CHAPTER II.
THE NEST OF AN OWL AND A LINNET.
Jean Valjean stopped before No. 50-52. Like the dull bird, he hadselected this deserted spot in which to build his nest. He felt in hispocket, took out a latch-key, opened and carefully shut the door again,and went upstairs, still carrying Cosette on his back. When he reachedthe landing he took from his pocket a key, with which he opened anotherdoor. The room he entered was a sort of spacious garret, furnishedwith a mattress laid on the ground, a table, and a few chairs. Therewas a burning stove in the corner, and the boulevard lamp faintlyillumined this poor interior. At the end of the room was a closet witha poor bedstead, to which Jean Valjean carried the child and laid heron it, without awaking her. He struck a light and lit a candle,--allthis had been prepared on the previous day,--and he then began gazingat Cosette with a look full of ecstasy, in which the expression ofkindness and tenderness almost attained delirium. The little girl,with that calm confidence which only appertains to extreme strengthand extreme weakness, had fallen asleep without knowing with whom shewas, and continued to sleep without knowing where she was. Jean Valjeanbent down and kissed the child's hand. Nine months previously he hadkissed her mother's hand, who bad also just fallen asleep, and the samepainful, religious, poignant feeling filled his heart. He knelt down bythe side of Cosette's bed.
Long after daybreak the child was still asleep. A pale beam of theDecember sun filtered through the window and made large strips of lightand shadow on the ceiling. Suddenly a heavily-laden wagon, passingalong the boulevard, shook the house like a blast of wind and made ittremble from top to bottom.
"Yes, Madame," Cosette cried, waking with a start, "I am comingdirectly."
And she jumped out of bed, her eyelids still half closed by the weightof sleep, and stretched out her arms to a corner of the wall.
"Oh, goodness, my broom!" she said.
She opened her eyes thoroughly, and saw Jean Valjean's smiling face.
"Ah, it is true," the child said. "Good-morning, sir.
Children accept at once and familiarly joy and happiness, for they arethemselves by nature happiness and joy. Cosette saw Catherine at thefoot of her bed, caught her up, and while playing, asked Jean Valjeana hundred questions,--"Where was she? Was Paris large? Was MadameThénardier a long way off, and would she never return?" etc. etc. etc.All at once she exclaimed, "How pretty it is here!"
It was a frightful hole, but she felt herself free.
"Must I sweep?" she at length continued.
"Play," said Jean Valjean.
The day passed in this way; and Cosette, not feeling any anxiety atunderstanding nothing, was inexpressibly happy between her doll andthis good man.