+who was trying to move the grating, and evoked from him this 
+indignant ejaculation : 
+
+*' That is too much ! A government key ! " 
+
+Then, immediately regaining his composure, he expressed a 
+whole world of interior ideas by this outburst of monosyllables 
+accented almost ironically : *' Come ! Come ! Come ! Come ! '^ 
+
+That said, and in the hope of something or other, either 
+that he should see the man emerge or other men enter, he 
+posted himself on the watch behind the heap of rubbish, with 
+the patient rage of a pointer. 
+
+The hackney-coach, which regulated all its movements on 
+his, had, in its turn, halted on the quay above him, close to 
+the parapet. The coachman, foreseeing a prolonged wait, en< 
+cased his horses' muzzles in the bag of oats which is damp at 
+the bottom, and which is so familiar to Parisians, to whom, 
+be it said in parenthesis, the Government sometimes applies 
+it. The rare passers-by on the Pont de Jena, turned their 
+heads, before they pursued their way, to take a momentary 
+glance at these two motionless items in the landscape, the 
+man on the ^ore, the carriage on the quay. 
+
+IV. — He Also Bears His Cross. 
+
+Jeak Valjean had resumed his march and had not again 
+paused. 
+
+This march became more and more laborious. The level of 
+these vaults varies ; the average height is about five feet, six 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+114 ^ LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+inches, and has been calculated for the stature of a man; 
+Jean Valjean was forced to bend over, in order not to strikt 
+Marius against the vault ; at every step he had to bend, then 
+to rise, and to feel incessantly of the wall. I'he moisture (if 
+the stones, and the viscous nature of the timber framework 
+furnished but poor supports to which to cling, either for hand 
+or foot. He stumbled along in the hideous dung-heap of the 
+city. The intermittent gleams fi'om the air-holes only ^i- 
+peared at very long intervals, and were so wan that the full 
+sunlight seemed like the light of the moon ; all the rest was 
+mist, miasma, opaqueness, blackness. Jean Valjean was both 
+hungry and thirsty ; especially thirsty ; and this, like the sea, 
+was a place full of water where a man cannot drink. His 
+strength, which was prodigious, as the reader knows, and 
+which had been but little decreased by age, thanks to his 
+chaste and sober life, began to give way, nevertheless. Fatigue 
+began to gain on him ; and as his strength decreased, it nunle 
+the weight of his burden increase. Marius, who was, p<*rha]»s. 
+dead, weighed him down as inert bodies weigh. Jean Valjear. 
+held him in such a manner that his chest was not oppressiMi. 
+and so that respiration could proceed as well as possible IW- 
+tween his legs he felt the rapid gliding of the rats. One of 
+them was frightened to such a degree that he bit him. Fi»m 
+time to time, a breath of fresh air reached him through the 
+vent-holes of the mouths of the sewer, and re-animated him. 
+
+It might have been three hours past midday when he reached 
+the belt-sewer. 
+
+He was, at first, astonished at this sudden widening. He 
+found himself, all at once, in a gallery where his outstretched 
+hands could not rea(^h the two walls, and beneath a vault 
+which his head did not touch. The Grand Sewer, is, in fact 
+eight feet wide and seven feet high. 
+
+At the point where the Montmartre sewer joins the Grand 
+Sewer, two other subterranean galleries, that of the Rue de 
+Provence, and that of the Abattoir, form a square. Between 
+these four ways, a less sagacious man would have remained 
+undecided. Jean Valjean selected the broadest, that is to say, 
+the belt-sewer. But here the question again came up — should 
+he descend or ascend ? He thought that the situation required 
+haste, and that he must now gain the Seine at any risk. In 
+otlier terms, he must descend. He turned to the left. 
+
+It was well that he did so, for it is an error to s\i]>pose that 
+the belt-sewer has two outlets, the one in the direction of 
+Bercy, the other towards Passv, and that it is, as its name in- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 115 
+
+dieates, the subterranean girdle of the Paris on the right bank. 
+The Grand Sewer, which is, it must be remembered, nothing 
+else than the old brook of Ménihnontaut, terminates, if one 
+ascends it, in a blind sack, that is to say, at its ancient point 
+of departure which was itfs source, at the foot of the knoll of 
+Ménilmontant. There is no direct communication with the 
+branch which collects the waters of Paris beginning with the 
+Quartier Popincourt, and which falls into the Seine through 
+the Amelot sewer above the ancient Isle Louviers. This 
+branch, which completes the collecting sewer, is separated 
+from it, under the Kue Ménilmontant itself, by a pile which 
+marks the dividing point of the waters, between upstream and 
+downstream. If Jean Valjean had ascended the gallery he 
+would have arrived, after a thousand efforts, and broken down 
+with fatigue, and in an expiring condition, in the gloom, at a 
+wall. He would have been lost. 
+
+\ii case of necessity, by retracing his steps a little way, ai*d 
+entering the passage of the Filles-du-Galvaire, on condition 
+that he did not hesitate at the subterranean crossing of the 
+Carrefour Boucherat, and by taking the corridor Saint-Louis, 
+then the Saint-Gilles gut on the left, then turning to the right 
+and avoiding the Saint-Sebastian gallery, he might have 
+reached the Amelot sewer, and thence, provided tliat he did 
+not go astray in the sort of F which lies under the Bastille, 
+he might have attained the outlet on the Seine near the Ar- 
+senal. But in order to do this, he must have been thoroughly 
+familiar with the enormous madrepore of the sewer in all its 
+ramifications and in all its openings. Now, we must again 
+insist that he knew nothing of that frightful drain which he 
+was traversing ; and had any one asked him in what he was, 
+he would have answered : "In the night." 
+
+His instinct served him well. To descend was, in fact, 
+])ossible safety. 
+
+He left on his right the two narrow passages which branch 
+out in the form of a claw under the Rue LaSitte and the Rue 
+Saint-Georges and the long, bifurcated corridor of the Chausr 
+see d'An tin. 
+
+A little beyond an affluent, which was, probably, the Made- 
+leine branch, he halted. He was extremely weary. A pass- 
+ably large air-hole, probably the man-liole in the Rue d'Anjou, 
+furnished a light that was almost vivid. Jean Valjean, with 
+the gentleness of movement which a brother would exercise 
+towards his wounded brother, deposited Marins on the ban- 
+quette of the sewer. Marins' blood-stained face appeared 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+116 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+under the wan light of the air-hole, like the ashes at the hot* 
+torn of a tomb. His eyes were> closed, his hair was plastered 
+down on his temples like a painter's brushes dried in red wash ; 
+his hands hung limp and dead. A clot of blood had collected 
+in the knot of his cravat ; his limbs were cold, and blood was 
+clotted at the corners of his mouth ; his shirt had thrust itself 
+into his wounds, the cloth of his coat was chafing the yawn- 
+ing gashes in the .living flesh. Jean Val jean, pushing aside 
+the garments with the tips of his fingei-s, laid his hand upon 
+Marius' breast ; his heart was still beating. Jean Val jean 
+tore up his shirt, bandaged the young man's wounds as well 
+as he was able and stopped the flowing blood ; then bending 
+over Marins, who still lay unconscious and almost without 
+breathing, in that half light, he gazed at him with inexpress- 
+ible hatred. 
+
+On disarranging Mari us' garments, he had found two things 
+in his pockets, the roll which had been forgotten there on the 
+preceding evening, and Marins' pocketbook. He ate the roll 
+and opened the pocketbook. On the first page he found the 
+four lines written by Marins. The reader will recall them : 
+
+"My name is Marins Pontmercy. Carry my body to my 
+grandfather, M. Gillenormand, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, No. 
+6, in the Marais." 
+
+Jean Val jean read these four lines by the light of the air- 
+hole, and remained for a moment as though absorbed in 
+thought, repeating in a low tone : " Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, 
+number 6, Monsieur Gillenormand." He replaced the pocket- 
+book in Marius' pocket. He had eaten, his strength had 
+returned to him ; he took Marius up once more upon his back^ 
+placed the latter's head carefully on his right shoulder, and 
+reffumed his descent of the sewer. 
+
+The Grand Sewer, directed according to the course of the 
+valley of Mënilmontant, is about two leagues long. It is 
+paved throughout a notable portion of its extent. 
+
+This torch of the names of the streets of Paris, with which 
+we are illuminating for the reader Jean Valjean's subterra- 
+nean march, Jean Valjean himself did not possess. Nothing 
+told him what zone of the city he was traversing, nor what 
+way he had made. Only the growing pallor of the pools of 
+light which he encountered from time to time indicated to 
+him that the sun was withdrawing from the jxivement, and 
+that the day would soon be over ; and the rolling of vehicles 
+overhead, having become intermittent instea«l of continuous, 
+then having almost ceased, he concluded that he was no longer 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 117 
+
+under central Paris, and that he was approaching some solitîiry 
+region, in the vicinity of the outer boulevards, or the extreme 
+outer quays. Where there are fewer houses and streets, the 
+sewer has fewer air-holes. The gloom deepened around Jean 
+Valjean. Nevertheless, he continued to advance, groping his 
+way in the dark. 
+Suddenly this darkness became terrible. 
+
+
+
+7. — Ik the Case op Sand as in That op Woman, There 
+IS a Fineness Which is Treacherous. 
+
+He felt that he was entering the water, and that he no 
+longer had a pavement under his feet, but only mud. 
+
+It sometimes happens, that on certain shores of Bretagne or 
+Scotland a man, either a traveler or a fisherman, while walk- 
+ing at low tide on the beach far from shore, suddenly notices 
+that for several minutes past, he has been walking with some 
+difticulty. The beach under foot is like pitch ; his soles stick 
+fjust to it ; it is no longer sand, it is bird-lime. The strand is 
+lierfectly dry, but at every step that he takes, as soon as the 
+foot is mised, the print is tilled with water. The eye, how- 
+ever, has perceived no change ; the immense beach is smooth 
+and tranquil, all the sand has the same aspect, nothing distin- 
+guishes i;he soil that is solid from that which is not solid ; the 
+joyous little cloud of sand-lice, continues to leap tumultuously 
+under the feet of the passer-by. 
+
+The man pursues his way, he walks on, turns towards the 
+land, endeavors to approach the shore. He is not uneasy. 
+Uneasy about what? Only, he is conscious that the heavi- 
+ness of his feet seems to be increasing at every step that 
+he takes. All at once he sinks in. He sinks in two or three 
+inches. Decidedly, he is not on the right road ; he halts 
+to get his bearings. Suddenly he glances at his feet; his 
+feet have disappeared. The sand has covered them. He 
+draws his feet out of the sand, he tries to retrace his steps, he 
+turns Ixick, he sinks in more deeply than before. The sand is 
+up to his ankles, he tears himself free from it and flings him- 
+self to the left, the sand reaches to mid-leg, he flings himself 
+to the right, the sand comes up to his knees. Then, with 
+indescribable terror, he recognizes tlio fact that he is caught 
+in a quicksand, and that he has bene.ith him that frightful 
+medium in which neither man can walk nor flsh can swim 
+He flings away his burden, if he have one, he lightens himself, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+118 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+like a ship in distress; it is too late, the sand is aboYe hia 
+knees. 
+
+He shouts, he waves his hat, or his handkerchief, the sand 
+continually gains on him ; if the beach is deserted, if the land 
+is too far away, if the bank of sand is too ill-famed, there is 
+no hero in the neighborhood, all is over, he is condemned to be 
+engulfed. He is condemned to that terrible interment, lon^, 
+infallible, implacable, which it is imi)0ssible to either retard 
+or hasten, which lasts for hours, which will not come to an end, 
+whi(;h' seizes you erect, free, in the flush of health, which drags 
+you down by the feet, which, at every effort that you attempt, 
+at every shout that you utter, draws you a little lower, which 
+has the air of punishing you for your resistance by a redoubled 
+griisp, which forces a man to return slowly to earth, while 
+leaving him time to survey the horizon, the trees, the verdant 
+country, the smoke of the villages on the plain, the sails of 
+the ships on the sea, the birds which fly and sing, the sun 
+and the sky. This engulf ment is the sepulchre which assumes 
+a tide, and which mounts from the depths of the earth towards 
+a living man. Each minute is an inexorable layer-out of the 
+dead. The wretched man triea to sit down, to lie down, to 
+climb ; every movement that he makes burîes him deeper ; he 
+straightens himself up, he sinks; he feels that he is being 
+swallowed up; he shrieks, implores, cnes to the clouds, wrings 
+his hands, grows desperate. Behold him in the sand up to his 
+belly, the sand reaches to his breast, he is only a bust now. 
+He uplifts his hands, utters furious groans, clenches his nails 
+on the beach, tries to cling fast to that ashes, supports himself 
+on his elbows in order to raise himself from that soft sheath, 
+and sobs frantically ; the sand mounts higher. The sand has 
+reached his shoulders, the sand reaches to his throat ; only his 
+face is visible now. His mouth cries aloud, the sand tills it; 
+silence. His eyes still gaze forth, the sand closes them, night. 
+Then his brow decreases, a little hair quivers above the sand ; 
+a hîind projects, pierces the surface of the beach, waves and 
+disappears. Sinister obliteration of a man. 
+
+Sometimes a rider is engulfed with his horse; sometimes 
+the carter is swallowed up with his cart ; all founders in that 
+strand. It is shipwreck elsewhere than in the water. It is 
+the earth drowning a man. The earth, permeated with the 
+ocean, becomes a pitfall. It presents itself in the guise of a 
+plain, and it yawns like a wave. The abyss is subject to these 
+treacheries. 
+
+This melancholy fate, always possible on certain sei^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 119 
+
+beaches, was also possible, thirty years ago, in the sewers 
+of Paris. 
+
+Before the important works, undertaken in 1833, the snb- 
+terranean drain of Paris was subject to these sudden slides. 
+
+The water filtered into certain sub-jacent strata, which were 
+particulariy friable ; the foot-way, which was of flag-stones, as 
+in the ancient sewers, or of cement on concrete, as in the new 
+galleries, having no longer an underpinning, gave way. A 
+fold in a flooring of this sort means a crack, means crumbling. 
+The framework crumbled away for a certain length. This 
+crevice, the hiatus of a gulf of mire, was called a/ow^is, in the 
+special tongue. What is a fontis ? It is the quicksands of 
+the seashore suddenly encountered under the surface of the 
+earth ; it is the beach of Mont Saint-Michel in a sewer. The 
+soaked soil is in a state of fusion, as it were ; all its molecules 
+are in suspension in soft medium ; it is not earth and it is not 
+water. The depth is sometimes very great. Nothing can be 
+more formidable than such an encounter. If the water pre- 
+dominates, death is prompt, the man is swallowed up ; if earth 
+predominates, death is slow. 
+
+Can any one picture to himself such a death? If being 
+swallowed by the earth is terrible on the seashore, what is it 
+in a cess-pool ? Instead of the open air, the broad daylight, 
+the clear horizon, those vast sounds, those free clouds whence 
+rains life, instead of those barks descried in the distance, of 
+that hope under all sorts of forms, of probable passers-by, 
+of succor possible up to the very last moment, — instead of all 
+this, deafness, blindness, a black vault, the inside of a tomb 
+already prepared, death in the mire beneath a cover! slow 
+suffocation by filth, a stone box where asphyxia opens its claw 
+in the mire and clutches you by the throat; fetidness mingled, 
+with the death-rattle ; slime instead of the strand, sulfuretted 
+hydrogen in place of the hurricane, dung in place of the 
+ocean !. And to shout, to gnash one's teeth, and to writhe, and 
+to struggle, and to agonize, with that enormous city which 
+knows nothing of it all, over one's head ! 
+
+Inexpressible is the horror of dying thus ! Death sometimes 
+redeems his atrocity by a certain terrible dignity. On the 
+funeral pile, in shipwreck, one can be groat ; in the flames as 
+in the foam, a superb attitude is possible ; one there becomes 
+transfigured as one perishes. But not here. Death is filthy. 
+It is humiliating to expire. The supreme floating visions are 
+abject. Mud is synonymous with shame. It is petty, ugly, 
+infamous. To die in a butt of Malvoi^'*),. like Clarence, is per 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+120 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+missible; in the ditch of a scavenger, like Escoubleau, if 
+horrible. To struggle therein is hideous ; at the same time 
+that one is going through the deatli agony, one is floundering 
+about. There are shadows enough for hell, and mire enough 
+to render it nothing but a slough, and the dying man knows 
+not whether he is on the point of becoming a spectre or a 
+£rog. 
+
+Everywhere else the sepulchre is sinister; here it is d& 
+formed. 
+
+The depth of the fontls varied, as well as their length and 
+their density, according to the more or less bad quality of the 
+sub-soil. Sometimes a fontis was three or four feet deep, 
+sometimes eight or ten j sometimes the bottom was unfathom- 
+able. Here the mire was almost solid, there almost liquid. 
+In the Luniere fontis, it would have taken a man a day to dis- 
+appear, while he would have been devoured in five minutes by 
+the Philippeaux slough. The mire bears up more or Jess, ac- 
+cording to its density. A child can escape where a man will 
+perish. The first law of safety is to get rid of every sort of 
+toad. Every sewerman who felt the ground giving way be- 
+neath him began by flinging away his sack of tools, or his 
+back-basket, or his hod. 
+
+The fontis were due to different causes : the friability of the 
+soil ; some landslip at a depth beyond the reach of man ; the 
+violent summer rains ; the incessant flootling of winter; long, 
+drizzling showers. Sometimes the weight of the surrounding 
+houses on a marly or sandy soil forced out the vaults 
+of the subterranean gîilleries and caused them to bend aside, 
+or it chanced that a flooring vault burst and split under this 
+crushing thrust. In this manner, the heainng up of the 
+Parthenon, obliterated, a century ago, a i>ortion of the vaults 
+'of Saint-Geneviève hill. When a sewer was broken in undor 
+the pressure of the houses, the mischief was sometimes be- 
+trayed in the street above by a sort of space, like the teeth of 
+a saw, between the j)aving-stones ; this crevice was developed 
+in an undulating line throughout the entire length of the 
+cracked vault, and then, the evil being visible, the remedy 
+could be promi)tly applied. It also frequently happened, thîit 
+the interior ravages were not revealed by any external scar, 
+and in that case, woe to the sewermon. When they entered 
+without precaution into the sewer, they were liable to be lost. 
+Ancient registers make mention of several scavengers who 
+were buried in fontis in tliis manner. They give many names; 
+among others, that of the sewerman who was swallowed up il 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 121 
+
+a quagmire under the man-hole of the Rue Carême-Prenant, a 
+certain Blaise Poutrain ; this Blaise Poutrain was the brother 
+of Nicholas Poutrain, who was the last grave-digger of the 
+cemetery called the Charnier des Innocents, in 1785, the epoch 
+when that cemetery expired. 
+
+There was also that young and charming Vicomte d'Escou- 
+bleau, of whom we have just spoken, one of the heroes of tlio 
+siege of Lerida, where they delivered the assault in silk stock- 
+ings, with violins at their head. D'Escoubleau, surprised one 
+jiight at his cousin's, the Duchess de Sourdis', was drowned in 
+a quagmire of the Beautreillis sewer, in which he had taken 
+refuge in order to escape from the Duke. Madame de Sourdis, 
+when informed of his death, demanded her smelling-bottle, 
+and forgot to weep, through sniffing at her salts. In such 
+cases, there is no love which holds fast ; the sewer extin 
+guishes it. Hero refuses to wash tlie l>ody of Leander. 
+Thisbe stops her nose in the presence of Pyramus and says : 
+« Phew I '' 
+
+VI. — The Fontis. 
+
+Jean Valjean found himself in the presence of a fontis. 
+
+This sort of quagmire was common at that period in the 
+subsoil of the Champs-Elysées, difficult to handle in the 
+hydraulic works and a bad preservative of the subterranean 
+constructions, on account of its excessive fluidity. This 
+fluidity exceeds even the inconsistency of the sands of tîie 
+Quartier Saint-Georges, which could only be conquered by a 
+stone construction on a concrete foundation, and the clayey 
+strata, infected with gas, of the Quartier des Mai-tyrs, which 
+are so liquid that the only way in which a passage was effected 
+under the gallery des Martyrs was by means of a cast-iron pipe. 
+When, in 1836 the old stone sewer beneath the Faubourg 
+Saint-Honore, in which we now see Jean Valjean, was demol- 
+ished for the purpose of reconstructing it, the quicksand, 
+which forms the subsoil of the Champs Elysées as far as the 
+Seine, presented such an obstacle, that the operation lasted 
+nearly six months, to the great clamor of the dwellers on the 
+riverside, particularly of those who had hotels and carriages. 
+The work was more, than unhealthy ; it was dangerous. It is 
+true that they had four months and a half of rain, and three 
+floods of the Seine. 
+
+The fontis which Jean Valjean had encountered was caused 
+by the downpour of the preceding day. The pavement. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+122 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+badly sustained by the subjacent sand, had given way and 
+had produced a stoppage of the water. Infiltration had 
+taken place, a slip had followed. The dislocated bottom haul 
+sunk into the ooze. To what extent ? Impossible to say. The 
+obscurity was more dense there than elsewhere. It was a pit 
+of mire in a cavern of night. 
+
+Jean Valjean felt the pavement vanishing beneath his feet 
+He entered this slime. There was water on the surface, slime 
+at the bottom. He must pass it. To retrace his steps was 
+impossible. Marius was dying, and Jean Valjean exhausted. 
+Besides, where was he to go? Jean Valjean advanced. 
+Moreover, the pit seemed, for the first few steps, not to be 
+very deep. But in proportion as he advanced, his feet plunged 
+deeper. Soon he had the slime up to his calves and water 
+above his knees. He walked on, raising Marius in his arms, 
+as far above the water as he could. The mire now reached to 
+his knees, and the water to his waist. He could no longer 
+retreat. This mud, dense enough for one man, could not, 
+obviously, uphold two. Marius and Jean Valjean would have 
+stood a chance of extricating themselves singly. Jean Val- 
+jean continued to advance, supporting the dying man, who 
+was, perhaps, a corpse. 
+
+The water came up to his arm-pits ; he felt that he was 
+sinking ; it was only with difficulty that he could move in the 
+depth of ooze which he had now reached. The density, which 
+was his support, was also an obstacle. He still held Marius on 
+high, and with an unheard-of expenditure of force, he advanced 
+still ; but he was sinking. He had only his head above the 
+water now, and his two arms holding up Marius. In the old 
+paintings of the deluge there is a mother holding her child thus. 
+
+He sank still deeper, he turned his face to the rear, to 
+escape the water, and in order that he might be able to 
+breathe ; anyone who had seen him in that gloom would 
+have thought that what he beheld was a mask floating on the 
+shadows ; he caught a faint glimpse above him of the droo]v 
+ing head and livid face of Marius ; he made a des|)erate effort 
+and launched his foot forward; his foot struck something 
+solid ; a point of support. It was high time. 
+
+He straightened himself up, and rooted himself upon that 
+point of support with a sort of fury. This produced upon him 
+the effect of the first step in a staircase leading l)ack to 
+life. 
+
+The point of support, thus encountered in the mire at the 
+supreme moment, was the beginning of the other water-shed 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAK 123 
+
+of the parement, which had bent but had not given way, and 
+which had curved under the water like a plank and in a singie 
+piece. Well built pavements form a vault and possess this 
+sort of firmness. This fragment of the vaulting, partly sub- 
+merged, but solid, was a veritable inclined plane, and, once on 
+this plane, he was safe. Jean Valjean mounted this inclined 
+plane and reached the other side of the quagmire. 
+
+As he emerged from the water, he came in contact with a 
+stone and fell upon his knees. He reflected that this was but 
+just, and he remained there for some time, with his soul ab- 
+sorbed in wo^rds addressed to God. 
+
+He rose to his feet, shivering, chilled, foul-smelling, bowed 
+beneath the dying man whom he was dragging after him, all 
+dripping with slime, and his soul filled with a strange light. 
+
+VIL — One Sometimes Runs Aground When One Fan- 
+cies That One Is Disembarking. 
+
+He set out on his way once more. 
+
+However, although he had not left his life in the fontis, he 
+seemed to have left his strength behind him there. That su- 
+preme effort had exhausted him. His lassitude was now such 
+that he was obliged to pause for breath every three or foui 
+steps, and lean against the wall. Once he was forced to seat 
+himself on the banquette in order to alter Marins' position, 
+and he thought that he should have to remain there. But if 
+his vigor was dead, his energy was not. He rose again. 
+
+He walked on desperately, almost fast, proceeded thus for a 
+hundred paces, almost without drawing breath, and suddenly 
+came in contact with the wall. He haîd reached an elbow of 
+the sewer, and, arriving at the turn with head bent down, he 
+had struck the wall. He raised his eyes, and at the extremity 
+of the vault, far, very far away in front of him, he perceived 
+a light. This time it was not that terrible light ; it was good, 
+white light. It was daylight. Jean Valjean saw the out- 
+let. 
+
+A damned soul, who, in the midst of the furnace, should 
+suddenly perceive the outlet of Gehenna, would experience 
+what Jean Valjean felt. It would fly wildly with the stumps 
+of its burned wings, towards that radiant portal. Jean Val- 
+jean was no longer conscious of fatigue, he no longer felt 
+Marins' weight, he found his legs once more of steel, he ran 
+rather than walked. As he a})proached, the outlet became 
+more and more distinctly defined. It was a pointed arch^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+J24 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+lower thcon the vault, which gradually narrowed, and narrower 
+
+than the gallery, which closed in as the vault grew lower. 
+The tunnel ended like the interior of a funnel ; a faulty con 
+struction, imitated from the wickets of penitentiaries, logical 
+in a prison, illogical in a sewer, and which has since been 
+corrected. 
+
+Jean Val jean reached the outlet 
+
+There he halted. 
+
+It certainly was the outlet, but he could not get out 
+
+The arch was closed by a heavy grating, and the grating. 
+which, to all appearance, rarely swing on its rusty hinges, 
+was clamped to its stone jamb by a thick lock, which, red with 
+rust, seemed like an enormous brick. The keyhole could be 
+seen, and the robust latch, deeply sunk in the iron staple. 
+The door was plainly double-locked. It was one of those pris- 
+on locks which old Taris was so fond of lavishing. 
+
+Beyond the grating was the open air, the river, the day- 
+light, the shore, v(M-y narrow but sufficient for esca)>e. The 
+distant quays, Paris, that gulf in which one so easily hides 
+oneself, the broad horizon, lil>erty. On the right, down stream, 
+the bridge of Jena was discernible, on the left, upstream, the 
+bridge of the Invalides ; the place would have been a pro- 
+pitious one in which to await the night and to escape. It was 
+one of the most solitary points in Paris ; the shore which 
+faces the Grand-Caillou. Flies were entering and emerging 
+through the bars of the grating. 
+
+It might have been half-i)ast eight o'clock in the evening. 
+The day was declining. 
+
+Jean Valjean laid Marins down along the wall, on the dry 
+portion of the vaulting, then he went to the grating and 
+clenched both fists round the bars ; the shook which he gave 
+it was frenzied, but it did not move. The grating did not 
+stir. Jean Valjean seized the bars one after the other, in the 
+hope that he might be able to tear away the least solid, and 
+to make of it a lever wherewith to raise the door or to break 
+the lock. Not a bar stirred. The teeth of a tiger are not 
+more firmly fixed in their sockets. No lever ; no prying pos- 
+sible. The obstacle was invincible. There was no means of 
+opening the gate. 
+
+Must he then stop there ? What was he to do ? What was 
+to become of him ? He had not the strength to retrace his 
+steps, to recommence the journey which he had already taken. 
+Besides, how was he to again traverse that quagmire whence 
+be had only extricated himself as by a miracle ? And aftef 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJKAN. 125 
+
+the quagmire, was there not that police patrol, which assuredly 
+could not be twice avoided ? And then, whither was he to 
+go ? What direction should he pursue ? To follow the in- 
+cline would not conduct him to his goal. If he were to reach 
+another outlet, he would find it obstructed by a plug or a grat- 
+ing. Every outlet was, undoubtedly, closed in that manner. 
+Chance had unsealed the grating through which he had en- 
+tei-ed, but it was evident that all the other sewer mouths were 
+barred. He had only succeeded in escaping into a prison. 
+
+All was over. Everything that Jean Valjean had done waa 
+useless. Exhaustion had ended in failure. 
+
+They were both caught in the immese and gloomy web of 
+death, and Jean Valjean felt the terrible spider running along 
+those black strands and quivering in the shadows. He turned 
+his back to the grating, and fell upon the pavement, hurled to 
+earth rather than seated, close to Marius, who still made no 
+movement, and with his head bent between his knees. This 
+was the last drop of anguish. 
+
+Of what was he thinking during this profound depression ? 
+Neither of himself nor of Marius» He was thinking of 
+Cosette. 
+
+Vin. — Thi: Torn Coat-Tail. 
+
+Tn the midst of this prostration, a hand was laid on his 
+shoulder, and a low voice said to him : 
+
+«Half shares." 
+
+Some person in that gloom ? Nothing so closely resembles 
+a dream as despair. Jean Valjean thought that he was dream- 
+ing. He had heard no footsteps. Was it possible ? He raised 
+his eyes. 
+
+A man stood before him. 
+
+This man was clad in a blouse ; his feet were bare ; he held 
+his shoes in his left hand ; he had evidently removed them in 
+order to reach Jean Valjean, without allowing his steps to be 
+heard. 
+
+Jean Valjean did not hesitate for an instant. Unexpected 
+as was this encounter, this man was known to him. The man 
+was Thenardier. 
+
+Although awakened, so to speak, with a start, Jean Valjean, 
+accustomed to alarms, and steeled to unforeseen shocks that 
+must be promptly parried, instantly regained possession of his 
+presence of mind. Moreover, the situation could not be made 
+worse, a certain degree of distress is no longer capable of a 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+126 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+crescendo, and Thénardier himself could add nothing to thia 
+
+blackness of this night. 
+
+A momentarj pause ensued. 
+
+Thénardier, raising his right hand to a level Dvith his fore- 
+head, formed with it a shade, then he hrought his eyelashes 
+together, by screwing up his eyes, a motion which, in connec- 
+tion with a slight contraction of the mouth, characterizes the 
+sagacious attention of a man who is endeavoring to recognize 
+another man. He did not succeed. Jean Valjean, as we 
+have just stated, had his back turned to the light, and he was, 
+moreover, so disfigured, so bemired, so bleeding that he would 
+have been unrecognizable in full noonday. On the contrary, 
+illuminated by the light from the grating, a cellar light, it Is 
+true, livid, yet precise in its lividness, Thénardier, as the ener- 
+getic popular metaphor expresses it, immediately " leax>ed into " 
+Jean Valjean's eyes. This inequality of conditions sufficed to 
+assure some advantage to Jean Valjean in that mysterious 
+duel which was on the point of beginning between the two 
+situations and the two men. The encounter took place be- 
+tween Jean Valjean veiled and Thénardier unmasked. 
+
+Jean Valjean immediately perceived that Thénardier did 
+not recognize him. 
+
+They surveyed each other for a moment in that half-gloom, 
+as though taking each other's measure. Thénardier was the 
+first to break the silence. 
+
+" How are you going to manage to get out ? " 
+
+Jean Valjean made no reply. Thénardier continued : 
+
+" It's impossible to pick the lock of that gate. But still 
+yovL must get out of this." 
+
+" That is true," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+" Well, half shares then." 
+
+" What do you mean by that ? " 
+
+" You have killed that man ; that's all right I have the key." 
+
+Thénardier pointed to Marius. He went on : 
+
+" I don't know you, but I want to help you. You must be 
+H friend." 
+
+Jean Valjean began to comprehend. Thénardier took him 
+for an assassin. 
+
+Thénardier resumed : 
+
+" Listen, comrade. You didn't kill that man without look- 
+ing to see what he had in his pockets. Give me my half. I'li 
+opon the door for you." 
+
+And half drawing from beneath his tattered bloose a huge 
+koy, he added : 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+4EAN VALJEAN. VZl 
+
+" Do you want to see how a key to liberty is made ? Look 
+here/* 
+
+Jean Valjean "remained stupid'' — the expression belongs 
+to the elder Corneille — to such a degree that he doubted 
+whether what he beheld was real. It was providence appear- 
+ing in horrible guise, and his good angel springing from the 
+earth in the form of Thénardier. 
+
+Thénardier thrust his fist into a large pocket concealed 
+under his blouse, drew out a rope and offered it to Jean 
+Valjean. 
+
+" Hold on," said he, " I'll give you the rope to boot." 
+
+«* What is the rope for ? " 
+
+" You will need a stone also, but you can find one outside 
+There's a heap of rubbish." 
+
+"What am I to do with a stone ? " 
+
+" IcUot, you'll want to sling that stiff into the river, you'll 
+need a stone and a rope, otherwise it would float on the 
+water." 
+
+Jean Valjean took the rope. There is no one who does not 
+occasionally accept in this mechanical way. 
+
+Thénardier snapped his fingers as though an idea had sud- 
+denly occurred to him. 
+
+" Ah, see here, comraae, how did you contrive to get out of 
+that slough yonder? 1 haven't dared to risk myself in it 
+Phew ! you don't smell good," 
+
+After a pause he added : 
+
+"I'm asking you questions, but you're perfectly right not to 
+answer. It's an apprenticeship against that cursed quarter of 
+an hour before the examining magistrate. And then, when 
+you don't talk at all, you run no risk of talking too loud. 
+That's no matter, as I can't see your face and as I don't know 
+your name, you are wrong in supposing that I don't know 
+who you are and what you want. I twig. You've broken up 
+that gentleman a bit ; now you want to tuck him away some- 
+where. The river, that great hider of folly, is what you want, 
+ril get you out of your scrape. Helping a good fellow in a 
+pinch is what suits me to a hair." 
+
+While expressing his approval of Jean Valjean's silence, he 
+endeavored to force him to talk. He jostled his shoulder in 
+an attempt to catch a sight of his profile, and he exclaimed, 
+without, however, raising his tone : 
+
+" Apropos of tliat quagmire, you're a hearty animal. Why 
+didn't you toss the man in there ? " 
+
+Jean Vf»ljean preserved silence. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+128 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+TWnardîer resumed, pushing the rag which served him as a 
+cravat to the level of his Adam's aj)ple, a gesture which com- 
+pletes the capable air of a serious man : 
+
+"After all, you acted wisely. The workmen, when they 
+come to-morrow to stoj) up that hole, would certainly have 
+found the stiff abandoned there, and it might have been possi- 
+ble, thread by thread, straw by straw, to pick up the scent 
+and reach you. Some one has passed through the sewer. 
+Who ? Where did he get out ? Was he seen to come out '! 
+The police are full of cleverness. The sewer is treacherous 
+and tells tales of you. Such a find is a rarity, it attraits 
+attention, very few jwople make use of tho sewers for their 
+affairs, while the river belongs to everybody. The river is 
+the true grave. At the end of a month they tish up your man 
+in the nets at Saint-Cloud. Well, what does one care for 
+that ? It's carrion ! Who killed that man ? Paris. And 
+justice makes no inquiries. You have done well." 
+
+The more .loquacious Thcnardier became, the more mute 
+was Jean Val jean. 
+
+Again Tht^nardier shook him by the shoidder. 
+
+"Now let's settle this business. Let's go shares. You have 
+seen my key, show me your money." 
+
+Thenardier was haggard, fierce, suspicious, rather menacing, 
+yet amicable. 
+
+There was one singular circumstance ; Thc^nardier's manners 
+were not simple ; he had not the air of being wholly at his 
+ease ; while affecting an air of mystery, he si)oke low ; from 
+time to time he laid his finger on his mouth, and mutten^l, 
+"hush!" It was difficult to divine why. There was no one 
+there except theuïselves. Jean Valjean thought that other 
+ruffians might possibly be concealed in some nook, not very 
+far off, and that Thcnardier did not care to share with them. 
+
+Thcnardier resumed : 
+
+"Let's settle up. How much did the stiff have in his 
+hags?" 
+
+Jean Valjean searched his pockets. 
+
+It was his habit, as the reader will remember, to always 
+have some money about him. The mournful life of exj)e(li- 
+ents to which he hçid been condemned imposed this as a law 
+upon him. On this occasion, however, he had been caujrht 
+uni>re pared. When donning his uniform of a National Onanl^- 
+nian on the preceding evening, he had forgotten, dolefuHv 
+absorbed as he was, to take his ])()cket-book. He had only 
+some small change in his fob. He turned out his pocket, all 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 129 
+
+«naked with ooze, and spread out on the banquette of the vault 
+one louis d'or, two five-franc pieces, and five or six large sous. 
+
+Thénardier thrust out his lower lip with a significant twist 
+of the neck. 
+
+" You knocked him over cheap," said he. 
+
+He set to feeling the pockets of Jean Valjean and Marins, 
+with the greatest familiarity. Jean Valjean, who was chiefly 
+concerned in keeping his back to the light, let him have his 
+way. 
+
+While handling Marins' coat, Thënardier, with the skill of 
+a pickpocket, and without being noticed by Jean Valjean, tore 
+off a strip which he concealed under his blouse, probably 
+thinking that this morsel of stuff might serve, later on, to 
+identify the assassinated man and the assassin. However, he 
+found no more than the thirty francs. 
+
+" That's true," said he, " both of you together have no more ' 
+than that." 
+
+And, forgetting his motto : " half shares," he took all. 
+
+He hesitated a little over the large sous. After due reflec* 
+tion, he took them also, muttering : 
+
+"Never mind ! You cut folks' throats too cheap altogether." 
+
+That done, he once more drew the big key from under his 
+blouse. 
+
+" Now, my friend, you must leave. It's like the fair her©^ 
+yon pay when you go out. You have paid, now clear out." 
+
+And he began to laugh. 
+
+Had he, in lending to this stranger the aid of his key, and 
+in making some other man than himself emerge from that 
+portal, the pure and disinterested intention of rescuing an 
+assassin ? We may be permitted to doubt this. 
+
+Thénardier helped Jean Valjean to re])lace Marius on his 
+shoulders, then he betook himself to the grating on tiptoe, 
+and barefooted, making Jean Valjean a sign to follow him, 
+looked out, laid his linger on his mouth, and remained for 
+several seconds, as though in suspense; his inspection finished, 
+he placed the key in the lock. The bolt slipped back and the 
+gate swung open. It neither grated nor squeaked It moved 
+very softly. 
+
+It was obvious that this gate and those hinges, carefully 
+oiled, were in the habit of opening more frequently than was 
+supposed. This softness was suspicious ; it hinted at furtive 
+goings and comings, silent entrances and exits of noctumal 
+men, and the wolf-like tread of crime. 
+
+The sewer was evidently an accomplice of some mys 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+IJO LES MISERABLES. 
+
+terious band. This taciturn grating was a receiver of stolen 
+goods. 
+
+Theuardier opened the gate a little way, allowing just sufii- 
+cieut space for Jean Val jean to pass out, closed the grating 
+again, gave the key a double turn in the lock and pluiigt^d 
+back into the darkness, without making any more noise thau 
+a breath. He seemed to walk with the velvet paws of a tiger. 
+
+A moment later, that hideous providence had retreated into 
+the invisibility. 
+
+Jean Valjean found himself in the open air. 
+
+tX. — Marius Produces on Somb One Who Is a Judgb 
+OP THE Matter, the Effect of Being Dead. 
+
+He allowed Marius to slide down upon the shore. 
+
+They were in the open air ! 
+
+The miasmas, darkness, horror lay behind him. The pure. 
+Healthful, living, joyous air that was easy to breathe inun- 
+dated him. Everywhere around him reigned silence, but that 
+charming silence when the sun has set in an unclouded azure 
+Bky. Twilight had descended; night was drawing on, the 
+great deliverer, the friend of all those who need a mantle of 
+darkness that they may escape from an anguish. The sky 
+presented itself in all directions like an enormous calm. The 
+river do wed to his feet with the sound of a kiss. The aerial 
+dialogue of the nests bidding each other good night in 
+the elms of the Champs-Elysées was audible. A few stars, 
+daintily piercing the pale blue of the zenith, and visible to 
+revery alone, formed imperceptible little splendors amid the 
+immensity. Evening was unfolding over the head of Jean 
+Valjean all the sweetness of the infinite. 
+
+It was that exquisite and undecided hour which says neither 
+yes nor no. Night was already sufficiently advanced to ren- 
+der it possible to lose oneself at a little distance and yet 
+there was sufficient daylight to permit of recognition at close 
+quarters. 
+
+For several seconds, Jean Valjean was irresistibly overcome 
+by that august and caressing serenity ; such moments of obliv- 
+ion do come to men ; suffering refrains from harassing the 
+unhappy wretch ; everything is eclipsed in the thoughts ; 
+peace broods over the dreamer like night ; and, beneath the 
+twilight which beams and in imitation of the sky which is 
+illuminated, the soul becomes studded with stars. Jean Val- 
+jean could not refrain from contemnlating that vast^ clear 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 131 
+
+shadow which rested over him ; thoughtfully he bathed in the 
+sea of ecstasy and prayer in the majestic silence of the eternal 
+heavens. Then he bent down swiftly to Marius, as thpugh 
+the sentiment of duty had returned to him, and, dipping up 
+water in the hollow of his hand; he gently sprinkled a few 
+drops on the latter^s face. Marius^ eyelids did not open ; but 
+his half-open mouth still breathed. 
+
+Jean Valjean was on the point of dipping his hand in the 
+river once more, when, all at once, he experienced an inde- 
+scribable embarrassment, such as a person feels when there is 
+0ome one behind him whom he does not see. 
+
+We have already alluded to this impression, with which 
+everyone is familiar. 
+
+He turned round. 
+
+Some one was, in fact; behind him, as there had been a 
+short while before. 
+
+A man of lofty stature, enveloped in a long coat, with folded 
+arms, and bearing in his right fist a bludgeon of which the 
+leaden head was visible, stood a few paces in the rear of the 
+spot where Jean Valjean was crouching over Marius. 
+
+With the aid of the darkness, it seemed a sort of apparition. 
+An ordinary man would have been alarmed because of the 
+twilight, a thoughtful man on account of the bludgeon. Jean 
+Valjean recognized Javert. 
+
+The reader has divined, no doubt, that Thenardier's pursuer 
+was no other than Javert. Javert, after his unlooked-foï 
+escape from the barricade, had betaken himself to the pi-efec- 
+ture of police, had rendered a verbal account to the Prefect in 
+person m a brief audience, had then immediately gone op 
+duty again, which implied — the note, the reader will recol- 
+lect, which had been captured on his person — a certain sur- 
+veillance of the shore on the right bank of the Seine near the 
+Champs-Elysées, which had, for some time past, aroused the 
+attention of the police. There he had caught sight of Thé> 
+nardier and had followed him. The reader knows the rest. 
+
+Thus it will be easily understood that that grating, so oblig 
+ingly opened to Jean Valjean was a bit of cleverness on 
+Thenardier's part. Thénardier intuitively felt that Javert 
+was still there ; the man spied upon has a scent which never 
+deceives him ; it was necessary to fling a bone to that sleuth- 
+hound. An assassin, what a godsend! Such an opportunity 
+must never be allowed to slip. Thénardier, by putting Jean 
+Valjean outside in his stead, provided a prey for tlie police, 
+forced them to relinquish his scent, made them forget him 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+132 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+in a bigger adventure, repaid Javert for his waitiDg, wbict 
+always flatters a spy, earned thirty francs, and counted with 
+cert9.inty, so far as he himself was concerned, on escaping with 
+the aid of this diversion. 
+
+Jean Valjean had fallen from one danger upon another. 
+
+These two encounters, this falling one after the other, from 
+rhénardier upon Javert, was a rude shock. 
+
+Javert did not recognize Jean Valjean, who, as we have 
+stated, no longer looked like himself. He did not unfold his 
+vms, he made sure of his bludgeon in his fist, by an imper- 
+eeptible movement, and said in a curt^ calm voice: 
+
+"Who are you?" 
+
+" I." 
+
+"Who is 'I'?" 
+
+*^ Jean Valjean.'* 
+
+Javert thrust his bludgeon between his teeth, bent his 
+knees, inclined his body, laid his two powerful hands on. the 
+shoulders of Jean Valjean, which were clamped within them 
+as in a couple of vices, scrutinized him, and recognized him. 
+Their faces almost touched. Javert's look was terrible. 
+
+Jean Valjean remained inert beneath Javert^s grasp, like a 
+lion submitting to the claws of a lynx. 
+
+" Inspector Javert," said he, " you have me in your power. 
+Moreover, I have regarded myself as your prisoner ever since 
+this morning. I did not give you my address with any inten- 
+tion of escaping from you. Take me. Only grant me one 
+favor." 
+
+Javert did not appear to hear him. He kept his eyes riv- 
+eted on Jean Valjean. His chin being contracted, thrust his 
+lips upwards towards his nose, a sign of savage revery. At 
+length he released Jean Valjean, straightened himself stiffly 
+up without bending, grasped his bludgeon again firmly, and, 
+as though in a dream, he murmured rather than uttered this 
+question : 
+
+"What are you doing here ? And who is this man ?" 
+
+He still abstained from addressing Jean Valjean as thotL. 
+
+Jean Valjean replied, and the sound of his voice appeared 
+to rouse Javert : 
+
+"It is with regard to him that I desire to speak to you. 
+Dispose of me as you see fit ; but first help me to carry him 
+home. That is all that I ask of you." 
+
+Javert's face contracted as was always the case when any 
+one seemed to think him capable of making a concessioa 
+Nevertheless, he did not say "no." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 133 
+
+Again he bent over, drew from his pocket a handkerchief 
+which he moistened in the water and with which he then 
+wiped Marias' blood-stained brow. 
+
+"This man was at the barrica(le," said he in a low voice and 
+as though speaking to himself. ^< He is the one they called 
+Marius." 
+
+A spy of the first quality, who had observed everythip.»;, 
+listened to everything, and taken in everything, even when he 
+thought that he was to die ; who had played the spy even in 
+his agony, and who, with his elbows leaning on the first step 
+of the sepulchre, had taken notes. 
+
+He seized Marius' hand and felt his pulse. 
+
+" He is wounded,^' said Jean Valjean. 
+
+" He is a dead man," said Javert. 
+
+Jean Valjean replied : 
+
+«No. Not yet." 
+
+"So you have brought him hither from the barricade?" 
+remarked Javert. 
+
+His preoccupation must indeed have been very profound for 
+him not to' insist on this alarming rescue through the sewer, 
+and for him not to even notice Jean Valjean's silence after 
+his question. 
+
+Jean Valjean, on his side, seemed to have but one thought. 
+He resumed : 
+
+" He lives in the Marais, Hue des Fllles-du-Calvaire, with 
+his grandfather. I, do not recollect his name." 
+
+Jean Valjean fumbled in Marins' coat, pulled out his jwcket- 
+book, opened it at the page which Marins had pencilled, and 
+held it out to Javert. 
+
+There was still sufficient light to admit of reading. Besides 
+this, Javert possessed in his eye the feline phosphorescence of 
+night birds. He deciphered the few lines written by Marins, 
+and muttered: " Gillenormand, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, 
+No. 6." 
+
+Then he exclaimed : " Coachman ! " 
+
+The reader will remember that the hackney-coach was wait 
+ing in case of need. 
+
+Javert kept Marius' pocket-book. 
+
+A moment later, the carriage, which had descended by 
+the inclined plane of the watering-place, was on the shore. 
+Marins was laid upon the back seat, and Javert seated him- 
+self on the front seat beside Jean Valjean. 
+
+The door slammed, «and the carriage drove rai).idly away, 
+ascending the quays in the direction of the Bastille! 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+134 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+They quitted the quays and entered the streets. Tb« 
+coachman, a black form on his box, whipped up his thin 
+horses. A glacial silence reigned in the carriage. Marins, 
+motionless, with his body resting in the corner, and his head 
+drooping on his breast, his arms hanging, his legs stiff, seemed 
+to be awaiting* only a. cofiin ; Jean Valjean seemed made of 
+shadow, and Javert of stone, and in that vehicle full of night, 
+whose interior, every time that it passed in front of a street 
+lantern, appeared to be turned lividly wan, as by an intermit- 
+tent flash of lightning, chance had united and seemed to be 
+bringing face to face the three forms of tragic immobility^ the 
+corpse, the spectre, and the statue. 
+
+X. — Return op thb Son Who Was Prodigal op His 
+
+LiPE. 
+
+At every jolt over the pavement, a drop of blood trickled 
+from Marins' hair. 
+
+Night had fully closed in when the carriage arrived at Na 
+6, Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire. 
+
+Javert was the flrst to alight; he made sure with one glance 
+of the number on the carriage gate, and, raising the heavy 
+knocker of beaten iron, embellished in the old style, with a 
+male goat and a satyr confronting each other, he gave a vio- 
+lent peal. The gate opened a little way and Javert gave it a 
+push. The porter half made his appearance yawning, vaguely 
+awake, and with a candle in his hand. 
+
+Everyone in the house was asleep. People go to bed 
+betimes in the Marais, especially on days when there is a 
+revolt. This good, old quarter, terrified at the Revolution, 
+takes refuge in slumber, as children, when they hear the Bug- 
+aboo coming, hide their heads hastily under their coverlet. 
+
+In the meantime Jean Valjean and the coachman had taken 
+Marins out of the carriage, Jean Valjean supporting him 
+under the armpits, and the coachman under the knees. 
+
+As they thus bore Marius, Jean Valjean slipped his hand 
+ander the latter's clothes, which were broadly rent, felt his 
+breast and assured himself that his heart was still beating. 
+It Was even beating a little less feebly, as though the move- 
+ment of the carriage had brought about a certain fresh access 
+of life. 
+
+Javert addressed the porter in a tone befitting the govern- 
+ment, and the presence of the porter of a factious per- 
+son. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 136 
+
+• Some person whose name is Gillenormand ? ^ 
+
+** Here. What do you want with him ? " 
+
+" His son is brought back." 
+
+" His son ? " said the porter stupidly. 
+
+« He is dead." 
+
+Jean Val jean, who, soiled and tattered, stood behind Javert, 
+and whom the porter was surveying with some horror, made 
+a sign to him with his head that this was not so. 
+
+The porter did not appear to understand either Ja vert's words, 
+or Jean Valjean's sign. 
+
+Javert continued : 
+
+" He went to the barricade, and here he is." 
+
+<* To the barricade ? " ejaculated the porter. 
+
+" He has got himself killed. Go waken his father.'' 
+
+The porter did not stir. 
+
+" Go along with you ! " repeated Javert. 
+
+And he added : 
+
+" There will be a funeral here to-morrow." 
+
+For Javert, the usual incidents of the public highway were 
+categorically classed, which is the beginning of foresight and 
+surveillance, and each contingency had its own compartment ; 
+all possible facts were arranged in drawers, as it were, whence 
+they emerged on occasion, in variable quantities ; in the street, 
+uproar, revolt, carnival, and funeral. 
+
+The porter contented himself with waking Basque. 
+Basque woke Nicolette; Nicolette roused great-aunt Gille- 
+normand. 
+
+As for the grandfather, they let him sleep on, thinking 
+that he would hear about the matter early enough in any 
+case. 
+
+Marius was carried up to the first floor, without any one in 
+the other parts of the house being awai^e of the fact, and 
+deposited on an old sofa in M. Gillenormand's antechamber ; 
+and while Basque went in search of a physician, and while 
+Nicolette opened the linen-presses, Jean Val jean felt Javert 
+touch him on the shoulder. He understood and descended 
+the stairs, having behind him the step of Javert who was 
+following him. 
+
+The porter watched them take their departure as he had 
+watched their arrival, in terrified somnolence. 
+
+They entered the carriage once more, and the coachman 
+mounted his box. 
+
+" Inspector Javert," said Jean, " grant me yet another 
+favor/' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+136 LES MISÉRABLKa. 
+
+*^ What is it ? " demanded Javert roughly. 
+
+^^ Let uie go home for one instant. Then you shall do what 
+ever you like with me." 
+
+Javert remained silent for a few moments, with hia chin 
+drawn back into the collar of his great-coat, then he lowered 
+the glass and front : 
+
+<* Driver,'' said he, " Rue de THomme Armé, No. 7." 
+
+XI. — Concussion in the Absolute. 
+
+They did not open their lips again during the whole spac^ 
+of their ride. 
+
+What did Jean Valjean want ? To finish what he had 
+begun ; to warn Cosette, to tell her where Marius was, to give 
+her, possibly, some other useful information, to take, if he 
+could, certain final measures. As for himself, so far as he was 
+personally concerned, all was over; he had been seized by 
+Javert and had not resisted; any other man than himself in 
+like situation, would, perhaps, have had some vague thoughts 
+connected with the rope which Thénardier had giveu him, 
+and of the bars of the first cell that he should enter ; but, 
+let us impress it upon the reader, after the Bishop, there had 
+existed in Jean Valjean a profound hesitation in the presence 
+of any violence, even when directed against himself. 
+
+Suicide, that mysterious act of violence against the unknown, 
+which may contain, in a measure, the death of the soul, was 
+impossible to Jean Valjean. 
+
+At the entrance to the Rue de l'Homme Armé, the car- 
+riage halted, the way being too narrow to admit of the entrance 
+of vehicles. Javert and Jean Valjean alighted. 
+
+The coachman humbly represented to " monsieur l'Inspec- 
+teur," that the Utrecht velvet of his carriage was all spotted 
+with the blood o^ the assassinated man, and with mire from the 
+assassin. That is the way he understood it. He added thai 
+an indemnity was due him. At the same time, drawing hi* 
+certificate book from his pocket, he begged the inspector U. 
+have the goodness to write him " a bit of an attestation." 
+
+Javert thrust aside the book which the coachman held out 
+to him, and said : 
+
+" How much do you want, including your time of waiting 
+and the drive ? " 
+
+" It comes to seven hours and a quarter," replied the man, 
+"and my velvet was perfectly new. Eighty francs, Mr. 
+Inspector." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 137 
+
+Javert drew four napoleons from his pocket and dismissed 
+the carriage. 
+
+Jean Valjean fancied that it was Javert's intention to 
+eonduct him on foot to the post of the Blancs- Manteaux 
+or to the post of the Ai-chives both of which are close at 
+hand. 
+
+They entered the street. It was deserted as usual. Javert 
+followed Jean Valjean. They reached No. 7. Jean Valjean 
+knocked. The door opened. 
+
+*' It is well/' said Javert. "<ro up stairs." 
+
+He added with a strange expression, and as though he 
+were exerting an effort in speaking in this manner : 
+
+" I will wait for you here." 
+
+Jean Valjean looked at Javert. This mode of procedure 
+was but little in accord with Javert's habits. However, he 
+could not be greatly surprised that Javert should now have a 
+sort of haughty confidence in him, the confidence of the cat 
+which grants the mouse liberty to the length of its claws, 
+seeing that Jean Valjean had made up his mind to surrender 
+himself and to make an end of it. He pushed open the door, 
+entered the house, called to the porter who was in bed and 
+who had pulled the cord from his couch ; " It is I ! " and 
+ascended the stairs. 
+
+On arriving at the first floor, he paused. All sorrowful 
+roads have their stations. The window on the landing-place, 
+which was a sash-window, was open. As in many ancient 
+houses, the staircase got its light from without and had a 
+view on the street. The street-lantern, situated directly 
+opposite, cast some light on the stairs, and thus effected some 
+economy in illumination. 
+
+Jean Valjean, either for the sake of getting the air, or 
+mechanically, thrust his head out of this window. He leaned 
+out over the street. It is short, and the lantern lighted it from 
+end to end. Jean Valjean was overwhelmed with amazement ; 
+there was no longer any one there. 
+
+Javert had taken his departure. 
+
+XII. — The Grandfather, 
+
+Basque and the porter had carried Marins into the draw- 
+ing-room, as he still lay stretched out, motionless, on the sofa 
+upon which he had been placed on his arrival. The doctor 
+who had been sent for, had hastened thither. Aunt Gillenor 
+mand had risen. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+138 LES MISÉUABLES. 
+
+Aunt Gillenormand went and came, in affright, wriugîng 
+her hands and incapable of doing anything but saying: 
+** Heavens ! is it possible ? " At times she added : " Every- 
+thing will be covered with blood." When her first horror 
+had passed off, a certain .philosophy of the situation pene 
+trated her mind, and took form in the exclamation : " It was 
+bound to end in this way ! " She did not go so far as : " I told 
+you so ! " which is customary on this sort of occasion. At 
+the physician's orders, a camp bed had been prepared beside 
+the sofa. The doctor examined Marius, and after having 
+found that his pulse was still beating, that the wounded man 
+had no very deep wound on his breast, and that the blood on 
+the corners of his lips proceeded from his nostrils, he had him 
+placed fiat on the bed, without a pillow, with his head on the 
+same level as his body, and even a trifle lower, and with his bust 
+bare in order to facilitate respiration. Mademoiselle Gillenor- 
+mand on perceiving that they were undressing Marins, with- 
+drew. She set herself to telling her beads in her own 
+chamber. 
+
+The trunk had not suffered any internal injury ; a bullet, 
+deadened by the pocket-book, had turned aside and made the 
+tour of his ribs with a hideous laceration, which was of no great 
+depth, and consequently, not dangerous. The long, under- 
+ground journey had completed the dislocation of the broken 
+collar-bone, and the disorder there was serious. The arms had 
+been slashed with sabre cuts. Not a single scar disfigured 
+his face; but his head was fairly covered with cuts; what 
+would be the result of these wounds on the head ? Would 
+they stop short at the hairy cuticle, or would they attack the 
+brain ? As yet, this could not be decided. A grave symptom 
+was that they had caused a swoon, and that people do not 
+always recover from such swoons. Moreover, the wounded 
+man had been exhausted by hemorrhage. From the waist 
+down, the barricade had protected the lower part of the body 
+from injury. 
+
+Basque and Nicolette tore up linen and prepared bandages ; 
+Nicolette sewed them, Basque rolled them. As lint was lack- 
+ing, the doctor, for the time being, arrested the bleeding with 
+layers of wadding. Beside the bed, three candles burned on a 
+table where the case of surgical instruments lay spread out 
+The doctor bathed Marius' face and hair with cold water, A 
+full pail was reddened in an instant. The porter, candle in 
+hand, lighted them. 
+
+The doctor seemed to be pondering sadly. From tim^ to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAm. 131) 
+
+time, he made a negative sign witb his head, as though leply 
+ing to some question which he had inwardly addressed to him 
+self. 
+
+A bad sign for the sick man are these mysterious dialogues 
+of the doclor with himself. 
+
+At the moment when the doctor was wiping Marius' face, 
+and lightly touching his still closed eyes with his finger, a 
+door opened at the end of the drawing-room, and a long, pallid 
+€gure made its appearance. 
+
+This was the grandfather. 
+
+The revolt had, for the past two days, deeply agitated, en- 
+raged and engrossed the mind of M. Gillenormand. He had 
+not been able to sleep on the previous night, and he had been 
+in a fever all day long. In the evening, he had gone to bed 
+very early, recommending that everything in the house should 
+be well barred, and he had fallen into a doze through sheer 
+fatigue. 
+
+Old men sleep lightly ; M. Gillenormand's chamber adjoined 
+the drawing-room, and in spite of all the precautions that had 
+been taken, the noise had awakened him. Surprised at the 
+rift of light which he saw under his door, he had risen from 
+his bed, and had groped his way thither. 
+
+He stood astonished on the threshold, one hand on the 
+handle of the half-open door, with his head bent a little 
+forward and quivering, his body wrapped in a white dressing- 
+gown, which was straight and as destitute of folds as a wind- 
+ing-sheet ; and he had the air of a phantom who is gazing 
+into a tomb. 
+
+He saw the bed, and on the mattress that young man, 
+bleeding, white with a waxen whiteness, with closed eyes and 
+gaping mouth, and pallid lips, stripped to the waist, slashed 
+all over with crimson wounds, motionless and brilliantly 
+lighted up. 
+
+The grandfather trembled from head to foot as powerfully 
+as ossified limbs can tremble, his eyes, whose corne» were 
+yellow on account of his great age, were veiled in a sort of 
+vitreous glitter, his whole face assumed in an instant the 
+earthy angles of a skull, his arms fell pendent, as though a 
+spring had broken, and his amazement was betrayed by the 
+outspreading of the fingers of his two aged hands, which 
+quivered all over, his knees formed an angle in front, allowing, 
+through the opening in his dressing-gown, a view of his poor 
+bare legs, all bristling with white hairs, and he murmured: 
+
+« Marins 1 " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+140 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+" Sir," said Basque, " Monsieur has just been brought back. 
+He went to the barricade, and ..." 
+
+" He is dead ! " cried the old man in a terrible voice. " Ah ! 
+The rascal !" 
+
+Then a sort of sepulchral transformation straigitened up 
+this centenarian as erect as a young man. 
+
+"Sir," said he, "you are the do(;tor. Begin by telling me 
+one thing. He is dead, is he not ?" 
+
+The doctor, who was at the highest pitch of anxiety, 
+remained silent. 
+
+M. Gillenormand wrung his hands with an outburst of 
+terrible laughter. 
+
+" He is dead ! He is dead ! He is dead I He has got himself 
+killed on the barricades ! Out of hatred to me ! He did that to 
+suite me ! Ah ! You blood-drinker ! This is the way he returns 
+to me ! Misery of my life, he is dead ! " 
+
+He went to the window, threw it wide open as though he 
+were stifling, and, erect before the darkness, he began to talk 
+into the street, to the night : 
+
+" Pierced, sabred, exterminated, slashed, hacked in pieces ! 
+Just look at that, the villain ! He knew well that I was wait- 
+ing for him, and that I had had his room arranged, and that I 
+had placed at the head of my bed his portrait taken when lie 
+was a little child ! He knew well that he had only to come back» 
+and that I had been recalling him for years, and that I 
+remained by my fireside, with my hands on my knees, not 
+knowing what to do, and that I was mad over it 1 You knew 
+well, that you had but to return and to say : * It is I,' and 
+you would have been the master of the house, and that I 
+should have obeyed you, and that you could have done what- 
+ever you plejised with your old numskull of a grandfather I 
+you knew that well, and you said : 
+
+"No, he is a Royalist, I will not go ! And you went to the 
+Ixarricades, and you got yourself killed out of malice! To 
+revenge youi'self for what T said to you about Monsieur le Due 
+de Berry. It is infamous ! Go to bed then and sleep tran- 
+quilly ! he is dead, and this is my awakening." 
+
+The doctor, who was beginning to be uneasy in both quar- 
+ters, quitted Marius for a moment, went to M. Gillenormand 
+and took his arm. The grandfather turned round, gazed at him 
+with eyes which seemed exaggerated in size and bloodshot, 
+and said to him calmly : 
+
+" I thank you, sir. 1 am composed, I am a man, I witnessed 
+the death of Louis XVI., I know how to bear events. On© 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. -J 41 
+
+thing is terrible and that is to think that it is your news* 
+papers which do all the mischief. You will have scribblers, 
+chatterers, lawyers, orators, tribunes, discussions, progress^ 
+enlightenment, the rights of man, the liberty of the press, and 
+this is the way that your children will be brought home to you. 
+Ah! Marins! It is abominable! Killed! Dead before me! 
+A barricade ! Ah, the scamp ! Doctor, you live in this quarter, 
+I believe ? Oh ! I know you well. I see your cabriolet pass 
+my window. I am going to tell you. You are wrong to think 
+that I am angiy. One does not fly into a rage against a dead 
+man. That would be stupid. This is a child whom I have 
+reared. I was already old while he was very young. He 
+played in the Tuileries garden with his little shovel and his 
+little chair, and in order that the inspectors might not 
+grumble, I stopped up the holes that he made in the earth 
+with his shovel, with my cane. One da^ he exclaimed: 
+Down with Louis XVIII. I and off he went. It was no fault 
+of mine. He was all rosy and blond. His mother is dead. 
+Have you ever noticed that all little children are blond ? Why 
+is it so ? He is the son of one of those brigands of the Loire, 
+but children are innooent of their fathers' crimes. I remember 
+when he was no higher than that. He could not manage to 
+pronounce his Ds. He had a way of talking that was so sweet 
+and indistinct that you would have thought it was a bird 
+<;hirping. I remember that once, in front of the Hercules 
+Farhese, people formed a circle to admire him and marvel at 
+him, he was so handsome, was that child ! He had a head 
+such as you see in pictures. I talked in a deep voice, and I 
+frightened him with my cane, but he knew very well that it 
+was only to make him laugh. In the morning, when he 
+entered my room, I grumbled, but he was like the sunlight to 
+me, all the same. One cannot defend oneself against those 
+brats. They take hold of you, they hold you fast, they never 
+let you go again. The truth is, that there never was a cupid 
+like that child. Now, what can you say for your Lafayettes, 
+your Benjamin Constants, and your Tirecuir de Corcelles who 
+iiave killed him ? This cannot be allowed to pass in this 
+-fashion." 
+
+He approached Marius, who still lay livid and motion- 
+less, and to whom the physician had returned, and began 
+once more to wring his hands. The old man's pallid lips 
+moved as though mechanically, and permitted tlie passage 
+of words that were barely audible, like breaths in the death 
+agony: 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+142 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+'*Mi! heartless lad! Ah! clubbist! Ah! wretch! Ah! 
+Septembrist ! 
+
+Reproaches in the low voice of au agonizing man, addressed 
+to a corpse. 
+
+Little by little, as it is always indispensable that internal 
+eruptions should come to the light, the sequence of words re- 
+turned, but the grandfather appeared no longer to have the 
+strength to utter them, his voice was so weak, and extinct^ 
+that it seemed to come from the other side of an abyss : 
+
+'< It is all the same to me, I am going to die too, that I am. 
+And to think that there is not a hussy in Paris who would nut 
+have been delighted to make this wretch happy ! A scamp 
+who, instead of amusing himself and enjoying life, went oK 
+to fight and get himself shot down like a brute ! Àud for 
+whom ? Why ? For the Republic ! Instead of going to 
+dance at the Chaumière, as it is the duty of young folks to 
+do ! What's the use of being twenty years old Y The Re- 
+public, a cursed pretty folly ! Poor mothers, beget fine boys, 
+do ! Come, he is dead. That will make two funerals under the 
+same carriage gate. So you have got yourself arranged like 
+this for the sake of General Lamarque'b handsome eyes! 
+What had that General Laroarque done \o you ? A slasher ! 
+A chatter-box ! To get oneself killed for a dead man ! If 
+that isn't enough to drive anyone mad ! Just think of it Î 
+At twenty ! And without so much as turning his head to see 
+whether he was not leaving something behind him ! That's 
+the way poor, good old felloes are forced to die alone now-a 
+days. Perish in your corner, owl ! Well, after all, so much 
+the better, that is what I was hoping for, this will kill me on 
+the spot. I am too old, I am a hundred years old, I am a hun- 
+dred thousand years old, I ought, by rights, to have been dead 
+long ago. This blow puts an end to it. So all is over, what 
+happiness ! What is the good of making him inhale amn.onia 
+and all that parcel of drugs ? You are wasting your ttouble, 
+vou fool of a doctor ! Come, he's dead, completely dead. I 
+know all about it, I am dead myself too. He hadn't done 
+things by half. Yes, this age is infamous, infamous and that's 
+what I think of you, of your ideas, of your systems, of your 
+masters, of your oracles, of your doctors, of yocr scrape-graces 
+of writers, of your rascally philosophers, and of all the revolu- 
+tions which, for the last sixty years, have bt^en frightening the 
+flocks of crows in the Tuileries ! Buf you were pitiless in 
+getting yourself killed like this, I dhall not even grievt 
+over your death, do you understand, you assassin?^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN, 143 
+
+At that moment, Marins slowly opened his eyes, and his 
+glance, still dimmed by lethargic wonder, rested on M. Gille- 
+uormand. 
+
+"Marius!" cried the old man. "Marius! My little 
+Marins! my child! my well-beloved son! You open yoiw 
+eyes, you gaze upon me, you are alive, thanks I " 
+
+And he fell fainting. 
+
+
+
+BOOK FOUETH. — JAVERT DERAILEDl 
+I. 
+
+Javert passed slowly down the Rue de l'Homme Armé. 
+
+He walked with drooping head for the first time in his life, 
+and likewise, for the first time in his life, with his hands 
+behind his back. 
+
+Up to that day, Javert had borrowed from Napoleon's atti- 
+tudes, only that which is expressive of resolution, with arms 
+folded across the chest; that which is expressive of uncer- 
+tainty — with the hands behind the back — had been unknown 
+to him. Now, a change had taken place ; his whole person, 
+slow and sombre, was stamped with anxiety. 
+
+He plunged into the silent streets. 
+
+Nevertheless, he followed one given direction. 
+
+He took the shortest cut to the Seine, reached the Quai des 
+Ormes, skirted the quay, passed the Grève, and halted at some 
+distance from the post of the Place du Châtelet, at the angle of 
+the Pont Notre-Dame. There, between the Notre-Dame and 
+the Pont an Change on the one hand, and the Quai de la 
+Mégisserie and the Quai aux Fleurs on the other, the Seine 
+forms a sort of square lake, traversed by a rapid. 
+
+This point of the Seine is dreaded by mariners. Nothing is 
+more dangerous than this rapid, hemmed in, at that epoch, 
+and irritated by the piles of the mill on the bridge, now de- 
+molished. The two bridges, situated thus close together, aug- 
+ment the peril ; the water hurries in formidable wise through 
+the arches. It rolls in vast and terrible waves ; it accumulates 
+and piles up there ; the flood attacks the piles of the bridges 
+88 though in an effort to pluck them up with great liquid 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+144 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+ropes. Men who fall in there never re-appear; the best of 
+Bwimiuers are drowned there. 
+
+Javert leaned both elbows on the parapet, his chin resting 
+in both hands, and, while his nails were mechanically twiued 
+m the abundance of his whiskers, he meditated. 
+
+A novelty, a revolution, a catastrophe had just taken 
+place in the depths of his being ; and he had something upon 
+which to examine himself. 
+
+Javert was undergoing horrible suffering. 
+
+For several hours, Javert had cease»d to be simple. He was 
+troubled ; that brain, so limpid in its blindness, had lost its 
+transpanMicy ; that crystal was clouded. Javert felt duty 
+divided within his conscience, and he could not conceal the 
+fact from himself. When he had so unexix^cttnlly encountered 
+Jean Valjean on the banks of the Seine, there had lx*en in him 
+something of the wolf which regains his grip on his prey, and 
+of the dog who finds his master again. 
+
+He beheld before him two paths, both equally straight, but 
+he beheld two ; and that terrified him ; him, who had never in 
+all his life known more than one straight line. And, the 
+poignant anguish lay in this, that the two paths were contrary 
+to Ciich other. One of these straight lines excluded the other. 
+Which of the two was the true one ? 
+
+His situation was indescribable. 
+
+To owe his life to a malefactor, to accept that debt and to 
+repay it ; to be, in spite of himself, on a level with a fugitive 
+from justice, and to repay his service with another service ; to 
+allow it to be said to him, *• Go," and to say to the latter in 
+his turn : " He free " ; to sacrifice to personal motives duty, 
+that general obligation, and to be conscious, in those i>ersonal 
+motives, of something that was also general, and, perchance, 
+superior, to betray society in order to remain true to his 
+conscience ; that all these absurdities should be realized and 
+should accumulate upon him, — this was what overwhelmed 
+him. 
+
+One thing had amazed him, — this was that Jean Valjean 
+shonld have done him a favor, and one thing petrified him, — 
+that he, Javert, should have done Jean Valjean a favor. 
+
+Wliere did he stand ? He sought to comprehend his posi- 
+tion, and could no longer find his bearings. 
+
+What was he to do now? To deliver up Jean Valjean* was 
+bad ; to leave Jean Valjean at liberty was bad. In the first 
+case, the man of authority fell lower than the man of the gal- 
+leys, in the second, a convict rose above the law, and set his 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 146 
+
+foot upon it. In both cases, dishonor for him, Javert. There 
+was disgrace in any resolution at which he might arrive. 
+Destiny has some extremities which rise perpendicularly 
+from the impossible, and beyond which life is no longer any- 
+thing but a precipice. Javert had reached one of those 
+extremities. 
+
+One of his anxieties consisted in being constrained to 
+think. The very violence of all these conflicting emotions 
+forced him to it. Thought, was something to which he was 
+unused, and which was peculiarly painful. 
+
+In thought there always exists a certain amount of internal 
+rebellion ; and it irritated him to have that within him. 
+
+Thought on any subject whatever, outside of the restricted 
+circle of his functions, would have been for him in any case 
+-useless and a fatigue; thought on the day which had just 
+passed, was a torture. Nevertheless, it was indispensable that 
+he should take a look into his conscience, after such shocks, 
+and render to himself an account of liimself. 
+
+What he had just done made him shudder. He, Javert, 
+had seen fit to decide, contrary to all the regulations of the 
+police, contrary to the whole social and judicial organization, 
+contrary to the entire code, upon a release ; this had suited 
+him ; he had substituted his own affairs for the affairs of the 
+public; was not this unjustifiable? Every time that he 
+brought himself face to face with this deed without a name 
+which he had committed, he trembled from head to foot. Upon 
+what should he decide ? One sole resource remained to him ; 
+to return in all haste to the Rue de THomme Armé, and com- 
+mit Jean Val jean to prison. It was clear that that was what 
+he ought to do. He could not. 
+
+Something barred his way in that direction. 
+
+Something ? What ? Is there in the world, anything out- 
+side of the tribunals, executory sentences, the police and the 
+authorities ? Javert wjis overwhelmed. 
+
+A galley-slave sacred ! A convict who could not be touched 
+by the law I And that the deed of Javert ! 
+
+Was it not a fearful thing that Javert and Jean Val jean, 
+the man made to proceed with rigor, the man made to submit, 
+— that these two men wlio were both the things of the law, 
+should have come to such a pass, that both of them had set 
+themselves above the law ? What then ! such enormities were 
+to happen and no one was to be punished ! Jean Valjean, 
+stronger than the whole social order, was to remain at liberty, 
+and he, Javert, was to go on eating the government's bread î / 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+146 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+His revery gradually became terrible. 
+
+He might, athwart this revery, have also reproached himself 
+on the subject of that insurgent who had been taken to the 
+Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire ; but he never even thought of that. 
+The lesser fault was lost in the greater. Besides, that insur- 
+gent was, obviously, a dead man, and, legally, death puts an 
+end to pursuit. 
+
+Jean Val jean was the load which weighed upon his spirit. 
+
+Jean Valjean disconcerted him. All the axioms which had 
+served him as points of support all his life long, had crumbled 
+away in the presence of this man. Jean Valjeun's generosity 
+towards him, Javert, crushed him. Other facts which he now 
+recalled, and which he had formerly treated as lies and folly, 
+now recurred to him as realities. M. Madeleine re-appeared 
+behind Jean Valjean, and the two figures were superposed in 
+such fashion that they now formed but one, which was vener- 
+able. Javert felt that something terrible was penetrating his 
+soul — admiration for a convict. Respect for a galley-slave — is 
+that a possible thing ? He shuddered at it, yet could not 
+escape from it. In vain did he struggle, he was reduced to 
+confess, in his inmost heart, the sublimity of that wretch. 
+This was odious. 
+
+A benevolent malefactor, merciful, gentle, helpful, clement, a 
+convict, returning good for evil, giving back pardon for hatred, 
+preferring pitjr to vengeance, preferring to ruin himself rather 
+than to ruin his enemy, saving him who had smitten him, kneel- 
+ing on the heights of virtue, more nearly akin to an angel than 
+to a man. Javert was constrained to admit to himself that 
+this monster existed. 
+
+Things could not go on in this manner. 
+
+Certainly, and we insist u])on this point, he had not yielded 
+without resistance to that monster, to that infamous angel, to 
+that hideous hero, who enraged almost as much as he amiized 
+him. Twenty times, as he sat in that carriage face to face with 
+Jean Valjean, the legal tiger had roared within him. A score 
+of times he had been tempted to fling himself upon Jean VaV 
+jean, to seize him and devour him, that is t^say, to arrest him. 
+What more simple, in fact ? To cry out at the first post that 
+they passed : — " Here is a fugitive from justice, who has 
+broken his ban ! " to summon the gendarmes and say to them : 
+"This man is yours ! '' then to go off, leaving that condemned 
+man there, to ignore the rest and not to meddle further in the 
+matter. This man is forever a prisoner of the law : the law 
+may do with him what it wilL What could be more just ? 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 147 
+
+Javert had said all this to himself ; he had wished to pass 
+beyond, to act, to apprehend the man^ and then, as at present, 
+he had not been able to do it ; and every time that his arm 
+had been raised convulsively towards Jean Yaljean's collar, his 
+hand had fallen back again, as beneath an enormous weight, 
+and in the depths of his thought he had heard a voice, a 
+strange voice crying to him : — " It is well. Deliver up your 
+savior. Then have the basin of Pontius Pilate brought and 
+wash your claws." 
+
+Then his reflections reverted to himself and beside Jean 
+Yaljean glorified he beheld himself, Javert, degraded. 
+
+A convict was his benefactor ! 
+
+But then, why had he permitted that man to leave him 
+alive ? He had the right to be killed in that barricade. He 
+should have asserted that right. It would have been better to 
+summon the other insurgents to his succor against Jean Yal- 
+jean, to get himself shot by force. 
+
+His supreme anguish was the loss of certainty. He felt 
+that he had been uprooted. The code was no longer anything 
+more than a stump in his hand. He had to deal with scruples 
+of an unknown species. There had taken place within him a 
+sentimental revelation entirely distinct from legal affinnation, 
+his only standard of measurement hitherto. To remain in his 
+former uprightness did not suffice. A whole order of unex- 
+pected facts had cropped up and subjugated him. A whole 
+new world was dawning on his soul : kindness accepted and re- 
+paid, devotion, mercy, indulgence, violences committed by pity 
+on austerity, respect for persons, no more definitive condemna- 
+tion, no more conviction, the possibility of a tear in the eye of 
+the law, no one knows what justice according to God, running in 
+inverse sense to justice according to men. He perceived amid 
+the shadows the terrible rising of an unknown moral sun ; it 
+horrified and dazzled him. An owl forced to the gaze of an 
+eagle. 
+
+He said to himself that it was true that there were excep- 
+tional cases, that authority might be put out of countenance, 
+that the rule might be inadequate in the presence of a fact, 
+that everything could not be framed within the text of the 
+code, that* the unforeseen compelled obedience, that the virtue 
+of a convict might set a snare for the virtue of the function- 
+ary, that destiny did indulge in such ambushes, and he re- 
+flected with despair that he himself had not even been fortified 
+against a surprise. 
+
+He was forced to acknowledge that goodness did exist. This 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+148 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+convict had been good. And he himself, unprecedented cir- 
+cumstance, had just been good also. So he was becoming de- 
+praved. 
+
+He found that he was a coward. He conceived a horror of 
+himself. 
+
+Javert's ideal, was not to be human, to be grand, to be sub- 
+lime ; it was to be irreproachable. 
+
+Now, he had just failed in this. 
+
+How had he come to such a pass ? How had all this hap- 
+pened ? He could not have told himself. He clasped his 
+head in both hands, but in spite of all that he could do, he 
+could not contrive to explain it to himself. 
+
+He had certainly always entertained the intention of restor- 
+ing Jean Valjean to the law of which Jean Valjean was the 
+captive, and of which he, Javert, was the slave. Not for a 
+single instant while he held him in his grasp had he confessed 
+to himself that he entertained the idea of releasing him. It 
+was, in some sort, without his consciousness, that his hand bad 
+relaxed and had let him go free. 
+
+All sorts of interrogation points flashed before his eyes. 
+He put questions to himself, and made replies to himself, and 
+his replies frightened him. He asked himself : " What has that 
+convict done, that desperate fellow, whom I have pursued even 
+to persecution, and who has had me under his foot, and who 
+could have avenged himself, and who owed it both to his rancor 
+and to his safety, in leaving me my life, in showing mercj 
+upon me ? His duty ? No. Something more. And I in showing 
+mercy upon him in my turn — what have I done ? My duty ? 
+No. Something more. So there is something beyond duty ? '' 
+Here he took fright ; his bîilance became disjointed ; one of 
+the scales fell into the abyss, the other rose heavenward, and 
+Javert was no less terrified by the one which was on high than 
+by the one which was below. Without being the least in the 
+world what is called Voltairian or a philosopher, or incredu- 
+lous, being, on the contrary, respectful by instinct, towards the 
+established church, he knew it only as an august fragment of 
+the social whole ; order was his dogma, and sufficed for him ; 
+ever since he had attained to man's estate and the rank of a 
+functionary, be had r,ontre(l nearly all his religion in the police. 
+Being, — and here we employ words without the least irony and 
+in their most serious acceptation, being, as we have said, a spy 
+as other men are priests. He had a superior, M. Gisquet ; up 
+to that day he had never dreamed of that other superior, God. 
+
+This new chief, God, he became unexpectedly conscious of, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 149 
+
+and he felt embarrassed by him. This unforeseen presence 
+threw him off his bearings ; he did not know what to do with 
+this superior, he, who was not ignorant of the fact that the 
+subordinate is bound always to bow, that he must not disobey, 
+nor hnd fault, nor discuss, and that, in the presence of a 
+superior who amazes him too greatly, the inferior has no 
+other resource than that of handing in his resignation. 
+
+But how was he to set about handing in his resignation to 
+Go4? 
+
+However things might stand, — and it was to this point that 
+he reverted constantly, — one fact dominated everything else 
+for him, and that was, that he had just committed a terrible 
+infraction of the law. He had just shut his eyes on an 
+escaped convict who had broken his ban. He had just set a 
+galley-slave at large. He had just robbed the laws of a man 
+who belonged to them. That was what he had done. He no 
+longer understood himself. The very reasons for his action 
+escaped him; only their vertigo was left with him. Up to 
+that moment he had lived with that blind faith which gloomy 
+probity engenders. This faith had quitted him, this probity 
+had deserted him. All that he had believed in melted away. 
+Truths which he did not wish to recognize were besieging him, 
+inexorably. Henceforth, he must be a different man. He 
+was suffering from the strange pains of a conscience abruptly 
+operated on for the cataract. He saw that which it wa* 
+repugnant to him to behold. He felt himself emptied, use- 
+less, put out of joint with his past life, turned out, dissolved. 
+Authority was dead within him. He had no longer any 
+reason for exifiting. 
+
+A terrible situation ! to be touched. 
+
+To be graniie and to doubt ! to be the statue of Chastisement 
+cast in one piece in the mould of the law, and suddenly to be- 
+come aware of the fact that one cherishes beneath one's breast 
+of bronze something absurd and disobedient which almost re- 
+sembles a heart! To come to the pass of returning good for 
+good, although one has said to oneself up to that day that 
+that good is evil ! to be the watch-dog, and to lick the 
+intruder's hand! to be ice and melt ! to be the pincers and to 
+turn into a hand I to suddenly feel one's fingers opening ! \r 
+relax one's grip, — what a terrible thing! 
+
+The man-projectile no longer acquainted with his route and 
+retreating ! 
+
+To be obliged to confess this to oneself: infallibility is 
+Aiot infallible, there may exist error in the dogma, all has not 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+160 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+been said when a code speaks, society is not perfect, authority 
+is complicated with vacillation, a crack is |)08sible in the 
+immutable, judges are but men, the law may err, tribunals 
+may make a mistake ! to behold a rift in the immense blue 
+pane of the tirmament ! 
+
+That which was passing in Javert was the Fampoux of a 
+rectilinear conscience, the derailment of a soul, the crushing 
+of a probity which had been irresistibly launched in a straiglit 
+line and was breaking against God. It certainly was singular 
+that the stoker of order, that the engineer of authority, mounted 
+on the blind iron horse with its rigid road, could Ije luiseated 
+by a flash of light ! that the immovable, the direct, the correct, 
+the geometrical, the passive, the perfect could bend ! that there 
+should exist for the locomotive a road to Damascus ! 
+
+God, always within man, and refractory, He, the true con- 
+science, to the false ; a prohibition to the spark to die out ; 
+an order to the ray to remember the sun ; an injunction to 
+the soul to recognize the veritable absolute when confronted 
+with the fictitious absolute, humanity which cannot be lost; 
+the human heart indestructible; that splendid phenomenon, 
+the finest, perhaps, of all our interior marvels, did Javert 
+understand this? Did Javert penetrate it? Did Javert 
+account for it to himself? Evidently he did not. But 
+beneath the pressure of that incontestable incomprehensibil- 
+ity he felt his brain bursting. 
+
+He was less the man transfigured than the victim of this 
+prodigy. In all this he perceived only the tremendous difli- 
+culty of existence. It seemed to him that, henceforth, his 
+respiration was repressed forever. He was not accustomed 
+to having something unknown hanging over his head. 
+
+Up to this point, everything above him had been, to his 
+gaze, merely a smooth, limpid and simple surface ; there was 
+nothing incomprehensible, nothing obscure ; nothing that was 
+not defined, regularly disposed, linked, precise, circumscribed, 
+exact, limited, closed, fully provided for; authority was a 
+plane surface; there was no fall in it, no dizziness in its 
+presence. Javert had never beheld the unknown except from 
+below. The irregular, the unforeseen, the disordered opening 
+of chaos, the possible slip over a precipice — this was the 
+work of the lower regions, of rebels, of the wicked, of 
+wretches. Now Javert threw himself back, and he was 
+suddenly teiTified by this unprecedented apparition: a guH 
+on high. 
+
+What! one was dismantled from top to bottom! one wa« 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN vaut: AN. 151 
+
+disconcerted, absolutely! In what could one trust! That 
+which had been agreed upon was giving way ! ^Vhat ! the 
+defect in society's armor could be discovered by a magnani- 
+mous wretch! What! an honest servitor of the law could 
+suddenly find himself caught between two crimes — the crime 
+of allowing a man to escape and the crime of arresting him ! 
+everything was not settled in the orders given by the State 
+to the functionary ! There might be blind alleys in duty ! 
+What, — all this was real ! was it true that an ex-ruffian, 
+weighed down with convictions, could rise erect and end 
+by being in the right ? Was this credible ? were there 
+cases in which the law should retire before transfigured 
+crime, and stammer its excuses ? — Yes, that was the state of 
+tile case ! and Javert saw it ! and Javert had touched it ! and 
+not only could he not deny it, but he had taken part in 't. 
+These were realities. It was abominable that actual facts 
+could reach such deformity. If facts did their duty, they 
+would confine themselves to being proofs of the law; facts 
+— it is God .who sends them. Was anarchy then, on the point 
+of now descending from on high ? 
+
+Thus, — and in the exaggeration of anguish, and the optical 
+illusion of consternation, all tliat might have corrected and 
+restrained this impression was effaced, and society, and the 
+human race, and the universe were, henceforth, summed up 
+in his eyes, in one simple and terrible feature, — thus the penal 
+laws, the thing judged, tlie force due to legislation, the decrees 
+of the sovereign courts, the magistracy, the government, pre- 
+vention, repression, official cruelty, wisdom, legal infallibility, 
+the principle of authority, all the dogmas on which rest 
+political and civil security, sovereignty, justice, public truth, 
+all this was rubbish, a shapeless mass, chaos; he himself, 
+Javert, the spy of order, incorruptibility in the S(»rvice of the 
+police, the bull-dog providence of society, vanquished and 
+hurled to earth; and, erect, at the summit of all that ruin, a 
+man with a green cap on his head and a halo round his brow ; 
+this was the astounding confusion to which he had come ; this 
+was the fearful vision which he bore within his soul. 
+
+Was this to be endured ? No. 
+
+A violent state, if ever such existed. There were only two 
+ways of escaping from it. One? was to go resolutely to Jean 
+Val jean, and restore to his cell the convict from tlie galleys 
+The other . . . 
+
+Javert quitted the parapet, and, with head erect this tirae^ 
+betook himself, with a firm tread, toward? the station-house 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+152 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+indicated by a lantern at one of the comers of the Place du 
+
+Ghâtelet. 
+
+On arriving there, he saw through the window a sergeant 
+of police, and he entered. Policemen recognize ea«h other by 
+the very way in which they open the door of a station-house. 
+Javert mentioned his name, showed his card to the sergeant, 
+ind seated himself at the table of the post on which a candle 
+«ras burning. On a table lay a pen, a leaden inkstand and 
+paper, provided in the event of possible reports and the 
+orders of the night patrols. This table, still complete<l by 
+its straw-seated chair, is an institution ; it exists in all jwlice 
+stations ; it is invariably ornamented with a box-wood saucer 
+filled with sawdust and a wafer-box of cardboard filled wi^h 
+red wafers, and it forms the lowest stage of official style. It 
+is there that the literature of the State has its beginning. 
+
+Javert took a pen and a sheet of paper^ and began to 
+write. This is what he wrote : — 
+
+
+
+A FEW OBSERVATIONS FOR THE GOOD OF THE 
+
+SERVICE. 
+
+** In the first place : I beg Monsieur le Préfet to cast his 
+eyes on this. 
+
+'^ Secondly : prisoners, on arriving after examination, take 
+off. their shoes and stand barefoot on the flagstones while thej 
+are being searched. Many of them cough on their return to 
+prison. This entails hospital exj>enses. 
+
+"Thirdly : the mode of keeping track of a man with relays 
+of police agents from distance to distance, is good, but, on 
+important occasions, it is requisite that at least two agents 
+should never lose sight of each other, so that, in case one 
+agent should, for any cause, grow weak in his service, the 
+other may supervise him and take his place. 
+
+" Fourthly : it is inexplicable why the special regulation of 
+the prison of the Madelonettes interdicts the prisoner from 
+having a chair, even by paying for it. 
+
+"Fifthly: in the Madelonettes there are only two bars to 
+the canteen, so that the canteen woman can touch the pris- 
+oners with her hand. 
+
+" Sixthly : the prisoners called barkers, who summon the 
+other prisoners to the parlor, force the prisoner to pay them 
+two sous to call his name distinctly. This is a theft. 
+
+^< Seventhly : for a broken thread ten sous are withheld is 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEANT. 163 
+
+the weaving shop ; this îs an abuse of the contractor, since the 
+cloth is none the worse for it. 
+
+"Eighthly: it is annoying for visitors to La Force to be 
+obliged to traverse the boys' court in order to reach the parlor 
+of Sainte-Marie-l'Égyptienne. 
+
+"Kinthly : it is a fact that any day gendarmes can be over- 
+heard relating in the court-yard of the prefecture the interro- 
+gations put by the magistrates to prisoners. For a gendarme, 
+who should be sworn to secrecy, to repeat what he has heara 
+in the examination room is a grave disorder. 
+
+" Tenthly : Mme. Henry is an honest woman ; her canteen 
+is very neat ; but it is bad to have a woman keep the wicket 
+to the mouse-trap of the secret cells. This is unworthy of the 
+Conciergerie of a great civilization." 
+
+Javert wrote these lines in his calmest and most correct 
+chirography, not omitting a single comma, and making the 
+paper screech under his pen. Below the last line he signed : 
+
+*• Javkrt, 
+*' Inspector of the Ist class. 
+■* The Post of the Place du Châtelet. 
+
+" June 7th, 1832, about one o'clock in the morning." 
+
+
+
+Javert dried the fresh ink on the paper, folded it like a 
+letter, sealed it, wrote on the back : Note for the administra- 
+tion, left it on the table, and quitted the post. The glazed 
+and grated door fell to behind him. 
+
+Again he traversed the Place du Châtelet diagonally, 
+regained the quay, and returned with automatic precision 
+to the very point which he had abandoned a quarter of an 
+hour previously, leaned on his elbows and found himself 
+again in the same attitude on the same paving-stone of the 
+parapet. He did not appear to have stirred. 
+
+The darkness was complete. It was the sepulchral moment 
+which follows midnight. A ceiling of clouds concealed the 
+stars. Not a single light burned in the houses of the city \ 
+no one was passing ; all of the streets and quays which could 
+be seen were deserted; Notre-Dame and the towers of the 
+Court-House seemed features of the night. A street lantern 
+reddened the margin of the quay. The outlines of the bridges 
+lav shapeless in the mist one behind the other. Recent rains 
+had swollen the river. 
+
+The spot where Javert was leaning was, it will be remem- 
+bered, situated precisely over the rapids of the Seine, perpen 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+154 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+dicularly above that formidable spiral of whirlpools which 
+loose and knot themselves again like au endless screw. 
+
+Javert bent his heiul and gazetL All was black. Nothing 
+was to be distinguishc^d. A sound of foam was audible ; but 
+the river could not be seen. At moments, in that dizzy 
+depth, a gleam of light appeared, and undulated vaguely, 
+water possessing the power of taking light uo one knows 
+whence, and converting it into a snake. The light vanished, 
+and all became indistinct once more. Immensity seemed 
+thrown open there. What lay below was not w^ater, it was a 
+ijulf. The wall of the quay, abrupt, confused, mingled with 
+^he vapors, instantly concealed from sight, produced the effect 
+4)f an escarpment of the infinite. Nothing was to be seen, but 
+fclie liostile chill of the water and the stale odor of the wet 
+stones could be felt. A fierce breath rose from this abyss^ 
+The flood in the river, divined rather than perceived, tlit 
+tragic whispering of the waves, the melancholy vastness of 
+the arches of the bridge, the imaginable fall into that gloomy 
+void, into all that shadow was full of horror. 
+
+Javert remained motionless for several minutes, gazing at 
+this opening of shadow ; he considered the invisible with a 
+laxity that resembled attention. Tlie water roared. All at 
+once he took off his hat and placed it on the edge of the quay. 
+A moment later, a tall black figure, which a belated passer-by 
+in the distance might have taken for a phantom, appeared 
+erect upon the parapet of the quay, bent over towards the 
+Seine, then drew itself up again, and fell straight down into 
+the shadows ; a dull splash followed ; and the sliadow alone 
+was in the secret of the convulsions of that obscure form 
+which had disappeared beneath the water. 
+
+
+
+BOOK FIETH. — GRANDSON AND GEANDFATHEIL 
+
+L — In Which the Trkk with the Zinc Plasteb 
+Appears Again. 
+
+Some time after the events wliich we have just recorded, 
+Sieur Boulatruelle experienced a lively emotion. 
+
+Sieur Boulatruelle was tliat road-mender of Montfermeil 
+whom the reader has already seen iu the gloomy parts of thia 
+book. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN Y A UK AN. 165 
+
+Bonlatrnelle, as the reader may, perchance, recall, was a 
+mail who was occupied with divers and troubk^some matters 
+He broke stojies aud damaged travellers on the highway. 
+
+lioad-meiider and thief as he was, he cherished one dream ; 
+he believed in the treasures buried in the forest of Montfermeil. 
+He hoped some day to find the money in the earth at the foot 
+of a tree ; in the meanwhile, he lived to search the pockets of 
+passers-by. 
+
+Nevertheless, for an instant, he was prudent. He had just 
+escaped neatly. He had been, as the reader is aware, picked 
+up in Jondrette*s garret in company with the other ruffians. 
+Utility of a vice: his drunkenness had been his salvation. 
+The authorities had never been able to make out whether he 
+had been there in the quality of a robber or a man who had 
+been robbed. An order of 9iolle prosequi, founded on his well 
+authenticated state of intoxication on the evennig of the am- 
+bush, had set him at liberty. . He had taken to his heels. He 
+had returned to his road from Gagny to Lagny, to make, 
+under administrative supervision, broken stone for the good 
+of the state, with downcast mien, in a very pensive mood, his 
+ardor for theft somewhat cooled ; but he was addicted none 
+the less tenderly to the wine which had recently saved him. 
+
+As for the lively emotion which he had experienced a short 
+iime after his return to his road-mender's turf -thatched cot, 
+here it is : 
+
+One morning, Boulatruelle, while on his way as was his 
+wûnt, to his work, and possibly also to his ambush, a little 
+before daybreak, caught si.fi:ht, through the branches of the 
+trees, of a man, whose back alone he saw, but the shape of 
+whose shoulders, as it seemed to him at that distance and in 
+the early dusk, was not entirely unfamiliar to him. Boula- 
+truelle, although intoxicated, had a correct and lucid memory, 
+a defensive arm that is indispensable to any one who is at all 
+in conflict with legal order. 
+
+"Where the deuce have T seen something like that man 
+yonder?*' he said to himself. But he could make himself no 
+answer, except that the man resembled some one of whom his 
+memory preserved a confused trace. 
+
+However, apart from the identity which he. could not 
+manage to cat<îh, Boulatruelle put things together and made 
+calculations. This man did not belong in the country-side. 
+He had just arrived there. On foot, evidently. No public 
+conveyance passes through Montfermeil at that hour. He had 
+walked all night. Whence came he ? Not from a very great 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+166 LES MISERABLES 
+
+distance; for he had neither haversack, nor hnndle. From 
+Paris, no doubt. Why was he in these woods ? why was he 
+there at such an hour ? what had he come there for ? 
+
+Boulatruelle tliouglit of the treasure. By dint of ransack- 
+ing his memory, he recalled in a vague way that he had 
+already, many years before, had a similar alarm in connec- 
+tion with a man who produced on him the effect that he 
+might well be this very individual. 
+
+"By the deuce," said Boulatruelle, "I'll find him again. 
+I'll discover the parish of that parishioner. This prowler 
+of Patron-Minette has a reason, and I'll know it. People 
+can't have secrets in my forest if I don't have a finger in the 
+pie." 
+
+He took his pick-axe which was very sharply pointed. 
+
+" There now," he grumbled, " is something that will search 
+the earth and a man." 
+
+And, as one knots one thread to another thread, he 
+took up the line of march at his best pace in the direc- 
+tion which the man must follow, and set out across the 
+thickets. 
+
+When he had compassed a hundred strides, the day, which 
+was already beginning to break, came to his assistance. 
+Footprints stamped in the sand, weeds tixKiden down here 
+and there, heather crushed, young branches in the brushwood 
+bent and in the act of straightening themselves up again 
+with the graceful deliberation of the arms of a pretty woman 
+who stretches herself when she wakes, jwinted out to him 
+a sort of track. He followed it, then lost it. Time was 
+flying. He plunged deeper into the woods and came to a sort 
+of eminence. An early huntsman who was |)assing in the dis- 
+tance along a path, whistling the air of Guillery, suggested to 
+him the idea of climbing a tree. Old as he was, he was agile. 
+There stood close at hand a beefeh-tree of great size, worthy 
+of Titynis and of Boulatruelle. Boulatruelle ascended the 
+beech as high as he was able. 
+
+The idea was a good one. On scrutinizing the solitary 
+waste on the side where the forest is thoroughly entangled 
+and wild, lioulatruelle suddenly caught sight of his man. 
+
+Hardly had he got his eye upon him when he lost sight ol 
+him. 
+
+The man entered, or rather, glided into, an open glade, at a 
+considerable distance, masked by large trees, but with which 
+Boulatruelle was perfectly familiar, on account of having 
+noticed, near a large pile of porous stones, an ailing chestnut 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+J HAN YAUEAN. 16T 
+
+tiee bandaged with a sheet of zinc nailed directly upon the 
+bark. This glade was the one which was fonneiij called the 
+Blani-bottom. The heap of stones, destined for no one 
+knows what employment, which was visible there thirty 
+years ago, is doubtless still there. Nothing equals a heap of 
+stones in longevity, unless it is a board fence. They are 
+temporary expedients. What a reason for lastijig I 
+
+Boolatruelle, with the rapidity of joy, dropped rather than 
+descended from the tree. The lair was unearthed, the ques« 
+tion now was to seize the beast. That famous treasure of bis 
+dreams was probably there. 
+
+It was no small matter to reach that glade. By the beaten 
+paths, which indulge in a thousand teasing zigzags, it required 
+a good quarter of an hour. In a bee-line, through the under* 
+brush, which is peculiarly dense, very thorny, and very ag- 
+gressive in that locality, a full half hour was necessary, 
+Boulatruelle committed the error of not comprehending this. 
+He believed in the straight line ; a respectable optical illusion 
+which ruins many a man. The thicket, bristling as it was^ 
+struck him as the best road. 
+
+" Let's take to the wolves' Eue de Kivoli," said he. 
+
+Boxdatruelle, accustomed to taking crooked courses, waa 
+on this occasion guilty of the fault of going straight. 
+
+He flung himself resolutely into the tangle of undergrowth. 
+
+He had to deal with holly bushes, nettles, hawthornS| 
+eglantines, thistles, and very irascible brambles. He waa 
+much lacerated. 
+
+At the bottom of the ravine he found water which he was 
+obliged to traverse. 
+
+At last he reached the Blaru-bottom, after the lapse of 
+forty minutes, sweating, soaked, breathless, scratched, and 
+ferocious. 
+
+There was no one in the glade. Boulatruelle rushed to the 
+heap of stones. It was in its place* It had not been carried 
+off. 
+
+As for the man, he had vanished in the forest. He had 
+made his escape. Where ? in what direction ? into what 
+thicket ? Inipossible to guess. 
+
+And, heartrending to say, there, behind the pile of stones, 
+in front of the tree with the sheet of zinc, was freshly 
+turned earth, a pick-axe, abandoned or forgotten, and a hole. 
+
+The hole was empty. 
+
+*'< Thief 1" shrieked Boulatruelle, shaking his fists at the 
+horizon. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+168 l^S MISERABLES. 
+
+
+
+H. — Mabius^ EicBRoiNG FROM Cl VIL Wab, Makjbs Byadi 
+FOR Domestic War, 
+
+For a long time, Marius was neither dead nor alive. Foi 
+many weeks he lay in a fever accompanied by delirium, 
+and by tolerably grave cerebral symptoms, caused more by the 
+shocks of the wounds on the head than by the wounds them 
+selves. 
+
+lie repeated Cosette's name for whole nights in the melan- 
+clioly loquacity of fever, and with the sombre obstinacy of 
+agony. The extent of some of the lesions presented a serious 
+danger, the suppuration of large wounds being always liable 
+to become re-absorbed, and consequently, to kill the sick man, 
+under certain atmospheric conditions ; at every change of 
+weather, at the slightest storm, the physician was uneasy. 
+
+" Above all things," he repeated, " let the wounded man be 
+subjected to no emotion." The dressing of the wounds was 
+complicated and difficult, the fixation of apparatus and ban- 
+dages by cerecloths not having been invented as yet, at that 
+epoch. Nicolette useil up a sheet <* as big as the ceiling " as 
+slie put it, for lint It was not without difficulty that the 
+chloruretted lotions and the nitrate of silver overcame the 
+gangrene. As long as there was any danger, M. Gillenor- 
+mand, seated in despair at his grandson's pillow, was^ like 
+Marius, neither alive nor dead. 
+
+Every day, and sometimes twice a day, a very well dressed 
+gentleman with white hair, — such was the description given 
+by the porter, — came to inquire about the wounded man, 
+and left a large package of lint for the dressings. 
+
+Finally, on the 7th of September, four months to a day, after 
+the soiTowful night when he had been brought back to his 
+grandfather in a dying condition, the doctor declared that he 
+would answer for Marius. Convalescence began. But Marius 
+was forced to remain for two months more stretched out on a 
+long chair, on account of the results called up by the fracture 
+of his collar-bone. There always is a last wound like that 
+which will not close, and which prolongs the dressings 
+indefinitely, to the great annoyance of the sick person. 
+
+However, this long illness and this long convalescence 
+saved him from all pursuit. In France, there is no wrath, 
+not even of a public character, which six months will not ex- 
+tinguish. Revolts, in the present state of society, are so muo^ 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 169 
+
+the fault of everyone, that they are followed by a certair 
+necessity of shutting the eyes. 
+
+Letusadtl, that the inexcusable Gisquet order, which enjoined 
+doctors to lodge information against the wounded, having out- 
+raged public oiunion, and not opinion alone, but the King iirst 
+of all, the wounded were covered and protected by this imlig- 
+nation ; and, with the exception of those who had been made 
+prisoners in the very act of combat, tlie councils of war did 
+not dare to trouble any one. So Marius was left in peiice. 
+
+M. Gillenormand first passed through all manner of anguish 
+and then through every form of ecstasy. It was found difti 
+cult to prevent his passing every night beside the wounded 
+man ; he had his big arm-chair carried to Marius' bedside; he 
+required his daughter to take the finest linen in the house for 
+compresses and bandages. Mademoiselle Gillenormand, like 
+a sage and elderly person, contrived to spare the fine linen, 
+while allowing the grandfather to think that he was obeyed. 
+M. Gillenormand would not permit anyone to explain to him, 
+that for the preparation of lint batiste is not nearly so good 
+as coarse linen, nor new linen as old linen. He was present 
+at all the dressings of the wounds from which Mademoiselle 
+Gillenormand modestly abseiited herself. When the dead 
+flesh was cut away, with scissors, he said: "Aïe I aieT' Noth- 
+ing was more touching than to see him with Iiis gentle, senile 
+paJsy, offer the wounded man a cup of his cooling-draiight 
+He overwhelmed the doctor with questions. He did not 
+observe that he asked the same ones over and over again. 
+
+On the day when the doctor announced to him that Marius 
+was out of danger, the good man was in a delirium. He made 
+his porter a present of three louis. That evening, on his re- 
+turn to his own chamber, he danced a gavotte, using his thumb 
+•uid forefinger as castanets, and he sang the following «ong : 
+
+" Jeanne est néo ^ Fougère, ** Amour, tu vis en elle; 
+
+Vrai nid d'une bergère; ' Car c'est dans sa prunelle 
+
+J'adore son jupon, Que tu mets ton carquois. 
+
+Fripon. Narquois l 
+
+" Moi, je la chante, et j'aime, 
+Plus que Diane même, 
+Jeanne et ses durs tétons 
+Bretons," i 
+
+* "Jeanne was born at Fougère, a true shepherd's nest; ladorehei 
+petticoat, the rogue. 
+
+" Love, thou dwellcst in her; For 'tis in her eyes tliat thou placeat th| 
+-quiver, sly scamp! r 
+
+** As for nio, I sini; lier, and I love, more than Diana herself, Jeanne 
+ftiid her firm Breton breasts." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+160 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Then he knelt upon a chair, and Basque, who was watching 
+him til rough the half-open door, made sure that he was 
+praying. 
+
+Up to that time, he had not believed in God. 
+
+At each succeeding phase of improvement, which became 
+more and more pronounced, the grandfather raved. He execu- 
+ted a multitude of mechanical actions full of joy ; he ascended 
+and descended the stairs, without knowing why. A pretty 
+female neighbor was amazed one morning at receiving a big 
+bouquet ; it was M. Gillenormand who had sent it to bor. 
+The husband made a jealous scene. M. Gillenormand tried 
+to draw Nicolette upon his knees. He called Marius, "M. le 
+Baron." He shouted : " Long live the Republic ! *' 
+
+Every moment, he kept asking, the doctor: "Is he no 
+logger in danger ? ** He gazed upon Marins with tlie eyes of 
+a grandmother. He broo<led over him while he ate. He no 
+longer knew himself, he no longer rendered himself an account 
+of himself. Marius was the master of the house, there was 
+abdication in his joy, he was the grandson of his grandson. 
+
+In the state of joy in which he then was, he was the most 
+venerable of children. In his fear lest he might fatigue or 
+annoy the convalescent, he stepped behind him to smile. He 
+was content, joyous, delighted, charming, young. His white 
+locks added a gentle majesty to the gay radiance of his visage. 
+When grace is mingled with wrinkles, it is adorable. There 
+is an indescribable aurora in beaming old age. 
+
+As for Marius, as he allowed them to dress his wounds and 
+care for him, he had but one fixed idea: Cosette. 
+
+After the fever and delirium had left him, he did not again 
+pronounce her name, an<l it might have been supposed that he 
+no longer thought of her. He held his peace, precisely be- 
+cause his soul was there. 
+
+He did not kîiow what had become of Cosette ; the whole 
+affair of the Rue de la Chanvrerie was like a cloud in his 
+memory ; shadows that were almost indistinct, floated through 
+his mind, Éponine, (yjivroche, Mabeuf, the Thénardiers, all his 
+friends gloomily inteiiningled with the smoke of the barri- 
+cade ; the strange pa.ssage of M. Fauch élèvent through that 
+adventure produced on him the effect of a puzzle in a tempest; 
+he understood nothing connected with his own life, he did not 
+know how nor by whom he had Ix^en saved, and no one of those 
+around him knew this ; all that they had been able to tell 
+him was, that he had been brought home at night in a hackney- 
+coach, to the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire ; past, present^ future 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 161 
+
+were nothing more to hiin than the mist of a vague idea ; but 
+in that fog there was one immovable point, one clear and pre- 
+cise outline, something made of granite, a resolution, a will ; to 
+find Cosette once more. For him, the idea of life was not dis- 
+tinct from the idea of Cosette. He had decreed in his heart 
+that he would not accept the one without the other, and he 
+was immovably resolved to exact of any person whatever, who 
+should desire to force him to live, — from his grandfather, 
+from fate, from hell, — the restitution of his vanished Eden. 
+
+He did not conceal from himself the fact that obstacles 
+existed. 
+
+Let us here emphasize one detail, he was not won over and 
+was but little softened by all the solicitude and tenderness of 
+his grandfather. In the ûrst place, he was not in the secret ; 
+then, in his reveries of an invalid, which were still feverish, 
+possibly, he distrusted this tenderness as a strange and novel 
+thing, which had for its object his conquest. He remained 
+cold. The grandfather absolutely wasted his poor old smile 
+Marius said to himself that it was all right so long as he, 
+Marins, did not speak, and let things take their course ; but 
+that when it became a question of Cosette, he would find 
+another face, and that his grandfather's true attitude would be 
+unmasked. Then there would be an unpleasant scene ; a re^ 
+crudescence of family questions, a confrontation of positions, 
+every sort of sarcasm and all manner of objections at one and 
+the same time, Fauchelevent, Coupelevent, fortune, poverty, 
+a stone about his neck, the future. Violent resistance ; con- 
+clusion : a refusal. Marius stiffened himself in advance. 
+
+And then, in proportion as he regained life, the old ulcers 
+of his memory opened once more, he reflected again on. the 
+past. Colonel Pontmercy placed himself once more between 
+M. Gillenormand and him, Marius, he told himself that he had 
+no true kindness to expect from a person who had been sc 
+unjust and so hard to his father. And with health, there re- 
+turned to him a sort of harshness towards his grandfather. 
+The old man was gently pained by this. M. Gillenormand, 
+without however allowing it to appear, observed that Marius, 
+ever since the latter had been brought back to him and had 
+regained consciousness, had not once called him father. It is 
+true that he did not say " monsieur " to him ; but he contrived 
+not to say either the one or the other, by means of a certain 
+way of turning his phrases. Obviously, a crisis was ap- 
+proaching. 
+
+As almost always happens in such cases, Marius skirmished 
+
+
+
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+162 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+before giving battle, by way of proving himself. This ia 
+called "feeling the ground." One morning it came to pass 
+that M. Gillenonnand spoke slightingly of the Convention, 
+apropos of a newspaper which liad fallen into his hands, and 
+gave vent to a Royalist harangue on Danton, Saint-Juste and 
+Iiol)espiene. — " The men of '93 were giants," said Marins 
+with severity. The old man held his peace, and uttered not a 
+sound during the remainder of that day. ' 
+
+Marins, who had always present to his mind the inflexible 
+grandfather of his early years, interpreted this silence as a 
+profound concentration of wrath, augured from it a hot con- 
+flict, and augmented his preparations for the fray in the in- 
+most recesses of his mind. 
+
+He decided that, in case of a refusal, he would tear off his 
+bandages, dislocate his collar-bone, that he would lay bare all 
+the wounds which he had left, and would reject all food. His 
+wounds were his munitions of war. He would have Cosette 
+or die. 
+
+He awaited the propitious moment with the crafty patience 
+of the sick. 
+
+That moment arrived. 
+
+
+
+III. — Mabius Attacked. 
+
+Oinc day, M. Gillenonnand, while his daughter was putting 
+in order the phials and cups on the marble of the commode, 
+bent over Marins and said to him in his tenderest accents: 
+" Look here, my little Marins, if I were in your place, I would 
+eat meat now in preference to fish. A fried sole is excellent 
+to begin a convalescence with, but a good cutlet is needed to 
+put a sick man on his feet." 
+
+Marins, who had almost entirely recovered his strength, col- 
+lected the whole of it, drew himself up into a sitting posture, 
+laid his two clenched fists on the sheets of his bed, looked his 
+grandfather in the face, assumed a terrible air, and said: 
+
+" This leads me to say something to you." 
+
+" What is it ? " 
+
+«That I wish to marry." 
+
+** Agreed," said his grandfather. — And he burst out laugh* 
+ing. 
+
+"How agreed?" 
+
+" Yes, agreed. You shall have your little girl." 
+
+Marins stunned and overwhelmed with the dazzling shock, 
+trembled in every limb. 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 163 
+
+M. Gillenorttand went on : 
+
+" Yes, you shall have her, that pretty little girl of yours. 
+She comes every day in the shape of an old gentleman to 
+inquire after you. Ever since you were wounded, she has 
+passed her time in weeping and making lint. I have made 
+inquiries. She lives in the Rue de PHomme Armé, No. 7. 
+Ah ! There we have it ! Ah ! so you want her Î Well, you 
+shall have her. You're caught. You had arranged your little 
+plot, you had said to yourself : — * I'm going to signify this 
+squarely to my grandfather, to that mummy of the Regency 
+and of the Directory, to that ancient beau, to that Dorante 
+turned Geronte ; he has indulged in his fiivolities also, that 
+he has, and he has had his love affairs, and his grisettes and 
+his Cosettes ; he has made his rustle, he has had his wings, 
+he has eaten of the bread of spring; he certainly must 
+remember it.' Ah! you take the cockchafer by the horns. 
+That's good. I offer you a cutlet and you answer me : * By 
+the way, I want to marry.' There's a transition for you ! 
+Ah ! you reckoned on a bickering ! You do not know that I 
+am an old coward. What do you say to that? You are 
+vexed ? You did not expect to find your grandfather still 
+more foolish than yourself, you are wasting the discourse 
+which you meant to bestow upon me, Mr. Lawyer, and that's 
+vexatious. Well, so much the worse, rage away. I'll do what- 
+ever you wish, and that cuts you short, imbecile ! Listen. I 
+have made my inquiries I'm cunning too ; she is charming, she 
+is discreet, it is not true about the lancer, she has made heaps 
+of lint, she's a jewel, she adores you, if you had died, there 
+would have been three of us, her coffin would have accom- 
+panied mine. I have had an idea, ever since you have been 
+better, of simply planting her at your bedside, but it is only 
+in romances that young girls are brought to the bedsides of 
+handsome young wounded men who interest them. It is not 
+done. What would your aunt have said to it? You were 
+nude three quarters of the time, ray good fellow. Ask Nieo- 
+lette, who has not left you for a moment, if there was any 
+possibility of having a woman here. And then, what would 
+the doctor have said ? A pretty girl does not cure a man of 
+fever. In short, it's all right, let us say no more about it, 
+all's said, all's done, it's all settled, take her. Such is my feroc- 
+ity. You see, I perceived that you did not love me. I said to 
+myself: 'Here now, I have my little Cosette right under my 
+hand, I'm going to give her to him, he will be obliged to love 
+me a little then, or he must tell the reason why.' Ah J so 
+
+
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+164 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+you thought that the old mau was going to storm^ to put on a 
+big voice, to shout no, and to lift his cane at all that aurora. 
+Not a bit of it. Cosette, so be it ; love, so be it ; I ask noth 
+ing better. Pray take the trouble of getting married, sir. Be 
+happy, my well-beloved child." 
+
+That said, the old man burst forth into sobs. 
+
+And he seized Marius' head, aud pressed it with both arms 
+against his breast, and both fell to weeping. This is one of 
+the forms of supreme happiness. 
+
+" Father ! " cried Marius. 
+
+<< Ah, so you love me ! " said the old man. 
+
+An ineffable moment ensued. They were choking and 
+could not speak. 
+
+At length, the old man stammered : 
+
+<< Come ! his mouth is unstopped at last. He has said : 
+'Father' to me." 
+
+Marius disengaged his head from his grandfather's arms, 
+and said gently : 
+
+<< But, father, now that I am quite well, it seems to me that 
+I might see her." 
+
+<< Agreed again, you shall see her tomorrow." 
+
+« Father I " 
+
+"What?" 
+
+« Why not today ? " 
+
+« Well, today then. Let it be today. You have called me 
+< father ' three times, and it is worth it. I will attend to it 
+She shall be brought hither. Agreed, I tell you. It has 
+already been put into verse. This is the ending of the elegy 
+of the 'Jeune Malade' by André Chénier, by André Chénier 
+whose throat was cut by the ras ... by the giants of '93." 
+
+M. Gillenormand fancied that he detected a faint frown on 
+the part of Marias, who, in truth, as we must admit, was no 
+longer listening to him, and who was thinking far more of 
+Cosette than of 1793. 
+
+The grandfather, trembling at having so inopportunely 
+introduced Andre Chénier, resumed precipitately : 
+
+" Cut his throat is not the word. The fact is that the great 
+revolutionary geniuses, who were not malicious, that is incon- 
+testable, who were heroes, pardi ! found that André Chénier 
+embarrassed them somewhat, and they had him guillot . . . 
+that is to say, those great men on the 7th of Thermoidor, 
+besought André Chénier, in the interests of public safety, Uà 
+be so good as to go . . ." 
+
+M. (iillenormand, clutched by the throat by his own phrase, 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 166 
+
+could not proceed. Being able neither to finish it nor to 
+retract it, while his daughter arranged the pillow behind 
+Marias, who was overwhelmed with so many emotions, the 
+old man rushed headlong, with as much rapidity as his age 
+permitted, from the bed-chaml)er, shut the door behind him, 
+and, purple, choking and foaming at the mouth, his eyes 
+starting from his head he found himself nose to nose with 
+honest Basque, who was blacking boots in the anteroom. 
+He seized Basque by the collar, and shouted full in his face in 
+fury : — "By the hundred thousand Javottes of the devil, 
+those ruffians did assassinate him ! " 
+
+"Who, sir?" 
+
+"Andre Chenier!'' 
+
+" Yes, sir," said Basque in alarm. 
+
+IV. — Mademoiselle Gtllenormand Ends by No Longer 
+Thinkino It a Bad Thing That M. Fauchelevent 
+Should Have entered with Something Undeui His 
+Arm. 
+
+Cosettb and Marius beheld each other once more. 
+
+What that interview was like we decline to say. There are 
+things which one must not attempt to depict ; the sun is one 
+of them. 
+
+The entire family, including Basque and Nicolette, were 
+assembled in Marius' chamber at the moment when Cosette 
+entered it. 
+
+Precisely at that moment, the grandfather was on the point 
+of blowing his nose ; he stopped short, holding his nose in his 
+handkerchief, and gazing over it at Cosette : 
+
+She appeared on the threshold ; it seemed to him that she 
+was surrounded by a glory. 
+
+" Adorable ! " he exclaimed. 
+
+Then he blew his nose noisily. 
+
+Cosette was intoxicated, delighted, frightened, in heaven. 
+She was as thoroughly alarmed as any one can be by happi- 
+ness. She stammered all pale, yet flushed, she wanted to 
+fling herself into' Marius' arms, and dared not. Ashamed of 
+loving in the presence of all these people. People are pitiless 
+towards happy lovers; they remain when the latter most 
+desire to be left alone. Lovers have no need of any people 
+whatever. 
+
+With Cosette, and behind her, there had entered a man 
+with, white hair who was grave yet smiling, though with a 
+
+
+
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+106 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+vague and heartrending smile. It was "Monsieur Fauche 
+lèvent*'; it was Jean Valjean. 
+
+Ile was very well dressed, as the porter had said, entirely 
+in black, in perfectly new garments, and with a white cravat. 
+
+The porter was a thousand leagues from recognizing in this 
+correct bourgeois, in this probable notary, the fear-inspiring 
+bearer of the corpse, who had sprung up at his door on the night 
+of the 7th of June, tattered, muddy, hideous, haggjird, his face 
+masked in blood and mire, supjwrtingin his arms the fainting 
+Marius; still, his porter's scent was aroused. When M. 
+Fauchelevent arrived with Cosette, the porter had not been 
+able to refrain from communicating to his wife this aside : " I 
+don't know why it is, but I can't help fancying that I've seen 
+that face before." 
+
+M. Fauchelevent in Marius' chamber, remained apart near 
+the door. He had under his arm, a package which bore con- 
+siderable resemblance to an octavo volume enveloped in paper. 
+The enveloping paper was of a greenish hue, and appeared to 
+be mouldy. 
+
+" Does the gentleman always have books like that under his 
+arm ? " Mademoiselle Gillenormand, who did not like books, 
+demanded in a low tone of Nicolette. 
+
+" Well," retorted M. Gillenormand, who had overheard her, 
+in the same tone, " he's a learned man. What then ? Is that 
+his fault? Monsieur Boulard, one of my acquaintances, never 
+walked out without a book under his arm either, and he 
+always had some old volume hugged to his heart like that.'* 
+
+And, with a bow, he said aloud : 
+
+" Monsieur Tranchelevent ..." 
+
+Father Gillenormand did not do it intentionallj', but inat- 
+tention to proper names was an aristocratic habit of his. 
+
+•^Monsieur Tranchelevent, I have the honor of asking you, 
+on behalf of my grandson, Baron Marius Pontmercy, for the 
+hand of Mademoiselle." 
+
+Monsieur Tranchelevent bowed. 
+
+" That's settled," said the grandfather. 
+
+And, turning to Marius and Cosette, with both arms 
+extended in blessing, he cried : 
+
+"Permission to adore each other!" 
+
+They did not require him to repeat it twice. So much the 
+worse ! the chirping began. They talked low. Marius, rest- 
+ing on his elbow on his reclining chair, Cosette standing 
+beside him. " Oh, heavens .^" murmured Cosette, "I see you 
+once again ! it is thou ! it is you ! The idea of going and 
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 167 
+
+fighting like that ! But why ? It is horrible. I have beer 
+dead for four months. Oh ! how wicked it was of you to go 
+to that battle! What had I done to you? I pardon you, 
+but you will never do it again. A little while ago, when they 
+came to tell us to come to you, I still thought that 1 was 
+about to die, but it was from joy. I was so sad ! I have not 
+taken the time to dress myself, I must frighten people with my 
+looks ! What will your relatives say to see me in a crumpled 
+collar ? Do speak ! You let me do all the talking. We are 
+still in the Kue de l'Homme Arme. It seems that your 
+shoulder was terrible. They told me that you could put your 
+iist in it. And then, it seems that they cut your flesh with 
+the scissors. That is frightful. I have cried till I have no 
+eyes left. It is queer that a person can suffer like that. 
+Your grandfather has a very kindly air. Don't disturb your- 
+self, don't rise on your elbow, you will injure yourself. Oh ! 
+how happy I am ! So our unhappiness is over ! I am quite 
+foolish. I had things to say to you, and I no longer know in 
+the least what they were. Do you still love me ? We live 
+in the Rue (de l'Homme Armé. There is no garden. I made 
+lint all the time; stay, sir, look, it is your fault* I have a 
+callous on my fingers." 
+
+"Angel!" said Marius. 
+
+Angel is the only word in the language which cannot be 
+worn out. No other word could resist the merciless use 
+which lovers make of it. 
+
+Then as there were spectators, they paused and said not a 
+word more, contenting themselves with softly touching each 
+otheir's hands. 
+
+M. Gillenormand turned towards those who were in the 
+room and cried : 
+
+*<Talk loud, the rest of you. Make a noise, you people 
+behind the scenes. Come, a little uproar, the deuce ! so that 
+the children can chatter at their ease." 
+
+And, approaching Marius and Cosette, he said to them in a 
+very low voice : 
+
+" Call each other thou^ Don't stand on ceremony." 
+
+Aunt Gillenormand looked on in amazement at this irrup* 
+tion of light in her elderly household. There was nothing 
+aggressive about this amazement ; it was not the least in the 
+world like the scandalized and envious glance of an owl at 
+two turtle-doves, it was the stupid eye of a poor innocent 
+seven, and fifty years of age; it was a life which had been a 
+failure gazing at that triumph, love. 
+
+
+
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+168 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+''Mademoiselle Gillenormand senior," said her father \d 
+her, " I told you that this is what wpuld happen to you," 
+
+He remained silent for a moment, and then added : 
+
+'' Look at the happiness of others." 
+
+Then he turned to Cosette. 
+
+" How pretty she is ! how pretty she is ! She's a Grenze. 
+So you are going to have that all to yourself, you scamp! 
+Ah! my rogue, you are getting off nicely with me, you are 
+happy ; if I were not fifteen years too old, we would fight 
+with swords to see which of us should have her. Come now ! 
+I am in love with you, mademoiselle. It*s perfectly simple. It 
+is your right. You are in the right. Ah ! what a sweet, charming 
+little wedding this will make ! Our parish is Saint-Denis du 
+Saint Sacrament, but I will get a dispensation so that you can be 
+married at Saint-Paul. The church is better. It was built by 
+the Jesuits. It is more coquettish. It is opposite the fountain 
+of Cardinal de Birague. The masterpiece of Jesuit archi- 
+tecture is at Namur. It is called Saint-Loup. You most go 
+there after you are married. It is worth the journey. 
+Mademoiselle, I am quite of your mind, I think girls ought 
+to marry, that is what they are made for. There is a certain 
+Sainte-Catherine whom I should always like to see uncoiffed.* 
+It's a fine thing to remain a spinster, but it is chilly. The 
+Bible says : Multiply. In order to save the people, Jeanne 
+d'Arc is needed ; but in order to make people, what is needed 
+is Mother Groose. So, marry, my beauties. I reallv do not 
+see the use in remaining a spinster I I know that they have 
+their chapel apart in the church, and that they fall back on 
+the Society of the Virgin ; but, sapristi, a handsome husband, 
+a fine fellow, and at the expiration of a yeai-, a big, blond brat 
+who nurses lustily, and who has fine rolls of fat on his thighs, 
+and who musses up your breast in handfuls with his 
+little rosy paws, laughing the while like the dawn, — that's 
+better than holding a candle at vespers, and chanting TurrU 
+ebumeaP^ 
+
+The grandfather executed a pirouette on his eighty-year-old 
+
+heels, and began to talk again like a spring that has broken 
+
+loose once more: 
+
+** Ainsi, bornant les cours de tes rêvasseries, 
+Alcippe, il est donc vrai, dans peu tu te maries.* 
+
+' In allusion to the expression, coiffer Sainte-Catherine^ "to remain 
+unmarried." . ,, , ... 
+
+« "Thus, hemming in the course of thy musings, Alcippus, it is true 
+that thou wilt wed ere long." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
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+
+JEAN V AU BAN. 169 
+
+*'By the way!" 
+
+«What is it, father?" 
+
+" Had not you an intimate friend ? *' 
+
+" Yes, Courfeyrac." 
+
+«What has become of him ?" 
+
+«He is dead." 
+
+« That is good." 
+
+He seated himself near them, made Cosette sit down, ano 
+took their four hands in his aged and wrinkled hands : 
+
+« She is exquisite, this darling. She's a masterpiece, this 
+Cosette ! She is a very little girl and a very great lady. She 
+will only be a Baroness, which is a come down for her ; she 
+was born a Marquise. What eyelashes she has ! Get it well 
+fixed in your noddles, my children, that you are in the true 
+road. Love each other. Be foolish about it. Love is the 
+folly of men and the wit of God. Adore each other. Only," 
+he added, suddenly becoming gloomy, «what a misfortune! 
+It has just occurred to me ! More than half of what I possess 
+is swallowed up in an annuity ; so long as I live, it will not 
+matter, but after my death, a score of years, hence, ah ! my 
+poor children, you will not have a sou ! Your beautiful white 
+hands, Madame la Baronne, will do the devil the honor of 
+pulling him by the tail."* 
+
+At this point they heard a grave and tranquil voice say : 
+
+« Mademoiselle Euphrasie Fauchelevent possesses six hun- 
+dred thousand francs." 
+
+It was the voice of Jean Valjean. 
+
+So far he had not uttered a single word, no one seemed to 
+be aware that he was there, and he had remained standing 
+erect and motionless, behind all these happy people. 
+
+« What has Mademoiselle Euphrasie to do with the ques- 
+tion ? " inquired the startled grandfather. 
+
+" I am she," replied Cosette. 
+
+« Six hundred thousand francs ? " resumed M. Gillenormand. 
+
+« Minus fourteen or fifteen thousand francs, possibly," said 
+Jean Valjean. 
+
+And he laid on the table the package which Mademoi 
+selle Gillenormand had mistaken for a book. 
+
+Jean Valjean himself opened the package ; it was a bundle 
+of bank-notes. They were turned over and counted. There 
+were five hundred notes for a thousand francs each, and one 
+hundred and sixty-eight of five hundred. In all, five hundred 
+and eighty-four thousand francs. 
+
+^ Tirer le diable par la queue, *' to live from hand to mouth." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+
+
+170 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+"This is a fine book," said M. Gillenormand. 
+
+"Five hundred and eighty-four thousand francs.'" mur 
+mured the aunt. 
+
+" This arranges things well, does it not. Mademoiselle Gille 
+normand senior?" said the grandfather. "That devil of a 
+Marius has ferreted out the nest of a millionaire grisette in 
+his tree of dreams ! Just trust to the love aifairs of youn«* 
+folks now, will you! Students find studentesses with t^ii 
+hundred thousand francs. Cherubino works better than 
+Rothschild." 
+
+" Five hundred and eighty-four thousand francs ! " repeated 
+Mademoiselle Gillenormand, in a low tone. "Five hundred 
+and eighty-four! one might as well say six hundred thou- 
+sand !" 
+
+As for Marius and Gosette, they were gazing at each other 
+while this was going on ; they hardl}' heeded this detail 
+
+V. — Deposit Youe Money in a Forest Bather than 
+WITH A Notary. 
+
+The reader has, no doubt, understood, without necessitating 
+a lengthy explanation, that Jean Yaljean, after the Champ- 
+mathieu affair, had been able, thanks to his first escape of a 
+few days' duration, to come to Paris and to withdraw in 
+season, from the hands of Laffitte the sum earned by him, 
+under the name of Monsieur Madeleine, at Montreuil-sur-Mer ; 
+and that fearing that he might be recaptured, — which event- 
+ually happened — he had buried and hidden that sum in the 
+forest of Montfermeil, in the locality known as the Blam- 
+bottom. The sum, six hundred and thirty thousand francs, 
+all in bank-bills, was not very bulky, and was contained in a 
+box; only, in order to preserve the box from dampness^ he 
+had placed it in a coffer filled with chestnut shavings. In 
+the same coffer he had placed his other treasures, the Bishop^s 
+candlesticks. It will be remembered that he had carried off 
+the candlesticks when he made his escape from Montreuil-sur- 
+Mer. The man seen one evening for the first time by Bou- 
+latruelle, was Jean Valjeau. Later on, every time that Jean 
+Valjean needed money, he went to get it in the Blaru-bottom. 
+Hence the absences which we have mentioned. He had a 
+pickaxe somewhere in the heather, in a hiding-place known to 
+himself alone. When he beheld Marius convalescent, feeling 
+tliat the hour wîis at hand, when that money might prove of 
+service, he had gone to get it j it was he again, whom Boula- 
+
+
+
+»Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN, 171 
+
+truelle had seen in the woods, but on this occasion, in the 
+morning instead of in the evening. Boulatruelle inherited hin 
+pickaxe. 
+
+The actual sum was five hundred and eighty-four thousand, 
+five hundred francs. Jean Val jean withdrew the five hun- 
+dred francs for himself. — " We shall see hereafter," he 
+thought. 
+
+The difference between that sum and the six hundred and 
+thirty thousand francs withdrawn from Lafïitte represented his 
+expenditure in ten years, from 1823 to 1833. The five years 
+of his stay in the convent had cost only five thousand francs. 
+
+Jean Valjean set the two candlesticks on the chimney-piece., 
+where they glittered to the great admiration of Toussaint. 
+
+Moreover, Jean Valjean knew that he vvas delivered from 
+Javert. The story had been told in his presence, and he had 
+verified the fact in the Moniteur, how a police inspector named 
+Javert had been found drowned under a boat belonging to 
+some laundresses, between the Pont au Change and the Pont- 
+Neuf, and that a writing left by this man, otherwise irre- 
+proachable and highly esteemed by his superiors, pointed to a 
+fit of mental aberration and a suicide. — " In fact," thought 
+Jean Valjean, " since he left me at liberty, once having got me 
+in his power, he must have been already mad." 
+
+
+
+VI. — The Two Old Men Do Etertthino, Each One Aftbu 
+His Own Fashion, to Render Cosette Happy. 
+
+Everything was made ready for the wedding. The doc- 
+tor, on being consulted, declared that it might take place 
+in February. It was then December. A few ravishing weeks 
+of perfect happiness passed. 
+
+The grandfather was not the least happy of them all. He 
+remained for a quarter of an hour at a time, gazing at Cosette. 
+
+" The wonderful, beautiful girl ! " he exclaimed. " And she 
+has so sweet and good an air I she is, without exception, the 
+most charming girl that I have ever seen in my life. Later 
+on, she'll have virtues with an odor of violets. How graceful ! 
+one cannot live otherwise than nobly with such a creature. 
+Marins, my boy, you are a Baron, you are rich, don't go to 
+pettifogging, I beg of you." 
+
+Cosette and Marius had passed abruptly from the sepulchre 
+to paradise. The transition had not been softened, and they 
+would have been stunned, had they not been dazzled by it. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+
+
+172 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+** IV> you understand anything about it ? " said Marius to 
+Cost'tte. 
+
+•' No/' replied Cosette, " but it seems to me that the good 
+Gotl is caring for us." 
+
+Jean Val jean did everything, smoothed away every diffi- 
+culty, arranged everything, made everything eas}'. He has- 
+tened towards Cosette's happiness with as much ardor, and, 
+apparently with as much joy, as Cosette herselt. 
+
+As he had been a mayor, he understood how to solve that 
+delicate problem, with the secret of which he alone was acs 
+quainted, Cosette's civil status. If he were to announce her 
+origin bluntly, it might prevent the marriage, who knows? 
+He extricated Cosette from all difficulties. He concocted for 
+her a family of dead people, a sure means of not encountering 
+any objections. Cosette was the only scion of an extinct 
+family ; Cosette was not his own daughter, but the daughter 
+of the other Fauchelevent. Two brothers Fauchelevent had 
+been gardeners to the convent of the Petit-Picus. Inquiry 
+was made at that convent; the very best information and 
+the most respectable references abounded ; the good nuns, not 
+very apt and but little inclined to fathom questions of pater- 
+nity, and not attaching any importance to the matter, had 
+never understood exactly of which of the two Fauchele vents 
+Cosette was the daughter. They said what was wanted and 
+they said it with zeal. An acte de notoriété was drawn up. 
+Cosette became in the eyes of the law, Mademoiselle Euphra- 
+sie Fauchelevent. She was declared an orphan, both father 
+and mother being dead. Jean Val jean so arranged it that he 
+was apîX)inted, under the name of Fauchelevent, as Cosette's 
+guardian, with M. Gillenormand as supervising guardian over 
+him. 
+
+As for the five hundred and eighty thousand francs, they 
+constituted a legacy bequeathed to Cosette by a dead person, 
+who desired to remain unknown. The original legacy had 
+consisted of five hundred and ninety-four thousand francs; 
+but ten thousand francs had been expended on the education 
+of Mademoiselle Euphrasie, five thousand francs of that amount 
+having been paid to the convent. This legacy, deposited in 
+the hands of a third party, was to he turned over to Cosette 
+at her majority, or at the date of lior marriage. This, taken 
+as a whole» was very acceptable, «is the reader will perceive, 
+especially when the sum due was half a million. There were 
+some peculiarities here and there, it is true, but they were 
+not noticed; one of the interested parties had his eyes 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 173 
+
+blindfolded by love, the others by the aix hundred thousand 
+francs. 
+
+Cosette learned that she was not the daughter of that old 
+man whom she had so long called father. He was merely a 
+kinsman; another Fauchelevent was her rear father. At any 
+other time this would have broken her heart. But at the in- 
+effable moment which she was then passing through, it cast 
+but a slight shadow, a faint cloud, and she was so full of joy 
+that the cloud did not last long. She had Marius. The young 
+man arrived, the old man was effaced ; such is life. 
+
+And then, Cosette had, for long years, been habituated to 
+seeing enigmas around her ; every being who has had a mys- 
+terious childhood, is always prepared for certain renunciations. 
+
+Nevertheless, she continued to call Jean Valjean : Father. 
+
+Cosette, happy as the angels, was enthusiastic over Fatàier 
+Gillenormand. It is true that he overwhelmed her with gal- 
+lant compliments and presents. While Jean Valjean was 
+building up for Cosette, a normal situation in society and an 
+unassailable status, M. Gillenormand was superintending the 
+basket of wedding gifts. Nothing so amused him as being 
+magnificent* He had given to Cosette a robe of Binche gui- 
+pure which had descended to him from his own grandmother. 
+
+" These fashions come up again," said he, *^ ancient things 
+are the rage, and the young women of my old age dress like 
+the old women of my childhood." 
+
+He rifled his respectable chests of drawers in Coromandel 
+lacquer, with swelling fronts, which had not been opened for 
+years. — " Let us hear the confession of these dowagers," he 
+said, "let us gee what they have in their paunches." He noi- 
+sily violated the pot-bellied drawers of all his wives, of all his 
+mistresses and of all his grandmothers. Pekins, damasks, lam- 
+pas, painted moires, robes of shot gros de Tours, India kerchiefs 
+embroidered in gold that could be washed, dauphines without 
+a right or wrong side, in the piece, Genoa and Alençon point 
+lace, parures in antique goldsmith's work, ivory bon-bon boxes 
+ornamented with microscopic battles, gewgaws and ribbons — * 
+he lavished everything on Cosette. Cosette, amazed, desperate- 
+ly in love with Marius, and wild with gratitude towards M. 
+Gillenormand, dreamed of a happiness without limit clothed in 
+satin and velvet. Her wedding basket seemed to her to be 
+upheld by seraphim. Her soul flew out into the azure depths, 
+with wings of Mechlin lace. 
+
+The intoxication of the lovers was only equalled, as we 
+have already said, by the ecstasy of the grandfather. A sort 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+174 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+of flourish cf trumpets went on in the Kue des FiIle8-4u-Cal« 
+vaire. 
+
+Every morning, a fresh offering of bric-à-bra(î from the 
+grandfather to (Josette. All possible knickknacks glittered 
+around her. 
+
+One day Marius, who was fond of talking gravely in the 
+midst of his bliss, said, apropos of I know not what incident : 
+
+" The men of the revolution are so great, that they have the 
+prestige of the ages, like Cato and like Phocion, and each one 
+of them seems to me an antique memory." 
+
+^*" Moire antique ! " exclaimed the old gentleman. " Thanks, 
+Marius.. That is precisely the idea of which 1 was in search." 
+
+And on the following day, a magnificent di'ess of tea-rose 
+colored moire antique was added to Cosette's wedding pi^esents. 
+
+From these fripperies, the grandfather extracted a bit of 
+wisdom. 
+
+"Love is all very well; but there must be something else 
+to go with it. The useless must be mingled with happiness. 
+Happiness is only the necessary. Season that enormously with 
+the superfluous for me. A palace and her heart. Her heart 
+and the Louvre. Her heart and the grand waterworks of 
+Versailles. Give me my shepherdess and try to make her a 
+duchess. Fetch me Phyllis crowned with corn-flowers, and 
+add a hundred thousand francs income. Open for me a bucol- 
+ic persj^ective as far as you can see, beneath a marble colon- 
+nade. I consent to the bucolic and also to the fairy spectacle of 
+marble and gold. Dry happiness resembles dry bread. One 
+eats, but one does not dine. I want the superfluous, the use- 
+less, the extravagant, excess, that which serves no purpose. 
+I remember to have seen, in the Cathedral of Strasburg, a 
+clock, as tall as a three-story house which marked the hours, 
+which had the kindness to indicate the hour, but which had 
+not the air of being made for that; and which, after having 
+struck midday, or midnight, — midday, the hour of the sun, 
+or midnight, the hour of love, — or any other hour that you 
+like, gave you the moon and the stars, the earth and the sea, 
+birds and fishes, Phœbus and Phœbe, and a host of things 
+which emerged from a niche, and the twelve apostles, and the 
+Emperor Charles the Fifth, and Éponine, and Sabinus, and a 
+throng of little gilded good men, who played on the trumpet 
+to boot. Without reckoning delicious chimes which it sprin- 
+kled through the air, on every occasion, without anyone's 
+knowing why. Is a petty bald clock-face which merely tells the 
+hour equal to that ? For my part, I am of the opinion of the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 17fî 
+
+big clock of Strasburg, and I prefer it to the cuckoo clock 
+from the Black Forest." 
+
+M. Gillenormand talked nonsense in connection with the 
+wedding, and all the fripperies of the eighteenth century passed 
+pell-mell through his dithyrambs. 
+
+"You are ignorant of the art of festivals. You do not know 
+how to organize a day of enjoyment in this age,'* he ex- 
+claimed. " Your nineteenth century is weak. It la^iks excess. 
+It ignores the rich, it ignores the noble. In everything it is 
+clean-shaven. Your third estate is insipid, colorless, odorless, 
+and shapeless. The dreams of your bourgeois who set up, as 
+they express it: a pretty boudoir freshly decorated, violet 
+ebony and calico. Make way ! Make way ! the Sieur Curmud- 
+geon is marr}'ing Mademoiselle Clutch-penny. Sumptuous- 
+ness and splendor. A louis d'or has been stuck to a candle. 
+There's the epoch for you. My demand is that I may flee from 
+it beyond the Sarmatians. Ah ! in 1787, I predicted that all 
+was lost, from the day when I beheld the Due de Rohan, Prince 
+de Léon, Duc de Chabot, Duc de Montbazon, Marquis de Sou- 
+bise, Vicomte de Thouars, peer of France, go to Ijongchampfe 
+in a tapecu ! That has borne its fruits. In this century, men 
+attend to business, they gamble on 'Change, they win money, 
+they are stingy. People take care of their surfaces and var- 
+nish them ; every one is dressed as though just out of a band- 
+box, washed, soaped, scraped, shaved, coml)ed, waked, smoothed, 
+rubbed, brushed, cleaned on the outside, irreproachable, pol- 
+ished as a pebble, discreet, neat, and at the same time, death 
+of my life, in the depths of their consciences they have dung- 
+heaps and cess-pools that are enough to make a cow-herd who 
+blows his nose in his fingers, recoil. I grant to this age the 
+device: "Dirty Cleanliness." Don't be vexed, Marius, give 
+me permission to speak ; I say no evil of the people as you 
+see, 1 am always harping on your people, but do look favorably 
+on my dealing a bit of a slap to the bourgeoisie. I belong to 
+it. He who loves well lashes well. Thereupon, I say plainly, 
+that now-a-days people marry, but that they no longer know 
+how to marry. Ah ! it is true, I regret the grace of the an- 
+cient manners. I regret everything about them, their ele- 
+gance, their chivalry, those courteous and delicate ways, that 
+jo^'^ous luxury which every one possessed, music forming part 
+of the wedding, a symphony above stairs, a beating of drums 
+below stairs, the dances, the joyous faces round the table, the 
+lino-spun gallant compliments, the songs, the fireworks, the 
+frank laughter, the devil's own row, tlie huge knots of ribbon. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+176 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+I regret the bride's garter. The bride's garter is cousin to the 
+girdle of Venus. On what does the war of Troy turn ? On 
+Helen's garter, parbleu ! Why did they fight, why did Dio- 
+med the divine break over the head of Meriones that great 
+brazen helmet of ten points ? why did Achilles and Hector 
+hew each other up with vast blows of their lances ? Because 
+Helen allowed Paris to take her garter. With Cosette's gar 
+ter, Homer would construct the Iliad. He would put in his 
+poem, a loquacious old fellow, like me, and he would call 
+him Nestor. My friends, in bygone days, in those amiable 
+days of yore, people married wisely ; they had a good contract, 
+and then they had a good carouse. As soon as Cujas hod 
+taken his departure, Gamacho entered. But, in sooth! the 
+stomach is an agreeable beast which demands its due, and 
+which wants to have its wedding also. People supped well, 
+and had at table a beautiful neighbor without a guimpe so 
+that her throat was only moderately concealed. Oh! the 
+large laughing mouths, and how gay we were in those days ! 
+vouth was a bouquet; every young man terminated in a 
+oranch of lilacs or a tuft of roses ; whether he was a shep- 
+herd or a warrior ; and if, by chance, one was a captain of 
+dragoons, one found means to call oneself Florian. People 
+thought much of looking well. They embroidered and tinted 
+themselves. A bourgeois had the air of a flower, a Marquis 
+had the air of a precious stone. People had no straps to 
+their boots, they had no boots. They were spruce, shining, 
+waved, lustrous, fluttering, dainty, coquettish, which did not 
+at all prevent their wearing swords by their sides. The hum- 
+ming-bird has beak and claws. That was the day of the Gai- 
+lant Indies, One of the sides of that century was delicate, 
+the other was magnificent ; and by the green cabbages ! people 
+amused themselves. To-day, people are serious. The bou^ 
+geois is avaricious, the bourgeoise is a prude ; your century is 
+unfortunate. People would drive away the Graces as being 
+too low in the neck. Alas ! beauty is concealed as though it 
+were ugliness. Since the revolution, everything, including 
+the ballet-dancers, has had its trowsers ; a mountebank dancer 
+must be grave; your rigadoonsare doctrinarian. It is neces- 
+sary to be majestic. People would be greatly annoyed if they 
+did not carry their chins in their cravats. The ideal of an 
+urchin of twenty when he marries, is to resemble M, Royer- 
+Collard. And do you know what one arrives at with that 
+majesty ? at being petty. Learn this : joy is not only joyous; 
+it is great. But be in love gayly then, what the deuce f marry, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN, 177 
+
+when yon marry, with fever and giddiness, and tumult, and 
+the uproar of happiness ! Be grave in church, well and good. 
+But, as soon as the mass is finished, sarpejou ! you must make 
+a dream whirl around the bride. A marriage should be royal 
+and chimerical ; it should promenade its ceremony from the 
+cathedral of Eheims to the pagoda of Chanteloup. I have a 
+horror of a paltry wedding. Ventregoulette ! be in Olympus 
+for that one day, at least. Be one of the gods. Ah ! people 
+might be sylphs. Games and Laughter, argiraspides ; they are 
+stupids. My friends, every recently made bridegroom ought 
+to be Prince Aldobrandini. Profit by that unique minute in 
+life to soar away to the empyrean with the swans and the 
+eagles, even if you do have to fall back on the morrow into the 
+bourgeoisie of the frogs. Don't economize on the nuptials, do 
+not prune them of their splendors ; don't scrimp on the day 
+when you beam. The \7edding is not the housekeeping. Oh I 
+if I were to carry out my fancy, it would be gallant, violins 
+would be heard under the trees. Here is my programme: 
+sky-blue and silver. I would mingle with the festival the 
+rural divinities, I would convoke the Dryads and the Nereids. 
+The nuptials of Amphitrite, a rosy cloud, nymphs with well- 
+dressed locks and entirely naked, an Academician offering 
+quatrains to the goddess, a chai-iot drawn by marine monsters. 
+
+*' Triton trottait devant» et tirait de sa conque 
+Des sons si ravissants qu'il ravissait quiconque I" ^ 
+
+— there's a festive programme, there's a good one, or else I 
+know nothing of such matters, deuce take it I " 
+
+While the grandfather, in full lyrical effusion, was listening 
+to himself, Cosette and Marins grew intoxicated as they gazed 
+freely at each other. 
+
+Aunt Gillenormand surveyed all this with her imperturba- 
+ble placidity. Within the last five or six mouths she had 
+experienced a certain amount of emotions. Marins returned, 
+Marius brought back bleeding, Marius brought back from a 
+barricade, Marius dead, then living, Marius reconciled, Marius 
+betrothed, Marius wedding a poor girl, Marius wedding a mil- 
+lionairess. The six hundred thousand francs had been her 
+last surprise. Then, her indifference of a girl taking her 
+first communion returned to her. She went regularly to ser- 
+vice, told her beads, read her euchology, mumbled Aves in one 
+
+^ '' Triton trotted on before, and drew from his ooncli-shell sounds so 
+ravishing that he delighted everyone P' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+
+
+178 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+corner of the house, while / love you was being whispered in 
+the other, and she beheld Marius and Cosette in a vague way, 
+like two shadows. The shadow Wiis herself. 
+
+There is a certain state of inert asceticism in which the soul» 
+neutralized by torpor, a stranger to that whicli may be desig- 
+nated as the business of living, receives no impressions, either 
+human, or pleasant or painful, with the cxcc])tion of eartli- 
+quakes and cartastrophes. This devotion, as Fatlier Gillenor- 
+mand said to his daughter, corresiK)ud8 to a cold in th*» 
+head. You smell nothing of life. Neither any bad, nor anj 
+good odor. 
+
+Moreover, the six ]iundred thousand francs had settled the 
+elderly spinster's indecision. Her father had acquired th*» 
+habit of taking her so little into account, that he had not con- 
+sulted her in the matter of consent to Marins' maniage. H*' 
+had acted impetuously, according to his wont, having, p 
+despot-turned slave, but a single thought, — to satisfy Marius 
+As for the aunt, — it had not even occun-ed to him that the aun* 
+existed, and that she could hft.ve an opinion of her own, and 
+sheep as she was, this had vexed her. Somewhat resentful ip 
+her inmost soul, but impassible externally, she had said tr 
+herself : " My father has settled the question of the marriage» 
+without reference to me ; I shall settle the cpiestion of the in- 
+heritance without consulting him." She was rich, in fact, an(^ 
+her father was not. She had reserved lior decision on thi? 
+point. It is probable, that, had the match been a jwor one 
+she would have left him poor. " So much the worse fo» 
+my nephew ! he is wedding a beggar, let him be a beggar him- 
+self!" But Cosette's half-million pleased the aunt, an(^ 
+altered her inward situation so far as this pair of lovers were 
+concerned. One owes some consideration to six hundred 
+thousand francs, and it was evident that she could not do 
+otherwise than leave her fortune to these young people, since 
+they did not need it. 
+
+It was arranged that the couple should live with the errand- 
+father — M. Gillenormand insisted on resigning to them his 
+chamber, the finest in the house. — "That will make me young 
+again,'' he said. "It's an old plan of mine. T have always 
+entertained the idea of having a wedding in my chamber." 
+
+He furnished this chamber with a multitude of elegant 
+trifles. He had the ceiling and walls hung with an extraor- 
+dinary stuff, which he had by him in the piece, and which he 
+believed to have emanated from Utrecht, with a buttercup- 
+colored satin ground, covered with velvet auricula blossoms. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 179 
+
+— ** It was with that stuff," sî\i(i he, " that the bed of the 
+Dunhesse d'Anville at la Iloche-Guyon was draped." — On the 
+chimney-piece, he set a little figure in Saxe porcelain, carrying 
+a muff against her nude stomach. 
+
+M. Gillenorniand's library became the lawyer's study which 
+Marius needed ; a study, it will be remembered, being re- 
+quired by the council of the order. 
+
+
+
+VII. — The Effects of Dreams Mingled with Happiness. 
+
+The lovers saw each other every day. Cosette came with 
+M. Faucheleverit. — "This is reversing things," said Made- 
+moiselle Gillenormand, " to have the bride come to the house 
+to do the courting like this." But Marins' convalescence had 
+caused the habit to become established, and the arm-chairs of 
+the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, better adapted to interviews 
+than the straw chairs of the Rue de I'llonnne Armé, hstd rooted 
+it. Marius and M. Fauchelevent saw each other, but did not 
+address each other. It seemed as though this had been 
+agreed upon. Every girl needs a chaperon. CosettQ could 
+not have come without M. Fauchelevent. In Marius' eyes, M, 
+Fauchelevent was the condition attached to Cosette. He 
+accepted it. By dint of discussing political matters, vaguely 
+and without precision, from the point of view of the general 
+amelioration of the fate of all men, they came to say a little 
+more than " yes " and " no." Once, on the subject of education, 
+which Marius wished to have free and obligatory, multiplied 
+under all forms, lavished on everyone, like the air and the 
+sun, in a word, respirable for the entire population, they were 
+in unison, and they almost conversed. M. Fauchelevent 
+talked well, and even with a certain loftiness of language — 
+still, he lacked something indescribable. M. Fauchelevent 
+possessed something less and also something more, than a 
+man of the world. 
+
+Manns, inwardly, and in the depths of his thought, sur- 
+rounded with all sorts of mute questions this M. Fauchelevent,' 
+who was, to him, simply benevolent and cold. There were 
+moments when doubts as to his own recollections occurred to 
+him. There was a void in his memory, a black spot, an 
+abyss excavated b}^ four months of agony. — Many things had 
+been lost tlierein. He had come to the point of asking himself 
+whethf»r it were really a fact that he had seen M. Fauche- 
+levent, so serious and so calm a man, in the barricade. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+180 LE8 MISÉRABLES. 
+
+This was not, however, the only stupor which the appan- 
+tions and the disappearances of the past had left in his mind 
+It must not be supposed that he was delivered from all those 
+obsessions of the memory which force us, even when happy, 
+even when satisfied, to glance sadly behind us. The head 
+which does not turn backwards towards horizons that have 
+vanished contains neither thought nor love. At times, Marins 
+clasped his face between his hands, and the vague and tumult- 
+uous past traversed the twilight which reigned in his brain. 
+Again he beheld Mabeuf fall, he heard Gavroche singing 
+amid the grape-shot, he felt beneath his lips the cold brow of 
+Éponine ; Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvaire, Combeferre, 
+Bossuet, Grantaire, all his friends rose erect before him, then 
+dispersed into thin air. Were all those dear, sorrowful, 
+valiant, charming or tragic beings merely dreams ? had they 
+actually existed? The revolt had enveloped everything in 
+its smoke. These great fevers create great dreams. He 
+questioned himself ; he felt himself ; all these vanished real- 
+ities made him dizzy. Where were they all then ? was it 
+really true that all were dead ? A fall into the shadows had 
+carried, off all except himself. It all seemed to him to have 
+disappeared as though behind the curtain of a theatre. There 
+are curtains like this which drop in life. God passes on to 
+the following act. 
+
+And he himself — was he actually the same man ? He, the 
+poor man, was rich ; he, the abandoned, had a family ; he, the 
+despairing, was to marry Cosette. It seemed to him that he 
+had traversed a tomb, and that he had entered into it black 
+and had emerged from it white, and in that tomb the others 
+had remained. At certain moments, all, these beings of the 
+past, returned and present, formed a circle around him, and 
+overshadowed him ; then he thought of Cosette, and recovered 
+his serenity ; but nothing less than this felicity could have 
+sulBced to efface that catastrophe. 
+
+M. Fauchelevent almost occupied a place among these van- 
+ished beings. Marius hesitated to believe that the Fauche- 
+levent of the barricade was the same as this Fauchelevent in 
+flesh and blood, sitting so gravely beside Cosette. The first 
+was, probably, one of those nightmares occasioned and brought 
+back by his hours of delirium. However, the natures of both 
+men were rigid, no question from Marius to M. Fauchelevent 
+was possible. Such an idea had not even occurred to hini. 
+We have already indicated this characteristic detail. 
+
+Two men who have a secret in common, and who, by a sort 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 181 
+
+of tacit aCTcement, exchange not a word on the subject, are 
+less rare than is coranionly supposed. 
+
+Once only, did Marius make the attempt, lie introduced 
+into the conversation the Rue de la Chunvrerie, and, turniug 
+to M. Fauchelevent, he said to him : 
+
+" Of course you are acquainted with that street ? " 
+
+« What street ? " 
+
+"The Kue de la Chanvrerie." 
+
+"I have no idea of the name of that street," replied M. 
+Fauchelevent, in the most natural manner in the world. 
+
+Tlie response which bore upon the name of. the street and 
+not upon the street itself, appeared to Marius to be more con- 
+clusive than it really was. 
+
+'* Decidedly '' tliought he, " I have been dreaming. I have 
+been subject to a hallucination. It was some one who resem- 
+bled him. M. Fauchelevent was not there.'' 
+
+VIII. — Two Men Impossible to Find. 
+
+Marius' enchantment, great as it was, could not efface from 
+his mind other pre-occupations. 
+
+While the wedding was in preparation, and while awaiting 
+the date fixed upon, he caused difficult and scrupulous retro- 
+spective researches to be made. 
+
+He owed gratitude in various quarters; he owed it on his 
+father's account, he owed it on his own. 
+
+There was Thénardier ; there was the unknown m«in who 
+ha<l brought him, Marius, back to M. Gillenormand. 
+
+MaiMUS endeavored to find these two men, not intending to 
+marry, to be happy, and to forget them, and fearing that, were 
+these debts of gratitude not discharged, they would leave a 
+shadow on his life, which promised so brightly for the future. 
+
+It was impossible for him to leave all these arrears of suffer- 
+ing behind him, and he wished, before entering joyously into 
+the future, to obtain a quittance from the past. 
+
+That Thénardier was a villain detracted nothing from the 
+fact that he had saved Colonel Pontmercy. Thonardier was a 
+ruffian in the eyes of all the world except Marius. 
+
+And Marius, ignorant of the real scene in the battle field of 
+Waterloo, was not aware of the peculiar detail, that his father, 
+so far as Thénardier was concerned, was in the strango position 
+of being indebted to the latter for his life, without being in- 
+rfebted to him for any gratitude. 
+
+None of the various agents whom Marius employed sue 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+182 LES MISLHABCAS. 
+
+oeeded in discovering fuiy trace of Thénardier. Obliteratior 
+appeared to be complete in that quarter. Madame Théuardiei 
+had died in prison pending the trial. Thénardier and his 
+daughter Azelnia, the only two remaining of that lamentable 
+group, had plunged back into the gloom. The gulf of the 
+social unknown had silently closed above those beings. On 
+the surface there was not visible so much as that quiver, that 
+trembling, those obscure concentric circles which announce 
+that something has fallen in, and that the plummet may be 
+dropped. 
+
+Madame Thenardler being dead, Boulatruelle being elimi 
+nated from the case, Claquesous having disappeared, the prin- 
+cipal persons accused having escaped from prison, the trial 
+connected with the ambush in the Gorbeaa house bad come to 
+nothing. 
+
+That affair had remained rather obscure. The bench of 
+Assizes had been obliged to content themselves with two sul>- 
+ordinates. l^anchaud, alias Printanier, alias Bigrenaille, and 
+Derai-Liard, alias Deux-Milliards, who had been inconsistently 
+condemned, after a hearing of both sides of the case, to ten 
+years in the galleys. Hard labor for life had been the sen- 
+tence pronounced against the escaped and contumacious ac 
+complices. 
+
+Tht'mardier, the head and leader, had been, through con tu 
+macy, likewise condemned to death. 
+
+This sentence was the only information remaining about 
+Thénardier, casting upon that buried name its sinister light 
+like a candle beside a bier. 
+
+Moreover, by thrusting Thénardier back into the very re- 
+motest depths, through a fear of being re-captured, this sen- 
+tence added to the density of the shadows which enveloped 
+this man. 
+
+As for the other person, as for the unknown man who had 
+saved Marius, the researches were at first to some extent suc- 
+cessful, then came to an abrupt conclusion. They succeeded 
+in finding the carriage which had brought Marius to the Eue 
+des Filles-du-Calvaire on the evening of the 6th of June. 
+
+The coachman declared that, on the 6th of June, in ol)e(ii- 
+ence to the commands of a police-agent, he had stood from 
+three o'clock in the afternoon until nightfall on the Quai des 
+Champs-Elysées, above the outlet of the Grand Sewer ; that^ 
+towards nine o'clock in the evening, the grating of the sewer, 
+which abuts on the bank of the river, had opened ; that a man 
+had emerged therefrom, bearing on his shoulders another man, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAy. 183 
+
+who seemed to be dead ; that the agent, who was on the watch 
+at that point, had arrested the living man and had seized the 
+dead man ; that, at the order of the police-agent, he, the coach- 
+man, had taken " all those folks " into his carriage : that they 
+had first driven, to the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire ; that they 
+had there deposited the dead man ; that the dead man waa 
+Monsieur Marins, and that he, the coachman, recognized him 
+perfectly, although he was alive " this time " ; that afterwards, 
+they had entered the vehicle again, that he had whipped up 
+his' horses ; a few paces from the gate of the Archives, they 
+had called to him to halt ; that there, in the street, they had 
+paid him and left him, and that the police-agent had led the 
+other man away ; that he knew nothing more ; that the night 
+had been very dark. 
+
+Marius, as we have said, recalled nothing. He only remem- 
+bered that he had been seized from behind by an energetio 
+hand at the moment when he was falling backwards into thf» 
+barricade ; then, everything vanished so far as he was con- 
+cerned. 
+
+He had only regained consciousness at M. Gillenormand's. 
+
+He was lost in conjectures. 
+
+He could not doubt his own identity. Still, how had it 
+come to pass that, having fallen in the Kue de la Chanvre rie, 
+he had been picked up by the police-agent on the banks of the 
+Seine, near the Pont des Invalides ? 
+
+Some One had carried him from the Quartier des Halles to 
+the Champs-Elysées. And how ? Through the sewer. Un- 
+heard-of devotion ! 
+
+Some one ? Who ? 
+
+This was the man for whom Marius was searching. 
+
+Of this man, who was his savior, nothing ; not a trace ; not 
+the faintest indication. 
+
+Marius, although forced to preserve great reserve, in that 
+direction, pushed his inquiries as far as the prefecture of 
+police. There, no more than elsewhere, did the information 
+obtained lead to any enlightenment. 
+
+The prefecture knew less about the matter than did the 
+hackney-coachman. They had no knowledge of any arrest 
+having been made on the 6th of June at the mouth of the 
+Grand Sewer. 
+
+No report of any agent had been received there upon this 
+matter, which was regarded at the prefecture as a fable. The 
+invention of this fable was attributed to the coachman. 
+
+A coachman who wants a gratuity is capable of anything 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+184 LEB MISERABLES. 
+
+even of imagination. The fact was assured, nevertheless, ami 
+Marius could not doubt it, unless he doubted his own identity, 
+as we have just said. 
+
+Everything about this singular enigma was inexplicable. 
+
+What had become of that man, that mysterious man, whom 
+the coachman had seen emerge from the grating of the Grand 
+Sewer bearing upon his back the unconscious Marius, an<l 
+whom the police-agent on the watch had arrested in the very 
+act of rescuing an insurgent ? What had become of the agent 
+himself ? 
+
+Why had this agent preserved silence ? Had the man suc- 
+ceeded in making his escape ? Had he bribed the agent ? 
+Why did this man give no sign of life to Marius, who owed 
+everything to him ? His disinterestedness was no less tre- 
+mendous than his devotion. Why had not that man appeared 
+again ? Perhaps he was above compensation, but no one is 
+above gratitude. Was he dead ? Who was the man ? What 
+sort of a face had he ? No one could tell him this. 
+
+The coachman answered: "The night was very dark." 
+Basque and Nicolette, all in a flutter, had looked only at their 
+young master all covered with blood. 
+
+The porter, whose candle had lighted the tragic arrival of 
+Marius, had been the only one to take note of the man in 
+question, and this is the description that he gave : 
+
+" That man was terrible." 
+
+Marius had the blood-stained clothing which he had worn 
+when he had been brought back to his grandfather preserved, 
+in the hope that it would prove of service in his researches. 
+
+On examining the coat, it was found that one skirt had been 
+torn in a singular way. A piece was missing. 
+
+One evening, Marius was speaking in the presence of Co- 
+sette and Jean Valjean of the whole of that singular adveii< 
+ture, of the innumerable inquiries which he had made, and of 
+the fruitlessness of his efforts. The cold countenance of 
+" Monsieur Fauchelevent " angered him. 
+
+He exclaimed, with a vivacity which had something of 
+wrath in it: 
+
+" Yes, that man, whoever he may have been, was sublime. 
+Do you know what he did, sir ? He intervened like an arch 
+angel. He must have flung himself into the midst of the 
+battle, have stolen me away, have oi')ened the sewer, have 
+dragged me into it, and have carried me through it! He 
+must have traversed more than a league and a half in thosfl 
+frightful subterranean galleries, bent oyer, weighed down, io 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 185 
+
+the dark, in the oess-pool^ — more than a league and a half, 
+sir, with a corpse upon his back! And with what object? 
+With the sole object of saving the corpse. And that corpse I 
+was. He said to himself : * There may still be a glimpse of 
+life there, perchance ; I will risk my own existence for that 
+miserable spark ! ' And his existence he risked not once but 
+twenty times ! And every step was a danger. The proof of 
+it is, that on emerging from the sewer, he was arrested. Do 
+you know, sir, that that man did all this ? And he had no 
+recompense to expect. What was I? An insurgent. What 
+was I V One of the conquered. Oh ! if Oosette's six hundred 
+thousand francs were mine . . ." 
+
+"They are yours," interrupted Jean Val jean, 
+*^ Well," resumed Marius, " I would give them all toi find 
+that man once more." 
+
+Jean Valjean remained silent. 
+
+
+
+BOOK SIXTR — THE SLEEPLESS NIGHT. 
+
+L — The 16th op February, 1833. 
+
+The night of the 16th to the 17th of February, 1833, was a 
+blessed night. Above its shadows heaven stood open. It 
+was the wedding night of Marius and Cosette. 
+
+The day had been adorable. 
+
+It had r.ot been the grand festival dreamed by the grand- 
+father, a fairy spectacle, with a confusion of cherubim and 
+Cupids over the heads of the bridal pair, a marriage worthy 
+to form the subject of a painting to be placed over a door ; 
+but it had been sweet and smiling. 
+
+The manner of marriage in 1833 was not the same as it is 
+to-day. France had not yet borrowed from England that 
+supreme delicacy of carrying off one's wife, of fleeing, on 
+coming out of church, of hiding oneself with shame from 
+one's happiness, and of combining the ways of a bankrupt 
+with the delights of the Song of Songs, People had not yet 
+grasped to the full the chastity, exquisiteness, and decency ot 
+jolting their paradise in a posting-chaise, of breaking up their 
+mystery with clic-clacs, of taking for a nuptial bed the bed of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+186 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+an inn, and of leaving behind them, in a commonplace cham^ 
+ber, at so much a night, the most sacred of the souvenirs ot 
+life mingled pell-mell with the tête-à-tête of the conductor 
+of the diligence and the maid-servant of the inn. 
+
+In this second half of the nineteenth century in which we 
+are now living, the mayor and his scarf, the priest and his 
+chasuble^ the law and God no longer suffice; they must be 
+eked out by the Postilion de Lon jumeau ; a blue waistcoat 
+turned up with red, and with bell buttons, a plaque like a 
+vantbrace, knee-breeches of green leather, oaths to the Norman 
+horses with their tails knotted up, false galloons, vamishetl 
+hat, long powdered locks, an enormous whip and tall bootâ. 
+France does not yet carry elegance to the length of doing like 
+the English nobility, and raining down on the post-chaise of 
+the bridal pair a hail storm of slippers trodden down at heel 
+and of worn-out shoes, in memory of Churchill, afterwards 
+Marlborough, or Malbrouck, who was assailed on his wedding- 
+day by the wrath of an aunt which brought him good luck. 
+Old shoes and slippers do not, as yet, form a part of our nup- 
+tial celebrations; but patience^ as good taste continues to 
+spread, we shall come to that. 
+
+In 1833, a hundred years ago, marriage was not conducted 
+at a full trot. . 
+
+Strange to say, at that epoch, people still imagined that a 
+wedding was a private and social festival, that a patriarchal 
+banquet does not spoil a domestic solemnity, that gaj-ety, 
+even in excess, provided it be honest, and» decent, does happi- 
+ness no harm, and that, in short, it is a good and a venerable 
+thing that the fusion of these two destinies whence a family 
+is destined to spring, should begin at home, and that the 
+household should thenceforth have its nuptial chamber as its 
+witness. 
+
+And people were so immodest as to marry in their own 
+homes. 
+
+The marriage took place, therefore, in accordance with this 
+now superannuated fashion, at M. Gillenormand's liouse. 
+
+Natural and commonplace as this matter of marrying is. 
+the banns to publish, the papers to be drawn up, the mayi^r- 
+alty, and the church produce some complication. They could 
+not get ready before the 16th of February. 
+
+Now, we note this detail, for the pure satisfaction of being 
+exact, it chanced that the 16th fell on Shrove Tuesday. Hesi- 
+tations, scruples, particularly on the pai't of Aunt Gillenor 
+mand. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 187 
+
+''Shrove Tuesday!" exclaimed the grandfather, "bo muc); 
+the better. There is a proverb : 
+
+
+
+(( ( 
+
+
+
+Manage uu Mardi gras 
+N'aura point enfants ingrats.' ^ 
+
+
+
+Let ns proceed. Here goes for the 16th! Do you want to 
+delay, Marins ? " 
+
+"No, certainly not!'' replied the lover. 
+
+" Let us marry then," cried the grandfather. 
+
+Accordingly, the marriage took place on the 16th, notwith» 
+standing the public merrymaking. It rained that day, but 
+there is always in the sky a tiny scrap of blue at the service 
+of happiness, which lovers see, even when the rest of creation 
+is under an umbrella. 
+
+On the preceding evening, Jean Val jean handed to Marins, 
+in the presence of M. Gillenormand, the five hundred- and 
+eighty-four thousand francs. 
+
+As the marriage was taking place under the régime of com- 
+munity of property, the papers had been simple. 
+
+Henceforth, Toussaint was of no use to Jean Valjean; 
+Cosette inherited her and promoted her to the rank of lady's 
+maid. 
+
+As for Jean Valjean, a beautiful chamber in the Gillenor- 
+mand house had been furnished expressly for him, and Cosette 
+had said to him in such an irresistible manner: "Father, I 
+entreat you," that she had almost persuaded him to promise 
+that he would come and occupy it. 
+
+A few days before that fixed on for the marriage, an acci- 
+dent happened to Jean Valjean ; he crushed the thumb of his 
+right hand. This was not a serious matter ; and he had not 
+allowed any one to trouble himself about it, nor to dress it, 
+nor even to see his hurt, not even Cosette. Nevertheless, 
+this had forced him to swathe his hand in a linen bandage, 
+and to carry his arm in a sling, and had prevented his signing. 
+M. Gillenormand, in his capacity of Cosette's supervising- 
+guardian, had supplied his "place. 
+
+We will not conduct the reader either to the mayor's office 
+or to the church. One does not follow a pair of lovers to 
+thiit extent, and one is accustomed to turn one's back on the 
+drama as soon as it puts a wedding nosegay in its buttonhole. 
+We will confine ourselves to noting an incident which, though 
+
+^ *' A Shrove-Tuesday marriage will have no ungrateful children.'' 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+188 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+unnoticed by the wedding party, marked the transit from the 
+Rue de Filles-du-Calvaire to the church of Saint-Paul. 
+
+At that epoch, the northern extremity of the Rue Saint- 
+Louis was in process of repaying. It was barred off, begin- 
+ning with the Rue du Parc-Royal. It was impossible for the 
+wedding carriages to go directl}^ to Saint-Paul. They wew 
+obliged to alter their course, and the simplest way was to 
+turn through the boulevard. One of the invited guests ob- 
+served that it was Shrove Tuesdiay, and that there would be a 
+jam of vehicles. — "Why?" asked M. Gillenormand. — "Be- 
+cause of the maskers.'' — *' Capital," said the grandfather, "let 
+us go that way. These young folks are on the way to be mar- 
+ried ; they are about to enter the serious part of life. This 
+will prepare them for seeing a bit of the masquerade." 
+
+They wc^nt by way of the boulevard. The tirst wedding 
+coach held Cosette and Aunt Gillenormand, M. GilleDormand, 
+and. Jean Val jean. Marius, still sepiuated from his betrothed, 
+according to usage, did not come until the second. The nup- 
+tial train, on emerging from the Rue des Filies-du-Calvaire, 
+became entangled in a long procession of vehicles which 
+formed an endless (;hain from the Madeleine to the Bastille, 
+and from the Bastille to the Madeleine. Maskers abounded 
+on the boulevard. In sj/ite of the fact that it was raining at 
+intervals, Merry-andrew, Pantaloon and Clown persisted. In 
+the good humor of that winter of 1833, Paris had disguised 
+itself as Venice. Such Shrove Tuesdays are no longer to be 
+seen now-a-days. Everything which exists being a scattered 
+Carnival, there is no longer any Carnival. 
+
+The sidewalks were overflowing with pedestrians and the 
+windows with curious spectators. The terraces which crown 
+the peristyles of the theatres were bordered witli spectators. 
+Besides the maskers, they stared at that procession — peculiai 
+to Shrove Tuesday as to Longchampe, — of vehicles of every 
+description, citadines, tapissières, carioles, cabriolets march 
+ing in order, rigorously riveted to each other by the police 
+regulations, and locked into rails, as it were. Any one in 
+tliese vehicles is at once a spectator aAd a spectacle. Police- 
+sergeants maintained, on the sides of the boulevard, these 
+two interminable parallel files, moving in contrary directions, 
+and saw to it that nothing interfered with that double current, 
+those two brooks of carriages, flowing, the one down stream, 
+the other up stream, the one towards the Chaussée d'Antia 
+the other towards the Faubourg Saint-Antoine. The car 
+riages of the peers of France and of the Ambassadors, em 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 189 
+
+blazoned with coats of arms, held the middle of the way, 
+going and coming freely. Certain joyous and magnificent 
+trains, notably that of the Bœut Gras, had the same privl' 
+lege. In this gayety of Paris, England cracked her whip; 
+Lord Seymour's post-chaise, harassed by a nickname from 
+the populace, passed with great noise. 
+
+In the double tile, along wliich the municipal guards gal- 
+loped like shee^^dogs, honest family coaches, loaded down 
+with great-aunts and grandmothers, displayed at their doors 
+fresh groups of children in disguise, Clowns of seven years 
+of age, Columbines of six, ravishing little creatures, who felt 
+that they formed an official part of the public mirth, who were 
+imbued with the dignity of their harlequinade, and who pos- 
+sessed the gravity of functionaries. 
+
+From time to time, a hitch arose somewhere in the proces- 
+sion of vehicles ; one or other of the two lateral tiles halted 
+until the knot was disentangled; one carriage delayed suf- 
+ficed to paralyze the whole line. Then they set out again on 
+the march. 
+
+The wedding carriages were in the file proceeding towards 
+the Bastille, and skirting the right side of the boulevard. Ât 
+the top of the Pont-aux-Choux, there was a stoppage. Nearly 
+at the same moment, the other file, which was proceeding 
+towards the Madeleine, halted also. At that point of the file 
+there was a carriage-load of maskers. 
+
+These carriages, or to speak more correctly, these wagon- 
+loads of maskers are very familiar to Parisians. If they were 
+missing on a Shrove Tuesday, or at tlie Mid-Lent, it would be 
+taken in bad part, and people would say : " There's something 
+behind that. Probably the ministry is about to undergo a 
+change." A pile of Cassandras, Harlequins and Columbines, 
+jolted along high above the passers-by, all possible grotesque- 
+nesses, from the Turk to the savage, Hercules supporting Mar- 
+quises, fishwives who would have made Rabelais stop up his 
+ears just as the Mœnads made Aristophanes drop his eyes, tow 
+wigs, pink tights, dandified hats, spectacles of a grimacer, 
+three-cornered hats of Janot tormented with a butterfly, 
+shouts directed at pedesjtrians, fists on hips, bold attitudes, 
+bare shoulders, immodesty unchained ; a chaos of shameless- 
+ness driven by ^ coachman crowned with flowers ; this is what 
+that institution was like. 
+
+Greece stood in need of the chariot of Thespis, France 
+stands in need of the hackney-coach of Vade. 
+Everything can be parodied, even parody. The Saturnalia^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+190 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+that grimace of antique beauty, ends, through exaggeration 
+after exaggt^ration, in Shrove Tuesday ; and the Bacchanal, 
+formerly crowned with sprays of vine leaves and grapes, inun- 
+dated with sunshine, displaying her marble breasts in a divine 
+semi-nudity, having at the present day lost her shape under 
+the soaked rags of the North, has finally come to be called 
+the Jaek- pudding. 
+
+The tradition of carriage-loads of maskers runs back to the 
+most ancient days of the monarchy. The accounts of Louis 
+XI. allot to the bailiff of the palace "twenty sous, Tournois, 
+for three coaches of mascarades in the cross-roads." In our 
+day, these noisy heaps of creatures are accustomed to have 
+themselves driven in some ancient cuckoo carriage, whose 
+imperial they load down, or they overwhelm a hired landau, 
+with its top thrown back, with their tumultuous groups. 
+Twenty of them ride in a carriage intended for six. They cling 
+to the seats, to the rumble, on the cheeks of the hood, on the 
+shafts. They even bestride the carriage lamps. They stand, 
+sit, lie, with their knees drawn up in a knot, and their legs 
+hanging. The women sit on the men's laps. Far away, above 
+the throng of heads, their wild pyramid is visible. These car- 
+riage-loads form mountains of mirth in the midst of the rout. 
+Collé, Panard and Piron flow from it, enriched with slang. 
+This carriage which has become colossal through its freight, 
+has an air of conquest. Uproar reigns in front, tumult 
+behind. People .vociferate, shout, howl, there they break 
+forth and writhe with enjoyment; gayety roars; sarcasm 
+flames forth, joviality is flaunted like a red flag; two jades 
+there drag farce blossomed forth into an apotheosis ; it is the 
+triumphal car of laughter. 
+
+A laughter that is too cynical to be frank. In truth, this 
+laughter is suspicious. This laughter has a mission. It is 
+charged with proving the Carnival to the Parisians. 
+
+These fishwife vehicles, in which one feels one knows 
+not what shadows, set the philosopher to thinking. There 
+is government therein. There one lays one's finger on a 
+mysterious affinity between public men and public women. 
+
+It certainly is sad that turpitude heaped up should give a 
+sum total of gayety, that by piling ignominy upon opprobrium 
+the people should be enticed, that the system pf spying, and 
+serving as caryatids to prostitution should amuse the rabble 
+when it confronts them, that the crowd loves to behold that 
+monstrous living pile of tinsel rags, half dimg, half light, roll 
+by on four wheels howling and laughing, that they should 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+J Mi AN VAUEAN. 191 
+
+clap their hands at this glory composed of all shames, that 
+there would be no festivals for the populace, did not the poJice 
+promenade in their midst these sorts twenty-headed of hydras 
+of joy. But what can be done about it ? These be-ribboned 
+and be-flowered tumbrils of mire are insulted and pardoned by 
+the laughter of the public. The laughter of all is the ac- 
+complice of universal degradation. Certain unhealthy festi- 
+vals disaggregate the people and convert them into the 
+populace. And populaces, like tyrants, require buffoons. 
+The King has Roquelaure, the populace has the Merry- 
+Andrew. Paris is a great, mad city on every occasion 
+that it is a great sublime city. There the Carnival forms 
+part of politics. Paris, — let us confess it — willingly allows 
+infamy to furnish it with comedy. She only demands of her 
+masters — when she has masters — one thing: "Paint me the 
+mud." Rome was of the same mind. She loved Nero. Nero 
+was a titanic lighterman. 
+
+Chance ordained, as we have just said, that one of these 
+shapeless clusters of masked men and women, dragged about 
+on a vast calash, should halt on the left of the boulevard, while 
+the wedding train halted on the right. The carriage-load of 
+masks caught sight of the wedding carriage containing the 
+bridal party opposite them on the other side of the boulevard. 
+
+" Hullo !" said a masker, "here's a wedding." 
+
+" A sham wedding," retorted another. " We are the genuine 
+article." 
+
+And, being too far off to accost the wedding party, and 
+fearing also, the rebuke of the police, the two maskers turned 
+their eyes elsewhere, 
+
+At the end of another minute, the carriage-load of maskers 
+had their hands full, the multitude set to yelling, which is 
+the crowd's caress to masquerades ; and the two maskers who 
+had just spoken had to face the throng with their comrades, 
+and did not find the entire repertory of projectiles of the 
+fish-markets too extensive to retort to the enormous verbal 
+attacks of the populace. A frightful exchange of metaphors 
+took place between the maskers and the crowd. 
+
+In the meanwhile, two other maskers in the same carriage, a 
+Spaniard with an enormous nose, an elderly air, and huge 
+black moustache, and a gaunt fishwife, who was quite a young 
+girl, masked with a loujp^ had also noticed the wedding, and 
+while their companions and the passers-by were exchanging 
+Mifiults, they had held a dialogue in a low voice. 
+^ A short mask. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+192 LES MISERABLES, 
+
+Their acide was covered by the tumult and was i«ipu in it 
+The gusts of rain had drenched the front ot tue vehicle, 
+which was wide open ; the breezes of February are not warm ^ 
+as the fishwife, clad in a low-necked gown, t*eplied to Uw 
+Spaniard, she shivered; laughed and coughed. 
+
+Here is their dialogue : 
+
+" Say now." 
+
+"What, daddy?" 
+
+" Do you see that old cove ? ** 
+
+«What old cove?" 
+
+" Yonder, in the first wedding-cart, on otjj- side." 
+
+" The one with his arm hung up in a black cravat ? " 
+
+« Yes." 
+
+«Well?" 
+
+« I'm sure that I know him." 
+
+«Ah!" 
+
+" I'm willing that they should cut my throat, and I'm r«3«dy 
+to swear that I never said either you, thou, or I, in my life, if 
+I don't know that Parisian." ^^pantinois.'] 
+
+« Paris in Pantin to-day." 
+
+« Can you see the bride if you stoop down ? '* 
+
+«No." 
+
+"And the bridegroom ?" 
+
+" There's no bridegroom in that trap." 
+
+"Bah!" 
+
+"Unless it's the old fellow." 
+
+« Try to get a sight of the bride by stooping very low.'* 
+
+"T can't." 
+
+" Never mind, that old cove who has something the mattei 
+with his paw I know, and that Pm positive." 
+
+" And what good does it do to know him ? " 
+
+«No one can tell. Sometimes it does ! " 
+
+" I don't care a hang for old fellows, that I don't !" 
+
+"I know him." 
+
+« Know him, if you want to." 
+
+" How the devil does he c^me to be one of the wedding 
+party ? " 
+
+«We are in it too." 
+
+«Where does that wedding come from ? " 
+
+«How should I know?" 
+
+«Listen." 
+
+"Well, what?" 
+
+" There's one thing you ought to da" 
+
+« What's that ? " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 193 
+
+« Get off of OUT trap and spin that wedding." 
+
+« What for ? " 
+
+" To find out where it goes, and what it is. Hurry uj) and 
+jump down, trot, my girl, your legs are young." 
+
+*' I can't quit the vehicle." 
+
+«Why not?" 
+
+" Pm hired." 
+
+«Ah, the devil!" 
+
+« I owe my fish-wife day to the prefecture." 
+
+«That's true." 
+
+« If I leave the cart, the first inspector who gets his eye on 
+me will arrest me. You know that well enough." 
+
+«Yes I do." 
+
+« I'm bought by the government for to-day." 
+
+« All the same, that old fellow bothers me." 
+
+«Bo the old fellows bother you? But you're not a young 
+girl." 
+
+« He's in the first carriage." 
+
+«Well?" 
+
+« In the bride's trap." 
+
+«What then?" 
+
+" So he is the father." 
+
+« What concern is that of mine ? ^ 
+
+«I tell you that he's the father." 
+
+« As if he were the only father." 
+
+«Listen." 
+
+«What?" 
+
+"I can't go out otherwise than masked. Here I'm con- 
+cealed, no one knows that I'm here. But to-morrow, there 
+will be no more maskers. It's AsÈ Wednesday. I run the 
+risk of being nàbbed. I must sneak back into my hole. But 
+you are free." 
+
+« Not particularly." 
+
+« More than I am, at any rate." 
+
+«Well, what of that?" 
+
+« You must try to find out where that wedding-party went 
+to." 
+
+«Where it went?" 
+
+«Yes." 
+
+« I know." 
+
+" Where is it going then ? " 
+
+«To the Cadran-Bleu." 
+
+« In the first place, it's not in that direction." 
+
+«Weill to la Râpée." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+194 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+**0r elsewhere." 
+
+" It^s free. Wedding-parties are at liberty." 
+
+" That's not the i)oint at all. I tell you that yon must try 
+to learn for me what that wedding is, who that old cove be- 
+longs to, and where that wedding pair lives." 
+
+" I like that ! that would be queer. It's so easy to find out 
+a wedding-party that passed through the street on a Shrove 
+Tuesday, a week afterwards. A pin in a hay-mow I It ain't 
+possible ! " 
+
+"That don't matter. You must try. You understand me. 
+Azehna." 
+
+The two files resumed their movement on both sides of the 
+boulevard, in opposite directions, and the carriage of the 
+maskers lost sight of the "trap " of the bride. 
+
+II. — Jean Valjban Still Wears His Arm in a Sliko. 
+
+To realize one's dream. To whom is this accorded ? There 
+must be elections for this in heaven ; we are all candidates, 
+unknown to ourselves ; the angels vote. Cosette and Man us 
+had been elected. 
+
+Cosette, both at the mayor's office and at church, was daz- 
+zling and touching. Toussaint, assisted by Nicolette, had 
+dressed her. 
+
+Cosette wore over a petticoat of white taffeta, her robe of 
+Binche guipure, a veil of English point, a necklace of fine 
+pearls, a wreath of orange flowers; all this was white, and, 
+from the midst of that whiteness she beamed forth. It was 
+an exquisite candor expî^iding and becoming transfigured in 
+the light. One would have pronounced her a virgin on the 
+point of turning into a goddess. 
+
+Marius' handsome hair was lustrous and perfumed; here 
+and there, beneath the thick curls, pale lines — the scars of 
+the barricade — were visible. 
+
+The grandfather, haughty, with head held high, amalgamat- 
+ing more than ever in his toilet and his manners all the ele- 
+gances of the epoch of Barras, escorted Cosette. He took the 
+place of Jean Valjean, who, on account of his arm being still 
+in a sling, could not give his hand to the bride. 
+
+Jean Valjean, dressed in black, followed them with a 
+smile. 
+
+" Monsieur Fauchelevent," said the grandfather to him, 
+"this is a fine day. I vote for the end of afflictions and sor- 
+rows. Henceforth, there must be no sadness anywhere. Par- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 196 
+
+dieu, I decree joy I Eyil has no right to exist That there 
+should be any unhappy men is, in sooth, a disgrace to the 
+azure of the sky. Evil does not come from man, who is good 
+at bottom. All human miseries have for theii* capital and cen- 
+tral government hell, otherwise known as the Devil's Tui- 
+leries. Good, here I am uttering demagogical words ! As far 
+as I am concerned, I have no longer any political opinions ; 
+let all men be rich, that is to say, mirthful, and I confine myself 
+to that." 
+
+When, at the conclusion of all the ceremonies, after having 
+pronounced before the mayor and before the priest all possible 
+"yeses," after having signed the registers at the municipality 
+and at the sacristy, after having exchanged their rings, after 
+having knelt side by side under the pall of white moire in the 
+smoke of the censer, they arrived, hand in hand, admired and 
+envied by all, Marius in black, she in white, preceded by the 
+suisse, with the epaulets of a colonel, tapping the pavement 
+with his halberd, between two rows of astonished spectators, 
+at the portals of the church, both leaves of which were thrown 
+wide open, ready to enter their carriage again, and all being 
+finished, Cosette still could not believe that it was real. She 
+looked at Marius, she looked at the crowd, she looked at th^ 
+sky : it seemed as though she feared that she should wake up 
+from her dream. Her amazed and uneasy air added something 
+indescribably enchanting to her beauty. They entered the 
+samq carriage to return home, Marius beside Cosette ; M. GiUe- 
+normand and Jean Valjean sat opposite them ; Aunt Gillenor- 
+mand had withdrawn one degree, and waâ in the second 
+vehicle. 
+
+" My children," said the grandfather, " here you are, Monsieur 
+ie Baron and Madame la Baronne, with an income of thirty 
+thousand livres." 
+
+And Cosettte, nestling close to Marius, caressed his ear with 
+an angelic whisper : " So it is true. My name is Marius. I 
+am Madame Thou." 
+
+These two creatures were resplendent. They had reached 
+that irrevocable and irrecoverable moment, at the dazzling 
+intersection of all youth and all joy. They realized the verses 
+of Jean Prouvaire ; they were forty years old taken together. 
+It was marriage sublimated; these two children were two 
+lilies. They did not see each other, they did not contem- 
+plate each other. Cosette perceived Marius in the midst of 
+a glory ; Marius perceived Cosette on an altar. And on that 
+altar, and in that glory, the two apotheoses mingling^ in the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+196 LBS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+backgroTUid, one knows not how^ behind a cloud for Cosette. 
+in a flash for Marins, there was the ideal thing, the real thing, 
+the meeting of the kiss and the dream, the nuptial pillow. 
+All the torments through which they had passed, came back 
+to them in intoxication. It seemed to them that their sorrows, 
+their sleepless nights, their tears, their anguish, their terrors, 
+their despair, converted into caresses and rays of light, ren- 
+dered still more charming the charming hour which was 
+approaching ; and that their griefs were but so many hand- 
+maidens who were preparing the toilet of joy. How good it 
+is to have suffered ! Their unhappiness formed a halo round 
+their happiness. The long agony of their love was terminal 
+ing in an ascension. 
+
+It was the same enchantment in two souls, tinged with 
+voluptuousness in Marius, and with modesty in Cosette. They 
+said to each other in low tones : " We will go back to take a 
+look at our little garden in the . Rue Plumet" The folds of 
+Cosette' s gown lay across Marius. 
+
+Such a day is an ineffable mixture of dream and of reality. 
+One possesses and one supposes. One still has time before 
+one to divine. The emotion on that day, of being at mid-^j 
+and of dreaming of midnight is indescribable. The delights of 
+these two hearts overiiowed upon the crowd, and inspired the 
+passers-by with cheerfulness. 
+
+People halted in tK« Rue Saint-Antoine, in front of Saint- 
+Paul, to gaze through the windows of the carriage at the 
+orange-flowers quivering on Cosette's head. 
+
+Then they returned home to the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaira 
+Marius, triumphant and radiant, mounted side by side with 
+Cosette the staircase up which he had been borne in a dying 
+condition. The poor, who had trooped to the door, and Vho 
+shared their purses, blessed them. There were flowers eveiy- 
+where. The house was no less fragrant than the church; 
+after the incense, roses. They thought they heard voices ca^ 
+oiling in the infinite; they had God in their hearts; destiny 
+appeared to them like a ceiling of stars ; above their heads 
+they beheld the light of a rising sun. All at once, the clock 
+struck. Marius glanced at Cosette's charming bare arm, and 
+at the rosy things which were vaguely visible through the lace 
+of her bodice, and Cosette, intercepting Marius* glance, blushed 
+to her very hair. 
+
+Quite a number of old family friends of the Gillenorraand 
+family had been invited; they pressed about Cosette. Each 
+one vied with the rest in saluting her as Madame la Baionn» 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 197 
+
+- The officer, Thëodule Gillenormand, now a captain, had 
+€ome from Chartres, where he was stationed in garrison, to be 
+present at the wedding of his cousin Fontmercy. Cosette did 
+not recognize him. 
+
+He, on his side, habituated as he was to have women con- 
+sider him handsome, retained no more recollection of Cosette 
+than of any other woman. 
+
+" How right 1 was not to believe in that story about the 
+lancer ! " said Father Gillenorraand to himself. 
+
+Cosette had never been more tender with Jean Val jean. 
+She was in unison with Pather Gillenormand ; . while he 
+erected joy into aphorisms and maxims, she exhaled goodness 
+like a perfume. Happiness desires that all the world should 
+be happy. 
+
+She regained, for the purpose of addressing Jean Valjean, 
+inflections of voice belonging to the time when she was a little 
+girl. She caressed him with her smile. 
+
+A banquet had been spread in the dining-room. 
+
+Illumination as brilliant as the daylight, is the necessary 
+seasoning of a great joy. Mist and obscurity are not accepted 
+by the happy. They do not consent to be black. The night, 
+yes : the shadows, no. If there is no sun, one must be made. 
+
+The dining-room was full of gay things. In the centre, 
+above the white and glittering table, was a Venetian lustre 
+with flat plates, with all sorts of colored birds, blue, violet, 
+red, and green, perched amid the candles; around the 
+chandelier, girandoles, on the walls, sconces with triple 
+and quintuple branches; mirrors, silver-ware, glass-ware, 
+plate, porcelain, faïence, pottery, gold and silversmith's work, 
+all was sparkling and gay. The empty spaces between the 
+candelabra were filled in with bouquets, so that, where there 
+was not a light, there was a flower. 
+
+In the antechamber, three violins and a flute softly played 
+quartettes by Haydn. 
+
+Jean Valjean bad seated himself on a chair in the drawing- 
+room, behind the door, the leaf of which folded back upon 
+him in such a manner as to nearly conceal him. A few mo- 
+ments before they sat down to table, Cosette came, as though 
+inspired by a sudden whim, and made him a deep curtsey, 
+spreading out her bridal toilet with both hands^ and with a 
+tenderly roguish glance, she asked him: 
+
+^ Father, are you satisfied ? '* 
+
+•* Yes," said Jean Valjean, " I am contenf 
+
+«Well, thei,laugh.^' 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+I9g LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Jean Valjean began to laugh. 
+
+A few moments later, Basque announoed that dinner was 
+served. 
+
+The guests, preceded by M. Gillenormand with Cosette on 
+his arm, entered the dining-room, and arranged themselres in 
+the proper order around the table. 
+
+Two large arm-chairs figured on the right and left of the 
+bride, the first for M. Gillenormand, the other for Jean Val 
+jean. M. Gillenormand took his seat. The other arm-chaii 
+remained empty. 
+
+They looked about for M. Fauohelevent. 
+
+He was no longer there. 
+
+M. Gillenormand 'questioned Basque. 
+
+" Do you kaiow where M. Fauchelevent is ? '* 
+
+" Sir," replied Basque, " I do, precisely. M. Fauchelevent 
+told me to say to you, sir, that he was suffering, his injured 
+hand was paining him somewhat, and that he could not dine 
+with Monsieur le Bai'on and Madame la Baronne. That he 
+begged to be excused, that he would come tomorrow. He has 
+just taken his departure." 
+
+That empty arm-chair chilled the effusion of the wedding 
+feast for a moment. But, if M. Fauchelevent was absent^ M. 
+Gillenormand was present, and the grandfather beamed for 
+two. He .affirmed that M. Fauchelevent had done well to retire 
+early, if he were suffering, but that it was only a slight ail- 
+ment. This declaration sufficed. Moreover, what is an 
+obscure corner in such a submersion of joy ? Cosette and 
+Marius were passing through one of those egotistical and 
+blessed moments, when no other faculty is left to a person 
+than that of receiving happiness. And then, an idea occurred 
+to M. Gillenormand. — "Pardieu, this armchair is empty. 
+Come hither, Marius, Your aunt will permit it, although she 
+has a right to you. This armchair is for you. That is legal 
+and delightful. Fortunatus beside Fortunata." — Applause 
+from the whole table. Maiius took Jean Valjean's place beside 
+Cosette, and things fell out so that Cosette, who had, at first, 
+been saddened by Jean Valjean's absence, ended by beicg 
+satisfied with it. From the moment when Marius took his 
+place, and was the substitute, Cosette would not have regrt*tted 
+God himself. She set her sweet little foot, shod in white 
+satin, on Marius' foot. 
+
+The armchair being occupied, M. Fauchelevent was oblit- 
+erated ; and nothing was lacking. 
+
+And, five minutes afterwards, the whole table^ from one end 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by'Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. IW 
+
+ko the other^ was laughing with all the animation of forgets 
+fulness. 
+
+At dessert, M. Gillenormand rising to his feet, with a glass 
+of champagne in his hand — only half full so that the palsy 
+of his eighty years might not cause an overflow, — proposed 
+the health of the married pair. 
+
+"You shall not escape two sermons," he exclaimed. "This 
+morning, you had one from the curé, this evening you shall 
+have one from your grandfather. Listen to me ; I will give 
+you a bit of advice : Adore each other. I do not make a 
+pack of gyrations, I go straight to the mark, be happy. In 
+all creation, only the turtle-doves are wise. Philosophers 
+say : ' Moderate your joys.' I say : ' Give rein to your joys.' 
+Be as much smitten with each other as fiends. Be in a rage 
+about it. The philosophers talk stuff and nonsense. I should 
+like to stuff their philosophy down their gullets again. Can 
+there be too many perfumes, too many open rose-buds, too many 
+nightingales singing, too many green leaves, too much aurora 
+in life ? can people love each other too much ? can people 
+please each other too much ? Take care, Estelle, thou art too 
+pretty ! Have a care, Nemorin, thou art too handsome ! Fine 
+stupidity, in sooth ! Can people enchant each other too much, 
+cajole each other too much, charm each other too much ? can 
+one be too much alive, too happy ? Moderate your joys. Ah, 
+indeed I Down with the philosophers! Wisdom consists in 
+lubilation. Make merry, let us make merry. Are ^e happy 
+because we are good, or are we good because we are happy ? 
+Is the Sancy diamond called the Sancy because it belonged to 
+Harley de Sancy, or because it weighs six hundred carats ? 
+I know nothing about it, life is full of such problems ; the 
+important point is to possess the Sancy and happiness. Let 
+us be happy without quibbling and quirking. Let us obey the 
+sun blindly. What is the sun ? It is love. He who says love, 
+says woman. Ah! ah! behold omnipotence — women. Ask 
+that demagogue of a Marins if he is not the slave of that little 
+tyrant of a Cosette. And of his own free will, too, the coward ! 
+Woman f There is no Robespierre who keeps his place, but 
+woman reigns. I am no longer Royalist except towards that 
+royalty. What is Adam ? The kingdom of Eve. No '89 for 
+Eve. There has been the royal sceptre surmounted by a fleur 
+de lys, there has been the imperial sceptre surmounted by a 
+globe, there has been the sceptre of Charlemagne, which was 
+of iron, thero has been the sceptre of Louis the Great, which 
+was of gold, — the revolution twisted them between its thumb 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+200 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+and forefinger, ha'penny straws ; it is done with, it is broken 
+it lies on the earth, there is no longer any sceptre, but uiakf 
+me a revolution against that little embroidered handkerehii^, 
+which smells of patchouli ! I should like to see you do it 
+Try. Why is it so solid? Because it is a gewgjiw. Ah! 
+you are the nineteenth century? Well, what then? And 
+we have been as foolish as you. Do not ims^ine that you 
+have effected much change in the universe, because your trip- 
+gallant is called the cholerarmorbus, and because your pourrie 
+is called the cachuca. In fact, the women must always be 
+loved. I defy you to escape from that. These friends are 
+our angels. Yes, love, woman, the kiss forms a circle from 
+which I defy you to escape ; and, for my own part, I should 
+be only too happy to re-enter it. Which of you has seen the 
+planet Venus, the coquette of the abyss, the Célimène of the 
+ocean, rise in the infinite, calming all here below? The 
+ocean is a rough Alcestis. Well, grumble as he will, when 
+Venus appears he is forced to smile. That brute beast sub> 
+mits. We are all made so. Wrath, tempest, claps of thunder, 
+foam to the very ceiling. A woman enters on the scene, a 
+planet rises; flat on your face! Marins was fighting six 
+months ago; today he is married. That is well. Yea, 
+Marins, yes, Cosette, you are in the right. Exist boldly for 
+each other, make us burst with rage that we cannot do the 
+same, idealize each other, catch in your beaks all the tiny 
+blades of felicity that exist on earth, and arrange yourselves a 
+nest for life. Pardi, to love, to be loved, what a fine miracle 
+when one is young I Don't imagine that you have invented 
+that. I too, have had my dream, I too have meditated, I too 
+have sighed ; I too, have had a moonlight soul. Love is a child 
+six thousand years old. Love has the right to a long white 
+beard. Methusalem is a street arab beside Cupid. For sixty 
+centuries, men and women have got out of their scrape by 
+loving. The devil, who is cunning, took to hating man; 
+man, who is still more cunning, took to loving woman. In 
+this way he does more good than the devil does him harm. 
+This craft was discovered in the days of the terrestrial paradise. 
+The invention is old, my friends, but it is perfectly new. 
+Profit by it. Be Daphnis, and Chloe, while waiting to become 
+Philemon and Baucis. Manage so that, when you are with 
+each other, nothing shall be lacking to you, and that Cosette 
+may be the sun for Marins, and that Marins may be the uni- 
+verse to Cosette. Cosette, let your fine weather be the smile 
+of your husband ^ MariuSi let your raiu be your wife's tears^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 201 
+
+And let it never rain in your houseliold. You have filched 
+the winning number in the lottery; you have gained the 
+groat prize, guard it well, keep it under lock and key, do not 
+squander it, adore each other and snap your ûngers at all the 
+rest. Believe what I say to you. It is good sense. And 
+good sense cannot lie. Be a religion to each other. Each 
+man has his own fashion of adoring God, Saperlotte ! the best 
+way to adore Grod is to love one's wife. / love thee I that's 
+my catechism. He who loves is orthodox. The oath of Henri 
+IV. places sanctity somewhere between feasting and drunken- 
+ness. Ventre-saint-gris 1 I don't belong to the religion of 
+that oath. Woman is forgotten in it. This astonishes me on 
+the part of Henri IV. My friends, long live women ! I am 
+old, they say : it's astonishing how much I feel in the mood 
+to be young. I should like to go and listen to the bagpipes in 
+the woods. Children who contrive to be beautiful and con- 
+tented, — that intoxicates me. I would like greatly to get 
+married, if any one would have me. It is impossible to 
+imagine that God could have made us for anything but this : 
+to idolize, to coo, to preen ourselves, to be dove-like, to be 
+dainty, to bill and coo our loves from mom to night, to gaze 
+at one's image in one's little wife, to be proud, to be triumphant 
+to plume oneself ; that is the aim of life. Therç, let not that 
+displease you which we used to think in our day, when we were 
+young folks. Ah ! vertu-bamboche ! what charming women 
+there were in those days, and what pretty little faces and 
+what lovely lasses! I committed my ravages among them. 
+Then love each other. If people did not love each other, I 
+really do not see what use there would be in having any 
+springtime ; and for my own part, I should pray the good God 
+to shut up all the beautiful things that he shows us, and to take 
+away from us and put back in his box, the flowers, the birds, 
+and the pretty maidens. My children, receive an old man's 
+blessing." 
+
+The evening was gay, lively and agreeable. The grand- 
+father's sovereign good humor gave the key-note to the whole 
+feast, and each person regulated his conduct on that almost 
+centenarian cordiality. They danced a little, they laughed a 
+great deal ; it was an amiable wedding. Goodman Days of 
+Yore might have been invited to it. However, he was present 
+in the person of Father Gillenormand. 
+
+There was a tuinult, then silence. 
+
+The married pair disappeared. 
+
+A little alter midnight, the Gillenormand house became a 
+temple. 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQ IC 
+
+
+
+202 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+Here we pause. On the threshold of wedding nights standi^ 
+a smiling angel with his finger ou his lips. 
+
+The soul enters into contemplation before that sanctuarj 
+where the celebration of love takes place. 
+
+There should be Hashes of light athwart such houses. The 
+joy which they contain ought to make its escape through the 
+stones of the walls in brilliancy, and vaguely illuminate the 
+gloom. It is impossible that this sacred and fatal festival 
+should not give ofif a celestial radiance to the infinite. Love 
+is the sublime crucible wherein the fusion of the man and the 
+woman takos place ; the being one, the being triple, the being 
+final, the human trinity proceeds from it This birth of two 
+souls into one, ought to be an emotion for the gloom. The 
+lover is the priest; the ravished virgin is terrified. Some- 
+thing of that joy ascends to God. Where true marriage is, 
+that is to say, where there is love, the ideal enters in. A 
+nuptial bed makes a nook of dawn amid the shadows. If it 
+were given to the eye of the flesh to scan the formidable and 
+charming visions of the upper life, it is probable that we 
+should behold the forms of night, the winged unknowns, the 
+blue passers of the invisible, bend down, a throng of sombre 
+heads, around the luminous house, satisfied, showering bene- 
+dictions, pointing out to each other the virgin wife gently 
+alarmed, sweetly terrified, and bearing the reflection of human 
+bliss upon their divine countenances. If at that supreme 
+hour, the wedded pair, dazzled with voluptuousness and be- 
+lieving themselves alone were to listen, they would hear in 
+their chamber a confused rustling of wings. Perfect happiness 
+implies a mutual understanding with the angels. That dark 
+little chamber has all heaven for its ceiling. When two 
+mouths, rendered sacred by love, approach to create, it is im- 
+possible, that there should not be, above that ineffable kiss, a 
+quivering throughout the immense mystery of stars. 
+
+These felicities are the true ones. There is no joy outside 
+of these joys. Love is the only ecstasy. All the rest weeps. 
+
+To love, or to have loved, — this suffices. Demand nothing 
+more. There is no other pearl to be found in the shadowy 
+folds of life. To love is a fulfilment. 
+
+III. — Thb Inseparable. 
+
+What had become of Jean Valjean ? 
+
+Immediately after having laughed, at Cosette's graceful 
+command, when no one was paying any heed to him, Jean Val- 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 203 
+
+jean had risen, and h;ul gained the antechamber unperceived. 
+This was the very room which, eight months before, he had 
+entered black with mud, with blood and powder, bringing 
+back the grandson to the grandfather. The old wainscoting 
+was garlanded with foliage and flowers ; the musicians were 
+seated on the sofa on which they had laid Marins down. 
+Bcvsque, in a black coat, knee-breeches, white stockings and 
+white gloves, was arranging roses round all of the dishes that 
+were to be served. Jean Val jean pointed to his arm in its 
+iling, charged Basque to explain his absence, and went away. 
+
+The long windows of the dining-room opened on the street. 
+Jean Valjean stood for several minutes, erect and motionless 
+in the darkness, beneath those radiant windows. He listened. 
+The confused sounds of the banquet reached his ear. He 
+heard the loud, commanding tones of the grandfather, the vio- 
+lins, the clatter of the plates, the bursts of laughter, and 
+through all that merry uproar, he distinguished Cosette's 
+sweet and joyous voice. 
+
+He quitted the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, and returned to 
+the Rue de FHomme Armé. 
+
+In order to return thither, he took the Rue Saint Louis, the 
+Bue Culture-Sainte-Catherine, and the Blancs-Manteaux; it 
+was a little longer, but it was the road through which, for the 
+last three months, he had become accustomed to pass every 
+day on his way from the Rue de PHomme Armé to the Rue 
+des Filles-du-Calvaire, in order to avoid the obstructions and 
+the mud in the Rue Vielle-du-Temple. 
+
+This road, through which Cosette had passed, excluded for 
+him, all possibility of any other itinerary. 
+
+Jean Valjean entered his lodgings. He lighted his candle 
+and mounted the stairs. The apartment was empty. Even 
+Toussaint was no longer there. Jean Val jean's step made 
+more noise than usual in the chambers. All the cupboards 
+stood open. He penetrated to Cosette's bedroom. There 
+were no sheets on the bed. The pillow, covered with ticking, 
+and without a case or lace, was laid on the blankets folded up 
+on the foot of the mattress, whose covering was visible, and 
+on which no one was ever to sleep again. All the little femi- 
+nine objects which Cosette was attached to, had been carried 
+away; nothing remained except the h 3a vy furniture and the 
+four walls. Toussaint's bed was despoiled in like manner. 
+One bed only was made up, and seemed to be awaiting some 
+one, and this was Jean Valjean's bed. 
+
+Jean Valjean looked at the walls, closed some of the 
+
+
+
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+
+204 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+cupboard doon^ and went and came from one room to 
+
+another. 
+
+Then he sought his own chamber once more, and set his 
+candle on a table. 
+
+He had disengaged his arm from the sling, and he nsed his 
+right hand as thoughnt did not hurt him. 
+
+He approached his bed, and his eyes rested, was it by 
+chance ? was it intentionally ? on the inseparable of which 
+Cosette had been jealous, on the little portmanteau which 
+never left him. Ou his arrival in the Rue de l'Homme Armé, 
+on the 4th of June, he had deposited it on a round table near 
+the head of his bed. He weut to this table with a sort of 
+vivacity, took a key from his pocket, and opened the valise. 
+
+From it he slowly drew forth the garments in which, ten 
+years before, Cosette had quitted Montfermeil; first the little 
+gown, then the black fichu, then the stout, coarse child's shoes 
+which Cosette might almost have worn still, so tiny were her 
+feet, then the fustian bodice, which was very thick, then the 
+knitted petticoat, next the apron with pockets, then the 
+woollen stockings. These stockings, which still preserved the 
+graceful form of a tiny leg, were no longer than Jean Val- 
+
+{' can's hand. All this was black of hue. It was he who had 
+wrought those garments to Montfermeil for her. As he re- 
+moved them from the valise, he laid them on the bed. He 
+fell to thinking. He called up memories. It was in winter, 
+in a very cold month of December, she was shivering, half- 
+naked, in rags, her poor little feet were all red in theii 
+wooden shoes. He, Jean Val jean, had made her abandon those 
+rags to clothe herself in these mourning habiliments. The 
+mother must have felt pleased in her grave, to see her daugh- 
+ter wearing mourning for her, and, above all, to see that aie 
+was properly clothed, and that she was warm. He thought of 
+that forest of Montfermeil ; they had traversed it together, 
+Cosette and he ; he thought of what the weather had been, of 
+the leafless trees, of the wood destitute of birds, of the sun- 
+less sky ; it mattered not, it was charming. He arranged the 
+tiny garments on the bed, the fichu next to the petticoat, the 
+stockings beside the shoes, and he looked at them, one after 
+the other. She was no taller than that, she had her big doll 
+in her arms, she had put her louis d'or in the pocket of that 
+apron, she had laughed, they walked hand in hand, she had no 
+one in the world but him. 
+
+Then his venerable, white head fell forward on the bed, that 
+stoical old heart, broke, his face was engulfed, so to speak, in 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 205 
+
+Cosette's garments, and if any one had passed up the stairs at 
+that moment^ he would have heard frightful sobs. 
+
+IV. — The Immortal Liver.» 
+
+Thb old and formidable struggle, of which we have already 
+witnessed so many phases, began once more. 
+
+Jacob struggled with the angel but one night. Alas ! how 
+many times have we beheld Jean Valjean seized bodily by 
+his conscience, in the darkness, and struggling desperately 
+against it! 
+
+Unheard-of conflict ! At certain moments the foot slips ; 
+at other moments the ground crumbles away underfoot. 
+How many times had that conscience, mad for the good, 
+clasped and overthrown him ! How many times had the truth, 
+set her knee inexorably upon his breast ! How many times, 
+hurled to earth by the light, had he begged for mercy ! How 
+many times had that implacable spark, lighted within him, 
+and upon him by the Bishop, dazzled him by force when he had 
+wished to be blind ! How many times had he risen to his feet 
+in the combat, held fast to the rock, leaning against sophism, 
+dragged in the dust, now getting the upper hand of his con- 
+science, again overthrown by it I How many times, after an 
+equivoque, after the specious and treacherous reasoning of ego- 
+tism, had he heard his irritated conscience cry in his ear : " A 
+trip ! you wretch ! " How many times had his refractory 
+thoughts rattled convulsively in his throat, under the evi- 
+dence of duty I Eesistance to God. Funereal sweats. What 
+secret wounds which he alone felt bleed ! What excoriations 
+in his lamentable existence ! How many times he had risen 
+bleeding, bruised, broken, enlightened, despair in his heart, 
+serenity in his soul I and, vanquished, he had felt himself the 
+conqueror. And, after having dislocated, broken, and rent his 
+conscience with red-hot pincers, it had said to him, as it stood 
+over him, formidable, luminous, and tranquil: "Now, go in 
+peace ! '' 
+
+But on emerging from so melancholy a conflict, what a lugu- 
+brious peace, alas ! 
+
+Nevertheless, that night Jean Valjean felt that he was pasi»- 
+ing through his final combat. 
+
+A heartrending question presented itself. 
+
+Predestinations are not all direct ; they do not open out in 
+* straight avenue before the predestined man ; they have 
+^ In allnsion to the story of Prometheus. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
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+
+206 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+blind courts, impassable alleys, obscure turns, disturbing 
+cross-roads offering the choice of many ways. Jeau Valjeau 
+had halted at that moment at the most perilous of these 
+cross-roads. 
+
+He had come to the supreme crossing of good and evil. He 
+had that gloomy intersection beneath his eyes. On this 
+accasion once more, as had happened to him already in othei 
+sad vicissitudes, two roads opened out before him, the cue 
+tempting, the other idarming. 
+
+Which was he to take ? 
+
+He was counselled to the one which alarmed him by that 
+mysterious index linger which we all perceive whenever we 
+fix our eyes on the darkness. 
+
+Once more, Jean Valjean had the choice between the terri- 
+ble port and the smiling ambush. 
+
+Is it then true? the soul may recover; but not fate. 
+Frightful thing I an incurable destiny ! 
+
+This is the problem which presented itself to him : 
+
+In what manner was Jccan Vîiljean to behave in relation to 
+the happiness of Cosette and Alarius ? It was he who had 
+willed that happiness, it was he who had brought it about ; 
+he had, himself, buried it in his entrails, and at that moment, 
+when he reflected on it, he was able to enjoy the sort of satis- 
+faction which an armorer would experience on recognizing his 
+factory mark on a knife, on withdrawing it, all smoking, 
+from his own breast. 
+
+Cosette had Marius, Marius possessed Cosette. They had 
+everything, even riches. And this was his doing. 
+
+But what was he, Jean Valjeau. to do with this happiness, 
+now that it existed, now that it was there ? Should he fonre 
+himself on this happiness ? Should he treat it as belonging to 
+him ? No doubt, Cosette did belong to another ; but should 
+he, Jean Valjean, retain of Cosette all tliat he could retain ? 
+Should he remain the sort of father, half seen but respected, 
+which he had hitherto been ? Should he, without sayini; a 
+word, bring his past to that future ? Should he present him- 
+self there, as though he had a right, and should he seat him- 
+self, veiled, at that luminous fireside ? Should he take those 
+innocent hands into his tragic hands, with a smile f Should 
+he place upon the peaceful fender of the Gillenormand draw- 
+ing-room those feet of his, which dragged behind them the dis- 
+graceful shadow of the law. Should he enter into participation 
+in the fair fortunes of Cosette and Marius ? Should he render 
+the obscurity on his brow and the cloud upon theirs still mote 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 207 
+
+dense ? Should he place his catastrophe as a third associate 
+in their felicity ? Should he continue to hold his peace ? In 
+a word, should he be the sinister mute of destiny beside these 
+two happy beings ? 
+
+We must have become habituated to patality and to encoun- 
+ters with it, in order to have the daring to raise our eyes when 
+certain questions appear to us in all their horrible naked- 
+ness. Good or evil stands behind this severe interrogation 
+point. What are you going to do ? demands the sphinx. 
+
+This habit of trial Jean Valjean possessed. He gazed 
+intently at the sphinx. 
+
+He examined the pitiless problem under all its aspects. 
+
+Cosette, that charming existence, was the raft of this 
+shipwreck. What was he to do? To cling fast to it, or to 
+let go his hold? 
+
+If he clung to it, he should emerge from disaister, he should 
+ascend again into the sunlight, he should let the bitter water 
+drip from his garments and his hair, he was saved, he should 
+live. 
+
+And if he let go his hold ? 
+
+Then, the abyss. 
+
+Thus he took sad council with his thoughts. Or, to speak 
+more correctly, he fought; he kicked furiously internally, 
+now against his will, now against his conviction. 
+
+Happily for Jean Valjean that he had been able to weep. 
+That relieved him, possibly. But the beginning was savage. A 
+tempest, more furious than the one which had formerly driven 
+him to Arras, broke loose within him. The past surged up be- 
+fore him facing the present ; he compared them and sobbed. 
+The sluice of tears once opened, the despairing man writhed. 
+
+He felt that he had been stopped short* 
+
+Alas I in this fight to the death between our egotism and 
+our duty, when we thus retreat step by step before our 
+immutable ideal, bewildered, furious, exasperated at having 
+to yield, disputing the ground, hoping for a possible flight, 
+seeKing an escape, wh^t an abrupt and sinister resistance does 
+the foot of the wall offer in our rear I 
+
+To feel the sacred shadow which forms an obstacle I 
+
+The invisible inexorable, what an obsession I 
+
+Then, one is never done with conscience. Make your 
+choice, Brutus; make your choice, Cato. It is fathomless, 
+since it is God. One flint^^s into that well the labor of one's 
+whole life, one flings in one's fortune, one flings in one's riches, 
+3ne flings in one's success, one flings in one's liberty or father* 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+208 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+land, one flings in one's well-being, one flings in one*s repoae, 
+one flings in one's joy ! More ! more ! more I Empty the 
+vase! tip the urn! One must finish by flinging in one's 
+heart. 
+
+Somewhere in the fog of the ancient hells, there is a tun 
+like that. 
+
+Is not one pardonable, if one at last refuses ! Can the 
+inexhaustible have any right? Are not chains which are 
+endless above human strength ? Who would blame Sisyphus 
+and Jean Valjean for saying : " It is enough ! " 
+
+The obedience of matter is limited by friction ; is there no 
+limit to the obedience of the soul? If per{)etual motion is 
+impossible, can perpetual self-sacrifice be exacted? 
+
+The first step is nothing, it is the last which is difBeult. 
+What was the Champmathieu affair it comparison with 
+Oosette's marriage and of that which it entailed I What is 
+a re-entrance into the galleys^ compared to entrance into 
+the void ? 
+
+Oh, first step that must be descended, how sombre art thoa ! 
+Oh, second step, how black art thou 1 
+
+How could he refrain from turning aside his head this 
+time? 
+
+Martyrdom is sublimation, corrosive sublimation. It is a 
+torture which consecrates. One can consent to it for the first 
+hour ; one seats oneself on the throne of glowing iron, one 
+places on one's head the crown of hot iron, one accepts the 
+globe of red hot iron, one takes the sceptre of red hot iron, 
+but the mantle of flame still remains to be donned, and comes 
+there not a moment when the miserable flesh revolts and when 
+one abdicates from suffering ? 
+
+At length, Jean Valjean entered into the peace of exhaus- 
+tion. 
+
+He weighed, he reflected, he considered the alternatives^ 
+the mysterious balance of light and darkness. 
+
+Should he impose his galleys on those two dazzling chil- 
+dren, or should he consummate his irremediable engulfment by 
+himself? On one side lay the sacrifice of Cosette, on the 
+other that of himself. 
+
+At what solution should he arrive ? What decision did he 
+come to ? 
+
+What resolution did he take ? What was his own inward 
+definitive response to the unbribable interrogatory of fatality ? 
+What door did he decide to 0|)en ? Which side of his life did 
+he resolve upon closing and condemning ? Among all the 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 209 
+
+unfathomable precipices which surrounded him, which was his 
+choice ? What extremity did he accept ? To which of the 
+gulfs did he nod his head ? 
+
+His dizzy revery lasted all night long. 
+
+He remained there until daylight, in the same attitude, bent 
+double over that bed, prostrate beneath the enormity of fate, 
+crushed, perchance, alas ! with clenched fists, with arms out- 
+spread at right angles, like a man crucified who has been un- 
+nailed, and flung face down on the earth. There he remained 
+for twelve hours, the twelve long hours of a long winters 
+night, ice-cold, without once raising his head, and without ut- 
+tering a word. He was as motionless as a corpse, while his 
+thoughts wallowed on the earth and soared, now like the 
+hydra, now like the eagle. Any one to behold him thus mo- 
+tionless, would have pronounced him dead ; all at once he 
+shuddered convulsively, and his mouth, glued to Gosette's gar- 
+ments, kissed them ; then it could be seen that he was alive. 
+
+Who could see ? Since Jean Valjean was alone, and there 
+was no one there. 
+
+The One who is in the shadows. 
+
+
+
+BOOK SEVENTH. — THE LAST DRAUGHT PROM 
+THE CUP. 
+
+I. — The Seventh Circle and the Eighth Heaven. 
+
+The days that follow weddings are solitary. People respeoi 
+the meditations of the happy pair. And also, their tardy 
+slumbers, to some degree. The tumult of visits and congrat- 
+ulations only begins later on. On the morning of the 17th 
+of February, it was a little past midday when Basque, with 
+napkin and feather-duster under his arm, busy in setting his 
+antechamber to rights, heard a light tap at the door. There 
+had been no ring, which was discreet on such a day. Basque 
+opened the door, and beheld M. Fauchelevent. He introduced 
+him into the drawing-room, still encumbered and topsy-turvy, 
+and which bore the air of a field of battle after the joys oi 
+the preceding evening. 
+
+" Dame, sir," remarked Basque, " we all woke up late/' 
+
+" Is your master up ? " asked Jean Valjean. 
+
+" How is Monsieur's arm ? " replied Basque. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+210 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+** Bettor. Is your master up ? '* 
+
+" Wliich one ? the old one or the new one ? *' 
+
+" Monsieur Pontmercy." 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron," said Basque, drawing himself up. 
+
+A man is a Baron most of all to his servants. He counts 
+for something with tliem ; they are what a philosopher would 
+call, bespattered with tlie title, and that flatters them. Mahus, 
+be it said in passing, a militant republican as he had proved, 
+was now a Baron in spite of himself. A small revolution had 
+taken place in the family in connection with this title. It was 
+now M. Gillenormand who clung to it, and Marius who de- 
+tached himself from it. But Colonel Pontmercy had written : 
+^* My son will bear my title." Marius obeyed. And then, Co- 
+sette, in whom the woman was beginning to dawn, was de- 
+lighted to be a Baroness. 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron ? " re()eated Basque. " I will go and 
+see. I will tell him that M. Fauchelevent is here." 
+
+" No. Do not tell him that it is I. Tell him that some one 
+wishes to speak to him in private, and mention no name.'' 
+
+" Ah ! " ejaculated Basque. 
+
+" I wish to surprise him." 
+
+" Ah ! " ejaculated Basque once more, emitting his second 
+'<ah ! " as an explanation of the first. 
+
+And he left the room. 
+
+Jean V«aljean remained alone. 
+
+The drawing-room, as we have just said, was in great disor- 
+der. It seemed as though, by lending an ear, one might still 
+hear the vague noise of the wedding. On the polished floor 
+lay all sorts of flowers whicli had fallen from garlands and 
+head-dresses. The wax candles, burned to stumps, added 
+stalactites of wax to the crystal drops of the chandeliers. 
+Not a single piece of furniture was in its place. In the cor- 
+ners, three or four arm-chairs drawn close together in a circle, 
+had the ap})earance of continuing a conversation. The whole 
+effect was cheerful. A certain grace still lingers round a dead 
+feast. It has been a happy thing. On the chairs in disarray, 
+among those fading flowers, beneath those extinct lights, people 
+have thought of joy. The sun had succeeded to the chande- 
+lier, and made its way gayly into the drawing-room. 
+
+Several minutes elapsed. Jean Valjean stood motionless on 
+the spot where Basque had left him. He was very pale. His 
+eyes were hollow, and so sunken in his head by sleeplessness 
+that they nearly disa]>])eared in their orbits. His black coat 
+bore the weary folds of a garment that has been up all night 
+
+
+
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 211 
+
+The el1(H>ws were whitened with the down which the friction 
+of cloth against linen leaves behind it. 
+
+Jean Valjean stared at the window outlined on the polished 
+floor at his feet by the sun. 
+
+There came a sound at the door, and he raised his eyes. 
+
+Marius entered, his head well up, his mouth smiling, an in> 
+describable light on his countenance, his brow expanded, his 
+eyes triumphant. He had not slept either. 
+
+" It is you, father ! '* he exclaimed, on catching sight of Jean 
+Valjean ; << that idiot of a Basque had such a mysterious air ! 
+But you have come too early. It is only half past twelve. 
+Cosette is asleep.'* 
+
+That word : " Father," said to M. Fauchelevent by Marius;» 
+signified : supreme felicity. There had always existed, as the 
+reader knows, a lofty wall, • a coldness and a constraint be- 
+tween them ; ice which must be broken or melted. Marius 
+had reached that point of intoxication when the wall was low- 
+ered, when the ice dissolved, and when M. Fauchelevent was 
+to him, as to Cosette, a father. 
+
+He continued : his words poured forth, as is the peculiarity 
+of divine paroxysms of joy. 
+
+" How glad I ain to see you ! If you only knew how we 
+missed you yesterday ! Good morning, father. How is your 
+hand ? Better, is it not ?" 
+
+And, satisfied with the favorable reply which he had made 
+to himself, he pursued : 
+
+*' We have both been talking about you. Cosette loves you 
+so dearly ! You must not forget that you have a chamber 
+here. We want nothing more to do with the Rue de PHonime 
+Armé. We will have no more of it at all. How could you go 
+to live in a street like that, which is sickly, which is disagree- 
+able, which is ugly, which has a barrier at one end, where one 
+is cold, and into which one cannot enter ? You are to come 
+and install yourself here. And this very day. Or you will 
+have to deal with Cosette. She means to lead us all by the 
+nose, I warn you. You have your own chamber here, it is 
+close to ours, it opens on the garden ; the trouble with the 
+clock has been attended to, the bed is made, it is all ready, 
+you have only to take possession of it. Near your bed Cosette 
+has placed a huge, old, easy-chair covered with Utrecht vel- 
+vet, and she has said to it : * Stretch out your arms to him.^ 
+A nightingale comes to the clump of acacias opposite your 
+windows, every si)ring. In two months more you will have it. 
+You will have its nest on your left and ours on your right. By 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
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+212 LBS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+night it will sing, and by day Cosette will prattle. Your oham 
+ber faces due South. Cosette will arrange your books foi 
+you, your Voyages of Captain Cook and the other, — Vaocou- 
+ver's — and all your affairs. I believe that there is a little 
+valise to which you are attached, I have fixed upon a corner of 
+honor for that. You have conquered my grandfather, you 
+suit him. We will live together. Do you play whist ? you 
+will overwhelm my grandfather with delight if you play whist. 
+It is you who shall take Cosette to walk on the days when I 
+am at the courts, you shall give her your arm, you know, as 
+you used to, in the Luxembourg. We are absolutely resolved 
+to be happy. And you shall be included in it, in our happi- 
+ness, do you hear, father ? Gome, will you breakfast with us 
+today ? " 
+
+" Sir," said Jean Valjean, " I have something to say to you. 
+I am an ex-coDvict." 
+
+The limit of shrill sounds perceptible can be overleaped, as 
+well in the case of the mind as in that of the ear. These 
+words : " I am an ex-convict," proceeding from the mouth of 
+M. Fauchelevent and entering the ear of Marius, overshot the 
+possible. It seemed to him that something had just been 
+said to him ; but he did not know what. He stood with his 
+mouth wide open. 
+
+Then he perceived that the man who was addressing him 
+was frightful. Wholly absorbed in his own dazzled state, he 
+had not, up to that moment, observed the other man's terrible 
+pallor. 
+
+Jean Valjean untied the black cravat which supported his 
+right arm, unrolled the linen from around his hand, bared his 
+thumb and showed it to Marius. 
+
+" There is nothing the matter with my hand," said he. 
+
+Marius looked at the thumb. 
+
+<< There has not been anything the matter with it,'' went on 
+Jean Valjean. 
+
+There was, in fact, no trace of any injury. 
+
+Jean Valjean continued : 
+
+"It was fitting that I should be absent from your marriage. 
+I absented myself as much as was in my power. So I in- 
+vented this injury in order that I might not commit a forgery, 
+that I might not introduce a flaw into the marriage documents, 
+in order that I might escape from signing." 
+
+Marius stammered. 
+
+" What is the meaning of this ? " 
+
+"The meaning of it is»'' replied Jean Valjean, "that I hav» 
+been in the galleys." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAL JE AN. 21i; 
+
+*' You are driving me mad ! " exclaimed Marius in terror. 
+
+" Monsieur Pontmercy," said Jean Valjean, ** I was nineteen 
+years in the galleys. For theft. Then, I was condemned for 
+life for theft, for a second ojffence. At the present moment, I 
+have broken my ban." 
+
+In vain did Marius recoil before the reality, refuse the fact^ 
+resist the evidence, he was forced to give way. He began to 
+understand, and, as always happens in such cases, he under- 
+stood too much. An inward shudder of hideous enlightenment 
+flashed through him; an idea which made him quiver trav- 
+ersed his mind. He caught a glimpse of a wretched destiny 
+for himself in the future. 
+
+" Say all, say all ! " he cried. ' " You are Cosette's father ! " 
+
+And he retreated a couple of paces with a movement of in- 
+describable horror. 
+
+Jean Valjean elevated his head with so much majesty of 
+attitude, that he seemed to grow even to the ceiling. 
+
+"It is necessary that you should believe me here, sir; al- 
+though our oath to others may not be received in law . . ." 
+
+Here he paused, then, with a sort of sovereign and sepulchral 
+authority, he added, articulating slowly, and emphasizing the 
+syllables : 
+
+"... You will believe me. I the father of Cosette I before 
+Grod, no. Monsieur le Baron Pontmercy, I am a peasant of 
+Faverolles. 1 earned my living by pruning trees. My name 
+is not Fauehelevent, but Jean Valjean. I am not related to 
+Cosette. Reassure yourself." 
+
+Marius stammered : 
+
+" Who will prove that to me ? " 
+
+" I. Since I tell you so." 
+
+Marius looked at the man. He was melancholy yet tran- 
+quil. No lie could proceed from such a calm. That which is 
+icy is sincere. The truth could be felt in that chill of the 
+tomb. 
+
+" I believe you," said Marius. 
+
+Jean Valjean bent his head, as though taking note of this, 
+and continued : 
+
+" What am I to Cosette ? A passer-by. Ten years ago, I 
+did not know that she was in existence. I love her, it is true. 
+One loves a child whom one has seen when very young, being 
+old oneself. When one is old, one feels oneself a grandfather 
+towards all little children. You may, it seems to me, suppose 
+that I have something which resembles a heart. She was an 
+')rphan. W^ithout either father or mother. She needed me. 
+
+
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+214 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+That ifl why I began to love her. Children are so weak that 
+the first comer, even a man like me, can become their protec- 
+tor. I have fulfilled this duty towards Cosette. I do not 
+think that so slight a thing can be called a good action; but 
+if it be a good action, well, say that I have done it. Register 
+this attenuating circumstance. To-day, Cosette passes out of 
+my life ; our two roads pai-t. Henceforth, I can do nothiii*; 
+for her. She is Madame Pontmercy. Her providence hai 
+changed. And Cosette gains by the change. All is well 
+A.S for the six hundred thousand francs, you do not mention 
+them to me, but I forestall your thought, they are a deposit 
+Ht)w did til at deposit come into my hands ? What does that 
+matter? I restore the dei)osit. Nothing more can be de- 
+liiunded of me. I complete the restitution by announcing my 
+true name. That concerns me. I have a reason for desirin-4 
+that you should know who I am." 
+
+And Jean Valjean looked Marins full in the face. 
+
+All that Marius experienced was tumultuous and incoherent 
+Certain gusts of destiny produce these billows in our souls. 
+
+We have all undergone moments of trouble in which every» 
+thing within us is dispersed; we say the first things tliat 
+occur to us, which are not always precisely those which 
+should be said. There ai^e sudden revelations which one can- 
+not bear, and which intoxicate like baleful wine. Mariiis was 
+stupefied by the novel situation which presented itself to him, 
+to the point of addressing that man almost like a person who 
+was angry with him for this avowal. 
+
+" But why," he exclaimed, " do you tell me all this ? 'NVho 
+forces, you to do so ? You could have kept your secret to 
+yourself. You are neither denounced, nor tracked nor pur- 
+sued. You have a reason for wantonly making such a reve- 
+lation. Conclude. There is something more. In what con- 
+nection do you make this confession? What i» your 
+motive ? " 
+
+" My motive ? " replied Jean Valjean in a voice so low and 
+dull that one would have said that he was talking to himself 
+rather than to Marius. " From what motive, in fact, has this 
+convict just said ' I am a convict ' ? Well, yes I the motive is 
+strange. It is out of honesty. Stav, the unfortunate point is 
+that I have a thread in my heart, which keeps me fast. It is 
+when one is old that that sort of thread is particularly solid. 
+All life falls in ruin around one; one resists. Had I been able 
+to tear out that thread, to break it, to undo the knot or to cut 
+it, to go far away, I should have been safe. I had only to go 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 215 
+
+away ; there are diligences in the Rue Bouloy ; you are happy 
+I am going. J have tried to break that thread, I have jerked 
+at it, it would not break, I tore my heart with it. Then I 
+said : * I cannot live anywhere else than here.' I must stay. 
+Well, yes, you are right, I am a fool, why not simply remain 
+here ? You offer me a chamber in this houçe, Madame Pont- 
+mercy is sincerely attached to me, she said to the arm-chair : 
+'Stretch out your arms to him,' your grandfather demands 
+nothing better than to have me, I suit him, we shall live to- 
+gether, and take our meals in common, I shall give Cosette 
+ray arm. . . . Madame Pontmercy, excuse me, it is a habit, — > 
+we shall have but one roof, one table, one fire, the same chim- 
+ney-comer in winter, the same promenade in summer, that is 
+joy, that is happiness, that is everything. We shall live as 
+one family. One family ! '' 
+
+At that word, Jean Valjean became wild. He folded his 
+arms, glared at the door beneath his feet as though he would 
+have excavated an abyss therein, and his voice suddenly rose 
+in thundering tones : 
+
+" As one family I No. I belong to no family. I do not 
+belong to yours. I do not belong to any family of men. In 
+houses where people are among themselves, I am superflUDus. 
+There are families, but there is nothing of the sort lor me. 
+I am an unlucky wretch ; I am left outside. Did I have a 
+father and mother ? I almost doubt it. On the day when I 
+gave that child in marriage, all came to an end. T have seen 
+her happy, and that she is with a man whom she loves, and 
+that there exists here a kind old man, a household of two 
+angels, and all joys in that house, and that it was well, I said to 
+myself: * Enter thou not.' I could have lied, it is true, have 
+deceived you all, and remained Monsieur Fauchelevent. So 
+long as it was for her, I could lie ; but now^ it would be for 
+myself, and I must not. It was sufficient for me to hold my 
+peace, it is true, and all would go on. You ask me what has 
+forced me to speak ? a very odd thing ; my conscience. To 
+hold my peace was very easy, however. I passed the night 
+in trying to persuade myself to it; you questioa me, and 
+what I have just said to you is so extraordinary that you have 
+the right to do it; well, yes, I have passed the night in ull**g- 
+ing reasons to myself, and I gave myself very .e:ood reasons, 1 
+have done what I could. But there are two things in which I 
+have not succeeded ; in breaking the thread that holds me 
+fixed, riveted and sealed here by the heart, or in silencing 
+some one who speaks softly to me when I am alone. That is 
+
+
+
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+216 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+why I have come hither to tell you everything this momingi 
+Everything or nearly everything. It is useless to tell you 
+that which concerns only myself; I keep that to myself. 
+You know the essential j)oints. So I have taken my mystery 
+and have brought it to you. And I have disembowelled my 
+secret before your eyes. It was not a resolution that was easy 
+to take. I struggled all night long. Ah I you think that 1 
+did not tell myself that this was no Champmathieu affair, that 
+by concealing my name I was doing no one any injury, that 
+the name of Fauchelevent had been given to me by Fauche- 
+levent himself, out of gratitude for a service rendered to him, 
+and that I might assuredly keep it, and that I should be happy 
+in that chamber which you offer me, that I should not be in 
+anyone's way, that I should be in my own little corner, and 
+that, while you would have Cosette, I should have the idea 
+that I was in the same house with her. Each one of us would 
+have had his share of happiness. If I continued to be Mon- 
+sieur Fauchelevent, that would arrange everything. Yes, 
+with the exception of my soul. There was joy everywhere 
+upon my surface, but the bottom of my soul remained black. 
+It is not enough to be happy, one must be content. Thus I 
+should have remained Monsieur Fauchelevent, thus I should 
+have concealed my true visage, thus, in the presence of your 
+expansion, I should have had an enigma, thus, in the midst of 
+your full noonday, I should have had shadows, thus, without 
+crying -'ware,' I should have simply introduced the galleys to 
+your fireside, I should have taken my seat at your table with 
+the thought that if you knew who I was, you would drive me 
+from it, I should have allowed myself to be served by domestics 
+who, had they known, would have said : * How horrible ! ' I 
+should have touched you with my elbow, which you have a 
+right to dislike, I should have filched your clasps of the hand ! 
+There would have existed in your house a division of respect 
+between venerable white locks and tainted white locks; at 
+your most intimate hours, when all hearts thought themselves 
+open to the veiy bottom to all the rest, when we four were 
+together, your grandfather, you two and myself, a stranger 
+would have been present ! I should have been side by side 
+with you in your existence, having for my only care not to 
+disarrange the cover of my dreadful pit. Thus, I, a dead 
+man, should have thrust myself upon you who are living 
+beings. I should have condemned her to myself forever. 
+You and Cosette and I would have had all three of our beads 
+;n the green cap I Does it not make you shudder ? I am 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 211 
+
+only the most crushed of men ; I should have been the most 
+monstrous of men. And I should have committed that crime 
+every day ! And I should have had that face of night upon 
+my visage every day ! every day ! And I should have com- 
+municated to you a share in my taint every day I every day ! 
+to you, my dearly beloved, my children, to you, my innocent 
+creatures ! Is it nothing to hold one's peace ? is it a simple 
+matter to keep silence? No, it is not simple. There is a 
+silence which lies. And my lie, and my fraud and my indig- 
+nity, and my cowardice and my treason ajid my crime, I 
+should have dmined drop by drop, I should have spit it out, 
+then swallowed it again, I should have finished at midnight 
+and have begun again at midday, and my ' good morning ' 
+woidd have lied, and my ^ good night ' would have lied, and I 
+should have slept on it, I should have eaten it, with my bread, 
+and I should have looked ' Cosette in the face, and I should 
+have responded to the smile of the angel by the smile of the 
+damned soul, and I should have been an abominable villain ! 
+Why should I do it ? in order to be happy. In order to be 
+happy. Have I the right to be happy ? I stand outside of 
+life, sir." 
+
+Jean Yaljean paused. Marius listened. Such chains of 
+ideas and of anguishes cannot be interrupted. Jean Yaljean 
+lowered his voice once more, but it was no longer a dull 
+Toice — it was a sinister voice. 
+
+"You ask why I «peak? I am neither denounced, nor 
+parsued, nor tracked, you say. Yes ! I am denounced ! yes ! 
+I am tracked I By whom ? By myself. It is I who bar the 
+passage to myself, and I drag myself, and I push myself, and 
+I arrest myself, and I execute myself, and when one holds 
+oneself, one is firmly held." 
+
+And, seizing a handful of his own coat by the nape of the 
+neck and extending it towards Marius : 
+
+"Do you see that fist?" he continued. "Don't you think 
+that it holds that collar in such a wise as not to release it ? 
+Well! conscience is another grasp! If one desires to be 
+happy, sir, one must never understand duty ; for, as soon as 
+one has comprehended it, it is implacable. One would say 
+that it punished you for comprehending it; but no, it rewards 
+you; for it places you in a hell, where you feel God beside 
+you. One has no sooner lacerated his own entrails than he is 
+at peace with himself." 
+
+And, with a poignant accent, he added : 
+
+" Monsieur Pontmercy, this is not common sense, I am an 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
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+218 LBS MISERABLES. 
+
+honest man. It is by degrading myself in your eyes that I 
+elevate myself in my own. This has happened -to me once 
+before, but it was less painful then ; it was a mere nothiu*;. 
+Yes, an honest man. I should not be so if, through my fault, 
+
+ÏOU had continued to esteem me ; now that you despise me, 
+am so. I have that fatality hanging over me that, not 
+being able to ever have anything but stolen consideration, 
+that consideration humiliates me, and crushes me inwardly, 
+and, in order that I may respect myself, it is neoessary that 1 
+should be despised. Then I straighten up again. I am a 
+galley-slave who obeys his conscience. I know well that that 
+is most improbable. But what would you have me do about 
+it? it is the fact. I have entered into engagements with 
+myself; I keep them. There are encounters which bind us, 
+there are chances which involve us in duties. You see, 
+Monsieur Pontmercy, various things have happened to me in 
+the course of my life." 
+
+Again Jean Valjean paused, swallowing his saliva with an 
+effort, as though his words had a bitter after-taste, and then 
+\e went on : 
+
+"When one has such a horror hanging over one, one has 
+not the right to make others share it without their knowledge, 
+one has not the right to make them slip over one's own preci- 
+pice without their perceiving it, one has not the right to let 
+one's red blouse drag upon them, one has no right to slyly 
+encumber with one's misery the happiness of others. It is 
+hideous to approach those who are healthy, and to touch then 
+in the dark with one's ulcer. In spite of the fact thai 
+Fauchelevent lent me his name, I have no right to use it ; he 
+could give it to me, but I could not take it. A name is an /. 
+You see, sir, that I have thought somewhat, I have read a 
+little, although I am a peasant ; and you see that I express 
+myself properly. I understand things. I have procured my- 
+self an education. Well, yes, to Abstract a name and to place 
+oneself under it, is dishonest. Letters of the alphabet can 
+be filched, like a purse or a watch. To be a false signature in 
+flesh and blood, to be a living false key, to enter the house of 
+honest people by picking their lock, never more to look straight- 
+forward, to forever eye askance, to be infamous within the /, 
+no ! no I no ! no ! no ! It is better to suffer, to bleed, to weep, 
+to tear one's skin from the flesh with one's nails, to pass nights 
+writhing in anguish, to devour oneself body and soul. That 
+•s why I have just told you all this. Wantonly, as you say." 
+
+He drew a painful breath, and hurled this final word; 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 210 
+
+**In days gone by, I stole a loaf of bread in ordei to live; 
+feo-day, in order to live, I will not" steal a name." 
+
+"To live!" interrupted Marina. "You do not need that 
+name in order to live ? " 
+
+" Ah ! I understand the matter," said Jean Valjean, rais- 
+ing and lowering his head several times in succession. 
+
+A silenoe ensued. Both held their peace, each plunged in a 
+gulf of thoughts. Marins was sitting near a table and resting 
+the corner of his mouth on one of his fingers, which was 
+folded back. Jean Valjean was pacing to and fro. He 
+paused before a mirror, and remained motionless. Then, as 
+though replying to some inward course of reasoning, he said, 
+as he gazed at the mirror, which he did not see i 
+
+" While, at present, I am relieved." 
+
+He took up his march again, and walked to the other end of 
+the drawing-room. At the moment when he turned round, he 
+perceived that Marins was watching his walk. Then he said, 
+with an inexpressible intonation : 
+
+" I drag my leg a little. Now you understand why." 
+
+Then he turned fully round towards Marius : 
+
+" And now, sir, imagine this : I have said nothing, 1 have 
+remained Monsieur Fauchelevent, I have taken my place in 
+vour house, I am one of yon, I am in my chamber, I come to 
+breakfast in the morning in slippers, in the evening all three 
+of us go to the play, I accompany Madame Pontmercy to the 
+Tuileries, ai|d to the Place Royale, we are together, you think 
+me your equal ; one fine day you are there, and I am there, 
+we are conversing, we are laughing ; all at once, you hear a 
+voice shouting this name: *Jean Valjean!' and behold, that 
+terrible hand, the police, darts from the darkness, and abruptly 
+tears off my mask I " 
+
+Again he paused; Marius had sprung to his feet with a 
+shudder. Jean Valjean resumed : 
+
+" What do you say to that ? " 
+
+Marins' silence answered for him« 
+
+Jean Valjean continued : 
+
+"You see that I am right in not holding my peace. Bo 
+happy, be in heaven, be the angel of an angel, exist in the 
+sun, be content therewith, and do not trouble yoursell 
+about the means which a poor damned wretch takes to open 
+his breast and force his duty to come forth ; you have before 
+you, sir, a wretched man." 
+
+Marius slowly crossed the room, and, when he was quite 
+alose to Jean Valjean, he offered the latter bis hand. 
+
+
+
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+220 LES MrSÉlRABLES. 
+
+But Marius was obliged to step up and take that hand 
+which was not offered, Jean Valjean let him have his own 
+way, and it seemed to Marius that he pressed a hand of marble. 
+
+"My grandfather has friends," said Marius; "I will pro- 
+cure your pardon." 
+
+" It is useless," replied Jean Valjean. " I am believed to 
+be dead, and that suffices. The dead are not subjected to 
+surveillance. They are supposed to rot in peace. Death .is 
+the same thing as pardon." 
+
+And, disengaging the hand which Marius held, he added, 
+writh a sort of inexorable dignity : 
+
+" Moreover, the friend to whom I have recourse, is the do- 
+ing of my duty ; and I need but one pardon, that of my con- 
+science." 
+
+At that moment, a door at the other end of the drawing- 
+room opened gently half way, and in the opening Cosette's 
+head appeared. They saw only her sweet face, her hair was 
+in charming disorder, her eyelids were still swollen with 
+sleep. She made the movement of a. bird, which thrusts its 
+head out of its nest, glanced first at her husband, then at Jean 
+Valjean, and cried to them with a smile, so that they seemed 
+to behold a smile at the heart of a rose : 
+
+"I will wager that you are talking politios. How stupid 
+that is, instead of being with me Î " 
+
+Jean Valjean shuddered. 
+
+" Cosette ! . . . " stammered Marius. 
+
+• And he paused. One would have said that they were two 
+criminals. 
+
+Cosette, who was radiant, continued to gaze at both of them. 
+There was something in her eyes like gleams of paradise. 
+
+" I have caught you in the very act," said Cosette. * Just 
+?aow, I heard my father Fauchelevent through the door saying: 
+
+* Conscience . . . doing my duty . . * ' Tliat is politics, in- 
+deed it is. I will not have it. People should not talk politics 
+the very next day. It is not right." 
+
+"You are mistaken, Cosette," said Marius, "we are talk- 
+ing business. We are discussing the best investment of your 
+six hundred thousand francs ..." 
+
+" That is not it at all," interrupted Cosette. " I am coming. 
+Does anybody want me here ? " 
+
+And, passing resolutely through the door, she entered the 
+drawing-room. She was dressed in a voluminous white dress 
+ing-gown, with a thousand folds and large sleeves which, start- 
+ing from the neck, fell to her feet. In the golden heavens of 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 221 
+
+some ancient gothic pictures^ there are these charming sacks 
+fit to clothe the angels. 
+
+She contemplated herself from head to foot in a long 
+mirror, then exclaimed, in au outburst of ineffable ecstasy 
+
+" There was once a King and a Queen. Oh ! how happy I 
+am!" 
+
+That said, she made a curtsy to Marius and to Jean Val- 
+jean. 
+
+** There," said she, *' I am going to iustall myself near you 
+in an easy-chair, we breakfast in half an hour, you shall say 
+anything you like, I know well that men must talk, and I will 
+be very good." 
+
+Marius took her by the arm and said loviugly to her : 
+
+" We are talking business." 
+
+" By the way," said Cosette, " I have opened my window, a 
+flock of pierrots has arrived in the garden, — Birds, not mask- 
+ers. To-day is Ash-Wednesday ; but riot for the birds." 
+
+**I tell you that we are talking business, go, my little 
+Cosette, leave us alone for a moment. We are talking figures. 
+That will bore you." 
+
+"You have a charming cravat on this morning, Marius. 
+You are very dandified, monseigneur. No, it will not bore 
+me." 
+
+** I assure you that it will bore you." 
+
+" No. Since it is you. I shall not understand you, but I 
+shall listen to you. When one hears the voices of those 
+whom one loves, one does not need to understand the words 
+that they utter. That we should be here together — that 
+is all that I desire. I shall remain with you, bah 1 " 
+
+" You are my beloved Cosette ! Impossible." 
+
+" Impossible ! " 
+
+« Yes." 
+
+"Very good," said Cosette. "I was going to tell you some 
+news. I could have told you that your grandfather is still 
+asleep, that your aunt is at mass, that the chimney in my 
+father Fauchelevent's room smokes, that Nicolette has sent 
+for the chimney-sweep, that Toussaint and Nicolette have 
+already quarrelled, that Nicolette makes sport of Toussaint's 
+stammer. Well, you shall know nothing. Ah ! it is impos- 
+sible ? you shall see, gentlemen, that I, in my turn, can say : 
+It is impossible. Then wlio will be caught ? I beseech you, 
+my little Marius, let me stajy bore with you two." 
+
+" I swear to you, that it is indispensable that we should be 
+alone." 
+
+
+
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+222 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+"Well, am I any body?" 
+
+Jean Valjeau had not uttered a single word. Cosetie turned 
+to him : 
+
+" In the first place, father, I want you to come and embrace 
+me. What do you mean by not saying anything instead of 
+taking my part ? who gave me such a father as that ? You 
+must perceive that my family life is very unhappy. My 
+husband beats me. Come, embrace me instantly." 
+
+Jean Valjean approached. 
+
+Cosette turned toward Marins. 
+
+" As for you, I shall make a face at you." 
+
+Then she presented her brow to Jean Valjean. 
+
+Jean Valjean advanced a step toward her. 
+
+Cosette recoiled. 
+
+" Father, you are pale. Does your arm hurt you ? ** 
+
+" It is well," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+" Did you sleep badly ? " 
+
+«No." 
+
+" Are you sad ? " 
+
+« No." 
+
+" Embrace me if you are well, if you sleep well, if you are 
+content, I will not scold vou." 
+
+And again she offered nim her brow. 
+
+Jean Valjeau dropped a kiss upon that brow whereon 
+rested a celestial gleam. 
+
+" Smile." 
+
+Jean Valjean obeyed. It was the smile of a spectre. 
+
+"Now, defend me against my husband." 
+
+" Cosette ! . . . " ejaculated Marins. 
+
+" Get angry, father. Say that I must stay. You can cer- 
+tainly talk before me. So you think me very silly. What 
+you say is astonishing ! business, placing money in a bank, 
+a great matter truly. Men make mysteries out of nothing. 
+I am very pretty this morning. Look at me, Marins." 
+
+And with an adorable shrug of the shoulders, and an 
+indescribably exquisite pout, she glanced at Marius. 
+
+" I love you ! " said Marius. 
+
+" I adore you ! " said Cosette. 
+
+And they fell irresistibly into each other's arms. 
+
+"Now,'' said Cosette, adjusting a fold of her dressing-gown, 
+with a triumphant little grimace, "I shall stay." 
+
+" No, not that," said Marius, in a supplicating tone. ** We 
+have to finish something." 
+
+«Still no?" 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 23A 
+
+Marius assumed a grave tone : 
+
+** I assure you, Cosette, that it is impossible." 
+
+" Ah ! you put on your man's voice, sir. That is well, I ga 
+Fou, father, have not upheld me. Monsieur my father, mon- 
+sieur my husband, you are tyrants. I shall go and tell grand- 
+papa. If you think that I am going to return and talk platitudes 
+to you, you are mistaken. 1 am proud. I shall wait for you 
+now. You shall see, that it is you who are going to be boi-ed 
+without me. I am going, it is well." 
+
+And she left the room. 
+
+Two seconds later, the door opened once more, her fresh, 
+and rosy head was again thrust between the two leaves, and 
+she cried to them : 
+
+" I am very angry indeed." 
+
+The door closed again, and the shadows descended once more. 
+
+It was as though a ray of sunlight should have suddenly 
+traversed the night, without itself being conscious of it. 
+
+.Marius made sure that the door was securely closed. 
+
+"Poor Cosette 1" he murmured, "when she finds out . . ." 
+
+At that word Jean Valjean trembled in every limb. He 
+fixed on Marius a bewildered eye. 
+
+" Cosette ! oh yes, it is true, you are going to tell Cosette 
+about this. That is right. Stay, I had not thought of that. 
+One has the strength for one thing, but not for another. Sir, 
+I conjure you, I entreat now, sir, give me your most sacred word 
+of honor, that you will not tell her. Is it not enough that you 
+should know it ? I have been able to say it myself without 
+being forced to it, I could have told it to the universe, to the 
+whole world, — it was aU one to me. But she, she does not 
+know what it is, it would terrify her. What, a convict! 
+we should be obliged to explain matters to her, to say to her : 
+' He is a man who has been in the galleys.^ She saw the chain 
+gang pass by one day. Oh ! My God ! " 
+... He dropped into an arm-chair and hid his face in his 
+hands. 
+
+His grief was not audible, but from the quivering of 
+his shoulders it was evident that he was weeping. Silent 
+tears, terrible tears. 
+
+There is something of suffocation in the sob. He was 
+seized with a sort of convulsion, he threw himself against the 
+back of the chair as though to gain breath, letting his arms 
+fall, and allowing Marius to see his face inundated with tears, 
+and Marius heard him murmur, so low that his voice seemed 
+to iflsoe from fathomless depths : 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+tu LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+« Oh ! would that I could die ! " 
+
+" Be at your ease," said Marius, " I will keep your secret 
+for myself alone." 
+
+And, less touched perhaps, than he ought to have been, but 
+forced, for the last hour, to familiarize himself with something 
+as unexpected as it was dreadful, gradually beholding tlie 
+convict superposed before his very eyes, upon M. Fauchele- 
+vent, overcome, little by little, by that lugubrious reality, and 
+led, by the natural inclination of the situation, to recognize 
+the space which had just been placed between that man ajid 
+himself, Marins added : 
+
+" It is impossible that I should not speak a word to you, 
+with regard to the deposit which you have so faithfully and 
+honestly remitted. That is an act of probity. It is just that 
+some recompense should be bestowed on you. Fix the sum 
+yourself, it shall be counted out to yoo. Do not fear to set it 
+very high." 
+
+" I thank you, sir," replied Jean Valjean, gently. 
+
+He remained in thought for a moment, mechanically pass- 
+ing the tip of his fore-hnger across his thumb-nail, Ôien he 
+lifted up his voice : 
+
+'^AU is nearly over. But one last thing remains for 
+me ..." 
+
+«What is it?" 
+
+Jean Valjean struggled with what seemed a last hesitation, 
+and, without voice, without breath, he stammered rather than 
+said: 
+
+" Now that you know, do you think, sir, you, who are the 
+master, that I ought not to see Cosette any more ? " 
+
+" I think that would be better," replied Marius coldly. 
+
+"I shall never see her more," murmured Jean Valjean. 
+
+And he directed his steps towards the door. 
+
+He laid his hand on the knob, the latch yielded, the door 
+opened. Jean Valjean pushed it open far enough to pass 
+through, stood motionless for a second, then closed the door 
+again and turned to Marius. 
+
+He was no longer pale, he was livid. There were no longer 
+any tears in his eyes, but only a sort of tragic flame. His voioe 
+had regained a strange composure. 
+
+" Stay, sir," he said. " If you will allow it, I will come to 
+see her. I assure you that I desire it greatly. If I had not 
+cared to sec Cosette, I should not have made to you the con- 
+fession that I have made, I should have gone away ; but, as I 
+desired to remain in the place where Cosette is, and to oo» 
+
+
+
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+JBAlf VAUEAN. 226 
+
+fcinue to see her, I had to tell you about it honestly. You 
+follow îny reasoning, do you not ? it is a matter easily under- 
+stood. You see, I have had her with me for more than nine 
+years. We lived first in that hut on the boulevard, then in the 
+convent, then near the Luxembourg. That was where you 
+saw her for the first time. You remember her blue plush hat. 
+Then we went to the Quartier des Invalides, where there 
+was a railing on a garden, the Kue Plumet. I lived in a little 
+back court-yard, whence I could hear her piano. That was 
+my life. We never left each other. That lasted for nine 
+years and some months. I was like her own father, and 
+she was my child. I do not know whether you understand, 
+Monsieur Pontmercy, but to go away now, never to see her 
+again, never to speak to her again, to no longer have anything, 
+would be hard. If you do not disapprove of it, I will come to 
+see Cosette from time to time. I will not come often. I will 
+not remain long. You shall give orders that I am to be re- 
+ceived in the little waiting-room. On the ground floor. I 
+could enter perfectly well by the back door, but that might 
+create surprise perhaps, and it would be better, I think, for 
+me to enter by the usual door. Truly, sir, I should like to 
+see a little more of Cosette. As rarely as you please. Tut 
+yourself in my place, I have nothing left but that. And then, 
+we must be cautious. If I no longer come at all, it would 
+produce a bad effect, it would be considered singular. What 
+I can do, by the way, is to come in the afternoon, when night 
+is beginning to fall." 
+
+" You shall come every evening," said Marins, " and Cosette 
+will be waiting for jrou." 
+
+" You are kind, sir," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+Marius saluted Jean Valjean, happiness escorted despair to 
+the door, and these two men parted. 
+
+XL — The Obscurities Which a Eevblation Can Con- 
+tain. 
+
+Marius was quite upset. 
+
+The sort of estrangement which he had always felt towards 
+the man beside whom he had seen Cosette, was now explained 
+to him. There was something enigmatic about that person, 
+of which his instinct had warned him. 
+
+This enigma was tiie most hideous of disgraces, the galley a 
+This M. Fauchelevent was the convict Jean Valjean. 
+
+To abruptly find such a secret in the midst of one's happi 
+
+
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+226 LBS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+ness resembles tbe discovery of a scorpion in a nest of tortle- 
+doves. 
+
+Was the happiness of Marins and Cosette thenceforth 
+condemned to such a neighborhood? Was this an accom- 
+plished fact ? Did the acceptance of that man form a part of 
+the marriage now consummated ? Was there nothibg to be 
+done? 
+
+Had Marius wedded the convict as well ? 
+
+In vain may one be crowned with light and joy, in vain 
+may one taste the grand purple hour of life, h«ippy love, such 
+shocks would force even the archangel in his ecstasy, even the 
+demigod in his glory, to shudder. 
+
+As is always tlie case in changes of view of this nature, 
+Marius asked himself whether he had nothing with which to 
+reproach himself. Had he l)een wanting in divination ? Had 
+he been wanting in prudence ? Hîid he involuntarily dulle<l 
+his wits ? A little, perhaps. Had he entered upon this love 
+affair, which had ended in his marriage to Cosette, without 
+taking sufficient precautions to throw light upon the surround- 
+ings ? He admitted, — it is thus, by a series of successive 
+admissions of ourselves in regard to ourselves, that life amends 
+us, little by little, — he admitted the chimerical and visionary 
+side of his nature, a sort of internal cloud peculiar to many 
+organizations, and which, in paroxysms of passion and sor- 
+row, dilates as the temperature of the soul changes, and 
+invades the entire man, to such a degree as to render him 
+nothing more than a conscience bathed in a mist. We have 
+more than once indicated this characteristic element of Marius' 
+individuality. 
+
+He recalled that, in the intoxication of his love, in the Rue 
+Plumet, during those six or seven ecstatic weeks, he had not 
+even spoken to Cosette of that drama in the Gorbean hovel, 
+where the victim had taken up such a singular line of silence 
+during the struggle and the ensuing flight. How had it hap- 
+pened that he harl not mentioned this to Cosette ? Yet it 
+was so near and so terrible ! How had it come to pass that 
+he had not even named the Thénardiers, and, particularly, on 
+the day when he had encountered Èponine ? He now found it 
+almost difficult to explain his silence of that time. Neverthe- 
+less, he could account for it. He recalled his benumbed 
+state, his intoxication with Cosette, love absorbing everythi»».g, 
+that catching away of each other into the ideal, and ]>*>rhaps 
+also, like the imperceptible quantity of reason mingled with 
+this violent and charming state of the soul, a vague, dull ii> 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 227 
+
+stinct impelling him to conceal and abolish in his memory 
+that redoubtable adventure, contact with which he dreaded 
+in which he did not wish to plav any part, his agency in which 
+he had kept secret, and in which be could be neither narrator 
+nor witness without being an accuser. 
+
+Moreover, these few weeks had been a flash of lightning; 
+there had been no time for anything except love. 
+
+In short, having weighed everything, turned everything 
+over in his mind, examined everything, whatever might have 
+been the consequences if he had told Cosette about the Gor- 
+beau ambush, even if he had discovered that Jean Valjean 
+was a convict, would that have changed him, Marius ? Would 
+that have changed her, Cosette ? Would he have drawn back ? 
+Would he have adored her any the less ? Would he have re- 
+frained from marrying her? No. Then there was nothing 
+>.o regret, nothing with which he need reproach himself. All 
+^as well. , There is a deity for those drunken men who are 
+.called lovers. Marius blind, had followed the path which he 
+«^ould have chosen had he been in full possession of his sight, 
+Love had bandaged his eyes, in order to lead him whither ? 
+To paradise. 
+
+But this paradise was henceforth complicated with an infer- 
+nal accompaniment. 
+
+Marius' ancient estrangement towards this man, towards 
+this Fauchel event who had turned into Jean Valjean, was at 
+present mingled with horror. 
+
+In this horror, let us state, there was some pity, and even a 
+certain surprise. 
+
+This thief, this thief guilty of a second offence, had restored 
+that deposit. And what a deposit! Six hundred thousand 
+francs. 
+
+He alone was in the secret of that deposit. He might have 
+kept it all, he had restored it all. 
+
+Moreover, he had himself revealed his situation. Nothing 
+forced him to this. If anyone learned who he was, it was 
+through himself. In this avowal there was something more 
+than acceptance of humiliation, there was acceptance of peril. 
+For a condemned man, a mask is not a mask, it is a shelter. 
+A false name is security, and he had rejected that false name. 
+He, the galley-slave, might have hidden himself forever in an 
+honest family ; he had withst(X)d this temptation. And with 
+what motive ? Through a conscientious scruple. He himself 
+explained this with the irresistible accents of truth. In short, 
+whatever this Jean Valjean might be, he was, undoubtedly, a 
+
+
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+228 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+conscience which was awakening. There existed some mjb 
+terious re>habilitation which had begun ; and, to all appear- 
+ances, scruples had for a long time already controlled this 
+man. Such fits of justice and goodness are not characteristic 
+of vulgar natures. An awakening of conscience is grandeur of 
+soul. 
+
+Jean Valjean was sincere. This sincerity, visible, palpable, 
+irrefragable, evident from the very grief that it caused him, 
+rendered inquiries useless, and conferred authority on all that 
+that man had said. 
+
+Here, for Marins, there was a strange reversal of situations. 
+What breathed from M. Faiichelevent ? distrust. What did 
+Jean Valjean inspire ? confidence. 
+
+In the mysterious balance of this Jean Valjean which the 
+pensive Marins struck, he admitted the active principle, he 
+admitted the passive principle, and he tried to reach a balance. 
+
+But all this went on as in a storm. Marius, while endeavor- 
+ing to form a clear idea of this man, and while pursuing Jean 
+Valjean, so to speak, in the depths of his thought, lost him 
+and found him again in a fatal mist. 
+
+The deposit honestly restored, the probity of the confession 
+— these were good. This produced a lightening of the cloud, 
+then the cloud became black once more. 
+
+Troubled as were Marins' memoiies, a shadow of them 
+returned to him. 
+
+After all, what was that adventure in the Jondrette attic ? 
+Why had that man taken to flight on the arrival of the police, 
+instead of entering a complaint ? 
+
+Here Marius found the answer. Because that man was a 
+fugitive from justice, who had broken his ban. 
+
+Another question : Why had that man come to the barricade ? 
+
+For Marius now once more distinctly beheld that recollection 
+which had re-appeared in his emotions like sympathetic ink at 
+the application of heat. This man had been in the barricade. 
+He had not fought there. What had he come there for? 
+In the presence of this question a spectre sprang up and 
+replied: "Javert." 
+
+Marius recalled perfectly now that funereal sight of Jean 
+Valjean dragging the pinioned Javert out of the barricade. 
+and he still heard behind the corner of the little Rue Monde- 
+tour that frightful jnstol shot. Obviously, there was hatred 
+b(^tween that i)olice spy and the galley-slave. The one was in 
+the other's way. Jean Valjean had gone to the barricade for 
+the purpose of revenging himself. He had arrived -late. • !'.» 
+
+
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+J^AN VAUEAN. 229 
+
+probably knew that Javert was a prisoner there. The Corsi 
+can vendetta has penetrated to certain lower strata and has 
+become the law there; it is so simple that it does not astonish 
+souls which are but half turned towards good; and those 
+hearts are so constituted that a criminal, who is in the path 
+of repentance, may be scrupulous in the matter of theft and 
+unscrupulous in the matter of vengeance. Jean Valjean had 
+killed Javert. At least, that seemed to be evident. 
+
+This was the final question, to be sure; but to this there 
+was no reply. This question Marius felt like pincers. How 
+had it come to pass that Jean Valjean's existence had elbowed 
+that of Cosette for so long a period ? 
+
+What melancholy sport of Providence was that which had 
+placed that child in contact with that man ? Are there then 
+chains for two which are forged on high ? and does God take 
+pleasure in coupling the angel with the demon ? So a crime 
+and an innocence can be room-mates in the mysterious galleys 
+of wretchedness? In that defiling of condemned persons 
+which is called human destiny, can two brows pass side by 
+side, the one ingenuous, the other formidable, the one all 
+bathed in the divine whitene^ss of dawn, the other forever 
+blemished by the flash of an eternal lightning ? Who could 
+have arranged that inexplicable pairing off ? In what man- 
+ner, in consequence of what prodigy, had any community of 
+life been established between this celestial little creature and 
+that old criminal ? 
+
+Who could have bound the lamb to the wolf, and, what was 
+still more incomprehensible, have attached the wolf to the 
+lamb ? For the wolf loved the lamb, for the fierce creature 
+adored the feeble one, for, during the space of nine years, the 
+angel had had the monster as her point of support. Cosette's 
+childhood and girlhood, her advent in the daylight, her vir- 
+ginal growth towards life and light, had been sheltered by that 
+hideous devotion. Here questions exfoliated, so to speak, 
+into innumerable enigmas, abysses yawned at the bottoms of 
+abysses, and Marius could no longer bend over Jean Valjean 
+without becoming dizzy. What was this man-precipice? 
+
+The old symbols of Genesis are eternal ; in human society, 
+such as it now exists, and until a broader day shall effect a 
+change in it, there will always be two men, the one superior, 
+the other subterranean ; the one which is according to pood 
+is Abel ; the one which is according to evil is Cain. What 
+was this tender Cain ? What was this ruffian religiously 
+2^|g[ "-bed in, the adoration of a virgin^ watching over her, rear- 
+
+
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+230 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+/ng her, guarding her, dignifying her, and enveloping her 
+impure as he was himself, with purity V 
+
+What was that cess-pool which had venerated that innocence 
+to such a point as not to leave upon it a single spot ? What 
+was this Jean Valjean educating Cosette? What was this 
+figure of the shadows which had for its only object the preser- 
+vation of the rising of a star from every shadow and from 
+every cloud ? 
+Î That was Jean Yaljean's secret; that was also God's secret. 
+
+In the presence of this double secret, Marius recoiled. The 
+one, in some sort, reassured him as to the other. God was 
+as visible in this affair as was Jean Valjean. God has his 
+instruments. He makes use of the tool which he wills. He 
+is not responsible to men« Do we know how God sets about 
+the work ? Jean Valjean had labored over Cosette. He had. 
+to some extent, made that soul. That was incontestable. 
+Well, what then ? The workman was horrible ; but the work 
+was admirable. Grod produces his miracles as seems good to 
+him. He had constructed that charming Cosette, and he had 
+employed Jean Valjean. It had pleased him to choose this 
+strange collaborator for himself. What account have we to 
+demand of him? Is this the first time that the dung-heap 
+has aided the spring to create the rose ? 
+
+Marius made himself these replies, and declared to himself 
+that they were good. He had not dared to press Jean Valjean 
+on all the points which we have just indicated, but he did not 
+confess to himself that he did not dare to do it. He adored 
+Cosette, he possessed Cosette, Cosette was splendidly pure 
+That was sufficient for him. W^hat enlightenment did he 
+need? Cosette was a light. Does light require enlighten- 
+ment ? He had everything; what more could he desire ? All, 
+— is not that enough? Jean Val jean's personal affairs dia 
+not concern him. 
+
+And bending over the fatal shadow of that man, he clung 
+fast, convulsively, to the solemn declaration of that unhappy 
+wretch: '^I am nothing to Cosette. Ten years ago I did not 
+know that she was in existence." 
+
+Jean Valjean was a passer-by. He had said so himself 
+Well, he had passed. Whatever he was, his part was fin- 
+ished. 
+
+Henceforth, there remained Marius to ful&l the part of 
+Providence to Cosette. Cosette had sought the azure in a 
+person like herself, in her lover, her husband, her celestial 
+male. Cosette, as she took her flight, winged and tiana 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
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+
+JEAN VALJEAy. 231 
+
+figured, left behind her on the earthy her hideous and empty 
+chrysalis, Jean Val jean. 
+
+In whatever circle of ideas Marins revolved, he always 
+returned to a certain horror for Jean Valjean. A sacred hor- 
+ror, perhaps, for, as we have just pointed out, he felt a quid 
+divinum in that man. But do what he would, and seek what 
+extenuation he would, he was certainly forced to fall back 
+upon this : the man was a convict ; that is to say, a being who 
+has not even a place in the social ladder, since he is lower 
+than the very lowest rung. After the very last of men comes 
+the convict. The convict is no longer, so to speak, in the 
+semblance of the living. The law has deprived him of the 
+entire quantity of humanity of which it can deprive a man. 
+
+Marins, on penal questions, still held to the inexorable sys* 
+tern, though he was a democrat and he entertained all the 
+ideas of the law on the subject of those whom the law strikes. 
+He had not yet accomplished all progress, we admit. He had 
+not yet come to distinguish between that which is written by 
+man and that which is written by God, between law and 
+right. He had not examined and weighed the right which 
+man takes to dispose of the irrevocable and the irreparable. 
+He was not shocked by the word vindicte. He found it quite 
+simple that certain breaches of the written law should be fol* 
+lowed by eternal snffering, and he accepted, as the process of 
+civilization, social damnation. He still stood at this point, 
+though safe to advance infallibly later on, since his nature 
+was good, and, at bottom, wholly formed of latent progress. 
+
+In this stage of his ideas, Jean Valjean appeared to him 
+hideous and repulsive. He was a man reproved, he was the 
+convict. That word was for him like the sound of the trump 
+on the Day of Judgment; and, after having reflected upon 
+Jean Valjean for a long time, his final gesture had been to 
+turn away his head.. Vade retro. 
+
+Marins, if we must recognize and even insist upon the fact, 
+while inten-ogating Jean Valjean to such a point that Jean 
+Valjean had said: "You are confessing me," had not, never- 
+theless, put to him two or three decisive questions. 
+
+It was not that they had not presented themselves to hia 
+mind, but that he had l)een afraid of them. The Jondrette 
+attic? The barricade? Javert? Who knows where these 
+revelations would have stopped ? Jean Valjean did not seem 
+like a man who would draw back, and who knows whether 
+Marins, after having urged him on, would not have himself 
+desired to hold him back ? 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+232 LES MISËRABLHH. 
+
+Has it not happened to all of us, in certain supreme con 
+junctures, to stop our ears in order that we may not hear the 
+reply, after we have asked a question ? It is especially when 
+one loves that one gives way to these exhibitions of cowardice. 
+It is not wise to question sinister situations to the last point, 
+particularly when the indissoluble side of our life is fatally 
+intermingled with them. What a terrible light might hare 
+proceeded from the despairing explanations of Jean Valiean, 
+and who knows whether that hideous glare would not nave 
+darted forth as far as Cosette? Who knows whether a sort 
+of infernal glow would not have lingered behind it on the 
+brow of that angel ? The spattering of a lightning-flash is of 
+the thunder also. Fatality has points of juncture where inno- 
+cence itself is stamped with crime by the gloomy law of the 
+reflections which give color. The purest figures may forever 
+preserve the reflection of a horrible association. Rightly or 
+wrongly, Marins had been afraid. He alreadv knew too 
+much. He sought to dull his senses rather than to gain 
+further light. 
+
+In dismay he bore off Cosette in his arms and shut his eyes 
+to Jean Val jean. 
+
+That man was the night, the living and horrible night. 
+How should he dare to seek the bottom of it? It is a terrible 
+thing to interrogate the shadow. Who knows what its reply 
+will be ? The dawn may be blackened forever by it. 
+
+In this state of mind the thought that that man would, 
+henceforth, come into any contact whatever with Cosette was 
+a heartrending perplexity to Marius. 
+
+He now almost reproached himself for not having put those 
+formidable questions, before which he had recoiled, and from 
+which an implacable and deflnitive decision might have 
+sprung. He felt that he was too good, too gentle, too weak, 
+if we must say the word. This weakness had led him to an 
+imprudent concession. He had allowed himself to be touched. 
+He had been in the wrong. He ought to have simply and 
+purely rejected Jean Valjeau. Jean Valjean played the part 
+of fire, and that is what he should have done, and have freed 
+his house from that man. 
+
+He was vexed with himself, he was angry with that whirl- 
+wind of emotions which had deafened, blinded, Aid carried him 
+away. He was displeased with himself. 
+
+What was he to do now ? Jean Valjean's visits were pro- 
+foundly repugnant to him. What was the use in having that 
+man in his house ? What did the man want ? Here, he 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 233 
+
+became dismayed, he did not wish to dig down, he did not 
+wish to penetrate deeply ; he did not wish to sound himself. 
+lie had promised, he had allowed himself to be drawn into a 
+promise; Jean Valjean held his promise; one must keep one's 
+word even to a convict, above all to a ctmvict. Still, his first 
+duty was to (Josette. In short, he was carried away by the 
+repugnance which dominated him. 
+
+Marius turned over all this confusion of ideas in his 
+mind, passing from one to the other, and moved by all of them» 
+Hence arose a profound trouble. 
+
+It was not easy for him to hide this trouble from Cosette, 
+but love is a talent, and Marius succeeded in doing it. 
+
+However, without any apparent object, he questioned Co- 
+sette, who was as candid as a dove is white and who suspected 
+nothing ; he talked of her childhood and her youth, and he 
+became more and more convinced that that convict had been 
+everything good, paternal and res|jectable that a man can be, 
+towards Cosette. All that Marius had caught a glimpse of 
+and had surmised was real. That sinister nettle had loved 
+and protected that lily. 
+
+
+
+BOOK EIGHTH. — FADING AWAY OF THE TWI- 
+LIGHT. 
+
+I. — The Lower Chamber. 
+
+On the following day, at nightfall, Jean Valjean knocked 
+at the carriage gate of the Gillenormand house. It was 
+Basque who received him. Basque was in the courtyard at 
+the appointed hour, as though he had received his orders. It 
+sometimes happens that one says to a servant: "You will 
+watch for Mr. So and So, when he arrives." 
+
+Basque addressed Jean Valjean without waiting for the 
+latter to approach him : 
+
+"Monsieur le Baron has charged me to inquire whether 
+monsieur desires to go upstairs or to remain below ? '' 
+
+" I will remain below," replied Jean Valjean. 
+
+Basque, who was perfectly respectful, opened the door of 
+the waiting-room and said : 
+
+"I will go and inform Madame." 
+
+The room which Jean Valjean entered was a damp, vaulted 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+by Google 
+
+
+
+234 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+room on the ground floor, which served as a cellar on occasiou, 
+which opened on the street, was paved with red squares and 
+was badly lighted by a grated window. 
+
+This chamber was not one of those which are harassed by 
+the feather-duster, the pope's head brush, and the broom. The 
+dust rested tranquilly there. Persecution of the spiders was 
+not organized there. A fine web, which spread far and wide, 
+and was very black and ornamented with dead flies, formed a 
+wheel on one of the window-panes. The room, which was 
+smalLand low-ceiled, was furnished with a heap of empty bot- 
+tles piled up in one corner. 
+
+The wall, which was daubed with an ochre yellow wash, 
+was scaling off in large flakes. At one end, there was a chim- 
+ney-piece painted in black with a narrow shelf. A fire was 
+burning there ; which indicated that Jean Valjean's reply : " I 
+will remain below," had been foreseen. 
+
+Two arm-chairs were placed at the two corners of the fire- 
+place. Between the chairs an old bedside rug, which dis- 
+played more foundation thread than wool, had been spread by 
+way of a carpet. 
+
+The chamber was lighted by the fire on the hearth and the 
+twilight falling through the window. 
+
+Jean Val jean was fatigued. For days he had neither eaten 
+nor slept. He threw himself into one of the arm-chairs, 
+
+Basque returned, set a lighted candle on the chimney-piece 
+and retired. Jean Valjean, his head drooping and his chin 
+resting on his breast, perceived neither Basque nor the candle. 
+
+All at once, he drew himself up with a start. Cosette was 
+standing behind him. 
+
+He had not seen her enter, but he had felt that she was 
+there. 
+
+He turned round. He gazed at her. She was adorably 
+lovely. But what he was contemplating with that profound 
+gaze was not her l)eauty but her soul. 
+
+"Well," exclaimed Cosette, "father, I knew that you were 
+peculiar, but I never should have expected this. What an 
+idea ! Marins told me that you wish me to receive you here." 
+
+"Yes, it is my wish." 
+
+"I expected that reply. Good. I warn you that I am 
+going to make a scene for you. Let us begin at the beginning. 
+Embrace me, father." 
+
+And she ofTerod him her cheek. 
+
+Jean Valjean remained motionless. 
+
+" You do not stir. I take note of it. Attitude of guilt 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+JEAN . VA LJEAN. 236 
+
+But never mind, I pardon you. Jesus Christ said: Offer the 
+other cheek. Here it is." 
+
+And she presented her other cheek. 
+
+Jean Val jean did not move. It seemed as though his feet 
+were nailed to the pavement. 
+
+" This is becoming serious," said Cosette. " What have 1 
+done to you ? I declare that I am perplexed. You owe me 
+reparation. You will dine with us." 
+
+" I have dined." 
+
+<^ That is not true. I will get M. Gillenormand to scold you 
+Grandfathers are made to reprimand fathers. Come. Go up- 
+stairs with me to the drawing-room. Immediately." 
+
+" Impossible." 
+
+Here Cosette lost ground a little. She ceased to command 
+and passed to questioning. 
+
+" But why ? and you choose the ugliest chamber in the 
+house in which to see me. It's horrible here." 
+
+" Thou knowest ..." 
+
+Jean Valjean caught himself up. 
+
+" You know, madame, that I am peculiar, I have my freaks." 
+
+Cosette struck her tiny hands together. 
+
+" Madame ! . . . You know ! . . . more novelties ! What is 
+the meaning of this ? " 
+
+Jean Valjean directed upon her that heartrending smile to 
+which he occasionally had recourse : 
+
+" You wished to be Madame. You are so." 
+
+" Not for you, father." 
+
+^* Do not call me father." 
+
+"WTiat?" 
+
+'* Call me ^ Monsieur Jean.' ' Jean,' if you like." 
+
+" You are no longer my father ? I am no longer Cosette ? 
+< Monsieur Jean ' ? What does this mean ? why, these are 
+revolutions, aren't they ? what has taken place ? come, look 
+me in the face. And you won't live with us ! And you 
+won't have my chamber I What have I done to you? Has 
+anything happened ?" 
+
+" Nothing." 
+
+«Well then?" 
+
+« Everything is as usual." 
+
+" Why do you change your name ? " 
+
+" You have changed yours, surely." 
+
+He smiled again with the same smile as before and added: 
+
+"Since you are Madame Pontmercy, I certainly can be 
+Monsieur jean." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+236 LES MISËRJLBLES. 
+
+*' I don't understand anything about it. All this is idiolia 
+I shall ask permission of my husband for you to be ' Mousieuz 
+Jean.' I hope that he will not consent to it. You cause me 
+a great deal of pain. One does have freaks, but one doe^ not 
+cause one's little Gosette grief. That is wrong. You have no 
+right to be wicked, you who are so good." 
+
+He made no reply. 
+
+She seized his hands with vivacity, and raising them to 
+her face with an irresistible movement, she pressed them 
+against her neck beneath her chin, which is a gesture of pn> 
+found tenderness. 
+
+" Oh ! " she said to him, "be good ! " 
+
+And she went on : 
+
+<*This is what I call being good: being nice and coming 
+and living here, — there are birds here as there are in tlie Kue 
+Plumet, — living with us, quitting that hole of a Rue de 
+l'Homme Armé, not giving us riddles to guess, being like all 
+the rest of the world, dining with us, breakfasting with us, 
+being my father." 
+
+He loosed her hands. 
+
+" You no longer need a father, you have a husband." 
+
+Oosette became angry. 
+
+" I no longer need a father ! One really does not know 
+what to say to things like that, which are not common sense ! " 
+
+"If Toussaint were here," resumed Jean Valjean, like a 
+person who is driven to seek authorities, and who clutches at 
+every branch, " she would be the first to agree that it is true 
+that I have always had ways of my own. There is nothing 
+new in this. I always have loved my black corner." 
+
+" But it is cold here. One cannot see distinctly. It is 
+abominable, that it is, to wish to be Monsieur Jean ! I will 
+not have you say * you ' to me." 
+
+"Just now, as. I was coming hither," replied Jean Valjean, 
+" I saw a piece of furniture in the Rue Saint Louis. It was 
+at a cabinet-maker's. If I were a prett}' woman, I would treat 
+myself to that bit of furniture. A very neat toilet table ; in 
+the reigning style. What you call rosewood, I think. It is 
+inlaid. The mirror is quite large. There are drawers. It is 
+pretty." 
+
+" Hou ! the villainous bear ! " replied Gosette. 
+
+And with supreme grace, setting her teeth and drawing 
+back her lips, she blew at Jean Valjean. She was a Grace 
+copying a cat 
+
+^< I am furious," she resumed. " Ever since yesterday, jcm 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 287 
+
+hare made me irage, all of you. I am greatly vexed. I don^t 
+understand. You do not defend me against Marius. Marias 
+will not uphold me against you. I am all alone. I arrange a 
+chamber prettily. If I could have put the good God there I 
+would have done it. My chamber is left on my hands. My 
+lodger sends me into bankruptcy. I order a nice little dinner 
+of Nicolette. We will have nothing to do with your dinner^ 
+Madame. And my father Eauchelevent wants me to call him 
+* Monsieur Jean/ and to receive him in a frightful, old, ugly 
+cellar, where the walls have beards, and where the crystal con- 
+sists of empty bottles, and the curtains are of spiders' webs 1 
+You are singular, I admit, that is your style, but people who 
+get married are granted a truce. You ought not to have 
+begun being singular again instantly. So you are going to be 
+perfectly contented in your abominable Rue de PHomme 
+Armé. I was very desperate indeed there, that I was. What 
+have you against me ? You cause me a great deal of 
+grief. Fi!» 
+
+And, becoming suddenly serious, she gazed intently at Jean 
+Valjean and added : 
+
+" Are you angry with me because I am happy ? " 
+
+Ingenuousness sometimes unconsciously penetrates deep. 
+This question, which was simple for Cosette, was profound 
+for Jean Valjean. Cosette had meant to scratch, and she 
+lacerated. 
+
+Jean Valjean turned pale. 
+
+He remained for a moment without replying, then, with an 
+inexpressible intonation, and speaking to himself, he mur- 
+mured : 
+
+" Her happiness was the object of my life. Now God may 
+sign my dismissal. Cosette, thou art happy; my day is 
+over.'' 
+
+" Ah ! you have said thou to me ! *' exclaimed Cosette. 
+
+And she sprang to his neck. 
+
+Jean Valjean, in bewilderment, strained her wildly to his 
+breast. It almost seemed to him as though he were taking 
+her back. 
+
+" Thankfi, father ! " said Cosette. 
+
+This enthusiastic impulse wîis on the point of becoming 
+poignant for Jean Valjean. He gently removed Cosette'a 
+arms, and took his hat. 
+
+"Well?" said Cosette. 
+
+** I leave you, Madame, they are waiting for you.** 
+
+And, from the threshold, lie added : 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+
+288 LES MISÉRABLES. • 
+
+'^I have said thou to you. Tell your husband that this shall 
+not happen again. Pardon me." 
+
+Jean Val jean quitted the room, leaving Cosette stupefied at 
+this enigmatical farewell. 
+
+IL — Another Step Backwards. 
+
+On the following day, at the same hour, Jean Valjean 
+
+oame. 
+
+Cosette asked him no questions, was no longer astonished, 
+no longer exclaimed that she was cold^ no longer spoke of the 
+drawing-room, she avoided saying either "father," or "Mon- 
+sieur Jean." She allowed herself to be addressed as you. She 
+allowed herself to be called Madame. Only, her joy had 
+undergone a certain diminution. She would have been sad, if 
+sadness had been possible to her. 
+
+It is probable that she had had with Marius, one of those 
+conversations in which the beloved man says what he pleases, 
+explains nothing, and satisfies the beloved woman. The curi- 
+osity of lovers does not extend very far beyond their own 
+love. 
+
+The lower room had made a little toilet. Basque had sup- 
+pressed the bottles, and Nicolette the spiders. 
+
+All the days which followed broujGfht Jean Valjean at the 
+same hour. He came every day, because he had not the 
+strength to take Marius' words otherwise than literally. 
+Marius aiTanged matters so as to be absent at the hours when 
+Jean Valjean came. The house grew accustomed to the novel 
+ways of M. Fauchelevent. Toussaint helped in this direc- 
+tion: "Monsieur has always been like that," she repeated. 
+The grandfather issued this decree: — "He's an original." 
+And all was said. Moreover, at the age of ninety-six, no bond 
+is any longer possible, all is merely juxtaposition; a new- 
+comer is in the way. There is no longer any room ; all habits 
+are acquired. M. Fauchelevent, M. Tranchelevent, Father 
+Oillenormand asked nothing better than to be relieved from 
+" that gentleman." He added : — " Nothing is more common 
+than those originals. They do all sorts of queer things. 
+They have no reason. The Marquis de Canaples was still 
+worse. He bought a palace that he might lodge in the 
+garret. These are fantastic appearances that peojdc affect" 
+
+No one caught a glimpse of the sinister foundation. And 
+moreover, who oould have guessed such a thing ? There are 
+marshes of this description in India. The water sopids 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 239 
+
+extxaordinaty, inexplicable, rippling though there is no wind, 
+and agitated where it should be calm. One gazes at the sur- 
+face of these causeless ebullitions ; one does not perceive the 
+hydra which crawls on the bottom. 
+
+Many men have a secret monster in this same manner, a 
+dragon which gnaws them, a despair which inhabits their 
+night. Such a man resembles other men, he goes and comes. 
+No one knows that he bears within him a frightful parasitic 
+pain with a thousand teeth, which lives within the unhappy 
+man, and of which he is dying. No one knows that this man 
+is a gulf. He is stagnant but deep. From time to time, a 
+trouble of which the on-looker understands nothing appears 
+on his surface. A mystorious wrinkle is formed, then van- 
+ishes, then rc-apiDears ; an air-bubble rises and bursts. It is 
+the breathing of the unknown beast. 
+
+Certain strange habits: arriving at the hour when other 
+people are taking their leave, keeping in the background when 
+other people are displaying themselves, preserving on all 
+occasions, what may be designated as the wall-colored mantle, 
+seeking the solitary walk, preferring the deserted street, 
+avoiding any share in conversation, avoiding crowds and festi- 
+vals, seeming at one's ease and living poorly, having one's key 
+in one's pocket, and one's candle at the porter's lodge, how- 
+ever rich one may be, entering by the side door, ascending the 
+private staircase, — all these insignificant singularities, fugi- 
+tive folds on the surface, often proceed from a formidable 
+foundation. 
+
+Many weeks passed in this manner. A new life gradually 
+took possession of Cosette: the relations whi(ïh marriage 
+creates, visits, the care of the house, pleasures, great matters. 
+Cosette's pleasures were not costly, they consisted in one 
+thing : being with Marius. The great occupation of her life 
+was to go out with him, to remain with him. It was for 
+them a joy that was always fresh, to go out arm and arm, in 
+the face of the sun, in the open street, without hiding them- 
+selves, before the whole world, both of them completely 
+alone. 
+
+Cosette had one vexation, Toussaint could not get on 
+with Nicolette, the soldering of two elderly maids being 
+impossible, and she went away. The grandfather was well ; 
+Marius argued a case hero and there ; Aunt Gillenormand 
+peacefully led that life aside which sufficed for her, beside the 
+new household. Jean Val jean came every day. 
+
+The address as thou disappeared, the you^ the '^ Madame»" 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+
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+
+240 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+the "Monsienr Jean," rendered him another person to Gosette 
+The care which he had himself taken to detach her from him 
+was succeeding. She became more and more gay and less 
+and less tender. Yet she still loved him sincerely, and he 
+felt it. 
+
+One day she said to him suddenly : '' You used to be my 
+father, you are no longer my father, you were my uncle, you 
+are no longer my uncle, you were Monsieur Fauchelevent, you 
+are Jean. Who are you then ? I don't like all this. If I 
+did not know how good you are, T should be afraid of you." 
+
+He still lived in the Rue de l'Homme Armé, because he 
+could not make up his mind to remove to a distance from the 
+quarter where Cosette dwelt. 
+
+At first, he only remained a few minutes with Cosette, and 
+then went away. 
+
+Little by little he acquired the habit of making his visits 
+less brief. One would have said that he was taking advan- 
+tage of the authorization of the days which were lengthening : 
+he arrived earlier and departed later. 
+
+One day Cosette chanced to say " father*' to him. A flash of 
+joy illuminated Jean Val jean's melancholy old countenance. 
+He caught her up : '* Say Jean." — " Ah ! truly," she replied 
+with a burst of laughter, " Monsieur Jean." — " That is right," 
+said he. And he turned aside so that she might not see him 
+wipe his eyes. 
+
+III. — They Recall the Garden op the Rue Plumet. 
+
+This was the last time. After that last flash of light, com- 
+plete extinction ensued. No more familiarity, no more good- 
+morning with a kiss, never more that word ao profoundly 
+sweet: "My father!" He was at his own request and 
+through his own complicity driven out of all his happinesses 
+one after the other ; and he had this sorrow, that skifter hav- 
+ing lost Cosette wholly in one day, he was afterwards obliged 
+to lose her again in detail. 
+
+The eye eventually becomes accustomed to the light of a 
+cellar. In short, it sufficed for him to have an apparition of 
+Cosette every day. His whole life was concentrated in that 
+one hour. 
+
+He seated himself close to her, he gazed at her in silence, 
+or he talked to her of years gone by, of her childhood, oi 
+the convent, of her little friends of those bygone days 
+
+One afternoon, — it was on one of those early days in Aprili 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 241 
+
+already warm and fresh,, the moment of the sun's great gay 
+ety, the gardens which surrounded the windows of Marius 
+and Cosette felt the emotion of waking, the hawthorn was on 
+the point of budding, a jewelled garniture of gillyflowers 
+spread orer the ancient walls, snapdragons yawned through 
+the crevices of the stones, amid the grass there was a charm- 
+ing beginning of daisies, and buttercups, the white butterflies 
+of the year were making their first appearance, the wind, that 
+minstrel of the eternal wedding, was trying in the trees thfe 
+first notes of that grand, auroral symphony which the old 
+poets called the springtide, — Marius said to Cosette : — '* We 
+said that we would go back to take a look at our garden in the 
+Rue Plumet. Let us go thither. We must not be ungrate- 
+ful." — And away they flitted, like two swallows towards the 
+spring. This garden of the Rue Plumet produced on them 
+the effect of the dawn. They already had behind them in 
+life something which was like the springtime of their love. 
+The house in the Rue Plumet being held on a lease, still be- 
+longed to Cosette. They went to that garden and that house. 
+There they found themselves again, there they forgot them- 
+selves. That evening, at the usual hour, Jean Valjean came 
+to the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire. — " Madame went out with 
+Monsieur and has not yet returned,'' Basque said to him. He 
+seated himself in silence, and waited an hour. Cosette did 
+not return. He departed with drooping head* 
+
+Cosette was so intoxicated with her walk to " their garden," 
+and so joyous at having "lived a whole day in her past," that 
+she talked of nothing else on the morrow. She did not 
+notice that she had not seen Jean Valjean. 
+
+" In what way did you go thither ? " Jean Valjean asked 
+her. 
+
+" On foot." 
+
+" And how did you return ? " 
+
+" In a hackney carriage." 
+
+For some time, Jean Valjean had noticed the economical 
+life led by the young couple. He was troubled by it. Marins' 
+economy was severe, and that word had its absolute meaning 
+for Jean Valjean. He hazarded a query : 
+
+" Why do not you have a carriage of your own ? A pretty 
+coupe would only cost you five hundred francs a month. You 
+are rich.'' 
+
+" I don't know," replied Cosette. 
+
+"It is like Toussaint," resumed Jean Valjean. "She is 
+g^ne. You have not replaced her. Why ? " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
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+
+242 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+**Nicolette suffices." 
+
+<* But you ought to have a maid." 
+
+« Have I not Marius ? " 
+
+" You ought to have a house of your owr. your own serYanta^ 
+a carriage, a box at the theatre. There ii nothing too fine fot 
+you. Why not profit by your riches ? Wealth adds to 
+happiness.'' 
+
+Oosette made no reply. 
+
+Jean Valjean's visits were not abridged. Far from it 
+When it is the heart which is slipping, one does not halt on 
+the downward slope. 
+
+When Jean Valjean wished to prolong his visit and to in- 
+duce forgetfulness of the hour, he sang the praises of Marins ; 
+he pronounced him handsome, noble, courageous, witty, elo- 
+quent, good. Cosette outdid him. Jean Valjean began 
+again. They were never weary. Marius — that word was 
+inexhaustible; those six lettei-s contained volumes. In tlii^ 
+manner, Jean Valjean contrived to remain a long time. 
+
+It was so sweet to see Cosette, to forget by her side ! It 
+alleviated his wounds. It frequently ha[>pened that Basque 
+came twice to announce : " M. Gillenormand sends me t<' 
+remind Madame la Baronne that dinner is served.'' 
+
+On those days, Jean Valjean was very thoughtful on his 
+return home. 
+
+Was there then, any truth in that comparison of the chrys- 
+alis which had presented itself to the mind of Marius? TVa= 
+Jean Valjean really a chrysalis who would persist, and who 
+would come to visit his butterfly ? 
+
+One day he remained still longer than usual. On the fol- 
+lowing day he observed that there was no fire on the hearth. 
+— " Hello ! " he thought. "No fire." — And he furnished the 
+explanation for himself. — " It is perfectly simple. It 13 
+April. The cold weather has ceased." 
+
+" Heavens ! how cold it is here ! " exclaimed Cosette when 
+she entered. 
+
+" Why, no,'* said Jean Valjean. 
+
+** Was it you who told Basque not to make a fire then ? " 
+
+" Yes, since we are now in the month of May.'^ 
+
+"But we have a fire until June. One is needed all the year 
+in this cellar," 
+
+" T thought that a fire was unnecessary." 
+
+" That is exactly like one of your ideas ! " retorted Cosette. 
+
+On the foUow^ing day there was a fire. But the two arm- 
+chairs were arranged at the other end of the room near 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 343 
+
+Ibe door. '' — What is the meaning of this ? '' thought Jean 
+
+Val jean. 
+
+He went for the arm-chairs and restored them to their ordi- 
+nary place near the hearth. 
+
+This fire lighted once more encouraged him, however. He 
+prolonged the conversation even beyond its customary limits, 
+A.S he rose to take his leave, Cosette said to him : 
+
+" My husband said a queer thing to me yesterday." 
+
+«What was it?" 
+
+"He said to me: * Cosette, we have an income of thirty 
+thousand livres. Twenty-seven that you own, and three that 
+my grandfather gives me.' I replied : * That makes thirty.' 
+He went on: 'Would you have the courage to live on the 
+three thousand?' I answered : 'Yes, on nothing. Provided 
+that it was with you.' And then I asked : ' Why do you say 
+that to me ? ' He replied : ' I wanted to know.' " 
+
+Jean Valjean foimd not a word to answer. Cosette probably 
+expected some explanation from him ; he listened in gloomy 
+silence. He went back to the Rue de l'Homme Armé ; he 
+was so deex)ly absorbed that he mistook the door and instead 
+of entering his own house, he entered the adjoining dwelling. 
+It was only after having ascended nearly two stories that he per- 
+ceived his error and went down again. 
+
+His mind was swarming with conjectures. It was evident 
+that Marius had his doubts as to the origin of the six hundred 
+thousand francs, that he feared some source that was not pure, 
+who knows ? that he had even, perhaps, discovered that the 
+money came from him, Jean Valjean, that he hesitated before 
+this suspicious fortune, and was disinclined to take it as his 
+own, — preferring that both he and Cosette should remain poor, 
+rather than that they should be rich with wealth that was not 
+clean. 
+
+Moreover, Jean Valjean began vaguely to surmise that he 
+was being shown the door. 
+
+On the following day, he underwent something like a 
+shock on entering the ground-floor room. The arm-chairs 
+had disappeared. There was not a single chair of any sort. 
+
+" Ah, what's this ! " exclaimed Cosette as she entered, " no 
+chairs ! Where are the arm-cliairs ? " 
+
+" They are no longer here," replied Jean Valjean. 
+
+"This is too much!" 
+
+Jean Valjean stammered : 
+
+" It was I who told Basque to remove them/' 
+
+*' And your reason ? " 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+244 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+" I have only a few minutes to stay to-day." 
+
+" A brief stay is no reason for remaining standing." 
+
+'< I think that Basque needed the chairs for the drawing- 
+room."* 
+
+" Why ? " 
+
+<^ You have company this evening, no doubt." 
+
+" We expect no one." 
+
+Jean Valjean had not another word to say. 
+
+Cosette shrugged her shoulders. 
+
+" ïo have the chairs carried off I The other day you had 
+the fire put out. How odd you are ! " 
+
+" Adieu ! " murmured Jean Valjean. 
+
+He did not say : " Adieu, Cosette." But he had not the 
+strength to say : << Adieu, Madame." 
+
+He went away utterly overwhelmed. 
+
+This time he had understood. 
+
+On the following day he did not come. Cosette only ob- 
+served the fact in the evening. 
+
+" Why," said she, " Monsieur Jean has not been her^ to 
+day." 
+
+And she felt a slight twinge at her heart, but she hardly 
+perceived it, being immediately diverted by a kiss from 
+Marius. 
+
+On the following day he did not come. 
+
+Cosette paid no heed to this, passed her evening and slept 
+well that night, as usual, and thought of it only when she 
+woke. She was so happy ! She speedily despatched Nico- 
+iette to M. Jean's house to inquire whether he were ill, and 
+why he had not come on the previous evening. Nicolette 
+brought back the reply of M. Jean that he was not ill. He 
+was busy. He would come soon. As soon as he was able. 
+Moreover, he was on the point of taking a little journey. 
+Madame must remember that it was his custom to take trips 
+from time to time. They were not to worry about him. 
+They were not to think of him. 
+
+Nicolette on entering M. Jean's had repeated to him her 
+mistress' very words. That Madame had sent to inquire why 
+M. Jean had not come on the preceding evening. " — It 
+is two days since I have been there," said Jean Valjean 
+gently. 
+
+But the remark passed unnoticed by Nicolette, who did not 
+report it to Cosette. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN. 245 
+
+
+
+rV. — Attraction and Extinction. 
+
+Z)uBiNQ the last months of spring and the first months of 
+siunmer in 1833, the rare passers-by in the Marais, the petty 
+shopkeepers, the loungers on thresholds, noticed an old man 
+neatly clad in black, who emerged every day at the same 
+hour, towards nightfall, from the Rue de VHouime Armé, on 
+the side of the Rue Sainte-Croix-de-la-Bretonnerie, passed in 
+front of the Blancs Manteaux, gained the Rue Culture-Sainte- 
+Catherine, and, on arriving at the Rue de FÈcharpe, turned 
+to the left, and entered the Rue Saint-Louis. 
+
+There he walked at a slow pace, with his head strained 
+forward, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, his eye immovably 
+fixed on a point which seemed to be a star to him, which never 
+varied, and which was no other than the corner of the Rue 
+des Filles-du-Calvaire. The nearer he approached the corner 
+of the street the more his eye lighted up ; a sort of joy illumi- 
+nated his pupils like an inward aurora, he had a fascinated and 
+much affected air, his lips indulged in obscure movements, as 
+though he were talking to some one whom he did not see, he 
+smiled vaguely and advanced as slowly as possible. One 
+would have said that, while desirous of reaching his destina- 
+tion, he feared the moment when he should be close at hand. 
+When only a few houses remained between him and that 
+street which appeared to attract him his pace slackened, to 
+such a degree that, at times, one might have thought that he 
+was no longer advancing at all. The vacillation of his head 
+and the fixity of his eyeballs suggested the thought of the 
+magnetic needle seeking the pole. Whatever time he spent 
+on arriving, he was obliged to arrive at last ; he reached the 
+'Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire ; then he halted, he trembled, he 
+thrust his head with a sort of melancholy timidity round the 
+3orner of the last house, and gazed into that street, and there 
+was in that tragic look something which resembled the dazzling 
+light of the impossible, and the reflection from a paradise that 
+was closed to him. Then a tear, which had slowly gathered in 
+the corner of his lids, and had become large enough to fall, 
+trifkled down his cheek, and sometirfies stopped at his mouth. 
+The old man tasted its bitter flavor. ' Thus he remained for 
+several minutes as though made of stone, then he returned by 
+the same road and with the same step, and, in proportion as 
+he retreated, his glance died out. 
+
+Little by little, this old man ceased to go as far as the 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+246 I'E:s MISÉRABLES. 
+
+corner of tbe Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire ; he halted half way 
+iu the Rue Saint-Louis j sometimes a little further off, some- 
+times a little nearer. 
+
+One day he stopi)ed at the corner of the Rue Culture-Sainte- 
+Catherine and looked at the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire from a 
+distance. Then he shook his head slowly from right to left, 
+as though refusing himself something, and retraced his steps. 
+
+Soon he no longer came as far as the Rue Saint-Louis. 
+He got as far as the Rue Pavée, shook his head and turned 
+back j then he, went no further than the Rue des Trois-Pavil- 
+lons; then he did not overstep the Blancs-Manteaux. One 
+would have said that he was a pendulum which was no longer 
+wound up, and whose oscillations were growing shorter before 
+ceasing altogether. 
+
+Every day he emerged from his house at the same hour, he 
+undertook the same trip, but he no longer completed it, and, 
+perhaps without himself being aware of the fact, he constantly 
+shortened it. His whole countenance expressed this single 
+idea : What is the use ? — His eye was dim ; no more radiance. 
+His tears were also exhausted ; they no longer collected in the 
+corner of his eye-lid ; that thoughtful eye was diy. The oLl 
+man's head was still craned forward; his chin moved at 
+times ; the folds in his gaunt neck were painful to behold. 
+Sometimes, when the weather was bad, he had an umbrella 
+under his arm, but he never opened it. 
+
+The good women of the quarter said : " He is an innocent." 
+The children followed him and laughed. 
+
+
+
+BOOK NINTH. — SUPREME SHADOW, SUPREME 
+
+DAWN. 
+
+L — Pity for the Unhappy, but Indulgence for the 
+
+Happy. 
+
+It is a terrible thing to be happy ! How content one is ! 
+How all-suiRcient one finds it ! How, being in ]K)ssession .>f 
+the false object of life, happiness, one forgets the true object, 
+duty 1 
+
+Let us say, however, that the reader would do wrong were 
+he to blame Marins. 
+
+Marins, as we have explained, before his marriage, had put 
+no questions to M. Faucheleveut, and, since that time, be ha4l 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+
+JEAN VÂUEAN. 247 
+
+feared to put any to Jean Valjeau. He had regretted the 
+promise into which he had allowed himself to be drawn. He 
+had often said to himself that he had done wrong in making 
+that concession to despair. He had confined himself to grad- 
+oally estranging Jean Valjean from his house and to effacing 
+him, as much as possible, from Cosette's mind. He had, in a 
+manner, always placed himself between Cosette and Jean Val* 
+jean, sure that, in this way, she would not perceire nor 
+think of the latter. It was more than effacement, it was an 
+eclipse. 
+
+Marius did what he considered necessary and jusi. He 
+thought that he had serious reasons which the reader has al- 
+ready seen, and others which will be seen later on, for getting 
+rid of Jean Valjean without harshness, but without weakness. 
+
+Chance having ordained that he should encounter, in a case 
+which he had argued, a former employee of the Laflitte estab- 
+lishriîent, he had acquired mysterious information, without 
+seeking it, which ' he had not been able, it is true, to probe, 
+out of respect for the secret which he liad promised to guard, 
+and out of consideration for Jean Valjean's perilous position. 
+He believed at that moment, that he had a grave duty to per- 
+form : the restitution of the six hundred thousand francs to 
+some one whom he sought with all possible discretion. In 
+the meanwhile, he abstained from touching that money. 
+
+As for Cosette, she had not been initiated into any of these 
+secrets ; but it would be harsh to condemn her also. 
+
+There existed between Marius and her an all-powerful mag- 
+netism, which caused her to do, instinctively and almost 
+mechanically, what Marius wished. She was conscious of 
+Marius' will in the direction of "Monsieur Jean," she con- 
+formed to it. Her husband had not been obliged bo say any- 
+thing to her ; she yielded to the vague but clear pressure of 
+his tacit intentions, and obeyed blindly. Her obedience in 
+this instance, consisted in not remembering what Marius forgot. 
+She was not obliged to make any effort to accomplish this. 
+Without her knowing why herself, and without his having any 
+cause to accuse her of it, her soul had become so wholly her 
+husbamVs that that which was shrouded in gloom in Marius, 
+mind, became overcast in hers. 
+
+Let us not go too far, however ; in what concerns Jean Val- 
+jean, this forgetf Illness and obliteration were merely super 
+ficial. She was rather heedless than forgetful. At bottom, 
+she was sincerely attached to the man whom she had so long 
+called her father; but she loved her husband still more dearly. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+248 LBS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+This was what had somewhat disturbed the balance of her 
+heart, which leaned to one side only. 
+
+It sometimes happened that Cosette spoke of Jean Valjean 
+and expressed her surprise. Then Marius calmed her ; ** He is 
+absent; I think. Did not he say that he was setting out on a 
+journey?" — "That is true," thought Cosette. "He had a 
+habit of disappearing in this fashion. But not for so long." 
+Two or three times she despatched Nicolette to inquire in tlie 
+Rue de FHomme Armé whether M. Jean had returned from his 
+journey. Jean Valjean caused the answer " no " to be given. 
+
+Cosette asked nothing more, since she had but one need on 
+earth, Marius. 
+
+Let us also say that, on their side, Cosette and Marius 
+had also been absent. They had been to Vernon. Marius had 
+taken Cosette to his father's grave. 
+
+Marius gradually won Cosette away from Jean Valjean. 
+Cosette allowed it. 
+
+Moreover that which is called, far too harshly in certain 
+oases, the ingratitude of children, is not always a thing so 
+deserving of reproach as it is supposed. It is the ingratitude 
+of nature. Nature, as we have elsewhere said, " looks before 
+her." Nature divides living beings into those who are arriv- 
+ing and those who are departing. Those who are departing 
+are turned towards the shadows, those who are arriving to- 
+wards the light. Hence a gulf which is fatal on the part of 
+the old, and involuntary on the part of the young. This 
+breach, at*£rst insensible, increases slowly, like all separations 
+of branches. The boughs, without becoming detached from 
+the trunk, grow away from it. It is no fault of theirs. 
+Youth goes where there is joy, festivals, vivid lights, love. 
+Old age goes towards the end. They do not lose sight of 
+each other, but there is no longer a close connection. Young 
+people feel the cooling ofE of life; old people, that of the 
+tomb. Let us not blame these poor children. 
+
+
+
+IL — Last Fliokerinqs of a Lamp Without Oil. 
+
+One day, Jean Valjean descended his staircase, took three 
+steps in the street, seated himself, on a post, on that same 
+stone post where Gravroche had found him meditating on the 
+night between the »5th and the 6th of June ; he remained 
+there a few moments, then went up stairs agaiu. This was 
+the last oscillation of the pendulum. On the following day ha 
+
+
+
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+
+JEAI^ VL.JEAN. 249 
+
+did not leave his apartment. On the day after that, he did 
+not leave his bed. 
+
+His portress, who prepared his scanty repasts, a few cab- 
+bages or potatoes with bacon, glanced at the brown earthen- 
+ware plate and exclaimed : 
+
+" But you ate nothing yesterday, poor, dear man." 
+
+" Certainly I did," replied Jean Valjean. 
+
+"The plate is quite full/' 
+
+" Look at the water jug. It is empty." 
+
+" That proves that you have drunk ; it does not prove that 
+you have eaten." 
+
+" Well," said Jean Valjean, " what if I felt hungry only for 
+water ? " 
+
+" That is called thirst, and, when one does not eat at the same 
+time, it is called fever." 
+
+" I will eat to-morrow." 
+
+" Or at Trinity day. Why not to-day ? Is it the thing to 
+say : ' I will eat to-morrow ' ? The idea of leaving my platter 
+without even touching it ! My lady-linger potatoes were so 
+good!" 
+
+Jean Valjean took the old woman's hand : 
+
+" I promise you that I will eat them," he said, in his 
+benevolent voice. 
+
+" I am not pleased with you," replied the portress. 
+
+Jean Valjean saw no other human creature than this good 
+woman. There are streets in Paris through which no one 
+ever passes, and houses to which no one ever comes. He was 
+in one of those streets and one of those houses. 
+
+While he still went out, he had purchased of a copper-smith, 
+for a few sous a little copper crucihx which he had hung up 
+on a nail opposite his bed. That gibbet is always good to 
+Look at. 
+
+A week passed, and Jean Valjean had not taken a step in 
+his room. He still remained in bed. The portress said to 
+her husband ; — " The goodman upstairs yonder does not get 
+up, he no longer eats, he will not last long. That man has his 
+sorrows, that he has. You won't get it out of my head that 
+his daughter has made a bad marriage." 
+
+The porter replied, with the tone of marital sovereignty : 
+
+" If he/s rich, let him have a doctor. If he is not rich, let 
+him go without. If ha has no doctor he will die." 
+
+" And if he has one ? " 
+
+" He will die," said the porter. 
+
+The portress SQt to scraping away the grass from what she 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+250 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+called her pavement, with «an old knife, and, as she icre cfOk 
+the blades, she grumbled: 
+
+<< It's a shame. Such a neat old man ! He's as white as s 
+•ihicken." 
+
+She caught sight of the doctor of the quarter as he passed the 
+3nd of the street ; she took it upon herself to request him to 
+come up stairs. 
+
+" It^s ou the second floor/' said she. " You have onlj- to 
+enter. As the good man no longer stirs from his bed, the 
+door is always unlocked." 
+
+The doctor saw Jean Val jean and spoke with him. 
+
+When he came down again the portress interrogated him : 
+
+"Well, doctor?" 
+
+"Your sick man is very ill indeed." 
+
+" What is the matter with him ? " 
+
+" Everything and nothing. He is a man who, to all appear- 
+ances, has lost some person who is dear to him. People die 
+of that." 
+
+** What did he say to you ? " 
+
+" He told me that he was in good health." 
+
+" Shall you come again, doctor ? " 
+
+"Yes," replied the doctor. "But some one else besides 
+must come." 
+
+IIL — A Pek is Heavy to the Man who Lifted the 
+Fauchelevent's Cart. 
+
+One evening Jean Valjean found difficulty in raising him- 
+self on his elbow ; he felt of his wrist and could not find his 
+pulse ; his breath was short and halted at times ; he recognized 
+the fact that he was weaker than he had ever been before. 
+Then, no doubt under the pressure of some supreme preoccu- 
+pation, he made an effort, drew himself up into a sitting ))os- 
+ture and dressed himself. He put on his old workingman's 
+clothes. As he no longer went out, he had returned to them 
+and preferred them. He was obliged to pause many times 
+while dressing himself ; merely putting his arms through his 
+Waistcoat made the perspiration trickle from his forehead. 
+
+Since he had been alone, he had placed his bed in the antp- 
+chamber, in order to inhabit that deserted apartment as little 
+as possible. 
+
+He opened the valise and drew from it Cosette's outfit. 
+
+He spread it out on his bed. 
+
+The Bishop's candlesticks were in their place on the chim 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 261 
+
+ney-pîeee. He took from a drawer two wax candles and put 
+iheni in the candlesticks. • Then, although it was still broad 
+daylight, — it was summer, — he lighted them'. In the same 
+way candles are to be seen lighted in broad daylight in cham- 
+bers where there is a corpse. 
+
+Every step that he took in going from one piece of furniture 
+to another exhausted him, and he was obliged to sit down. It 
+was not ordinary fatigue which expends the strength only to 
+renew it ; it was the remnant of all movement possible to him ; 
+it was life drained which flows away drop by drop in over- 
+whelming efforts and which will never be renewed. 
+
+The chair into which he allowed himself to fall wa \ placed 
+in front of that mirror, so fatal for him, so providential 
+for Marius, in which he had read Cosette's reversed writing 
+on the blotting book. He caught sight of himself in this 
+mirror, and did not recognize himself. He was eighty years 
+old; before Marius' marriage, he would have haraly been 
+taken for fifty ; that year had counted for thirty. What he 
+bore on his brow was no longer the wrinkles of age, it was the 
+mysterious mark of death. The hollowing of that pitiless 
+nail could be felt there. His cheeks were pendulous; the 
+skin of his face had the color which would lead one to think 
+that it already had earth upon it ; the corners of his mouth 
+drooped as in the mask which the ancients "Sculptured on 
+tombs. He gazed into space with an air of reproach; one 
+would have said that he was one of those grand tragic beings 
+who have cause to complain of some one. 
+
+He was in that condition, the last phase of dejection, in 
+which sorrow no longer flows; it is coagulated, so to speak; 
+there is something on the soul like a clot of despair. 
+
+Night had come. He laboriously dragged a table and the 
+old arm-chair to the fireside, and placed upon the table a pen, 
+some ink and some paper. 
+
+That done, he had a fainting fit. When he recovered con 
+sciousness, he was thirsty. As he could not lift the jug, he 
+tipped it over painfully towards his mouth, and swallowed a 
+draught. 
+
+As neither the pen nor the ink had been used fora lOng 
+time, the point of the pen had curled up, the ink had dried 
+away, he was forced to rise and put a few drops of water in 
+the ink, which he did not accomplish without pausing and 
+sitting down two or three times, and he was com])elled to 
+write with the back of the pen. He wiped his brow from 
+time to time. 
+
+
+
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+iS2 LES MISËRABLBH. 
+
+Then he turned towards the bed, and, still seated, for he 
+could not stand, he gazed at the little black gown and all those 
+beloved objects. 
+
+These contemplations lasted for hours which seemed min- 
+utes. 
+
+All at once he shivered, he felt that a child was taking 
+possession of him ; he rested his elbows on the table, which 
+was illuminated by the Bishop's candles and took up the pen. 
+liis hand trembled. He wix)te slowly the few following lines : 
+
+" Cosette, I bless thee. I am going to explain to thee. Thy 
+husband was right in giving me to understand that I ought to 
+go away ; but there is a little error in what he believed, though 
+he was in the right. He is excellent. Love him well even 
+after I am dead. Monsieur l*ontmeroy, love my dai-ling child 
+well. Cosette, this paper will be found ; this is what 1 wish 
+to say to thee, thou wilt see the figures, if 1 have the strength 
+to recall them, listen well, this money is really thine. Here 
+is the whole matter : White jet comes from Norway, black jet 
+comes from England, black glass jewellery comes from Ger- 
+many. Jet is the lightest, the most precious, the most costly. 
+Imitations can be made in France as well as in Germany. 
+What is needed is a little anvil two inches square, and a lamp 
+burning spirits of wine to soften tjje wax. The wax was for- 
+merly made with resin and lampblack, and cost foiu- livres* the 
+pound. I invented a way of making it with gum shellac and 
+turpentine. It does not cost more than thirty sous, and is 
+much better. Buckles are made with a violet glass which is 
+stuck fast, by means of this wax, to a little framework of 
+black iron. The gliiss must be violet for iron jewellery, and 
+black for gold jewellery. Spain buys a great deal of it It is 
+the country of jet ..." 
+
+Here he i)aused, the pen fell from his fingers, he was seized 
+by one of those sobs which at times, welled up from the vei-y 
+depths of his being ; the poor man clasped his head in both 
+hands, and meditated. 
+
+"Oh!" he exclaimed within himself [lamentable cries, 
+heard by God alone], "all is over. I shall never see her 
+more. She is a smile which passed over me, I am about to 
+plunge into the night without even seeing her again. Oh ! 
+one minute, one instant, to hear her voice, to touch her dress, 
+to gaze upon her, upon her, the angel ! and then to die ! It is 
+nothing to die, what is frightful is to die without seeing her. 
+She would smile on me, she would say a word to me, would 
+that do any harm to anyone ? No, sdl is over, and forevet 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+lEAN VAUEAN. 263 
+
+liere I am aJl alone. My Grod ! My God 1 I shall never see 
+her again ! " 
+At that moment there came a knock at the door; 
+
+IV. — A BoTTLB OP Ink Which Only Succeeded nr 
+Whitening. 
+
+That same day, or to speak more accurately, that same 
+evening, as Marius left the table, and was on the point ot 
+withdrawing to his study, having a case to look over, Basque 
+handed him a letter saying: "The person who wrote the let- 
+ter is in the antechamber.?' 
+
+Cosette had taken the grandfather's arm and was strolling 
+in the garden. 
+
+A letter, like a man, may have an unprepossessing exterior. 
+Coarse paper, coarsely folded — the very sight of certain mis- 
+sives is displeasing. 
+
+The letter which Basque had brought was of this sort. 
+
+Marius took it. It smelled of tobacco. Nothing evokes a 
+memory like an odor. Marius recognized that tobacco. He 
+looked at the superscription : " To Monsieur, Monsieur le 
+Baron Pommerci. At his hotel." The recognition of the 
+tobacco caused him to recognize the writing as well. It may 
+be said that amazement has its lightning flashes. 
+
+Marius was, as it were, illuiii:~:ited by one of these flashes. 
+
+The sense of smell, that mysterious aid to memory, had just 
+revived a whole world witliin him. This was certainly the 
+paper, the fashion of folding, the dull tint of ink ; it was cer* 
+tainly tho well-known handwriting, especially was it the same 
+tobacco. 
+
+The Jondrette garret rose before his mind. 
+
+Thus, strange freak of chance ! . one of the two scents which 
+he had so diligently sought, the one in connection with which he 
+had lately again exerted so many efforts, and which he sup- 
+posed to be forever lost, had come and presented itself to him 
+of its own accord. 
+
+He eagerly broke the seal, and read : 
+
+*' Monsieur le Baron : *— If the Supreme Being had given me the talents, 
+t might have been baron Théiiarcl« member <'f the Institute [academy of 
+dences], but I am not. I only bear the same name as him, happy if tliis 
+memory recommends me to the eccellence of your kindnesses. The bene- 
+fit with which you will honor me will Ik» rcoiprocle. I am in possession of 
+a secret concerninf; an individual. This individual concerns yon. I hold 
+the secret at your dlsi>osal desirinjj to.liave the lionor tobehuseful to you. 
+i will furnish you with the simple means of driving from your honorabel 
+family that individual who has no right there, madame la baronne being 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+254 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+•f lofty birth. The sanctuary of Tirtoe cannot cohabit longer with crime 
+
+without alidicating. 
+I awate in tlie cntichamber the orders of monsieur le baron. 
+
+"With respect.* 
+
+The letter was signed '< Thënard." 
+
+This signature was not false. It was merely a trifle 
+abridged. 
+
+Moreover, the riginjvrole and the orthography completed the 
+revelation. The certificate of origin was comi)lete. 
+
+Marius' emotion was profound. After a start of surprise, he 
+underwent a feeling of ha])piness. If he could now but find that 
+other man of whom he was in search, the man who had saved 
+him, Marius, there would be nothing left for him to desire. 
+
+He opened the drawer of his secretary, took out several 
+bank-notes, put tWm in his pocket, closed the secretary agaia. 
+and riing the bell. Basque half opened the door. 
+
+" 8I10W the man in,*' said Marius. 
+
+Basque announced : 
+
+<* Monsieur Thénard.*' 
+
+A man entered. 
+
+A fresh surprise for Marius. The man who entered was an 
+utter stranger to him. 
+
+Tliis man, who was old, moreover, had a thick nose, his 
+chin swathed in a cravat, green spectacles with a double 
+screen of green taffeta over his eyes, and his hair was plas- 
+tered and flattened down on his brow on a level with his 
+eyebrows like the wigs of English coachmen in "high life." 
+Ilis hair was gray. He was dressed in black from head to 
+foot, in garments that were very threadbare but clean; a 
+bunch of seals depending from his fob suggested the idea of a 
+watch. He held in his hand an old hat ! He walked in a 
+bent attitude, and the curve in his spine augmented the pro- 
+fundity of his bow. 
+
+The first thing that struck the observer was, that this pe^ 
+sonage's coat, which was too ample although carefully but- 
+tcmed, had not been made for him. 
+
+Here a short digression becomes necessary. 
+
+There was in Paris at that epoch, in a low-lived old lodging 
+in the Rue Beautreillis, near the Arsenal, an ingenious Jew 
+whose profession was to change villains into honest men. 
+Not for too long, which might have proved embarrassing for 
+the villain. The change was on sight, for a day or two, at 
+the rate of thirty sous a day, by means of a costume which 
+resembled the honesty of the world in general as nearly as 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 266 
+
+possible. This costumer was called <Hhe Changer'^; the 
+pickpockets of Paris had given him this name and knew him 
+by no other. He had a tolerably complete wardrobe. The 
+rags with which he tricked out people were almost probable. 
+He had specialties and categories ; on each nail of his shop 
+hung a social status, threadbare and worn ; here the suit of 
+a magistrate, there the outfit of a Curé, beyond the outfit of 
+a banker, in one corner the costume of a retired military man, 
+elsewhere the habiliments of a man of letters, and further on 
+the dress of a statesman. 
+
+This creature was the costumer of the immense drama 
+which knavery plays in Paris. His lair was the green-room 
+whence theft emerged, and into which roguery retreated. A 
+tattered knave arrived at this dressing-room, deposited his 
+thirty sous and selected, according to the part which he wished 
+to play, the costume which suited him, and on descend- 
+ing the stairs once more, the knave was a somebody. Oil the 
+following day the clothes were faithfully returned, and the 
+Changer, who trusted the thieves with everything, was never 
+robbed. There was one inconvenience about these clothes, 
+they " did not fit " ; not having been made for those who wore 
+them, they were too tight for one, too loose for another and 
+did not adjust themselves to any one. Every pickpocket who 
+exceeded or fell short of the human average was ill at his ease 
+in the Changer's costumes. It was necessary that one should 
+not be either too fat or too lean. The changer had foreseen only 
+ordinary men. He had taken the measure of the species from 
+the first rascal who came to* hand, who is neither stout nor thin, 
+neither tall nor short. Hence adaptations which were some- 
+times diflScult and from which the Changer's clients extricated 
+themselves as best they might. So much the worse for the ex- 
+ceptions ! The suit of the statesman, for instance, black from 
+head to foot, and consequently pi'oper, would have been too 
+large for Pitt and too si^all for Castelcicala. The costume of 
+a statesman was designated as follows in the Changer's cata- 
+logue ; we copy : 
+
+" A coat of black cloth, trowsers of black wool, a silk waist- 
+coat, boots and linen." On the margin there stood : ex-ambassa- 
+dor, and a note which we also copy : "In a separate box, a 
+neatly frizzed peruke, green glasses, seals, and two small quills 
+an inch long, wrapped in cotton." All this belonged to the 
+statesman, the ex-ambassador. This whole costume was, if we 
+may so express ourselves, debilitated ; the seams were white, 
+
+vague button-hole yawned at one of the elbows ; moreover, 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+256 LBS MISÉRABLES. 
+
+one of the coat buttons was missing on the breast ; but this 
+was only a detail ; as the hand of the statesman should always 
+be thrust into his coat and laid upon his heart, its function 
+was to conceal the absent button. 
+
+If Marius had been familiar with the occult institutions of 
+Paris, he would instantly have recognized upon the back of 
+the visitor whom Basque had just shown in, the statesman's 
+suit borrowed from the pick-me-down-that shop of the Changer. 
+
+Marius' disappointment on beholding another man than the 
+one whom he expected to see turned to the newcomer's disad 
+rantage. 
+
+He surveyed him from head to foot, while that personage 
+made exaggerated bows, and demanded in a curt tone : 
+
+" What do you want ? " 
+
+The man replied with all amiable grin of which the caress* 
+ing smile of a crocodile will furnish some idea : 
+
+*'It seems to me impossible that I should not have already 
+had the honor of seeing Monsieur le Baron in society. I think 
+I actually did meet monsieur personally, several years ago, at 
+the house of Madame la Princesse Bagration and in the draw- 
+ing-rooms of his Lordship the Vicomte Dambray, peer of 
+France." 
+
+It is always a good bit of tactics in knavery to pretend to 
+recognize some one whom one does not know. 
+
+Marius paid attention to the manner of this man's speech. 
+He spied on his accent and gesture, but his disappointment 
+increased ; the pronunciation was nasal and absolutely unlike 
+the dry, shrill tone which he had expected. 
+
+He was utterly routed. 
+
+" I know neither i\tadame Bagration nor M. Dambray," said 
+he. " I have never set foot in the house of either of them in 
+my life." 
+
+The reply was ungracious. The personage, determined to 
+be gracious at any cost, insisted. 
+
+" Then it must have been at Chateaubriand's that I have 
+seen Monsieur! I know Chateaubriand very well. He is 
+very affable. He sometimes says to me : ' Thénard, my 
+friend . . . won't you drink a glass of wine with me?'" 
+
+Marius' brow grew more and more severe : 
+
+f^ I have never had the honor of being received by M. de 
+Chateaubriand. Let us cut it short. What do you want ? " 
+
+The man bowed lower at that harsh voice. 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron, deign to listen to me. There is in 
+America, in a district near Panama, a village called la Joya 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN: 267 
+
+Thiit village is composed of a single house, a large, square 
+house of three stories, built of bricks dried in the sun, each 
+side of the square five hundred feet in length, each story re- 
+treating twelve feet back of the story below, in such a manner 
+as to leave in front a terrace which makes the circuit of the 
+edifice, in the centre ah inner court where the provisions and 
+munitions are kept ; no windows, loopholes, no doprs, ladders, 
+ladders to mount from the ground to the first terrace, and 
+from the first to the second, and from the second to the third, 
+ladders to descend into the inner court, no doors to the chara 
+bers, trap-doors, no staircases to the chambers, ladders; in 
+the evening the traps are closed, the ladders are withdrawn, 
+carbines and blunderbusses trained from the loopholes; no 
+means of entering, a house by day, a citadel by night, eight 
+hundred inhabitants, — that is the village. Why so many 
+precautions ? because the country is dangerous ; it is full of 
+cannibals. Then why do people go there ? because the coun- 
+try is marvellous ; gold is found there.^' 
+
+" What are you driving at ? " interrupted Marius, who had 
+passed from disappointment to impatience. 
+
+"At this, Monsieur le Baron. I am an old and weary dip- 
+lomat. Ancient civilization has thrown me on my own devices» 
+I want to try savages.*' 
+
+"Well?" 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron, egotism is the law of the world. The 
+proletarian peasant woman, who toils by the day, turns round 
+when the diligence passes by, the peasant proprietress, who 
+toils in her field, does not turn round. The dog of the poor 
+man barks at the rich man, the dog of the rich man barks 
+%t the poor man. Each one for himself. Self-interest — that's 
+the object of men. Gold, that's the loadstone." 
+
+« What then ? Finish." 
+
+"I should like to go and establish myself at la Joya. 
+There are three of us. I have my spouse and my young 
+lady ; a very beautiful girl. The journey is long and costly. 
+I need a little money." 
+
+" What concern is that of mine ? " demanded Marius. 
+
+The stranger stretched his neck out of his cravat, a gesture 
+characteristic of the vulture, and replied with an augmented 
+smile : 
+
+" Has not Monsieur le Baron perused my letter ? " 
+
+There was some truth in this. The fact is, that the contents 
+of the epistle had slipi)ed Marius' mind. He had seen the 
+writing rather than read . the letter. He could hardly recall 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+258 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+it. Btit a moment ago a fresh start bad been given him. He 
+had noted that detail ; " my spouse and my young lady." 
+
+He fixed a penetrating glance on the stranger. An examin- 
+ing judge could not have done the look better. He almost 
+lay in wait for him. 
+
+He confined himself to replying : 
+
+" State the case precisely." 
+
+The stranger inserted his two hands in both his fobs, drew 
+himself up without straightening his dorsal column, but scru- 
+tinizing Marius in his turn, with the green gaze of his 
+spectacles. 
+
+" So be it, Monsieur le Baron. I will be precise. I have a 
+secret to sell to you." 
+
+"A secret?" 
+
+« A secret." 
+
+" Which concerns me ? " 
+
+*• Somewhat." 
+
+"What is the secret?" 
+
+Marius scrutinized the man more and more as he listened 
+to him. 
+
+"I commence gratis." ^aid the stranger. "You will see 
+that I am interesting." 
+
+" Speak." 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron, you have in your house a thief and an 
+assassin." 
+
+Marius shuddered. 
+
+" In my house ? no," said he. 
+
+The imperturbable stranger brushed his hat with his elbow, 
+and went on : 
+
+"An «assassin and a thief. Remark, Monsieur le Baron, that 
+I do not here speak of ancient deeds, deeds of the past which 
+have lapsed, which can be effaced by limitation before the 
+law and by repentance before God. I speak of recent deeds, 
+of actual facts as still unknown to justice at this hour. I 
+continue. This man has insinuated himself into your confi- 
+dence, and almost into your family under a false name. I am 
+about to tell you his real name. And to tell it to you foi 
+nothing." 
+
+" I am listening." 
+
+" His name is Jean Valjean." 
+
+"I know it." 
+
+" I am going to tell you, equally for nothing, who he is.*' 
+
+"Say on." 
+
+**He is an ex-convict" 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VAUBAN. 269 
+
+«Iknowît.»» 
+
+" You know it since I have had the honor of telling you," 
+
+" No. I knew it before." 
+
+Marins' cold tone, that double reply of "I know it," his 
+laconicisra, which was not favorable to dialogue, stirred up 
+some smouldering wrath in the stranger. He launched a furi- 
+ous glance on the sly at Marins, which was instantly extin- 
+guished. Rapid as it was, this glance was of tlie kind which a 
+man recognizes when he has once beheld it; it did not escape 
+Marins. Certain flashes can only proceed from certain souls ; 
+the eye, that vent-hole of the thought, glows with it; specta- 
+cles hide nothing ; try putting a pane of glass over hell I 
+
+The stranger resumed with a smile : 
+
+" I will not permit myself- to contradict Monsieur le Baron. 
+In any case, you ought to perceive that I am well informed. 
+Now what I have to tell you is known to myself alone. This 
+concerns the fortune of Madame la Baronne. It is an extra- 
+ordinary secret. It is for sale — I make you the first offer of 
+it. Cheap. Twenty thousand francs.'* 
+
+" I know that secret as well as the others," said Marins. 
+
+The personage felt the necessity of lowering his price a 
+trifle. 
+
+"Monsieur le Baron, say ten thousand francs and I will 
+speak." 
+
+" I repeat to you that there \è nothing which you can tell 
+me. I know what you wish to say to me." 
+
+A fresh flash gleamed in the man's eye. He exclaimed ; 
+
+" But I must dine today, nevertheless. It is an extraordi- 
+nary secret, I tell you. Monsieur le Baron, I will speak. I 
+speak. Give me twenty francs." 
+
+Marins gazed intently at him : 
+
+" I know your extraordinary secret, just as I knew Jean 
+Valjean's name, just as I know your name." 
+
+" My name ? " 
+
+"Yes." 
+
+" That is not diiïicult, Monsieur le Baron. I had the honor 
+to write to you and to tell it to you. Thenard." 
+
+«_Dier." 
+
+" Hey ? " 
+
+"Thénardier.'* 
+
+"Who's that ?^ 
+
+In danger the porcupine bristles up, the beetle feigns 
+death, the old guard forms in a square; this man burst into 
+laughter. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+360 LES MISERABLE^. 
+
+Then he flicked a grain of dust from the sleere of his coat 
+with a fillip. 
+
+Marius continued : 
+
+" You are also Jondrette the workman, Fabantou the come 
+dian, Genflot the poet, Don Alvarès the Spaniard, and Mistress 
+Balizard." 
+
+" Mistress what ? ^ 
+
+" And you kept a pot-house at Montfermeil.*' 
+
+" A pot-house I !Never." 
+
+"And I tell you that your name is Thcnardier.*' 
+
+"I deny it." 
+
+" And that you are a rascal. Here." 
+
+And Marius drew a bank-note from his pocket and flung it 
+in his face. 
+
+" Thanks ! Pardon me ! five hundred francs ! Monsieur le 
+Baron!" 
+
+And the man, overcome, bowed, seized the note and exam- 
+ined it. 
+
+" Five hundred francs!" he began again, taken aback. And 
+he stammered in a low voice : " An honest rustler." * 
+
+Then brusquely : 
+
+" Well, so be it ! " he exclaimed. " Let us put ourselves at 
+our ease." 
+
+And with the agility of a monkey, flinging back his hair, 
+tearing off his spectacles, and withdrawing from his nose by 
+sleight of hand the two quills of which mention was recently 
+made, and which the reader has also met with on another 
+page of this book, he took oif his face as a man takes off his 
+hat. 
+
+His eye lighted up ; his uneven brow, with hollows in some 
+places and bumps in others, hideously wrinkled at the top, 
+was laid bare, his nose had become as sharp as a beak ; the 
+fierce and sagacious profile of the man of prey re-appeared. 
+
+"Monsieur le Baron is infallible," he said in a clear voice 
+whence all nasal twang had disappeared, "I am Thénardier." 
+
+And he straightened up his crooked back. 
+
+Thénardier, for it was really he, was strangely surprised; 
+he would have been troubled, had he been capable of such a 
+thing. He had come to bring astonishment, and it was be 
+who had received it. This humiliation had been worth five 
+hundred francs to him, and, taking it all in all, he accepted 
+it ; but he was none the less bewildered. 
+
+1 Un fafiot aeriettz. Fafiot is t^e slang term for a bank-bill, derived 
+from its rustling noise. 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+JEAN VALJEAN. 261 
+
+He beheld this Baron Pontmercy for the first time, and, in 
+spite of his disguise, this Baron Pontmercy recognized him, 
+and recognized him thoroughly. And not only was this Baron 
+perfectly informed as to ïhënardier, but he seemed well posted 
+as to Jean Valjean, Who was this almost beardless young 
+man, who was so glacial and so generous, who knew people's 
+names, who knew all their names, and who opened his purse 
+to them, who bullied rascals like a judge, and who paid them 
+like a dupe ? 
+
+Thénardier, the reader will remember, although he had 
+been Marius' neighbor, had never seen him, which is not 
+unusual in Paris ; he had formerly, in a y^ue way, heard his 
+daughters talk of a very poor young man named Marius who 
+lived in the house. He had written to him, without knowing 
+him, the letter with which the reader is acquainted. 
+
+No connection between that Marius and M. le Baron Pont- 
+mercy was possible in his mind. 
+
+As for the name Pontmercy, it will be recalled that, on the 
+battle field of Waterloo, he had heard only the last two sylla- 
+bles, for which he always entertained the legitimate scorn 
+which one owes to what is merely an expression of thanks. 
+
+However, through his daughter Azelma, who had started 
+on the scent of the married pair on the 16th of February, and 
+through his own personal researches, he had succeeded in 
+learning many things, and, from the depths of his own gloom, 
+he had contrived to grasp more than one mysterious clew. 
+He had discovered, by dint of industry, or, at least, by dint of 
+induction, he had guessed, who the man was whom he had 
+encountered on a certain day in the Grand Sewer. From the 
+man he had easily reached the name. He knew that Madame 
+la Baronne Pontmercy was Cosette, But he meant to be dis- 
+creet in that quarter. 
+
+Who was Cosette ? He did not know exactly himself. He 
+did indeed, catch an inkling of illegitimacy, the history oi 
+Fantine had always seemed to him equivocal ; but what w-as 
+the use of talking about that ? in order to cause himself to be 
+paid for his silence? He had, or thought he hsul, better 
+wares than that for sale. And, according to all appearances, 
+if he were to come and make to the Baron Pontmercy this 
+•evelation — and without proof: "Your wife is a bastard," the 
+only result would be to attract the boot of the husband towards 
+^he loins of the revealer. 
+
+From Thénardier's point of view, the conversation with 
+Marius had not yet begun. He ought to have drawn back, to 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+262 LES AfîSÉRABLES. 
+
+have modified his strategy, to have abandoned his position, \0 
+have changed his front; but nothing essential had been com 
+promised as yet, and he had five hundred francs in his pocket 
+Moreover, he had something decisive to say, and, even î^^inst 
+this very well-informed and well-armed Baron Pontmercy, he 
+felt himself strong. For men of Thénardier's nature, every 
+dialogue is a combat. In the one in which he was about to 
+engage, what was his situation ? He did not know to whom 
+he was speaking, but he did know of what he was speaking, 
+he made this rapid i-eview of his inner forces, and after hav- 
+ing said : " I am Thenardier," he waited. 
+
+Marins had become thoughtful. So he had hold of Thenar^ 
+dier at last. That man whom he had so greatly desired to 
+find, was before him. He could honor Colonel Pontmercy's 
+recommendation. 
+
+He felt humiliated that that hero should have owed any. 
+thing to this villain, and that the letter of change drawn from 
+the depths of the tomb by his father iipon him, Marius, had 
+been protested up to that day. It also seemed to him, in the 
+complex state of his mind towards Thenardier, that there was 
+occasion to avenge the Colonel for the misfortune of having 
+been saved by such a rascal. In any case, he was content. 
+He was about to deliver the Colonel's shade from this un- 
+worthy creditor at last, and it seemed to him that he was on 
+the point of rescuing his father's memory from the debtors' 
+prison. By the side of this duty there was another — to 
+elucidate, if possible, the source of Cosette's fortune. The 
+opportunity appeared to present itself. Perhaps Thénardier 
+knew something. It might prove useful to see the bottom of 
+this man. 
+
+He commenced with this. 
+
+Thénardier had caused the "honest rustler" to disappear in 
+his fob, and was gazing at Marius with a gentleness that was 
+almost tender. 
+
+Marius broke the silence. -* 
+
+"Thénardier, I have told you your name. Now, would 
+you like to have me tell you your secret — the one that you 
+came here to reveal to me ? I have information of my own, 
+also. You shall see that I know more about it than j'ou do. 
+Jean Valjean, as you have said, is an assassin and a thief. A 
+thief, because he robbed a wealthy manufacturer, whose ruin 
+he brought about. An assassin, because he assassinated police* 
+agent Javert.'* 
+
+" I don't understand, sir," ejaculated Thénardier. 
+
+
+
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+JBAH VAUEAN. 263 
+
+" I will make myself intelligible. In a certain arrondisse- 
+ment of the Pas de Calais, there was, in 1822, a man who had 
+fallen out with justice, and who, under the name of M. Made^ 
+leine, had regained his status and rehabilitated himself. This 
+'man had become a just man in the full force of the term. In 
+a trade, the manufacture of black glass goods, he made the 
+fortune of an entire city. As far as his personal fortune was 
+concerned he made that also, but as a secondary matter, and 
+in some sort, by accident. He was the foster-father of the 
+poor. He founded hospitals, opened schools, visited the sick, 
+dowered young girls, supported widows, and adopted orphans ; 
+he was like the guardian angel of the country. He re- 
+fused the cross, he was appointed Mayor. A liberated con- 
+vict knew the secret of a penalty incurred by this man in 
+former days ; he denounced him, and had him arrested, and 
+profited by the arrest to come to Paris and cause the banker 
+Laffitte, — I have the fact from the cashier himself, — by 
+means of a false signature, to hand over to him the sura of 
+over half a million which belonged to M. Madeleine. This 
+convict who robbed M. Madeleine, was Jean Val jean. As foi 
+the other fact, you have nothing to tell me about it either. 
+Jean Valjean killed the agent Javert ; he shot him with a pis- 
+tol. I, the person who is speaking to you, was present." 
+
+Thénardier cast upon Marius the sovereign glance of a 
+conquered man who lays his hand once more upon the victory, 
+and who has just regained, in one instant, all the ground 
+which he has lost. But the smile returned instantly. The 
+inferior's triumph in the presence of his superior must be 
+wheedling. 
+
+Thénardier contented himself with saying to Marius : 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron, we are on the wrong track." 
+
+And he emphasized this phrase by making his bunch of 
+seals execute an expressive whirl. 
+
+"What!" broke forth Marius, "do you dispute that? 
+These are facts." 
+
+" They are chimseras. The confidence with which Monsieur 
+le Baron honors me renders it my duty to tell him so. 
+Truth and justice before all things. I do not like to 
+see folks accused unjustly. Monsieur le Baron, Jean Val- 
+
+i'ean did not rob M. Madeleine and Jean Valjean did not 
+cill Javert." 
+" This is too much ! How is this ? " 
+" For two reasons." 
+*< What are they ? Speak." 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
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+264 LES MISERABLES. 
+
+*^ This is the first : he did not rob M. Madeleine, because 21 
+is Jean Valjean himself who was M. Madeleine." 
+
+" What tale are you telling me ? " 
+
+^'And this is the second: he did not assassinate Javert 
+because the person who killed Javert was Javert/' 
+
+" What do you mean to say ? " 
+
+" That Javert committed suicide." 
+
+"Prove it ! prove it I " cried Marius beside himself. 
+
+Thenardier resumed, scanning his phrase after the mannei 
+of the ancient Alexandrine measure : 
+
+" Police - agent - Ja- vert - was-f ound - drowned - un-der - a - boat* 
+3f-the-Pout-au-Change." 
+
+" But prove it ! " 
+
+Thenardier drew from his pocket a large envelope of gray 
+paper, which seemed to contain sheets folded in different 
+sizes. 
+
+" I have my papers," he said calmly. 
+
+And he added : 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron, in your interests I desired to know 
+Jean Valjean thoroughly. I say that Jean Valjean and M. 
+Madeleine are one and the same man, and I say that Javert 
+had no other assassin than Javert. If I speak, it is because I 
+have proofs. Not manuscript proofs — writing is suspicious, 
+hand-writing is complaisant, — but printed proofs." 
+
+As he spoke, Thenardier extracted from the envelope two 
+eopies of newspapers, yellow, faded, and strongly saturated 
+with tobacco. One of these two newspapers, broken at eveiy 
+fold and falling into rags, seemed much older than the other. 
+
+"Two facts, two proofs," remarked Thenardier. And he 
+offered the two newspapers, unfolded, to Marius. 
+
+The reader is acquainted with these two papers. One, the 
+most ancient, a number of the Drapeau Blanc of the 25th of 
+July, 1823, the text of which can be seen in the first volume, 
+established the identity of M. Madeleine and Jean Val 
+jean. 
+
+The other, a Moniteur of the 15th of June, 1832, annonnoed 
+the suicide of Javert, adding that it appeared from a verbal 
+report of Javert to the prefect that, having been taken pris- 
+oner in the barricade of the Rue de la Ghanvrerie, he had owed 
+his life to the magnanimity of an insurgent who, holding him 
+under his pistol, had fired into the air, instead of blowing out 
+his brains. 
+
+Marius read. He had evidence, a certain date, irrefragable 
+proof, these two newspapers had not been printed expressly 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
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+by Google 
+
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+
+JEAN VAUEAN, 265 
+
+for the purpose of backing up Thenardier's statements; the 
+note printed in the Moniteur had been an administrative com- 
+munication from the Prefecture of Police. Marius could not 
+doubt 
+
+The information of the cashier-clerk had been false, and he 
+himself had been deceived. 
+
+Jean Valjean, who had suddenly grown grand, emerged 
+from his cloud. Marius could not repress a cry of joy. 
+
+" Well, then this unhappy wretch is an admirable man ! the 
+whole of that fortune reaJly belonged to him ! he is Made- 
+leine, the providence of a whole countryside! he is Jean 
+Valjean, Javert's savior ! he is a hero ! he is a saint ! " 
+
+" He's not a saint, and he's not a hero ! " said Thénardier. 
+" He's an assassin and a robber." 
+
+And he added, in the tone of a man who begins to feel that 
+he possesses some authority : 
+
+" Let us be calm." 
+
+Bobber, assassin — those words which Marius thought had 
+disappeared and which returned, fell upon him like an ice- 
+cold shower-bath. 
+
+" Again ! " said he. 
+
+" Always," ejaculated Thénardier. " Jean Valjean did not 
+rob Madeleine, but he is a thief. He did not kill Javert, but 
+he is a murderer." 
+
+" Will you speak," retorted Marius, " of that miserable 
+theft, committed forty yegg's ago, and expiated, as your own 
+newspapers prove, by a whole life of repentance, of self-abne* 
+gation and of virtue ? " 
+
+" I say assassination and theft, Monsieur le Baron, and I 
+repeat that I am speaking of actual facts. What I have to 
+reveal to you is absolutely unknown. It belongs to unpub- 
+lished matter. And perhaps you will find in it the source of 
+the fortune so skilfully presented to Madame la Baronne by 
+Jean Valjean. I say skilfully, because, by a gift of that 
+nature it would not be so very unskilful to slip into an honor- 
+able house whose comforts one would then share, and, at tlie 
+same stroke, to conceal one's crime, and to enjoy one's 
+theft, to bury one's name and to create for oneself a 
+family." 
+
+" I might interrupt you at this point," said Marius, " but go 
+on." 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron, I will tell you all, leaving the recom- 
+
+Çmse to your generosity. This secret is worth massive gold, 
+ou will say to me : ' Why do not you a'^ply to Jean Val* 
+
+
+
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+266 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+jean ? ' For a very simple reason ; I know that he ha* 
+stripped himself, and stripped himself in your favor, and I 
+consider the combination ingenious ; but he has no longer a 
+sou, he would show me bis empty hands, and, since I am in 
+need of some money for my trip to la Joya, I prefer yoa, j'ou 
+who have it all, to him who has nothing. I am a little 
+fatigued, permit me to take a chair." 
+
+Marins seated himself and motioned to him to do the 
+same. 
+
+ïhénardier installed himself on a tufted chair, picked up 
+his two newspapers, thrust them back into their enveloi)e, and 
+murmured as he pecked at the Drajyeau Blanc with his nail : 
+" It cost me a good deal of trouble to get this one.'^ 
+
+That done he crossed his legs and stretched himself out on 
+the back of the chair, an attitude characteristic of people who 
+are sure of what they are saying, then he entered upon his 
+subject gravely, emphasizing his words : 
+
+" Monsieur le Baron, on the 6th of June, 1832, about a year 
+ago, on the day of the insurrection, a man was in the Grand 
+Sewer of Paris, at the point where the sewer enters the Seine, 
+between the Pont des Invalides and the Pont de Jena.'* 
+
+Marins abruptly drew his chair closer to that of Thénardier. 
+Thénardier noticed this movement and continued with the de- 
+liberation of an orator who holds his interlocutor and who 
+feels his adversary palpitating under his words : 
+
+"This man, forced to conceal . himself, and for reasons, 
+moreover, which are foreign to politics, had adopted the 
+sewer as his domicile and had a key to it. It was, I repeat, 
+on the 6th of June ; it might have been eight o'clock in the 
+evening. The man hears a noise in the sewer. Greatly sur- 
+prised, he hides himself and lies in wait. It was the sound 
+of footsteps, some one was walking in the dark, and coming 
+in his djirection. Strange to say, there was another man in 
+the sewer besides himself. The grating of the outlet from 
+the sewer was not far off. A little light which fell through 
+it permitted him to recognize the newcomer, and to see that 
+the man was carrying something on his back. He was walk 
+ing in a bent attitude. The man who was walking in a bent 
+attitude was an ex-convict, and what he was dragging on his 
+shoulders was a corpse. Assassination caught in the very act 
+if ever there was such a thing. As for the theft, that is 
+understood ; one does not kill a man gratis. This convict 
+was on his way to fling the body into the river. One fact i<? 
+to be noticed, that before reaching the exit grating, this con- 
+
+
+
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+JEAN VALJEAN. 26? 
+
+net, who had come a long distance in the sewer, must, neces- 
+sarily, have encountered a frightful qua^cniire where it seems 
+as though he might have left the body, but the sewermen 
+would have found the assassinated man the very next day, while 
+at work on the quagmire, and that did not suit the assassin's 
+plains. He had preferred to traverse that quagmire with his 
+burden, and his exertions must have been terrible, for it is 
+impossible to risk one's life more completely; I don't untj.er- 
+stand how he could have come out of that alive." 
+
+Marius' chair approached still nearer. Thénardier «ook 
+atl vantage of this to draw a long breath. He went on : 
+
+"Monsieur le Baron, a sewer is not the Champ de Mars. 
+One lacks everything there, even room. When two men aie 
+there, they must meet. That is what happened. The man 
+domiciled there and the passer-by were forced to bid each other 
+good-day, greatly to the regret of both. The passer-by said to 
+the inhabitant : — " You see what I have on my back, I must 
+get out, you have tiie key, give it to me." That convict was a 
+man of terrible strength. There was no way of refusing. 
+Nevertheless, the man who had the key parleyed, simply to 
+gain time. He examined the dead man, but lie could see noth- 
+ing, except that the latter was young, well dressed, with the 
+air of being rich, and all disfigured with blood. While talk- 
+ing, the man contrived to tear and pull off behind, without the 
+assassin pc^rceiving it, a bit of the assassinated man's coat. A 
+document for conviction, you understand ; a means of recover- 
+ing the trace of things and of bringing home the crime to the 
+criminal. He put this document for conviction in his pocket. 
+After which he opened the grating, made the man go out with 
+his embarrassment on his back, closed the grating again, and 
+ran oif, not caring to be mixed up with the remainder of the 
+adventure and above all, not wishing to be ])resent when the 
+assassin threw the assassinated man into the river. Now you 
+comprehend. The man who was carrying the corpse was Jean 
+Valjean ; the one who had the key is speaking to you at this 
+moment ; and the piece of the coat ..." 
+
+Thénardier completed his phrase by drawing from his 
+pocket, and holding, on a level with his eyes, nipped between 
+his two thumbs and his two forefingers, a strip of torn black 
+cloth, all covered with dark spots. 
+
+^farius had sprung to his feet, pale, hardly able to draw his 
+breath, with his eyes riveted on the fragment of black cloth, 
+and, without uttering a word, without taking his eyes from 
+that fragment, he retreated to the wall and fumbled with his 
+
+
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+268 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+right hand along the wall for a key which wa8 in the lock of 
+a cupboard near the chimney. 
+
+He found the key, o^xMied the cupboard, plunged his arat 
+into it without looking, and without his frightened gaze quit- 
+ting the rag which Thënardier still held outspread. 
+
+But Thenaixiier continued : 
+
+*' Monsieur le Baron, I have the strongest of reasons for 
+believing that the assassinated young man was an opulent 
+stranger lured into a trap by Jean Val jean, and the bearer of 
+an enormous sum of money." 
+
+** The young man was myself, and here is the coat I " cried 
+Marius, and he flung upon the floor an old black coat all 
+covered with blood. 
+
+Then, snatching the fragment from the hands of Thënardier, 
+he crouched down over the coat, and laid the torn morsel 
+agiiinst the tattered skirt. The rent fitted exactly, and the 
+strip completed the coat. 
+
+Thënardier was petrified. 
+
+This is what he thought : " I'm struck all of a heap." 
+
+Marius rose to his feet trembling, despairing, radiant. 
+
+He fumbled in his pocket and stalked furiously to Thënar- 
+dier, presenting to him and almost thrusting in his face his fist 
+filled with bank-notes for five hundred and a thousand francs. 
+
+'^ You are an infamous wretch ! you are a liar, a calum- 
+niator, a villain. You came to accuse that man, you have 
+only justified him; you wantetl to ruin him, you have only 
+succeeded in glorifying him. And it is you who are the thief ! 
+And it is you who are the assassin I I saw you, Thënardier 
+Jondrette, in that lair on the Kue de l'Hôpital. I know 
+enough about you to send you to the galleys and even further 
+if 1 choose. Here are a thousand francs, bully that you are ! " 
+
+And he flung a thousand franc note at Thënardier. 
+
+" Ah ! Jondrette Thënaixlier, vile rascal ! Let this serve 
+you as a lesson, you dealer in second-hand secrets, merchant 
+of mysteries, rummager of the shadows, wretch ! Take these 
+ïive hundred francs and get out of here ! Waterloo protects 
+you." 
+
+** Waterloo ! " growled Thënardier, pocketing the five hun- 
+dred francs along with the thousand. 
+
+" Yes, assassin ! You there saved the life of a Colonel . . ." 
+
+"Of a Greneral," said Thënardier, elevating his head. 
+
+*' Of a Colonel ! '* repeated Marius in a rage. "I wouldn't 
+give a ha'penny for a general. And you come here to commit 
+infamies ! I tell you that you have committed all Crimea 
+
+
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+JEAN VA LIE AN. 269 
+
+Go ! disappear ! Ouly be happy, that is all that I desire. Ah I 
+monster ! here are three thousand francs more. Take them. 
+You will depart to-morrow, for America, with your daughter ; 
+for your "wife is dead, you abominable liar. I shall watch 
+over your departure, you ruffian, and at that moment I will 
+count out to you twenty thousand francs. Go get yourself 
+hung elsewhere ! " 
+
+"Monsieur le Baron," replied Thénai-dier, bowing to the 
+very earth, " eternal gratitude." And Thénardier left the 
+room, understanding nothing, stupefied and delighted with 
+this sweet crushing beneath sacks of gold, and with that 
+thunder which had burst forth over his head in bank-bills. 
+
+Struck by lightning he was, but he was also content ; and he 
+would have been greatly angered had he had a lightning rod 
+to ward off such lightning as that. 
+
+Let us finish with this man at once. 
+
+Two days after the events which we are at this moment 
+narrating, he set out, thanks to Marius' care, for America 
+under a false name, with his daughter Azelma, furnished with 
+a draft on New York for twenty thousand francs. 
+
+The moral wretchedness of Thénardier, the bourgeois who 
+had missed his vocation, was irremediable. He was in 
+America what he had been in Europe. Contact with an evil 
+man sometimes suffices to corrupt a good action and to cause 
+evil things to spring from it. With Marius' money, Thénar- 
+dier set up as a slave-dealer. 
+
+As soon as Thénardier had left the house, Marius rushed to 
+the.^rden, where Cosette was still walking. 
+
+" Cosette ! Cosette ! " he cried. " Come ! come quick ! Let 
+us go. Basque, a carriage ! Cosette, come. Ah ! My God I 
+It was he who saved my life ! Let us not lose a minute ! Put 
+on your shawl." 
+
+Cosette thought him mad and obeyed. 
+
+He could not breathe, he laid his hand on his heart to re- 
+strain its throbbing. He paced back and forth with huge 
+strides, he embraced Cosette : 
+
+" Ah ! Cosette ! I am an unhappy wretch I " said ne. 
+
+Marius was bewildered. He began to catch a glimpse in 
+Jean Valjean of some indescribably lofty and melancholy 
+figure. An unheîird-of virtue supreme and sweet, humble in 
+its immensity, appeared to him. The convict was tiansfigured 
+into Christ. 
+
+Marius was dazzled by this prodigy. He did not know pre 
+cisely what he beheld, but it was grand. 
+
+
+
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+270 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+In an instant, a hackney carriage stood in front of the door. 
+
+Marins hel|)ed Cosette in and darted in himself. 
+
+" Driver," said he, " Rue de rHoramo Arnic, Number 7." 
+
+The carriage drove off. 
+
+*' Ah ! what happiness ! " ejaculated Cosette. " Rue de 
+l'Homme Armé, I did not dare to speak to you of that. We 
+are going to see M. Jean." 
+
+" Thy father ! Cosette, thy father more than ever. Cosette, 
+I guess it. You told me that you had never received the letter 
+that I sent you by Gavroche. It must have fallen into his 
+hands. Cosette, he went to the barricade to save me. As it 
+is a necessity with him to be an angel, he savod others also ; 
+he saved Javert. He rescued me from that gidf to give me 
+to you. He carried me on his liack through that frightful 
+sewer. Ah ! I am a monster of ingratitude. Cosette, after 
+having lK>en your providence, he became mine. Just imagine, 
+there was a terrible quagmire enough to drown one a hun- 
+dred times over, to drown one in mii-e. Cosette ! he made me 
+traverse it. I was unconscious ; I saw nothing, I heard 
+nothing, I could know nothing of my own adventure. \Ve 
+are going to bring him back, to take him with us, whether he 
+is willing or not, he shall never leave us again. If only he is 
+at home ! Provided only that we can find him, I will pass 
+the rest of my life in venerating him. Yes, that is how it 
+should be, do you see, Cosette Y Gavroche must have de- 
+livered my letter to him. All is explained. You under- 
+stand." 
+
+Cosette did not underst«and a word. 
+
+" You are right," she said to him. 
+
+Meanwhile the carriage rolled on. 
+
+
+
+V. — A Night Behind Which Therr Is Day. 
+
+Jean Valjban turned round at the knock which he heard on 
+his door. 
+
+" Come in," he said feebly. 
+
+The door ojiened. 
+
+Cosette and Marius made their appearance. 
+
+Cosette rushed into the room. 
+
+Marius remained on the threshold, leaning against the jamb 
+of the door. 
+
+" Cosette ! '* said Jean Valjean. 
+
+And he sat erect in his chair, his arms outstretched and 
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 271 
+
+trembling, haggard, livid, gloomy, an immense joy in his 
+eyes. 
+
+Cosette, stifling with emotion, fell upon Jean Valjean's breast. 
+
+" Father ! " said she. 
+
+Jean Valjean, overcome, stammered : 
+
+** Cosette ! she ! you ! Madame ! it is thou ! Ah ! my God ! " 
+
+And, pressed close in Cosette's arms he exclaimed : 
+
+"It is thou ! thou art here ! Thou dost pardon me then ! " 
+
+Marius, lowering his eyelids, in order to keep his tears from 
+flowing, took a step forward and murmured between lips con- 
+vulsively contracted to repress his sobs : 
+
+«My father!" 
+
+" And you also, you pardon me ! " Jean Valjean said to him. 
+
+Marius could find no words, and Jean Valjean added : 
+
+"Thanks." 
+
+Cosette tore off her shawl and tossed her hat on the bed. 
+
+" It embarrasses me," said she. 
+
+And, seating herself on the old man's knees, she put aside 
+his white locks with an adorable movement, and kissed his 
+J)row. 
+
+Jean Valjean, bewildered, let her have her own way. 
+
+Cosette who only understood in a very confused manner, 
+redoubled her caresses, as though she desired to pay Marius' 
+debt. 
+
+Jean Valjean stammered : 
+
+" How stupid people are ! I thought that I should never 
+see her again. Imagine, Monsieur Pontmercy, at the very 
+moment when you entered, I was saying to myself : ' All is 
+civer. Here is her little gown, I am a miserable man, T shall 
+riever see Cosette again,' and I was saying that at the very 
+tAoment whert you were mounting the stairs. WcOS not I an 
+\ diot ! Just see how idiotic one can be ! One reckons without 
+the good God. The good God says : 
+
+" * You fancy that you are about to be abandoned, stupid ! 
+No. No, things will not go so. Come, there is a good man 
+yonder who is in need of an angel.' And the angel comes, 
+and one sees one's Cosette again ! and one sees one's little 
+Cosette once more ! Ah ! I was very unhappy." 
+
+For a moment he could not speak, then he went on ; 
+
+" I really needed to see Cosette a little bit now and then. 
+A heart needs a bone to gnaw. But I was perfectly con- 
+scious that I was in the way. I gave myself reasons : 
+* They do not want you, keep in yonr own course, one has not 
+the right to cling eternally.' Ah I God be praised, I see her 
+
+
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+Digitized 
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+272 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+once more! Dost thou know, Cosette, tky husband is Ter^ 
+handsome ? Ah ! what a pretty embroidered collar thou has! 
+on, luckily. 1 am fond of that pattern. It was thy husband 
+who chose it, was it not ? And then, thou shouldst have some 
+cashmere shawls. Let me call her thou, Monsieur Pontmercy. 
+It will not be for long." 
+
+And Cosette began again : 
+
+" How wicked of you to have left us like that ! Where did 
+you go ? Why have you stayed away so long ? Formerly your 
+journeys only lasted three or four days. I sent Kicolette, 
+the answer always was: *He is absent.' How long have you 
+been back ? Why did you not let us know ? Do you know 
+that you are very much changed? Ah! what a naughty 
+father ! he has been ill, and we have not known it ! Stay, 
+Marins, feel how cold his hand is ! " 
+
+<^ 80 you are here ! Monsieur Pontmercy, you pardon me ! " 
+repeated Jean Valjean. 
+
+At that word which Jean Valjean had just uttered once 
+more, all that was swelling Marius' heart found vent. 
+
+He burst forth : 
+
+" Cosette, do you hear ? he has come to that ! he asks my for- 
+giveness! And do you know what he has done for me, 
+Cosette ? He has saved my life. He has done more — he 
+has given you to me. And after having saved me, and after 
+having given you to me, Cosette, what has he done with him^ 
+self ? He has sacrificed himself. Behold the man. And he 
+says to me the ingrate, to me the forgetful, to me the pitiless, 
+to me the guilty one : Thanks ! Cosette, my whole life 
+passed at the feet of this man would be too little. That bar- 
+ricade, that sewer, that furnace, that cess-pool, — all that he 
+traversed for me, for thee, Cosette I He carried me away 
+through ail the deaths which he put aside before me, and ac- 
+cepted for himself. Every courage, every virtue, every hero- 
+ism every sanctity he possesses! Cosette, that man is an 
+angel I " 
+
+" Hush ! hush ! " said Jean Valjean in a low voice. " Why 
+tell all that ? " 
+
+" But you ! *' cried Marius with a wrath in which there was 
+veneration, " why did you not tell it to me ? It is yotir own 
+fault, too. You save people's lives, and you conceal it from 
+them ! You do more, under the pretext of unmasking your- 
+self, you calumniate yourself. It is frightful.'' 
+
+" I told the truth," replied Jean Valjean. 
+
+^ No,'' retorted Marius, " the truth is the whole truth ; and 
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 273 
+
+that you did not tell. You were Monsieur Madeleine, why 
+not have said so ? You saved Javert, why not have said 'so ? 
+I owed my life to you, why not have said so ?" 
+
+" Because I thought as you do. I thought that you were in 
+the right It was necessary that I should go away. If you 
+had known about that affair of the sewer, you would have 
+made me remain near you. I was therefore forced to hold my 
+peace. If I had spoken, it would have caused embarrassment 
+in every way." 
+
+" It would have embarrassed what ? embarrassed whom ? " 
+retorted Marius. " Do you think that you are going to stay 
+here. We shall carry you off. Ah ! good heavens ! when 1 
+reflect that it was by an accident that I have learned all this. 
+You form a part of ourselves. You are her father, and mine. 
+You shall not pass another day in this dreadful house. Do 
+not imagine that you will be here tomorrow." 
+
+" Tomorrow," said Jean Valjean, " I shall not be here, but 
+1 shall not be with you." 
+
+" What do you mean ? " replied Marins. " Ah come now, 
+we are not going to permit any more journeys. You shall 
+never leave us again. You belong to us. We shall not loose 
+our hold of you." 
+
+"This time it is for good," added Cosette. "We have a 
+carriage at the door. I shall run away with you. If neces- 
+sary, I shall employ force." 
+
+And she laughingly made a movement to lift the old man 
+in her arms. 
+
+" Your chamber still stands ready in our house," she went 
+on. " If you only knew how pretty the garden is now I The 
+azaleas are doing very well there. The walks are sanded with 
+river sand; there are tiny violet shells. You shall eat my 
+strawberries. I water them myself. And no more * madame, 
+no more ' Monsieur Jean,' we are living under a Republic, 
+everybody says thouy don't they, Marius ? The .programme is 
+changed. If you only knew, father, I have had a sorrow, 
+there was a robin red-breast which had made her nest in a 
+hole in the wall, and a horrible cat ate her. My poor, pretty, 
+little robin red-breast which used to put her head out of hei 
+window and look at me ! I cried over it. I should have liked 
+to kill the cat I But now nobody cries any more. Everybody 
+laughs, everybody is happy. You are going to come with us. 
+How delighted grandfather will be ! You shall have your 
+plot in the garden, you shall cultivate it, and we shall see 
+whether your strawberries are as line as mine. And, tlien, I 
+
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+274 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+shall do everything that you wish^ and then, you will obey me 
+prettily." 
+
+Jean Valjean listened to her without hearing her. He 
+heard the music of her voice rather than the sense of hei 
+words ; one of those large tears which are the sombre pearl;? 
+of the soul, welled up slowly in his eyes. 
+
+He murmured : 
+
+" The proof that God is good is that she is here." 
+
+<^ Father ! " said Cosette. 
+
+Jean Valjean continued : 
+
+" It is quite true that it would be charming for us to live to 
+gether. Their trees are full of birds. 1 would walk with 
+Cosette. It is sweet to be among living peoj)le who bid eai'h 
+other ^ good-day/ who call to each other in the garden. Peo- 
+ple see each other from early morning. We sliould esich cul- 
+tivate our own little corner. She would make me eat her 
+strawbeiTies. I would make her gather my roses. ThU 
+would be charming. Only . . " 
+
+He paused and said gently ; 
+
+"It is a pity." 
+
+The tear did not fall; it retreated, and Jean Valjean re- 
+placed it with a smile. 
+
+Cosette took both the old man's hands in hers. 
+
+" My God ! " said she, " your hands are still colder than 
+before. Are you ill ? Do you suffer ? " 
+
+"I? Ko," replied Jean Valjean, "I am very well 
+Only . . ." 
+
+He paused. 
+
+" Only what ? " 
+
+"I am going to die presently." 
+
+Cosette and Marius shuddered. 
+
+** To die I " exclaimed Marius, 
+
+" Yes, but that is nothing," said Jean Valjean. 
+
+He took breath, smiled and resumed : 
+
+" Cosette, thou wert talking to me, go on, so thy little robin 
+red-breast is dead ? Speak, so that I may hear thy voice." 
+
+Marius gazed at the old man in amazement. 
+
+Cosette uttered a heartrending cry. 
+
+" Father I my father ! you will live. Yon are going to live 
+I insist upon your living, do you hear ? " 
+
+Jean Valjean raised his head towards her with adoration. 
+
+" Oh ! yes, forbid me to die. Who knows ? Perhaps 1 
+shall obey. I was on the verge of dying when you came. Thai 
+•topped me, it seemed to me that I was born agsi'.^^ 
+
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+JBAN VAUEAN. 276 
+
+^ You are full of strength and life," cried Marius. ^^ Bo you 
+imagine that a person can die like tlxis ? You have had sor- 
+row, you shall have no more. It is I who ask your forgive- 
+^ss, and on my knees ! You are going to live, and to live 
+with us, and to live a long time. We take possession of you 
+once more. There are two of us here who will henceforth 
+have no other thought than your happiness." 
+
+^< You see," resumed Cosette all bathed in tears, ^' that Marius 
+says that you shall not die." 
+
+Jean Valjean continued to smile. 
+
+" Even if you were to take possession of me, Monsieur PonV 
+mercy, would that make me other than I am ? No, €rod has 
+thought like you and myself, and he does not change his mind ; 
+it is useful for me to go. Death is a good arrangement. God 
+knows better than we what we need. May you be happy, 
+may Monsieur Pontmercy have Cosette, may youth wed the 
+morning, may there be around you, my children, lilacs and 
+nightingales ; may your life be a beautiful, sunny lawn, may 
+all the enchantments of heaven fill your souls, and now let me, 
+who am good for nothing, die; it is certain that all this is 
+right. Come, be reasonable, nothing is possible now, I am 
+fully conscious that all is over. And then, last night, I drank 
+that whole jug of water. How good thy husband is, Cosette ! 
+Thou ai't much better off with him than with me." 
+
+A noise became audible at the door. 
+
+It was the doctor entering. 
+
+"Good-day, and farewell, doctor," said Jean Valjean. 
+" Here are my poor children." 
+
+Marius stepped up to the doctor. He addressed to him only 
+this single word : " Monsieur ? . . ." But his manner of 
+pronouncing it contained a complete question. 
+
+The doctor replied to the question by an expressive glance. 
+
+"Because things are not agreeable," said Jean Valjean, 
+" that is no reason for being unjust towards G<Kié" 
+
+A silence ensued. 
+
+All breasts were oppressed. 
+
+Jean Valjean turned to Cosette. He began to gaze at her 
+as though he wished to retain her features for eternity. 
+
+In the depths of the shadow into which he had alreaily 
+descended, ecstasy was still possible to him when gazing at 
+Cosette. The reflection of that sweet face lighted up his pale 
+visage. 
+
+The doctor felt of his pulse. 
+
+" Ah ! it was you that he wanted I " he murmured, looking at 
+Cosette and Marius. 
+
+
+
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+276 LES MISÉRABLES. 
+
+And bending down to Marins' ear, he added in a very low 
+voice: 
+
+"Too late." 
+
+Jean Valjean surveyed the doctor and Marias serenely, al- 
+most without ceasing to gaze at Cosette. 
+
+These barely articulate words were heard to bsne from his 
+mouth : 
+
+*' It is nothing to die; it is dreadful not to live." 
+
+All at once he rose to his feet. These accesses of strength 
+are sometimes the sign of the death agony. He walked with 
+a firm step to the wall, thrusting aside Marius and the doctor 
+who tried to help him, detached from the wall a little coppvr 
+crucifix which was suspended there, and returned to his seat 
+with all the freedom of movement of perfect health, and said 
+in a loud voice, as he laid the crucifix on the table : 
+
+" Behold the great martyr." 
+
+Then his chest sank in, his head wavered, as though the in- 
+toxication of the tomb were seizing hold upon him. 
+
+His hands, which rested on his knees, began to press their 
+nails into the stuff of his trowsei-s. 
+
+Cosette supported his shoulders, and sobbed^ and tried to 
+speak to him, but could not. 
+
+Among the words mingled with that mournful saliva which 
+accompanies tears, they distinguisheil words like the following: 
+
+" Father, do not leave us. Is it possible that we have found 
+you onlv to lose you again ? " 
+
+It might be said that agony writhes. It goes, comes, ad- 
+vances towards the sepulchre, and returns towards life. 
+There is groping in the action of dying. 
+
+Jean Valjean rallied after this semi-swoon, shook his brow 
+as though to make the shadows fall away from it and became 
+almost perfectly lucid once more. 
+
+He took a fold of Cosette's sleeve and kissed it. 
+
+"He is coming back! doctor, he is coming back," cried 
+Marius. • 
+
+" You are good, both of you," said Jean Valjean. " I am 
+going to tell you what has caused me pain. What has pained 
+me, Monsieur Pontniercy, is that you have not been willing to 
+touch that money. That money really belongs to your wife. 
+I will explain to you, my children, and for that reason 
+also, I am glad to see you. Black jet comes from England, 
+white jet comes from Norway. All this is in this paper, 
+which you will read. For bracelets, I invented a way of 
+substituting for slides of soldered sheet iron, slides of iron laid 
+
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 277 
+
+together. It is prettier, better and less costly. You will un« 
+derstand how' much money can be made in that way. So 
+Cosette's fortune is really hers. I give you these details, in 
+order that your mind may be set at rest." 
+
+The portress had come upstairs and was gazing in at the 
+half-open poor. The doctor dismissed her. 
+
+But he could not prevent this zealous woman from exclaim- 
+ing to the dying man before she disappeared : ^^ Would you 
+like a priest ? " 
+
+" I have had one," replied Jean Val jean. 
+
+And, with his finger he seemed to indicate a point above 
+his head where one would have said that he saw some one. 
+
+It is probable, in fact, that the Bishop was present at this 
+death agony. 
+
+Cosette gently slipped a pillow under his loins. 
+
+Jean Valjean resumed: 
+
+" Have no fear, Monsieur Pontmercy, T adjure you. The six 
+hundred thousand francs really belong to Cosette. My life 
+will have been wasted if you do not enjoy them ! We managed 
+to do very well with those glass goods. We rivalled what is 
+called Berlin jewellery. However, we could not equal the 
+black glass of England. A gross, which contains twelve hun- 
+dred very well cut grains, only costs three francs." 
+
+When a being who is dear to us is on the point of death, 
+we gaze upon him with a look which clings convulsively to 
+him and which would fain hold him back. 
+
+Cosette gave her hand to Marins, and both, mute with 
+anguish, not knowing what to say to the dying man, stood 
+trembling and despairing before him. 
+
+Jean Valjean sank moment by moment. He was failing; 
+he was drawing near to the gloomy horizon. 
+
+His breath had become intermittent ; a little rattling inter- 
+rupted it. He found some difficulty in moving his forearm, 
+his feet had lost all movement, and in proportion as the 
+wretchedness of limb and feebleness of body increased, all the 
+majesty of his soul was displayed and spread over his brow. 
+The light of the unknown world was already visible in his 
+eyes. 
+
+His face paled and smiled. Life was no longer there, it 
+was something else. 
+
+His breath sank, his glance grew grander. He was a corpse 
+on which the wings could be felt. 
+
+He made a sign to Cosette to draw near, then to Marius{ 
+the last minute of the last hour had, evidently, airived. 
+
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+
+He began to speak to them in a voice so feeble that it 
+fteemed to come from a distance, and one would have said that 
+a wall now rose between them and him. 
+
+" Draw near, draw near both of you. I love you dearly. 
+Oh ! how good it is to die like this ! And thou lovest me also, 
+my Cosette. I knew well that thou still felt friendly towards 
+thy poor old man. How kind it was of thee to place that pillow 
+under my loins ! Thou wilt weep for me a little, wilt thou not ? 
+Not too much. I do not wish thee to have any real griefs. 
+You must enjoy yourselves a great deal, my children. I for- 
+got to tell you, that the profit was greater still on the buckles 
+without tongues than on all the rest. A gross of a dozen 
+dozens cost ten francs and sold for sixty. It really was a 
+good business. So there is no occasion for surprise at the six 
+hundred thousand francs, Monsieur Pontmercy. It is honest 
+money. You may be rich with a tranquil mind. Thou must 
+have a carriage, a box at the theatres now and then, and hand- 
+some ball dresses, my Cosette, and then, thou must give good 
+dinners to thy friends, and be very happy. I was writing to 
+Cosette a while ago. She will find my letter. I bequeath to 
+her the two candlesticks which stand on the chimney-piece. 
+They are of silver, but to me they are gold, they are diamonds; 
+they change candles which are placed in them into wax-tapers. 
+I do not know whether the person who gave them to me is 
+pleased with me yonder on high. I have done what I could. 
+My children, you will not forget that I am a poor man, you 
+will have me buried in the first plot of earth that you find, 
+under a stone to mark the spot. This is my wish. No name 
+on the stone. If Cosette cares to come for a little while now 
+and then, it will give me pleasure. And you too, Monsieur 
+Pontmercy. I must admit that I have not always loved you. 
+I ask your pardon for that. Now she and you iform but one 
+for me. I feel very grateful to you. I am sure that you 
+make Cosette happy. If you only knew, Monsieur Pontmercy, 
+her pretty rosy cheeks were my delight ; when I saw her in 
+the least pale, I was sad. In the chest of drawers, there is a 
+bank-bill for five hundred francs. I have not touched it. It 
+is for the poor. Cosette, dost thou see thy little gown 
+yonder on the bed ? dost thou recognize it ? That was ten 
+years ago, however. How time flies! We have been very 
+happy. All is over. Do not weep, my children, I am not 
+going very far, I shall see you from there, you will only have 
+to look at night, and you will see me smile. Cosette, dost 
+thou remember Montfermeil ? Thou wert in the forest, thou 
+
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+JEAN VAUEAN. 279 
+
+wert greatly terrified ; dost thou remember how I took hold 
+of the handle of the water-bucket ? That was the first time 
+that I touched thy poor, little hand. It was so cold I Ah ! . 
+your hands were red then, mademoiselle, they are very white 
+now. And the big doll ! dost thou remember ? Thou didst 
+call her Catherine. Thou regrettedest not having taken her 
+to the convent ! How thou didst make me laugh sometimes, 
+my sweet angel ! When it had been raining, thou didst float 
+bits of straw on the gutters, and watch them pass away. 
+One day I gave thee a willow battledore and a shuttlecock 
+with yellow, blue and green feathers. Thou hast forgotten 
+it. Thou wert roguish so young! Thou didst play. Thou 
+didst put cherries in thy ears. Those are things of the past. 
+The forests through which one has passed with one's child, 
+the trees under which one has strolled, the convents where 
+one has concealed oneself, the games, the hearty laughs of 
+childhood, are shadows. I imagined that all that belonged 
+to me. In that lay my stupidity. Those Thenardiers were 
+wicked. Thou must forgive them. Cosette, the moment has 
+come to tell thee the name of thy mother. She was called 
+Fantine. Remember that name — Fantine. Kneel whenever 
+thou utterest it. She suffered much. She loved thee dearly. 
+She had as much unhappiness as thou hast had happiness. 
+That is the way God apportions things. He is there on high, 
+he sees us all, and he knows what he does in the midst of his 
+great stars. I am on the verge of departure, my children. 
+Love each other well and always. There is nothing else but 
+that in the world: love for each other. You will think 
+sometimes of the poor old man who died here. Oh my 
+Cosette, it is not my fault, indeed, that I have not seen thee 
+all this time, it cut me to the heart ; I went as far as the 
+corner of the street, I must have produced a queer effect on 
+the people who saw me pass, I was like a madman, I once went 
+out without my hat. I no longer see clearly, my children, I 
+had still other things to say, but never mind. Think a little 
+of me. Come still nearer. I die happy. Give me your dear and 
+well-beloved heads, so that I may lay my hands upon them." 
+
+Cosette and Marius fell on their knees, in despair, suffoca- 
+ting with tears, each beneath one of Jean Valjean's hands. 
+Those august hands no longer moved. 
+
+He had fallen backwards, the light of the candles illumina- 
+ted him. 
+
+His white face looked up to heaven, he allowed Cosette and 
+Marius to cover his hands with kisses. 
+
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+tSO LBS MISERABLES. 
+
+He was dead. 
+
+The night was starless and extremely dark* No doubt^ tai 
+the gloom, some immense angel stood erect with wings out 
+spreadi awaiting that soul. 
+
+YI. — The Gbass Gotebs akd the Baiic Effacbb. 
+
+In the cemetery of Père-Lachaise, in the vicinity of the 
+common grave, far from the elegant quarter of that city of 
+sepulchres, far from all the tombs of fancy which display in 
+the presence of eternity all the hideous fashions of death, in 
+a deserted corner, beside an old wall, beneath a great yew 
+tree over which climbs the wild convolvulus, amid dande> 
+lions and mosses, there lies a stone. That stone is no more 
+exempt than others from the leprosy of time, of dampness, of 
+the lichens and from the defilement of the birds. The water 
+turns it green, the air blackens it. It is not near any path, 
+and people are not fond of walking in that direction, because 
+the grass is high and their feet are immediately wet AVhen 
+there is a little sunshine, the lizards come thither. All around 
+there is a quivering of weeds. In the spring, linnets warble 
+in the trees. 
+
+This stone is perfectly plain. In cutting it the only thought 
+was the requirements of the tomb, and no other care was 
+taken than to make the stone long enough and narrow enough 
+to cover a man. 
+
+No name is to be read there. 
+
+Only, many years ago, a hand wrote upon it in pencil these 
+four lines, which have become gradually illegible beneath the 
+rain and the dust, and which are, to-day, probably effaced : 
+
+II dort Quoique le sort fût pour lui bien étrange, 
+Il vivait II mourut quand il n*eut plus son ange. 
+La chose simplement d'elle-même arriva, 
+Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s'en va.^ 
+
+1 He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, he lived. He died 
+when he had no longer his angel. The thing came to pass simply, oi 
+itself, as the night comes when day is gone. 
+
+
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+EMTTEH TO M. DABLU.' ^81 
+
+
+
+LETTER TO M. DAELLI. 
+
+Pabllsher of the Italian translation of Les Misérables in MflaiL 
+
+Hautevillb-Housb» October 18, 1862. 
+
+Yoir are right, sir, when yoa tell me that Les Misérables is 
+written for all nations. I do not know whether it will be 
+read by all, but I wrote it for all. It is addressed to England 
+as well as to Spain, to Italy as well as to France, to Germany 
+as well as to Ireland, to Eepublics which have slaves as well 
+as to Empires which have serfs. Social problems overstep 
+frontiers. The sores of the human race, those great sores 
+which cover the globe, do not halt at the red or blue lines 
+traced upon the map. In every place where man is ignorant 
+and despairing, in every place where woman is sold for bread, 
+wherever the child suffers for lack of the book which should 
+instruct him and of the hearth which should warm him, the 
+book of Les Misérables knocks at the door and says : ** Open 
+to me, I come for you." 
+
+At the hour of civilization through which we are now pass- 
+ing, and which is still so sombre, the miserable's name is 
+Man ; he is agonizing in all climes, and he is groaning in all 
+languages. 
+
+Your Italy is no more exempt from the evil than is our 
+France. Your admirable Italy has all miseries on the face of 
+it. Does not banditism, that raging form of pauperism, in- 
+habit your mountains ? Few nations are more deeply eaten 
+by that ulcer of convents which 1 have endeavored to fathonL 
+In spite of your possessing Rome, Milan, Naples, Palermp, 
+Turin, Florence, Sienna, Pisa, Mantua^ Bologna, Ferrara, 
+Genoa, Venice, a heroic history, sublime ruins, magnificent 
+ruins, and superb cities, you are, like ourselves, poor. You 
+are covered with marvels and vermin. Assuredly, the sun of 
+Italy is splendid, but, alas, azure in the sky does not prevent 
+rags on man. 
+
+Like us, you have prejudices, superstitions, tyrannies, fanat* 
+icisms, blind laws lending assistance to ignorant customs. 
+You taste nothing of the present nor of the future without a 
+
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+282 LES MlSERABLES^ 
+
+flavor of the past being mingled with it. You have a barium 
+rian, the monk, and a savage, the lazzarone. The social ques* 
+tion is the same for you as for us. There are a few less deaths 
+from hunger with you, and a few more from fever ; your so- 
+cial hygiene is not much better than ours; shadows, which 
+are Protestant in England, are Catholic in Italy ; but, under 
+different names, the vescovo is identical with the hishop, Siud 
+it always means night, and of pretty nearly the same quality. 
+To explain the Bible badly amounts to the same thing as to 
+understand the Gospel badly. 
+
+Is it necessary to emphasize this ? Must this melancholy 
+parallelism be yet more completely verified ? Have you no^ 
+indigent pei-sons ? Glance below. Have you not parasites? 
+Glance up. Does not that hideous balance, whose two scales, 
+pauperism and parisitism, so mournfully preserve their mutua] 
+equilibrium, oscillate before you as it does before us ? Where 
+is your army of schoolmasters, the only army which civiliza- 
+tion acknowledges ? 
+
+Where are your free and compulsory schools ? Does every 
+one know how to read in the land of Dante and of Michael 
+Angelo ? Have you made public schools of your barracks ? 
+Have you not, like ourselves, an opulent war-budget and a 
+paltry budget of education ? Have not you also that passive 
+obedience which is so easily converted into soldierly obedi- 
+ence ? military establishment which pushes the regulations tc 
+the extreme of firing upon Garibaldi; that is to say, upon 
+the living honor of Italy ? Let us subject your social onlei 
+to examination, let us take it where it stands and as it stands, 
+let us view its flagrant offences, show me the woman and the 
+child. It is by the amount of protection with which these 
+two feeble creatures are surrounded that the degree of civili- 
+zation is .to be measured. Is prostitution less heartrending in 
+Naples than in Paris? What is the amount of truth that 
+springs from your laws, and what amount of justice springs 
+from your tribunals ? Do you chance to be so fortunate as to 
+be ignorant of the meaning of those gloomy words: public 
+prosecution, legal infamy, prison, the scaffold, the executioner, 
+the death penalty ? Italians, with you as with us, Beccaria 
+is dead and Fariuace is alive. And then, let us scrutinize 
+your state reasons. Have you a government which compre- 
+hends the identity of morality and polities ? You have reached 
+the point where you grant amnesty to heroes! Something 
+very similar has been done in France. Stay, let us pass 
+miseries in review, let each one contribute his pile, yoi& are as 
+
+
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+LETTEf^ TO M. DAELLL 288 
+
+rich as we. Have you not, like ourselves, two condemnations, 
+religious condemnation pronounced by the priest, and social 
+condemnation decreed by the judge ? Oh, great nation of 
+Italy, thou resemblest the great nation of France ! Ala« Î 
+our brothers, you are, like ourselves, Misérables, 
+
+From the depths of the gloom wherein you dwell, you do 
+not see much more distinctly than we the radiant and dis- 
+tant portals of Eden. Only, the priests are mistaken. These 
+holy portals are before and not behind us. 
+
+I resume. This book. Les Misérables, is no less your mirror 
+than ours. Certain men, certain castes, rise in revolt against 
+this book, — I understand that. Mirrors, those revealers of 
+the truth, are hated j that does not prevent them from being 
+of use. 
+
+As for myself, I have written for all, with a profound love 
+for my own country, but without being engrossed by France 
+more than by any other nation. In proportion as I advance 
+in life, I grow more simple, and I become more and more 
+patriotic for humanity. 
+
+This is, moreover, the tendency of our age, and the law of 
+radiance of the French Revolution ; books must cease to be 
+exclusively French, Italian, German, Spanish, or English, and 
+become European, I say more, human, if they are to correspond 
+to the enlargement of civilization. 
+
+Hence a new logic of art, and of certain requirements of 
+composition which modify everything, even the conditions, 
+formerly narrow, of taste and language, which must grow 
+broader like all the rest. 
+
+In France, certain critics have reproached me, to my great 
+delight, with having transgressed the bounds of what they 
+call " French taste " ; I should be glad if this eulogium were 
+merited. 
+
+In short, I kim doing what I can, I suffer with the same uni- 
+versal suffering, and I try to assuage it, I possess only the 
+puny forces of a man, and I cry to all : " Help me ! " 
+
+This, sir, is what your letter prompts me to say ; I say it 
+for you and for your country. If I have insisted so strongly, 
+it is because of one phrase in your letter. You write : — 
+
+" There are Italians, and they are numerous, who say : 
+«This book. Les Misérables, is a French book. It does not 
+concern us. Let the French read it as a history, we read it as 
+a romance.' " — Alas ! I repeat, whether we be Italians or 
+Frenchmen, misery concerns us all. Ever since history haa 
+been written, ever since philosophy has meditated, misery hai^ 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+284 LES MISÉRABLES, 
+
+been the garment of the human race ; the moment has at 
+length arrived for tearing off that rag, and for replacing, upon 
+the naked limbs of the Man-People, the sinister fragment of 
+the past with the grand purple robe of the dawn. 
+
+If this letter seems to you of service in enlightening some 
+minds and in dissipating some prejudices, you are at liberty 
+to publish it, sir. Accept, I pray you, a renewed assurance 
+d my veiy distinguished sentiments. 
+
+Victor Huoa 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+Digitized 
+
+
+
+by Google 
+
+
+
+
+Husaozx 
+
+
+
+r ^ — ^ 
+
+Digitized by VjOOQIC 
diff --git a/cipher/main.cpp b/cipher/main.cpp
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..57dd7e9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/main.cpp
@@ -0,0 +1,301 @@
+#include <sycl/sycl.hpp>
+#include <dpc_common.hpp>
+
+#include <CLI/CLI.hpp>
+#include <fmt/format.h>
+#include <spdlog/spdlog.h>
+#include <spdlog/sinks/stdout_color_sinks.h>
+
+#include "scramble.h"
+#include "timestamps.h"
+#include "file_ops.h"
+#include "substitute.h"
+#include "plf_nanotimer.h"
+
+//
+// re-run integration with parameters we are using for cipher
+// add power function to parallel_for and sequential
+//
+//
+
+// function print_output_message
+// -----------------------------
+// description: This fucntion prints the bytes
+// contained in the argument output_message as characters.
+//
+template <class Iterable>
+void print_output_message(Iterable & output_message)
+{
+    // ensuring argument output_message contains type byte
+    static_assert(std::is_same<typename Iterable::value_type, std::byte>::value,
+                  "Iterable must contain std::byte elements");
+    fmt::print("output_message: ");
+    std::for_each(output_message.begin(), output_message.end(), [](std::byte b) {
+        fmt::print("{}", static_cast<char>(b));
+    });
+    fmt::print("\n");
+}
+
+int main(const int argc, const char *const argv[])
+{
+    // main declarations :: begin
+    std::string perf_output;
+    std::string device_name;
+    std::string input_file_path;
+    std::string output_file_path;
+    std::string key_file_path;
+    std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> timestamps;
+    double time_result;
+    // main declarations :: end
+    
+    // main inits :: begin
+    // note: We must maintain the byte order of the key, therefore we cannot use a set container.
+    std::vector<std::byte> input_message{std::byte{72}, std::byte{101}, std::byte{108}, std::byte{108}, std::byte{111}, std::byte{33}};
+    std::vector<std::byte> key{std::byte{67}, std::byte{121}, std::byte{110}, std::byte{100}, std::byte{121}, std::byte{33}};
+    uint grain_size{100};
+    const double f_double{10};
+    bool run_sequentially{false};
+    bool run_cpuonly{false};
+    bool encode{false};
+    bool decode{false};
+    bool print_to_console{false};
+    //main inits :: end
+
+    // cli setup and parse begin
+    CLI::App app{"Substitution cipher"};
+    app.option_defaults()->always_capture_default(true);
+    app.add_option("-g, --grainsize", grain_size)
+        ->check(CLI::PositiveNumber.description(" >= 1"));
+    app.add_option("-k, --key", key, "key value");
+    app.add_option("-f, --keyfile", key_file_path)
+        ->check(CLI::ExistingFile);
+    app.add_option("-m, --msg", input_message, "message");
+    app.add_option("-i, --inputfile", input_file_path)
+        ->check(CLI::ExistingFile);
+    app.add_option("-o, --outputfile", output_file_path)
+        ->check(CLI::ExistingFile);
+    app.add_flag("-s, --sequential", run_sequentially);
+    app.add_flag("-c, --cpu-only", run_cpuonly);
+    app.add_flag("-e, --encode", encode);
+    app.add_flag("-d, --decode", decode);
+    app.add_flag("-p, --print", print_to_console);
+    CLI11_PARSE(app, argc, argv);
+    // cli setup and parse end
+
+    // must encode or decode
+    if (encode == decode) {
+        spdlog::error("must specify -e --encode || -d --decode");
+        return 1;
+    }
+    
+    plf::nanotimer time_total;
+    time_total.start();
+    
+    // read key from file :: begin
+    if (key_file_path.size()) {
+        spdlog::info("reading key from key file: {}", key_file_path);
+        plf::nanotimer time_key_vector;
+        time_key_vector.start();
+        if (read_from_binary(key, key_file_path) == 1) { return 1; }
+        time_result = time_key_vector.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "initializing key vector");
+    }
+    // read key from file end :: end
+    
+    // read input message from file :: begin
+    if (input_file_path.size()) {
+        spdlog::info("reading input message from input file: {}", input_file_path);
+        plf::nanotimer time_input_vector;
+        time_input_vector.start();
+        if (read_from_binary(input_message, input_file_path) == 1) { return 1; }
+        time_result = time_input_vector.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "initializing input_message vector");
+    }
+    // read input message from file :: end
+
+    // main domain setup :: begin
+    plf::nanotimer time_domain;
+    time_domain.start();
+    const auto input_message_size = input_message.size();
+    const auto output_message_size = input_message_size;
+    const auto work_load{input_message_size / grain_size};
+    constexpr auto decimal_begin{0};
+    constexpr auto decimal_end{256};
+    std::vector<std::byte> byte_map{decimal_end - decimal_begin};
+    time_result = time_domain.get_elapsed_ns();
+    mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "domain setup");
+    // main domain setup :: end
+    
+    if (input_message_size % grain_size != 0) {
+        spdlog::warn("input_message_size {} is not a multiple of grain_size {}", input_message_size, grain_size);
+    }
+    
+    // initializing byte map :: begin
+    spdlog::info("preparing byte map");
+    plf::nanotimer time_byte_map_vector;
+    time_byte_map_vector.start();
+    if (encode) {
+        byte_map = scramble(key, decimal_begin, decimal_end);
+    }
+    else {
+        byte_map = unscramble(key, decimal_begin, decimal_end);
+    }
+    time_result = time_byte_map_vector.get_elapsed_ns();
+    mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "initializing byte map vector");
+    // initializing byte map :: end
+    
+    // run sequential begin
+    if (run_sequentially) {
+        plf::nanotimer time_sequential;
+        time_sequential.start();
+        device_name = "sequential";
+        
+        // memory allocation for output message :: begin
+        spdlog::info("allocating memory for output message sequential");
+        plf::nanotimer time_output_alloc;
+        time_output_alloc.start();
+        std::vector<std::byte> output_message(output_message_size);
+        time_result = time_output_alloc.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "output message vector memmory alloc");
+        // memory allocation for output message :: end
+        
+        // sequential byte substitution :: begin
+        spdlog::info("starting sequential byte substitution");
+        plf::nanotimer time_seq_byte_sub;
+        time_seq_byte_sub.start();
+        for (int i = 0; i < work_load + 1; i++) {
+            substitute<decltype(byte_map)>(byte_map, input_message, output_message, input_message_size, grain_size, i);
+        }
+        time_result = time_seq_byte_sub.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "sequential byte substitution");
+        // sequential byte substitution :: end
+        
+        // write output message to output file :: begin
+        if (output_file_path.size()) {
+            spdlog::info("preparing to write new msg to: {}", output_file_path);
+            plf::nanotimer time_seq_output;
+            time_seq_output.start();
+            if (write_to_binary<std::vector<std::byte>>(output_message, output_file_path) == 1) { return 1; }
+            time_result = time_seq_output.get_elapsed_ns();
+            mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "write to output file");
+        }
+        // write output message to output file :: end
+        
+        // print output message to console :: begin
+        if (print_to_console) {
+            spdlog::info("preparing to print output_message to console");
+            plf::nanotimer time_seq_print;
+            time_seq_print.start();
+            print_output_message<std::vector<std::byte>>(output_message);
+            time_result = time_seq_print.get_elapsed_ns();
+            mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "print to console");
+        }
+        // print output message to console :: end
+        
+        spdlog::info("output message should be available now");
+        time_result = time_sequential.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "sequential block");
+    }
+    // run sequential end
+    
+    // run parallel begin
+    else {
+        plf::nanotimer time_parallel;
+        time_parallel.start();
+        
+        // allocate sycl buffer memory :: begin
+        spdlog::info("allocating memory for sycl buffers");
+        plf::nanotimer time_sycl_buf_alloc;
+        time_sycl_buf_alloc.start();
+        sycl::buffer<std::byte> byte_map_buf{byte_map.data(), sycl::range<1>{decimal_end - decimal_begin}};
+        sycl::buffer<std::byte> input_message_buf{input_message.data(), sycl::range<1>{input_message_size}};
+        sycl::buffer<std::byte> output_message_buf{sycl::range<1>{output_message_size}};
+        sycl::buffer<std::byte> flag_buf{sycl::range<1>{1}};
+        time_result = time_sycl_buf_alloc.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "sycl buffer memmory alloc");
+        // allocate sycl buffer memory :: end
+        
+        // sycl Q creation :: begin
+        plf::nanotimer time_sycl_queue_create;
+        time_sycl_queue_create.start();
+        sycl::device device { run_cpuonly ? sycl::cpu_selector_v : sycl::default_selector_v };
+        sycl::queue Q{device, dpc_common::exception_handler};
+        time_result = time_sycl_queue_create.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "queue creation");
+        // sycl Q creation :: end
+        
+        device_name = Q.get_device().get_info<sycl::info::device::name>();
+        spdlog::info("Device: {}", device_name);
+        
+        // populate output message buffer with new msg
+        spdlog::info("preparing for parallel byte substitutions");
+        Q.submit([&](auto & h) {
+            // data transfer ocurring here
+            const sycl::accessor byte_map_acc{byte_map_buf, h};
+            const sycl::accessor input_message_acc{input_message_buf, h};
+            const sycl::accessor output_message_acc{output_message_buf, h};
+            const sycl::accessor flag_acc{flag_buf, h};
+            
+            // kernel code
+            h.parallel_for(work_load + 1, [=](const auto & i) {
+                substitute<decltype(byte_map_acc)>(byte_map_acc, input_message_acc, output_message_acc, input_message_size, grain_size, i);
+            });
+        });
+        spdlog::info("done submitting to queue...waiting for results");
+        
+        // access flag buff to initiate work on target device :: begin
+        spdlog::info("preparing flag access");
+        plf::nanotimer time_parallel_byte_sub;
+        time_parallel_byte_sub.start();
+        const sycl::host_accessor flag{flag_buf};
+        time_result = time_parallel_byte_sub.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "parallel byte substitution");
+        // access flag buff to initiate work on target device :: end
+    
+        // host accessor to synchronize memory :: begin
+        spdlog::info("preparing output_message access");
+        plf::nanotimer time_host_access;
+        time_host_access.start();
+        const sycl::host_accessor output_message{output_message_buf};
+        time_result = time_host_access.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "host data access");
+        // host accessor to synchronize memory :: end
+        
+        // write output message to output file :: begin
+        if (output_file_path.size()) {
+            spdlog::info("preparing to write new msg to: {}", output_file_path);
+            plf::nanotimer time_output;
+            time_output.start();
+            
+            if (write_to_binary<decltype(output_message)>(output_message, output_file_path) == 1) { return 1; }
+            
+            time_result = time_output.get_elapsed_ns();
+            mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "write to output file");
+        }
+        // write output message to output file :: end
+        
+        // print output message to console :: begin
+        if (print_to_console) {
+            spdlog::info("preparing to write output_message to console");
+            plf::nanotimer time_print;
+            time_print.start();
+            
+            print_output_message<decltype(output_message)>(output_message);
+            
+            time_result = time_print.get_elapsed_ns();
+            mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "print to console");
+        }
+        // print output message to console :: end
+        
+        time_result = time_parallel.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "parallel block");
+    }
+    // run parallel end
+    
+    time_result = time_total.get_elapsed_ns();
+    mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "total time");
+    
+    spdlog::info("all done for now");
+    print_timestamps(timestamps);
+    return 0;
+}
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/plf_nanotimer.h b/cipher/plf_nanotimer.h
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13b578c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/plf_nanotimer.h
@@ -0,0 +1,227 @@
+// Copyright (c) 2022, Matthew Bentley (mattreecebentley@gmail.com) www.plflib.org
+
+// This software is provided 'as-is', without any express or implied
+// warranty. In no event will the authors be held liable for any damages
+// arising from the use of this software.
+//
+// Permission is granted to anyone to use this software for any purpose,
+// including commercial applications, and to alter it and redistribute it
+// freely, subject to the following restrictions:
+//
+// 1. The origin of this software must not be misrepresented; you must not
+//    claim that you wrote the original software. If you use this software
+//    in a product, an acknowledgement in the product documentation would be
+//    appreciated but is not required.
+// 2. Altered source versions must be plainly marked as such, and must not be
+//    misrepresented as being the original software.
+// 3. This notice may not be removed or altered from any source distribution.
+
+
+#ifndef PLF_NANOTIMER_H
+#define PLF_NANOTIMER_H
+
+
+// Compiler-specific defines:
+
+#define PLF_NOEXCEPT throw() // default before potential redefine
+
+#if defined(_MSC_VER) && !defined(__clang__) && !defined(__GNUC__)
+	#if _MSC_VER >= 1900
+		#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		#define PLF_NOEXCEPT noexcept
+	#endif
+#elif defined(__cplusplus) && __cplusplus >= 201103L // C++11 support, at least
+	#if defined(__GNUC__) && defined(__GNUC_MINOR__) && !defined(__clang__) // If compiler is GCC/G++
+		#if (__GNUC__ == 4 && __GNUC_MINOR__ >= 6) || __GNUC__ > 4
+			#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+			#define PLF_NOEXCEPT noexcept
+		#endif
+	#elif defined(__clang__)
+		#if __has_feature(cxx_noexcept)
+			#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+			#define PLF_NOEXCEPT noexcept
+		#endif
+	#else // Assume type traits and initializer support for other compilers and standard libraries
+		#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		#define PLF_NOEXCEPT noexcept
+	#endif
+#endif
+
+
+
+// ~Nanosecond-precision cross-platform (linux/bsd/mac/windows, C++03/C++11) simple timer class:
+
+// Mac OSX implementation:
+#if defined(__MACH__)
+	#include <mach/clock.h>
+	#include <mach/mach.h>
+
+	namespace plf
+	{
+
+	class nanotimer
+	{
+	private:
+		clock_serv_t system_clock;
+		mach_timespec_t time1, time2;
+	public:
+		nanotimer() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			host_get_clock_service(mach_host_self(), SYSTEM_CLOCK, &system_clock);
+		}
+
+		~nanotimer() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			mach_port_deallocate(mach_task_self(), system_clock);
+		}
+
+		void start() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			clock_get_time(system_clock, &time1);
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ms() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return static_cast<double>(get_elapsed_ns()) / 1000000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_us() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return static_cast<double>(get_elapsed_ns()) / 1000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ns() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			clock_get_time(system_clock, &time2);
+			return ((1000000000.0 * static_cast<double>(time2.tv_sec - time1.tv_sec)) + static_cast<double>(time2.tv_nsec - time1.tv_nsec));
+		}
+	};
+
+
+
+
+// Linux/BSD implementation:
+#elif (defined(linux) || defined(__linux__) || defined(__linux)) || (defined(__DragonFly__) || defined(__FreeBSD__) || defined(__NetBSD__) || defined(__OpenBSD__))
+	#include <time.h>
+	#include <sys/time.h>
+
+	namespace plf
+	{
+
+	class nanotimer
+	{
+	private:
+		struct timespec time1, time2;
+	public:
+		nanotimer() PLF_NOEXCEPT {}
+
+		void start() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			clock_gettime(CLOCK_MONOTONIC, &time1);
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ms() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return get_elapsed_ns() / 1000000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_us() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return get_elapsed_ns() / 1000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ns() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			clock_gettime(CLOCK_MONOTONIC, &time2);
+			return ((1000000000.0 * static_cast<double>(time2.tv_sec - time1.tv_sec)) + static_cast<double>(time2.tv_nsec - time1.tv_nsec));
+		}
+	};
+
+
+
+
+// Windows implementation:
+#elif defined(_WIN32)
+	#if defined(_MSC_VER) && !defined(__clang__) && !defined(__GNUC__) && !defined(NOMINMAX)
+		#define NOMINMAX // Otherwise MS compilers act like idiots when using std::numeric_limits<>::max() and including windows.h
+	#endif
+
+	#ifndef WIN32_LEAN_AND_MEAN
+		#define WIN32_LEAN_AND_MEAN
+		#include <windows.h>
+		#undef WIN32_LEAN_AND_MEAN
+	#else
+		#include <windows.h>
+	#endif
+
+	namespace plf
+	{
+
+	class nanotimer
+	{
+	private:
+		LARGE_INTEGER ticks1, ticks2;
+		double frequency;
+	public:
+		nanotimer() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			LARGE_INTEGER freq;
+			QueryPerformanceFrequency(&freq);
+			frequency = static_cast<double>(freq.QuadPart);
+		}
+
+		void start() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			QueryPerformanceCounter(&ticks1);
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ms() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			QueryPerformanceCounter(&ticks2);
+			return (static_cast<double>(ticks2.QuadPart - ticks1.QuadPart) * 1000.0) / frequency;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_us() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return get_elapsed_ms() * 1000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ns() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return get_elapsed_ms() * 1000000.0;
+		}
+	};
+#endif
+// Else: failure warning - your OS is not supported
+
+
+
+#if defined(__MACH__) || (defined(linux) || defined(__linux__) || defined(__linux)) || (defined(__DragonFly__) || defined(__FreeBSD__) || defined(__NetBSD__) || defined(__OpenBSD__)) || defined(_WIN32)
+inline void nanosecond_delay(const double delay_ns) PLF_NOEXCEPT
+{
+	nanotimer timer;
+	timer.start();
+
+	while(timer.get_elapsed_ns() < delay_ns)
+	{};
+}
+
+
+inline void microsecond_delay(const double delay_us) PLF_NOEXCEPT
+{
+	nanosecond_delay(delay_us * 1000.0);
+}
+
+
+inline void millisecond_delay(const double delay_ms) PLF_NOEXCEPT
+{
+	nanosecond_delay(delay_ms * 1000000.0);
+}
+
+
+} // namespace
+#endif
+
+#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+
+#endif // PLF_NANOTIMER_H
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/scramble.cpp b/cipher/scramble.cpp
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..cf9c93e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/scramble.cpp
@@ -0,0 +1,126 @@
+#include "scramble.h"
+
+// function scramble
+// -----------------
+// inputs: A key used to scramble the byte_map, 
+//         the beginning decimal used to represent the "smallest" byte,
+//         and the last decimal used to represent the "largest" byte. 
+//
+// output: Returns a vector "byte map" that may be used to transform plaintext to ciphertext.
+//
+// IE:
+// key = {std::byte{67}, std::byte{121}, std::byte{110}, std::byte{64}, std::byte{33}}
+//
+// std::vector<std::byte> byte_map =
+// [0  1   2   3  4  5 6 7 8 9...  ...255] indices :: static_cast<std::byte>(index)
+// [67 121 110 64 33 0 1 2...      ...255] elements :: <std::byte{element}>
+//
+// The bytes represented by the indices correspond to plaintext.
+// The bytes represented by the elements correspond to ciphertext.
+//
+std::vector<std::byte> scramble(std::vector<std::byte> key, const int decimal_begin, const int decimal_end)
+{
+    // Function call to remove duplicate bytes in the key.
+    remove_duplicates(key);
+    
+    // Declarations
+    std::list<std::byte> byte_list;
+    std::vector<std::byte> byte_map;
+    std::byte byte;
+    
+    // Initializing the key_size for iterating over the key object.
+    const auto key_size = key.size();
+    
+    // Step 1: Initializing the byte_list with bytes ranging from decimal_begin to decimal_end.
+    for (int i = decimal_begin; i < (decimal_end + decimal_begin); i++) {
+        byte_list.push_back(static_cast<std::byte>(i));
+    }
+    
+    // Step 2: Writing the bytes contained in object key to the byte_map and removing key bytes from the byte_list.
+    for (int i = 0; i < key_size; i++) {
+        byte_map.push_back(static_cast<std::byte>(key[i]));
+        byte_list.remove(static_cast<std::byte>(key[i]));
+    }
+    
+    // Step 3: Writing the remaining bytes from the byte_list to the byte_map.
+    for (int i = decimal_begin; i < (decimal_begin + decimal_end - key_size); i++) {
+        byte = byte_list.front();
+        byte_map.push_back(byte);
+        byte_list.pop_front();
+    }
+    // All done.
+    return byte_map;
+}
+
+// function unscramble
+// -------------------
+// inputs: A key used to unscramble the byte_map,
+//         the beginning decimal used to represnt the "smallest" byte,
+//         and the last decimal used to represent the "largest" byte.
+//
+// output: Returns a vector "byte map" that may be used to transform ciphertext to plaintext.
+//
+// IE:
+// key = {std::byte{67}, std::byte{121}, std::byte{110}, std::byte{64}, std::byte{33}}
+//
+// std::vector<std::byte> byte_map =
+// 0 1 2.. ..33.. ..255 indices :: static_cast<std::byte>(index)
+// 5 6 7.. ..4..  ..255 elements :: <std::byte>
+//
+// The bytes represented by the indices correspond to ciphertext.
+// The bytes represented by the elements correspond to plaintext.
+//
+std::vector<std::byte> unscramble(std::vector<std::byte> key, const int decimal_begin, const int decimal_end)
+{
+    // Function call to remove duplicate bytes in the key.
+    remove_duplicates(key);
+    
+    // Declarations
+    std::vector<std::byte> byte_map;
+    std::byte index_byte;
+    std::byte byte;
+    
+    // Initializing counter_not to the size of the object key; this is the starting decimal value for bytes that are NOT mapped to by the key.
+    auto counter_not = key.size();
+    
+    // Populating byte_map
+    for (int i = decimal_begin; i < (decimal_end + decimal_begin); i++) {
+        index_byte = static_cast<std::byte>(i);
+        // Step 1: Find if the current_byte is contained in the object key.
+        auto found = std::find_if(key.begin(), key.end(), [&index_byte](std::byte b) {
+            return b == index_byte;
+        });
+        // Step 2: If the index_byte is not contained in the object key, then map to the byte value of decimal counter_not and increment counter_not.
+        if (found == key.end()) {
+            byte = static_cast<std::byte>(counter_not++);
+            byte_map.push_back(byte);
+        }
+        // Step 3: Else the index_byte is contained in the object key, then map to the byte value of the index containing the element index_byte.
+        else {
+            byte = static_cast<std::byte>(std::distance(key.begin(), found)); // finding the index of the iterator found
+            byte_map.push_back(byte);
+        }
+    }
+    // All done.
+    return byte_map;
+}
+
+// function remove_duplicates
+// --------------------------
+// input: a reference to the object key
+// output: void
+// description: This function removes all duplicate bytes from the provided argument.
+void remove_duplicates(std::vector<std::byte> & key)
+{
+    std::set<std::byte> unique_bytes;
+    key.erase(
+        std::remove_if(
+            key.begin(), key.end(), [&unique_bytes] (std::byte b) {
+                if (unique_bytes.count(b) > 0) { return true; }
+                unique_bytes.insert(b);
+                return false;
+            }
+        ),
+        key.end()
+    );
+}
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/scramble.h b/cipher/scramble.h
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..50a4e71
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/scramble.h
@@ -0,0 +1,28 @@
+#ifndef SCRAMBLE_H
+#define SCRAMBLE_H
+
+#include <algorithm>
+#include <list>
+#include <vector>
+#include <set>
+
+// note: Argument key is passed by value this way the key object in main is unaffected
+// by function calls to remove_duplicates from within scramble and unscramble.
+std::vector<std::byte> scramble(
+    std::vector<std::byte> key,
+    const int decimal_begin,
+    const int decimal_end
+);
+
+std::vector<std::byte> unscramble(
+    std::vector<std::byte> key,
+    const int decimal_begin,
+    const int decimal_end
+);
+
+// note: Argument key is passed by reference here.
+void remove_duplicates(
+    std::vector<std::byte> & key
+);
+
+#endif
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/substitute.h b/cipher/substitute.h
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..214bd6e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/substitute.h
@@ -0,0 +1,24 @@
+#ifndef SUBSTITUTE_H_
+#define SUBSTITUTE_H_
+
+#include <sycl/sycl.hpp>
+
+template <class Container>
+SYCL_EXTERNAL void substitute(
+    Container & byte_map,
+    Container & input_message,
+    Container & output_message,
+    const size_t & input_message_size,
+    const uint & grain_size,
+    const size_t & i
+)
+{
+    const auto start = i * grain_size;
+    auto end = (i + 1) * grain_size;
+    if (end > input_message_size) { end = input_message_size; }
+    for (int j = start; j < end; j++) {
+        output_message[j] = byte_map[std::to_integer<uint8_t>(input_message[j])];
+    }
+}
+
+#endif
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/test-data/ciphertext.txt b/cipher/test-data/ciphertext.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4190a2a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/test-data/ciphertext.txt
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+DYZl$Zl$pVlp$UQpQ%kkUU$pYV$cQpY$pb$pYZl$WZ]V$pb$SZcYVjpVlpScc$Sb`lplpU$c]QZ`pVwpOWZ]VcQpYkUU$pYV$cQpY$pb$pYV$SZcYVjpVwppwp$WZ]V$]bSQpVU$Z`$pYV$pVlpUQpQ$UZjVSpbjx$pb$SZcYVjpVlpScc$Sb`lplpU$SZcYVjpVwpOWZ]VcQpYkk
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/test-data/key.txt b/cipher/test-data/key.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..a5bc84e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/test-data/key.txt
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+This is the test-data key! Adding randomness 1234567890? @#$%^&&&*'';
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/test-data/plaintext.txt b/cipher/test-data/plaintext.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..014acdf
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/test-data/plaintext.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,6 @@
+This is test data!
+
+Add the path to this file to /cipher/test.cpp const::std plaintext_filepath.
+Add the path to the ciphertext.txt file located in the test-data directory to /cipher/test.cpp const::std ciphertext_filepath.
+
+:)
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/test.cpp b/cipher/test.cpp
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5dc1f74
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/test.cpp
@@ -0,0 +1,79 @@
+#include <spdlog/spdlog.h>
+#include <gtest/gtest.h>
+
+#include <sycl/sycl.hpp>
+#include <dpc_common.hpp>
+
+#include "scramble.h"
+#include "file_ops.h"
+#include "substitute.h"
+
+class CipherTest : public testing::Test {
+    public:
+        void SetUp() override {
+            spdlog::set_level(spdlog::level::off);
+            spdlog::info("spdlog level set to {}", spdlog::get_level());
+            read_from_binary(plaintext, plaintext_filepath);
+            read_from_binary(ciphertext, ciphertext_filepath);
+            read_from_binary(key, key_filepath);
+        }
+    
+        void TearDown() override {
+            plaintext.clear();
+            ciphertext.clear();
+            key.clear();
+        }
+    
+    protected:
+        const std::string plaintext_filepath = "<path to /test-data/plaintext.txt>";
+        const std::string ciphertext_filepath = "<path to /test-data/ciphertext.txt>";
+        const std::string key_filepath = "<path to /test-data/key.txt>";
+    
+        const int decimal_begin{0};
+        const int decimal_end{256};
+        const int grain_size{1};
+    
+        std::vector<std::byte> plaintext;
+        std::vector<std::byte> ciphertext;
+        std::vector<std::byte> key;
+};
+
+TEST_F(CipherTest, TestScramble) {
+    EXPECT_EQ(plaintext.size(), ciphertext.size());
+    
+    const auto plaintext_size = plaintext.size();
+    const auto ciphertext_size = ciphertext.size();
+    const auto work_load{plaintext_size / grain_size};
+    
+    std::vector<std::byte> byte_map = scramble(key, decimal_begin, decimal_end);
+    std::vector<std::byte> temp_ciphertext{ciphertext_size};
+    
+    for (int i = 0; i < work_load + 1; i++) {
+        substitute<std::vector<std::byte>>(byte_map, plaintext, temp_ciphertext, plaintext_size, grain_size, i);
+    }
+    
+    for (int i = 0; i < ciphertext_size; i++) {
+        ASSERT_EQ(temp_ciphertext[i], ciphertext[i]);
+    }
+    
+}
+
+TEST_F(CipherTest, TestUnscramble) {
+    EXPECT_EQ(plaintext.size(), ciphertext.size());
+    
+    const auto ciphertext_size = ciphertext.size();
+    const auto plaintext_size = plaintext.size();
+    const auto work_load{ciphertext_size / grain_size};
+    
+    std::vector<std::byte> byte_map = unscramble(key, decimal_begin, decimal_end);
+    std::vector<std::byte> temp_plaintext{plaintext_size};
+    
+    for (int i = 0; i < work_load + 1; i++) {
+        substitute<std::vector<std::byte>>(byte_map, ciphertext, temp_plaintext, ciphertext_size, grain_size, i);
+    }
+    
+    for (int i = 0; i < ciphertext.size(); i++) {
+        ASSERT_EQ(temp_plaintext[i], plaintext[i]);
+    }
+    
+}
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/timestamps.cpp b/cipher/timestamps.cpp
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..30e8f53
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/timestamps.cpp
@@ -0,0 +1,19 @@
+#include <cstdio>
+#include <fmt/format.h>
+#include <sycl/sycl.hpp>
+#include <dpc_common.hpp>
+
+#include "timestamps.h"
+
+// new mark_time -> using plf_nanotimer
+void mark_time(std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> & timestamps, double & timestamp, const std::string_view label) {
+    timestamps.push_back(std::pair(label.data(), timestamp));
+}
+
+// new print -> using plf_nanotimer
+void print_timestamps(std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> & timestamps) {
+    std::for_each(timestamps.begin(), timestamps.end(), [](const auto & tuple) {
+        fmt::print("{},{}", std::get<0>(tuple), std::get<1>(tuple));
+        fmt::print("\n");
+    });
+}
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/cipher/timestamps.h b/cipher/timestamps.h
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3c28b3e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/cipher/timestamps.h
@@ -0,0 +1,14 @@
+#ifndef CIPHER_TIMESTAMPS_H
+#define CIPHER_TIMESTAMPS_H
+
+#include <vector>
+#include <unordered_map>
+#include <chrono>
+
+// mark_time using nanotimer
+void mark_time(std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> & timestamps, double & timestamp, std::string_view label);
+
+// print_timestamps using nanotimer
+void print_timestamps(std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> & timestamps);
+
+#endif
diff --git a/matrix_mul/matrix_mul_dpcpp.cpp b/matrix_mul/matrix_mul_dpcpp.cpp
index b8c834c..271dc0e 100644
--- a/matrix_mul/matrix_mul_dpcpp.cpp
+++ b/matrix_mul/matrix_mul_dpcpp.cpp
@@ -50,21 +50,16 @@ constexpr int P = m_size / 2;
 /**
  * Perform matrix multiplication on host to verify results from device.
  */
-int VerifyResult(float (*c_back)[P], steady_clock::time_point zero);
+int VerifyResult(const host_accessor<float, 2> c_back, steady_clock::time_point zero);
 
 int main() {
+  int result;
 
   fmt::print("what up - this is fmt\n");
   spdlog::info("what up - this is spdlog");
 
   steady_clock::time_point zero;
 
-  // Host memory buffer that device will write data back before destruction.
-  float(*c_back)[P] = new float[M][P];
-
-  // Intialize c_back
-  for (int i = 0; i < M; i++)
-    for (int j = 0; j < P; j++) c_back[i][j] = 0.0f;
 
   // Initialize the device queue with the default selector. The device queue is
   // used to enqueue kernels. It encapsulates all states needed for execution.
@@ -73,11 +68,12 @@ int main() {
 
     cout << "Device: " << q.get_device().get_info<info::device::name>() << "\n";
 
-    // Create 2D buffers for matrices, buffer c is bound with host memory c_back
+    // Create 2D buffers for matrices
 
     buffer<float, 2> a_buf(range(M, N));
     buffer<float, 2> b_buf(range(N, P));
-    buffer c_buf(reinterpret_cast<float *>(c_back), range(M, P));
+    buffer<float, 2> b_buf_t(range(P, N));
+    buffer<float, 2> c_buf(range(M, P));
 
     cout << "Problem size: c(" << M << "," << P << ") = a(" << M << "," << N
          << ") * b(" << N << "," << P << ")\n";
@@ -113,12 +109,25 @@ int main() {
         b[index] = index[0] + 1.0f;
       });
     });
+      
+    //  b transpose-> b_t
+    q.submit([&](auto &h) {
+      accessor b(b_buf, h, read_only);
+      accessor b_t(b_buf_t, h, write_only);
+    
+      h.parallel_for(range(M, N), [=](auto index) {
+        int row = index[0];
+        int col = index[1];
+        b_t[row][col] = b[col][row];
+      });
+    });
 
     // Submit command group to queue to multiply matrices: c = a * b
     q.submit([&](auto &h) {
       // Read from a and b, write to c
+      // Update using b_t: to multiply a[row] by b_t[row] to calculate c[index].
       accessor a(a_buf, h, read_only);
-      accessor b(b_buf, h, read_only);
+      accessor b_t(b_buf_t, h, read_only);
       accessor c(c_buf, h, write_only);
 
       int width_a = a_buf.get_range()[1];
@@ -127,28 +136,30 @@ int main() {
       h.parallel_for(range(M, P), [=](auto index) {
         // Get global position in Y direction.
         int row = index[0];
-        // Get global position in X direction.
-        int col = index[1];
+        // Get global position in X direction. (using matrix b_t, no need for global pos of col)
+        //int col = index[1];
 
         float sum = 0.0f;
 
         // Compute the result of one element of c
         for (int i = 0; i < width_a; i++) {
-          sum += a[row][i] * b[i][col];
+          sum += a[row][i] * b_t[row][i];
         }
 
         c[index] = sum;
       });
     });
+      
+    // verify result in scope of c_buf
+    const host_accessor c_back{c_buf};
+    result = VerifyResult(c_back, zero);
+      
   } catch (sycl::exception const &e) {
     cout << "An exception is caught while multiplying matrices.\n";
     terminate();
   }
 
-  int result;
   cout << "Result of matrix multiplication using DPC++: ";
-  result = VerifyResult(c_back, zero);
-  delete[] c_back;
 
   return result;
 }
@@ -157,7 +168,7 @@ bool ValueSame(float a, float b) {
   return fabs(a - b) < numeric_limits<float>::epsilon();
 }
 
-int VerifyResult(float (*c_back)[P], const steady_clock::time_point zero) {
+int VerifyResult(const host_accessor<float, 2> c_back, const steady_clock::time_point zero) {
 
   auto now = steady_clock::now();
   fmt::print("time to compute results in ms: {}\n", duration_cast<milliseconds>(now - zero).count());
@@ -226,4 +237,4 @@ int VerifyResult(float (*c_back)[P], const steady_clock::time_point zero) {
     cout << "Fail - The results mismatch!\n";
     return -1;
   }
-}
+}
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/transitive_closure/CMakeLists.txt b/transitive_closure/CMakeLists.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ebf5b0f
--- /dev/null
+++ b/transitive_closure/CMakeLists.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,2 @@
+add_executable(transitive_closure transitive_closure.cpp timestamps.cpp)
+target_link_libraries(transitive_closure fmt::fmt spdlog::spdlog CLI11::CLI11)
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/transitive_closure/plf_nanotimer.h b/transitive_closure/plf_nanotimer.h
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..13b578c
--- /dev/null
+++ b/transitive_closure/plf_nanotimer.h
@@ -0,0 +1,227 @@
+// Copyright (c) 2022, Matthew Bentley (mattreecebentley@gmail.com) www.plflib.org
+
+// This software is provided 'as-is', without any express or implied
+// warranty. In no event will the authors be held liable for any damages
+// arising from the use of this software.
+//
+// Permission is granted to anyone to use this software for any purpose,
+// including commercial applications, and to alter it and redistribute it
+// freely, subject to the following restrictions:
+//
+// 1. The origin of this software must not be misrepresented; you must not
+//    claim that you wrote the original software. If you use this software
+//    in a product, an acknowledgement in the product documentation would be
+//    appreciated but is not required.
+// 2. Altered source versions must be plainly marked as such, and must not be
+//    misrepresented as being the original software.
+// 3. This notice may not be removed or altered from any source distribution.
+
+
+#ifndef PLF_NANOTIMER_H
+#define PLF_NANOTIMER_H
+
+
+// Compiler-specific defines:
+
+#define PLF_NOEXCEPT throw() // default before potential redefine
+
+#if defined(_MSC_VER) && !defined(__clang__) && !defined(__GNUC__)
+	#if _MSC_VER >= 1900
+		#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		#define PLF_NOEXCEPT noexcept
+	#endif
+#elif defined(__cplusplus) && __cplusplus >= 201103L // C++11 support, at least
+	#if defined(__GNUC__) && defined(__GNUC_MINOR__) && !defined(__clang__) // If compiler is GCC/G++
+		#if (__GNUC__ == 4 && __GNUC_MINOR__ >= 6) || __GNUC__ > 4
+			#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+			#define PLF_NOEXCEPT noexcept
+		#endif
+	#elif defined(__clang__)
+		#if __has_feature(cxx_noexcept)
+			#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+			#define PLF_NOEXCEPT noexcept
+		#endif
+	#else // Assume type traits and initializer support for other compilers and standard libraries
+		#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		#define PLF_NOEXCEPT noexcept
+	#endif
+#endif
+
+
+
+// ~Nanosecond-precision cross-platform (linux/bsd/mac/windows, C++03/C++11) simple timer class:
+
+// Mac OSX implementation:
+#if defined(__MACH__)
+	#include <mach/clock.h>
+	#include <mach/mach.h>
+
+	namespace plf
+	{
+
+	class nanotimer
+	{
+	private:
+		clock_serv_t system_clock;
+		mach_timespec_t time1, time2;
+	public:
+		nanotimer() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			host_get_clock_service(mach_host_self(), SYSTEM_CLOCK, &system_clock);
+		}
+
+		~nanotimer() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			mach_port_deallocate(mach_task_self(), system_clock);
+		}
+
+		void start() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			clock_get_time(system_clock, &time1);
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ms() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return static_cast<double>(get_elapsed_ns()) / 1000000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_us() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return static_cast<double>(get_elapsed_ns()) / 1000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ns() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			clock_get_time(system_clock, &time2);
+			return ((1000000000.0 * static_cast<double>(time2.tv_sec - time1.tv_sec)) + static_cast<double>(time2.tv_nsec - time1.tv_nsec));
+		}
+	};
+
+
+
+
+// Linux/BSD implementation:
+#elif (defined(linux) || defined(__linux__) || defined(__linux)) || (defined(__DragonFly__) || defined(__FreeBSD__) || defined(__NetBSD__) || defined(__OpenBSD__))
+	#include <time.h>
+	#include <sys/time.h>
+
+	namespace plf
+	{
+
+	class nanotimer
+	{
+	private:
+		struct timespec time1, time2;
+	public:
+		nanotimer() PLF_NOEXCEPT {}
+
+		void start() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			clock_gettime(CLOCK_MONOTONIC, &time1);
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ms() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return get_elapsed_ns() / 1000000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_us() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return get_elapsed_ns() / 1000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ns() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			clock_gettime(CLOCK_MONOTONIC, &time2);
+			return ((1000000000.0 * static_cast<double>(time2.tv_sec - time1.tv_sec)) + static_cast<double>(time2.tv_nsec - time1.tv_nsec));
+		}
+	};
+
+
+
+
+// Windows implementation:
+#elif defined(_WIN32)
+	#if defined(_MSC_VER) && !defined(__clang__) && !defined(__GNUC__) && !defined(NOMINMAX)
+		#define NOMINMAX // Otherwise MS compilers act like idiots when using std::numeric_limits<>::max() and including windows.h
+	#endif
+
+	#ifndef WIN32_LEAN_AND_MEAN
+		#define WIN32_LEAN_AND_MEAN
+		#include <windows.h>
+		#undef WIN32_LEAN_AND_MEAN
+	#else
+		#include <windows.h>
+	#endif
+
+	namespace plf
+	{
+
+	class nanotimer
+	{
+	private:
+		LARGE_INTEGER ticks1, ticks2;
+		double frequency;
+	public:
+		nanotimer() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			LARGE_INTEGER freq;
+			QueryPerformanceFrequency(&freq);
+			frequency = static_cast<double>(freq.QuadPart);
+		}
+
+		void start() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			QueryPerformanceCounter(&ticks1);
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ms() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			QueryPerformanceCounter(&ticks2);
+			return (static_cast<double>(ticks2.QuadPart - ticks1.QuadPart) * 1000.0) / frequency;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_us() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return get_elapsed_ms() * 1000.0;
+		}
+
+		double get_elapsed_ns() PLF_NOEXCEPT
+		{
+			return get_elapsed_ms() * 1000000.0;
+		}
+	};
+#endif
+// Else: failure warning - your OS is not supported
+
+
+
+#if defined(__MACH__) || (defined(linux) || defined(__linux__) || defined(__linux)) || (defined(__DragonFly__) || defined(__FreeBSD__) || defined(__NetBSD__) || defined(__OpenBSD__)) || defined(_WIN32)
+inline void nanosecond_delay(const double delay_ns) PLF_NOEXCEPT
+{
+	nanotimer timer;
+	timer.start();
+
+	while(timer.get_elapsed_ns() < delay_ns)
+	{};
+}
+
+
+inline void microsecond_delay(const double delay_us) PLF_NOEXCEPT
+{
+	nanosecond_delay(delay_us * 1000.0);
+}
+
+
+inline void millisecond_delay(const double delay_ms) PLF_NOEXCEPT
+{
+	nanosecond_delay(delay_ms * 1000000.0);
+}
+
+
+} // namespace
+#endif
+
+#undef PLF_NOEXCEPT
+
+#endif // PLF_NANOTIMER_H
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/transitive_closure/test.txt b/transitive_closure/test.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b1cfde7
--- /dev/null
+++ b/transitive_closure/test.txt
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+4 4 1 1 0 1 0 1 1 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 1
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/transitive_closure/timestamps.cpp b/transitive_closure/timestamps.cpp
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..30e8f53
--- /dev/null
+++ b/transitive_closure/timestamps.cpp
@@ -0,0 +1,19 @@
+#include <cstdio>
+#include <fmt/format.h>
+#include <sycl/sycl.hpp>
+#include <dpc_common.hpp>
+
+#include "timestamps.h"
+
+// new mark_time -> using plf_nanotimer
+void mark_time(std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> & timestamps, double & timestamp, const std::string_view label) {
+    timestamps.push_back(std::pair(label.data(), timestamp));
+}
+
+// new print -> using plf_nanotimer
+void print_timestamps(std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> & timestamps) {
+    std::for_each(timestamps.begin(), timestamps.end(), [](const auto & tuple) {
+        fmt::print("{},{}", std::get<0>(tuple), std::get<1>(tuple));
+        fmt::print("\n");
+    });
+}
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/transitive_closure/timestamps.h b/transitive_closure/timestamps.h
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dcb4b37
--- /dev/null
+++ b/transitive_closure/timestamps.h
@@ -0,0 +1,14 @@
+#ifndef CIPHER_TIMESTAMPS_H
+#define CIPHER_TIMESTAMPS_H
+
+#include <vector>
+#include <unordered_map>
+#include <chrono>
+
+// mark_time using nanotimer
+void mark_time(std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> & timestamps, double & timestamp, std::string_view label);
+
+// print_timestamps using nanotimer
+void print_timestamps(std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> & timestamps);
+
+#endif
\ No newline at end of file
diff --git a/transitive_closure/transitive_closure.cpp b/transitive_closure/transitive_closure.cpp
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dc01b0a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/transitive_closure/transitive_closure.cpp
@@ -0,0 +1,261 @@
+#include <sycl/sycl.hpp>
+#include <dpc_common.hpp>
+
+#include <CLI/CLI.hpp>
+#include <fmt/format.h>
+#include <spdlog/spdlog.h>
+#include <spdlog/sinks/stdout_color_sinks.h>
+
+#include "timestamps.h"
+#include "plf_nanotimer.h"
+
+int verify_matrix_squared(std::string & filename, int & n)
+{
+    int rows, columns;
+    std::ifstream input(filename);
+    
+    if (!input.is_open()) {
+        std::cout << "The file could not be opened.";
+        return 1;
+    }
+    
+    input >> rows >> columns;
+    n = rows;
+    
+    if (rows != columns) { return 1; }
+    
+    input.close();
+    return 0;
+}
+
+int populate_matrix(std::string & filename, sycl::buffer<int, 2> & C_buf)
+{
+    const sycl::host_accessor C(C_buf);
+    std::ifstream input(filename);
+    
+    if (!input.is_open()) {
+        std::cout << "The file could not be opened.";
+        return 1;
+    }
+    
+    int rows, columns;
+    input >> rows >> columns;
+    
+    if (rows != columns) { return 1; }
+    
+    for (int i = 0; i < rows; i++) {
+        for (int j = 0; j < columns; j++) {
+            input >> C[i][j];
+        }
+    }
+    
+    input.close();
+    return 0;
+    
+}
+
+void print_matrix(const sycl::host_accessor<int, 2> & A, int n)
+{
+    std::cout << "Transitive Closure A of C: " << std::endl;
+    for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) {
+        for (int j = 0; j < n; j++) {
+            std::cout << A[i][j] << " ";
+        }
+        std::cout << std::endl;
+    }
+}
+
+int main(const int argc, const char *const argv[])
+{
+    // main declarations::begin
+    std::string input; // file to adjacency matrix
+    int n; // squared matrix dimension
+    std::string device_name;
+    std::vector<std::tuple<std::string, double>> timestamps;
+    double time_result;
+    // main declarations::end
+    
+    // main inits::begin
+    bool run_sequentially{false};
+    bool run_cpuonly{false};
+    bool print{false};
+    // main inits::end
+    
+    // cli setup and parse::begin
+    CLI::App app{"Transitive Closure"};
+    app.option_defaults()->always_capture_default(true);
+    app.add_option("-i, --input", input);
+    app.add_flag("-s, --sequential", run_sequentially);
+    app.add_flag("-c, --cpu-only", run_cpuonly);
+    app.add_flag("-p, --print", print);
+    CLI11_PARSE(app, argc, argv);
+    // cli setup and parse::end
+    
+    plf::nanotimer time_total;
+    time_total.start();
+    
+    // get dimensions of adjacency matrix::begin
+    spdlog::info("attempting to verify square-ness of adjacency matrix using input: {}", input);
+    if (verify_matrix_squared(input, n) == 1) {
+        spdlog::error("error when verifying square-ness of adjacency matrix using input: {}", input);
+        return 1;
+    }
+    // get dimensions of adjacency matrix::end
+    
+    // declare sycl buffers::begin
+    plf::nanotimer time_buffer_dec;
+    time_buffer_dec.start();
+    sycl::buffer<int, 2> C_buf(sycl::range(n, n));
+    sycl::buffer<int, 2> A_buf(sycl::range(n, n));
+    time_result = time_buffer_dec.get_elapsed_ns();
+    mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "declare sycl buffers");
+    // declare sycl buffers::end
+    
+    // init sycl buffers::begin
+    plf::nanotimer time_buffer_init;
+    time_buffer_init.start();
+    spdlog::info("attempting to populate adjacency matrix using input: {}", input);
+    if (populate_matrix(input, C_buf) == 1) {
+        spdlog::error("error when populating adjacency matrix using input: {}", input);
+        return 1;
+    }
+    time_result = time_buffer_init.get_elapsed_ns();
+    mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "populate sycl buffer with adj matrix");
+    // init sycl buffers::end
+    
+    // run sequential::begin
+    if (run_sequentially) {
+        spdlog::info("starting sequential execution block");
+        plf::nanotimer time_sequential; // time sequential block::begin
+        time_sequential.start();
+        
+        // init host accessors::begin
+        spdlog::info("initializing host accessors");
+        plf::nanotimer time_init_host;
+        time_init_host.start();
+        const sycl::host_accessor C(C_buf);
+        const sycl::host_accessor A(A_buf);
+        time_result = time_init_host.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "host accessor creation");
+        // init host accessors::end
+        
+        // Warshall procedure step 1::begin
+        spdlog::info("starting Warshall procedure step 1");
+        plf::nanotimer time_warshall_p1;
+        time_warshall_p1.start();
+        for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) {
+            for (int j = 0; j < n; j++) {
+                A[i][j] = C[i][j];
+            }
+        }
+        time_result = time_warshall_p1.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "Warshall procedure step 1");
+        // Warshall procedure step 1::end
+        
+        // Warshall procedure step 2::begin
+        spdlog::info("starting Warshall procedure step 2");
+        plf::nanotimer time_warshall_p2;
+        time_warshall_p2.start();
+        for (int k = 0; k < n; k++) {
+            for (int i = 0; i < n; i++) {
+                for (int j = 0; j < n; j++) {
+                    A[i][j] = A[i][j] || A[i][k] * A[k][j];
+                }
+            }
+        }
+        time_result = time_warshall_p2.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "Warshall procedure step 2");
+        // Warshall procedure step 2::end
+        
+        time_result = time_sequential.get_elapsed_ns(); // time sequential block::end
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "sequential block");
+        
+        if (print) {
+            print_matrix(A, n);
+        }
+    }
+    // run sequential::end
+    
+    // run parallel::begin
+    else {
+        spdlog::info("starting parallel execution block");
+        // flag buffer for timing parallel execution
+        spdlog::info("initializing flag");
+        plf::nanotimer time_flag_init;
+        time_flag_init.start();
+        sycl::buffer<int> flag_buf{sycl::range<1>{1}};
+        time_result = time_flag_init.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "init flag buf");
+        
+        // sycl queue creation::begin
+        spdlog::info("setting up queue");
+        plf::nanotimer time_device_init;
+        time_device_init.start();
+        sycl::device device{run_cpuonly ? sycl::cpu_selector_v : sycl::default_selector_v};
+        sycl::queue q{device, dpc_common::exception_handler, sycl::property::queue::in_order()};
+        device_name = q.get_device().get_info<sycl::info::device::name>();
+        spdlog::info("device: {}", device_name);
+        time_result = time_device_init.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "queue creation");
+        // sycl queue creation::end
+
+        // Warshall procedure
+        // step 1: copy adjacency matrix C into matrix A
+        // for i := 1 to n do 
+        //   for j := 1 to n do
+        //     A[i, j] := C[i, j]
+        //
+        q.submit([&](auto &h) {
+            const sycl::accessor C(C_buf, h, sycl::read_only);
+            const sycl::accessor A(A_buf, h, sycl::write_only);
+
+            h.parallel_for(sycl::range(n, n), [=](auto index) {
+                A[index] = C[index];
+
+            });
+        });
+
+        // Warshall procedure
+        // step 2: compute the transitive closure of C as A
+        //
+        // for k := 1 to n do
+        //   for i := 1 to n do
+        //     for j := 1 to n do
+        //       if A[i, j] = false then
+        //         A[i, j] := A[i, k] and A[k, j]
+        //
+        // note: A[index] = A[i][j]
+        //
+        for (int k = 0; k < n; k++) {
+
+            q.submit([&](auto &h) {
+                const sycl::accessor A(A_buf, h, sycl::write_only);
+                
+                h.parallel_for(sycl::range(n, n), [=](auto index) {
+                    A[index] = A[index] || A[index[0]][k] * A[k][index[1]];
+
+                });
+            });
+        }
+        // access flag buff to initiate work on device::begin
+        spdlog::info("preparing flag access");
+        plf::nanotimer time_parallel;
+        time_parallel.start();
+        const sycl::host_accessor flag{flag_buf};
+        time_result = time_parallel.get_elapsed_ns();
+        mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "Warshall procedure step 1 & 2");
+        // access flag buff to initiate work on device::end
+        
+        if (print) {
+            const sycl::host_accessor A{A_buf};
+            print_matrix(A, n);
+        }
+    }
+    // run parallel::end
+    
+    time_result = time_total.get_elapsed_ns();
+    mark_time(timestamps, time_result, "total time");
+    print_timestamps(timestamps);
+    spdlog::info("all done");
+    return 0;
+}
\ No newline at end of file