CHAPTER V.
NOISE MADE BY A FALLING FIVE-FRANC PIECE.
There was near S. Médard's church a poor man who usually sat on theedge of a condemned well, to whom Jean Valjean liked to give alms. Henever passed him without giving him a trifle, and at times spoke tohim. The persons who envied this beggar said that he belonged to thepolice, and he was an ex-beadle seventy-five years of age, who wasconstantly telling his beads. One evening when Jean Valjean passedalone, he perceived the beggar at his usual place under the lamp whichhad just been lit. The man, according to his habit, seemed to bepraying, and was crouched. Jean Valjean went up to him and placed hisusual charity in his hand, and the beggar suddenly raised his eyes,looked fixedly at Jean Valjean, and then let his head hang again. Thismovement was like a flash, but Jean Valjean gave a start; he fanciedthat he had seen by the flickering light of the lamp not the placid anddevout face of the old beadle, but a terrifying and familiar face. Hehad such a feeling as he would have had had he suddenly found himselfface to face with a tiger in the darkness. He recoiled, terrifiedand petrified, not daring to breathe, remain, or fly, staring at thebeggar, who had let his head fall, and did not appear to know thathe was there. At this strange moment, an instinct, perhaps that ofself-preservation, urged Valjean not to utter a syllable. The beggarwas of the same height, wore the same rags, and looked as he did everyday. "Stuff!" said Valjean, "I am mad; dreaming; it is impossible!"And he went home sorely troubled in mind. He hardly dared confess tohimself that the face which he fancied he had seen was Javert's. Atnight, on reflecting, he regretted that he had not spoken to the manand made him raise his head a second time. The next evening he returnedand found the beggar at his seat. "Good day, my man," Jean Valjeansaid resolutely, as he gave him a sou. The beggar raised his head andreplied in a complaining voice, "Thank you, my good gentleman." It wascertainly the old beadle. Jean Valjean felt fully reassured, and beganlaughing. "How on earth could I have thought that it was Javert? Am Igetting blind?" and he thought no more of it.
A few days later, at about eight in the evening, he was giving Cosettea spelling lesson, when he heard the house door open and then closeagain. This appeared to him singular, for the old woman, who alonelived in the house beside himself, always went to bed at nightfall tosave candle. Jean Valjean made Cosette a sign to be silent, for heheard some one coming upstairs. After all it might be the old woman,who felt unwell, and had been to the chemist's. Jean Valjean listened;the footstep was heavy and sounded like a man's; but the old womanwore thick shoes, and nothing so closely resembles a man's footstep asan old woman's. For all that, though, Jean Valjean blew out his candle.He had sent Cosette to bed, saying in a whisper, "Make no noise," andwhile he was kissing her forehead the footsteps stopped. Jean Valjeanremained silently in his chair, with his back turned to the door, andholding his breath in the darkness. After a long interval, hearingnothing more, he turned noiselessly, and, on looking at his door, sawa light through the key-hole, which formed a sort of sinister starin the blackness of the door and the wall. There was evidently someone there holding a candle in his hand and listening. A few minutespassed, and then the light went away: still he did not hear the soundof footsteps, which seemed to indicate that the man who came to listenhad taken off his shoes. Jean Valjean threw himself full-dressed onhis bed, and could not close his eyes all night. At daybreak, when hewas just yielding to fatigue, he was aroused by the creaking of a doorwhich opened into a room at the end of the passage, and then heardthe same footstep which had ascended the stairs the previous eveningdrawing nearer. He put his eye to the key-hole, which was rather large,in the hope of seeing the man who had listened at his door over-night.It was really a man, who this time passed Jean Valjean's door withoutstopping. The passage was still too dark for him to distinguish hisface; but when the man reached the staircase a ray of light fromoutside fell upon him, and Jean Valjean saw his back perfectly. He wasa tall man, dressed in a long coat, with a cudgel under his arm; andhe was very like Javert. Valjean might have tried to see him on theboulevard through his window; but for that purpose he must have openedit, and that he dared not do. It was plain that this man came in with akey and was quite at home. Who gave him this key? What did it mean? Atseven o'clock, when the old woman came to clean up, Jean Valjean gaveher a piercing glance, but did not question her. The good woman was ascalm as usual, and while sweeping she said to him,--
"I suppose you heard some one come in last night, sir?"
At that age, and on that boulevard, eight in the evening is theblackest night.
"Yes, I remember," he said, with the most natural accent. "Who was it?"
"A new lodger in the house."
"What is his name?"
"I forget. Dumont or Daumont,--something like that."
"And what may he be?"
The old woman looked at him with her little ferret eyes, and answered,--
"He lives on his property, like yourself."
Perhaps she meant nothing, but Jean Valjean fancied that he coulddetect a meaning. When the old woman had gone off he made a rouleauof some hundred francs which he had in a chest of drawers and put itin his pocket. Whatever precautions he took to keep the money fromrattling, a five-franc piece fell from his hand and rolled noisily onthe floor. At nightfall he went down and looked attentively all alongthe boulevard: he saw nobody, and it seemed utterly deserted. It istrue that some one might have been concealed behind the trees. He wentup again, and said to Cosette, "Come!" He took her hand and both leftthe house together.
BOOK V.
FOR A STILL HUNT A DUMB PACK.