CHAPTER I.
THE SEVENTH CIRCLE AND THE EIGHT HEAVEN.
The day after a wedding is solitary, for people respect the retirementof the happy, and to some extent their lengthened slumbers. Theconfusion of visits and congratulations does not begin again till alater date. On the morning of Feb. 17 it was a little past middaywhen Basque, with napkin and feather-brush under his arm, dusting theanteroom, heard a low tap at the door. There had not been a ring, whichis discreet on such a day. Basque opened and saw M. Fauchelevent; heconducted him to the drawing-room, which was still topsy-turvy, andlooked like the battle-field of the previous day's joys.
"Really, sir," observed Basque, "we woke late."
"Is your master up?" Jean Valjean asked.
"How is your hand, sir?" Basque replied.
"Better. Is your master up?"
"Which one, the old or the new?"
"Monsieur Pontmercy."
"Monsieur le Baron!" said Basque, drawing himself up.
A baron is before all a baron to his servants; a portion of it comesto them, and they have what a philosopher would call the spray of thetitle, and that flatters them. Marius, we may mention in passing,a militant republican as he had proved, was now a baron in spiteof himself. A little revolution had taken place in the family withreference to this title; it was M. Gillenormand who was attached toit, and Marius who had fallen away from it. But Colonel Pontmercy hadwritten, "My son will bear my title," and Marius obeyed. And thenCosette, in whom the woman was beginning to germinate, was delighted atbeing a baroness.
"Monsieur le Baron?" repeated Basque; "I will go and see. I will tellhim that Monsieur Fauchelevent is here."
"No, do not tell him it is I. Tell him that some one wishes to speak tohim privately, and do not mention my name."
"Ah!" said Basque.
"I wish to surprise him."
"Ah!" Basque repeated, giving himself his second "Ah!" as anexplanation of the first.
And he left the room, and Jean Valjean remained alone. Thedrawing-room, as we said, was all in disorder, and it seemed as if youcould still hear the vague sounds of the wedding. On the floor were allsorts of flowers, which had fallen from garlands and head-dresses, andthe candles burned down to the socket added wax stalactites to thecrystal of the lustres. Not an article of furniture was in its place;in the corner three or four easy-chairs, drawn close together, andforming a circle, looked as if they were continuing a conversation. The_ensemble_ was laughing, for there is a certain grace left in a deadfestival, for it has been happy. Upon those disarranged chairs, amidthose fading flowers and under those extinguished lamps, persons havethought of joy. The sun succeeded the chandelier, and gayly entered thedrawing-room. A few moments passed, during which Jean Valjean remainedmotionless at the spot where Basque left him. His eyes were hollow, andso sunk in their sockets by sleeplessness that they almost disappeared.His black coat displayed the fatigued creases of a coat which has beenup all night, and the elbows were white with that down which frictionwith linen leaves on cloth. Jean Valjean looked at the window designedon the floor at his feet by the sun. There was a noise at the door, andhe raised his eyes. Marius came in with head erect, laughing mouth, apeculiar light over his face, a smooth forehead, and a flashing eye.He, too, had not slept.
"It is you, father!" he exclaimed, on perceiving Jean Valjean; "why,that ass Basque affected the mysterious. But you have come too early;it is only half-past twelve, and Cosette is asleep."
That word, father, addressed to M. Fauchelevent by Marius, signifiedsupreme felicity. There had always been, as we know, a cliff, acoldness and constraint between them; ice to melt or break. Mariuswas so intoxicated that the cliff sank, the ice dissolved, and M.Fauchelevent was for him, as for Cosette, a father. He continued, thewords overflowed with him, which is peculiar to these divine paroxysmsof joy,--
"How delighted I am to see you! If you only knew how we missed youyesterday! Good-day, father. How is your hand? Better, is it not?"
And, satisfied with the favorable answer which he gave himself, he wenton,--
"We both spoke about you, for Cosette loves you so dearly. You will notforget that you have a room here, for we will not hear a word about theRue de l'Homme Armé. I do not know how you were able to live in thatstreet, which is sick, and mean, and poor, which has a barrier at oneend, where you feel cold, and which no one can enter! You will come andinstall yourself here, and from to-day, or else you will have to settlewith Cosette. She intends to lead us both by the nose, I warn you. Youhave seen your room; it is close to ours, and looks out on the gardens.We have had the lock mended; the bed is made; it is all ready, and youhave only to move in. Cosette has placed close to your bed a large oldeasy-chair, of Utrecht velvet, to which she said, 'Hold out your armsto him!' Every spring a nightingale comes to the clump of acacias whichfaces your windows, and you will have it in two months. You will haveits nest on your left, and ours on your right; at night it will sing,and by day Cosette will talk. Your room faces due south; Cosette willarrange, your books in it; the Travels of Captain Cook, and the other,Vancouver's Travels, and all your matters. There is, I believe, avalise to which you are attached, and I have arranged a corner of honorfor it. You have won my grandfather, for you suit him. We will livetogether. Do you know whist? You will over-whelm my grandfather if youare acquainted with whist. You will take Cosette for a walk on the daywhen I go to the Courts; you will give her your arm, as you used to do,you remember, formerly at the Luxembourg. We are absolutely determinedto be very happy, and you will share in our happiness, do you hear,father? By the bye, you will breakfast with us this morning?"
"Sir!" said Jean Valjean, "I have one thing to say to you. I am anex-convict."
The limit of the perceptible acute sounds may be as well exceeded forthe mind as for the ear. These words, "I am an ex-convict," comingfrom M. Fauchelevent's mouth and entering Marius's ear went beyondpossibility. Marius did not hear. It seemed to him as if somethinghad been just said to him, but he knew not what. He stood with gapingmouth. Jean Valjean unfastened the black handkerchief that supportedhis right arm, undid the linen rolled round his hand, bared his thumb,and showed it to Marius.
"I have nothing the matter with my hand," he said.
Marius looked at the thumb.
"There was never anything the matter with it," Jean Valjean added.
There was, in fact, no sign of a wound. Jean Valjean continued,--
"It was proper that I should be absent from your marriage, and I wasso as far as I could be. I feigned this wound in order not to commit aforgery, and render the marriage-deeds null and void."
Marius stammered,--
"What does this mean?"
"It means," Jean Valjean replied, "that I have been to the galleys."
"You are driving me mad!" said the horrified Marius.
"Monsieur Pontmercy," said Jean Valjean, "I was nineteen years at thegalleys for robbery. Then I was sentenced to them for life; for robberyand a second offence. At the present moment I am an escaped convict."
Although Marius recoiled before the reality, refused the facts, andresisted the evidence, he was obliged to yield to it. He was beginningto understand, and as always happens in such a case, he understood toomuch. He had the shudder of a hideous internal flash, and an idea thatmade him shudder crossed his mind. He foresaw a frightful destiny forhimself in the future.
"Say all, say all," he exclaimed; "you are Cosette's father!"
And he fell back two steps, with a movement of indescribable horror.Jean Valjean threw up his head with such a majestic attitude that heseemed to rise to the ceiling.
"It is necessary that you should believe me here, sir, although theoath of men like us is not taken in a court of justice---"
Here there was a silence, and then with a sort of sovereign andsepulchral authority he added, speaking slowly and laying a stress onthe syllables,--
"You will believe me. I, Cosette's father! Before Heaven, no, Monsieurle Baron Pontmercy. I am a pe
asant of Faverolles, and earned mylivelihood by pruning trees. My name is not Fauchelevent, but JeanValjean. I am nothing to Cosette, so reassure yourself."
Marius stammered,--
"Who proves it to me?"
"I do, since I say it."
Marius looked at this man: he was mournful and calm, and no falsehoodcould issue from such calmness. What is frozen is sincere, and thetruth could be felt in this coldness of the tomb.
"I do believe you," said Marius.
Jean Valjean bowed his head, as if to note the fact, and continued,--
"What am I to Cosette? A passer-by. Ten years ago I did not know thatshe existed. I love her, it is true, for men love a child which theyhave seen little when old themselves; when a man is old he feels likea grandfather to all little children. You can, I suppose, imagine thatI have something which resembles a heart. She was an orphan, withoutfather or mother, and needed me, and that is why I came to love her.Children are so weak that the first comer, even a man like myself, maybe their protector. I performed this duty to Cosette. I cannot supposethat so small a thing can be called a good action: but if it be one,well, assume that I did it. Record that extenuating fact. To-dayCosette leaves my life, and our two roads separate. Henceforth I can dono more for her; she is Madame Pontmercy; her providence has changed,and she has gained by the change, so all is well. As for the sixhundred thousand francs, you say nothing of them, but I will meet yourthought half-way: they are a deposit. How was it placed in my hands?No matter. I give up the deposit, and there is nothing more to ask ofme. I complete the restitution by stating my real name, and this tooconcerns myself, for I am anxious that you should know who I am."
And Jean Valjean looked Marius in the face. All that Marius experiencedwas tumultuous and incoherent, for certain blasts of the wind ofdestiny produce such waves in our soul. We have all had such moments oftrouble in which everything is dispersed within us: we say the firstthings that occur to us, which are not always precisely those which weought to say. There are sudden revelations which we cannot bear, andwhich intoxicate like a potent wine. Marius was stupefied by the newsituation which appeared to him, and spoke to this man almost as if hewere angry at the avowal.
"But why," he exclaimed, "do you tell me all this? Who forces you todo so? You might have kept your secret to yourself. You are neitherdenounced, nor pursued, nor tracked. You have a motive for making therevelation so voluntarily. Continue; there is something else: for whatpurpose do you make this confession? For what motive?"
"For what motive?" Jean Valjean answered in a voice so low and dullthat it seemed as if he were speaking to himself rather than Marius."For what motive, in truth, does this convict come here to say, 'Iam a convict'? Well, yes, the motive is a strange one: it is throughhonesty. The misfortune is that I have a thread in my heart which holdsme fast, and it is especially when a man is old that these threads aremost solid. The whole of life is undone around, but they resist. Had Ibeen enabled to tear away that thread, break it, unfasten or cut theknot, and go a long way off, I would be saved and needed only to start.There are diligences in the Hue du Bouloy; you are happy, and I am off.I tried to break that thread. I pulled at it, it held out, it did notbreak, and I pulled out my heart with it. Then I said, I cannot liveanywhere else, and must remain. Well, yes, but you are right. I am afool; why not remain simply? You offer me a bed-room in the house.Madame Pontmercy loves me dearly, she said to that fauteuil, 'Hold outyour arms to him;' your grandfather asks nothing better than to haveme. I suit him, we will live all together, have our meals in common, Iwill give my arm to Cosette,--to Madame Pontmercy, forgive me, but itis habit,--we will have only one roof, one table, one fire, the samechimney-corner in winter, the same walk in summer: that is joy, that ishappiness, that is everything. We will live in one family."
At this word Jean Valjean became fierce. He folded his arms, lookedat the board at his feet, as if he wished to dig a pit in it, and hisvoice suddenly became loud.
"In one family? No. I belong to no family; I do not belong to yours,I do not even belong to the human family. In houses where people aretogether I am in the way. There are families, but none for me; I amthe unhappy man, I am outside. Had I a father and mother? I almostdoubt it. On the day when I gave you that child in marriage, it wasall ended; I saw her happy, and that she was with the man she loved,that there is a kind old gentleman here, a household of two angels, andevery joy in this house, and I said to myself, Do not enter. I couldlie, it is true, deceive you all, and remain Monsieur Fauchelevent; solong as it was for her, I was able to lie, but now that it would befor myself I ought not to do so. I only required to be silent, it istrue, and all would have gone on. You ask me what compels me to speak?A strange sort of thing, my conscience. It would have been very easy,however, to hold my tongue; I spent the night in trying to persuademyself into it. You are shriving me, and what I have just told you isso extraordinary that you have the right to do so. Well, yes, I spentthe night in giving myself reasons. I gave myself excellent reasons,I did what I could. But there are two things in which I could notsucceed; I could neither break the string which holds me by the heart,fixed, sealed, and riveted here, nor silence some one who speaks to mein a low voice when I am alone. That is why I have come to confess allto you this morning,--all, or nearly all, for it is useless to tellwhat only concerns myself, and that I keep to myself. You know theessential thing. I took my mystery, then, and brought it to you andripped it up before your eyes. It was not an easy resolution to form,and I debated the point the whole night. Ah! you may fancy that I didnot say to myself that this was not the Champmathieu affair, that inhiding my name I did no one any harm, that the name of Fauchelevent wasgiven me by Fauchelevent himself in gratitude for a service rendered,and that I might fairly keep it, and that I should be happy in thisroom which you offer me, that I should net be at all in the way, thatI should be in my little corner, and that while you had Cosette Ishould have the idea of being in the same house with her; each wouldhave his proportioned happiness. Continuing to be Monsieur Faucheleventarranged everything. Yes, except my soul; there would be joy all overme, but the bottom of my soul would remain black. Thus I should haveremained Monsieur Fauchelevent. I should have hidden my real face inthe presence of your happiness; I should have had an enigma, and inthe midst of your broad sunshine I should have had darkness; thus,without crying 'Look out,' I should have introduced the hulks to yourhearth, I should have sat down at your table with the thought that ifyou knew who I was you would expel me, and let myself be served bythe servants who, had they known, would have said, 'What a horror!'I should have touched you with my elbow, which you have a right tofeel offended at, and swindled you out of shakes of the hand. Therewould have been in your house a divided respect between venerable grayhairs and branded gray hairs; in your most intimate hours, when allhearts formed themselves to each other, when we were all four together,the grandfather, you two, and I, there would have been a strangerthere. Hence I, a dead man, would have imposed myself on you who areliving, and I should have sentenced her for life. You, Cosette, andI would have been three heads in the green cap! Do you not shudder?I am only the most crushed of men, but I should have been the mostmonstrous. And this crime I should have committed every day, and thisfalsehood I should have told every day, and this face of night Ishould have worn every day, and to you I should have given a portionof my stain everyday,--to you, my beloved, to you, my children, toyou, my innocents! Holding one's tongue is nothing? Keeping silence issimple? No, it is not simple, for there is a silence which lies; andmy falsehood, and my fraud, and my indignity, and my cowardice, and mytreachery, and my crime I should have drunk drop by drop; I should havespat it out, and then drunk it again; I should have ended at midnightand begun again at midday, and my good day would have lied, and mygood night would have lied, and I should have slept upon it, and eatenit with my bread; and I should have looked at Cosette, and respondedto the smile of the angel with the smile of the condemned man; and Ishould have been an abominable sco
undrel, and for what purpose? To behappy. I, happy! Have I the right to be happy? I am out of life, sir."
Jean Valjean stopped, and Marius listened, for such enchainments ofideas and agonies cannot be interrupted. Jean Valjean lowered hisvoice again, yet it was no longer the dull voice, but the sinistervoice.
"You ask why I speak? I am neither denounced, nor pursued, nor tracked,you say. Yes, I am denounced! Yes, I am pursued! Yes, I am tracked!By whom? By myself. It is I who bar my own passage, and I drag myselfalong, and I push myself, and I arrest myself, and execute myself, andwhen a man holds himself he is securely held."
And, seizing his own collar, and dragging it toward Marius, hecontinued,--
"Look at this fist. Do you not think that it holds this collar so asnot to let it go? Well, conscience is a very different hand! If youwish to be happy, sir, you must never understand duty; for so soonas you have understood it, it is implacable. People may say that itpunishes you for understanding it; but no, it rewards you for it, forit places you in a hell where you feel God by your side. A man has nosooner torn his entrails than he is at peace with himself."
And with an indescribable accent he added,--
"Monsieur Pontmercy, that has no common-sense. I am an honest man. Itis by degrading myself in your eyes that I raise myself in my own.This has happened to me once before, but it was less painful; it wasnothing. Yes, an honest man. I should not be one if you had, throughmy fault, continued to esteem me; but now that you despise me I amso. I have this fatality upon me, that as I am never able to have anybut stolen consideration, this consideration humiliates and crushesme internally, and in order that I may respect myself people mustdespise me. Then I draw myself up. I am a galley-slave who obeys hisconscience. I know very well that this is not likely; but what wouldyou have me do? It is so. I have made engagements with myself and keepthem. There are meetings which bind us; there are accidents which dragus into duty. Look you, Monsieur Pontmercy, things have happened to mein my life."
Jean Valjean made another pause, swallowing his saliva with an effort,as if his words had a bitter after-taste, and he continued,--
"When a man has such a horror upon him; he has no right to make othersshare it unconsciously; he has no right to communicate his plague tothem; he has no right to make them slip over his precipice withouttheir perceiving it; he has no right to drag his red cap over them,and no right craftily to encumber the happiness of another man withhis misery. To approach those who are healthy and touch them in thedarkness with his invisible ulcer is hideous. Fauchelevent may havelent me his name, but I have no right to use it: he may have given itto me, but I was unable to take it. A name is a self. Look you, sir,I have thought a little and read a little, though I am a peasant, andyou see that I express myself properly. I explain things to myself, andhave carried out my own education. Well, yes; to abstract a name andplace one's self under it is dishonest. The letters of the alphabetmay be filched like a purse or a watch. To be a false signature inflesh and blood, to be a living false key, to enter among honest folkby picking their lock, never to look, but always to squint, to beinternally infamous,--no! no! no! no! It is better to suffer, bleed,weep, tear one's flesh with one's nails, pass the nights writhing inagony, and gnaw one's stomach and soul That is why I have come to tellyou all this,--voluntarily, as you remarked."
He breathed painfully, and uttered this last remark,--
"Formerly I stole a loaf in order to live; to-day I will not steal aname in order to live."
"To live!" Marius interrupted; "you do not require that name to live."
"Ah! I understand myself," Jean Valjean replied, raising and droopinghis head several times in succession. There was a stillness; bothremained silent, sunk as they were in a gulf of thought. Marius wassitting near a table, and supporting the corner of his mouth on one ofhis fingers. Jean Valjean walked backwards and forwards; he stoppedbefore a glass and remained motionless. Then, as if answering someinternal reasoning, he said, as he looked in this glass, in which hedid not see himself,--
"While at present I am relieved."
He began walking again, and went to the other end of the room. At themoment when he turned he perceived that Marius was watching his walk,and he said to him, with an indescribable accent,--
"I drag my leg a little. You understand why, now."
Then he turned round full to Marius.
"And now, sir, imagine this. I have said nothing. I have remainedMonsieur Fauchelevent. I have taken my place in your house. I am one ofyour family. I am in my room. I come down to breakfast in my slippers;at night we go to the play, all three. I accompany Madame Pontmercy tothe Tuileries and to the Place Royale; we are together, and you believeme your equal. One fine day I am here, you are there. We are talkingand laughing, and you hear a voice cry this name,--Jean Valjean! andthen that fearful hand, the police, issues from the shadow and suddenlytears off my mask!"
He was silent again. Marius had risen with a shudder and Jean Valjeancontinued,--
"What do you say to that?"
Marius's silence replied, and Jean Valjean continued:---
"You see very well that I did right in not holding my tongue. Be happy,be in heaven, be the angel of an angel, be in the sunshine and contentyourself with it, and do not trouble yourself as to the way in whicha poor condemned man opens his heart and does his duty; you have awretched man before you, sir."
Marius slowly crossed the room, and when he was by Jean Valjean's sideoffered him his hand. But Marius was compelled to take this hand whichdid not offer itself. Jean Valjean let him do so, and it seemed toMarius that he was pressing a hand of marble.
"My grandfather has friends" said Marius. "I will obtain your pardon."
"It is useless," Jean Valjean replied; "I am supposed to be dead, andthat is sufficient. The dead are not subjected to surveillance, and aresupposed to rot quietly. Death is the same thing as pardon."
And liberating the hand which Marius held, he added with a sort ofinexorable dignity,--
"Moreover, duty, my duty, is the friend to whom I have recourse; and Ionly need one pardon, that of my conscience."
At this moment the door opened gently at the other end of thedrawing-room, and Cosette's head appeared in the crevice. Only hersweet face was visible. Her hair was in admirable confusion, and hereyelids were still swollen with sleep. She made the movement of a birdthrusting its head out of the nest, looked first at her husband, thenat Jean Valjean, and cried to them laughingly,--it looked like a smileissuing from a rose,--
"I will bet that you are talking politics. How stupid that is, insteadof being with me!"
Jean Valjean started.
"Cosette," Marius stammered, and he stopped. They looked like twoculprits; Cosette, radiant, continued to look at them both, and therewere in her eyes gleams of Paradise.
"I have caught you in the act," Cosette said; "I just heard throughthis, Father Fauchelevent saying, 'Conscience, doing one's duty.' Thatis politics, and I will have none of it. People must not talk politicson the very next day; it is not right."
"You are mistaken, Cosette;" Marius replied, "we are talking ofbusiness. We are talking about the best way of investing your sixhundred thousand francs."
"I am coming," Cosette interrupted. "Do you want me here?"
And resolutely passing through the door, she entered the drawing-room.She was dressed in a large combing gown with a thousand folds and largesleeves, which descended from her neck to her feet. There are in thegolden skies of old Gothic paintings, these charming bags to place anangel in. She contemplated herself from head to foot in a large mirror,and then exclaimed with an ineffable outburst of ecstasy,--
"There was once upon a time a king and queen. Oh, how delighted I am!"
This said, she courtesied to Marius and Jean Valjean.
"Then," she said, "I am going to install myself near you in aneasy-chair; we shall breakfast in half an hour. You will say all youlike, for I know very well that gentlemen must talk, and I will be verygood." r />
Marius took her by the arm and said to her lovingly,--
"We are talking about business."
"By the way," Cosette answered, "I have opened my window, and a numberof sparrows [pierrots] have just entered the garden. Birds, not masks.To-day is Ash Wednesday, but not for the birds."
"I tell you that we are talking of business, so go, my little Cosette;leave us for a moment. We are talking figures, and they would onlyannoy you."
"You have put on a charming cravat this morning, Marius. You are verycoquettish, Monseigneur. No, they will not annoy me."
"I assure you that they will."
"No, since it is you, I shall not understand you, but I shall hear you.When a woman hears voices she loves, she does not require to understandthe words they say. To be together is all I want, and I shall stay withyou,--there!"
"You are my beloved Cosette! Impossible."
"Impossible?"
"Yes."
"Very good," Cosette remarked; "I should have told you some news. Ishould have told you that grandpapa is still asleep, that your aunt isat Mass, that the chimney of my papa Fauchelevent's room smokes, thatNicolette has sent for the chimney-sweep, that Nicolette and Toussainthave already quarrelled, and that Nicolette ridicules Toussaint'sstammering. Well, you shall know nothing. Ah, it is impossible? Youshall see, sir, that in my turn I shall say, 'It is impossible.' Whowill be caught then? I implore you, my little Marius, to let me staywith you two."
"I assure you that we must be alone."
"Well, am I anybody?"
Jean Valjean did not utter a word, and Cosette turned to him.
"In the first place, father, I insist on your coming and kissing me.What do you mean by saying nothing, instead of taking my part? Didone ever see a father like that? That will show you how unhappy mymarriage is, for my husband beats me. Come and kiss me at once."
Jean Valjean approached her, and Cosette turned to Marius.
"I make a face at you."
Then she offered her forehead to Jean Valjean, who moved a step towardsher. All at once Cosette recoiled.
"Father, you are pale; does your arm pain you?"
"It is cured," said Jean Valjean.
"Have you slept badly?"
"No."
"Are you sad?"
"No."
"Kiss me. If you are well, if you sleep soundly, if you are happy, Iwill not scold you."
And she again offered him her forehead, and Jean Valjean set a kiss onthis forehead, upon which there was a heavenly reflection.
"Smile."
Jean Valjean obeyed, but it was the smile of a ghost.
"Now, defend me against my husband."
"Cosette--" said Marius.
"Be angry, father, and tell him I am to remain. You can talk beforeme. You must think me very foolish. What you are saying is veryastonishing, then! Business,--placing money in a bank,--that is a greatthing. Men make mysteries of nothing. I mean to say I am very prettythis morning. Marius, look at me."
And with an adorable shrug of the shoulders and an exquisite poutshe looked at Marius. Something like a flash passed between these twobeings, and they cared little about a third party being present.
"I love you," said Marius.
"I adore you," said Cosette.
And they irresistibly fell into each other's arms.
"And now," Cosette continued, as she smoothed a crease in herdressing-gown, with a little triumphant pout, "I remain."
"No," Marius replied imploringly, "we have something to finish."
"Again, no?"
Marius assumed a serious tone.
"I assure you, Cosette, that it is impossible."
"Ah, you are putting on your man's voice, sir; very good, I will go.You did not support me, father; and so you, my hard husband, and you,my dear papa, are tyrants. I shall go and tell grandpapa. If youbelieve that I intend to return and talk platitudes to you, you aremistaken. I am proud, and I intend to wait for you at present. You willsee how wearisome it will be without me. I am going, very good."
And she left the room, but two seconds after the door opened again, herfresh, rosy face passed once again between the two folding-doors, andshe cried to them,--
"I am very angry."
The door closed again, and darkness returned. It was like a stragglingsunbeam, which, without suspecting it, had suddenly traversed thenight. Marius assured himself that the door was really closed.
"Poor Cosette!" he muttered, "when she learns--"
At these words Jean Valjean trembled all over, and he fixed his haggardeyes on Marius.
"Cosette! Oh, yes, it is true. You will tell Cosette about it. It isfair.--Stay, I did not think of that. A man has strength for one thing,but not for another. I implore you, sir, I conjure you, sir, give meyour most sacred word,--do not tell her. Is it not sufficient for youto know it? I was able to tell it of my own accord, without beingcompelled. I would have told it to the universe, to the whole world,and I should not have cared; but she,--she does not know what it is,and it would horrify her. A convict. What! You would be obliged toexplain to her, tell her it is a man who has been to the galleys. Shesaw the chain-gang once. Oh, my God!"
He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands; it could not beheard, but from the heaving of his shoulders it could be seen that hewas weeping. They were silent tears, terrible tears. There is a chokingin a sob; a species of convulsion seized on him, he threw himself backin the chair, letting his arms hang, and displaying to Marius his facebathed in tears, and Marius heard him mutter so low that his voiceseemed to come from a bottomless abyss, "Oh! I would like to die!"
"Be at your ease," Marius said; "I will keep your secret to myself."
And, less affected than perhaps he ought to have been, but compelledfor more than an hour to listen to unexpected horrors, gradually seeinga convict taking M. Fauchelevent's place, gradually overcome by thismournful reality, and led by the natural state of the situation tonotice the gap which bad formed between himself and this man, Mariusadded,--
"It is impossible for me not to say a word about the trust moneywhich you have so faithfully and honestly given up. That is an act ofprobity, and it is but fair that a reward should be given you; fix thesum yourself, and it shall be paid you. Do not fear to fix it veryhigh."
"I thank you, sir," Jean Valjean replied gently.
He remained pensive for a moment, mechanically passing the end of hisforefinger over his thumb-nail, and then raised his voice,--
"All is nearly finished; there is only one thing left me."
"What is it?"
Jean Valjean had a species of supreme agitation, and voicelessly,almost breathlessly, he stammered, rather than said,--
"Now that you know, do you, sir, who are the master, believe that Iought not to see Cosette again?"
"I believe that it would be better," Marius replied coldly.
"I will not see her again," Jean Valjean murmured. He walked toward thedoor; he placed his hand upon the handle, the door opened, Jean Valjeanwas going to pass out, when he suddenly closed it again, then openedthe door again and returned to Marius. He was no longer pale, butlivid, and in his eyes was a sort of tragic flame instead of tears.His voice bad grows strangely calm again.
"Stay, sir," he said; "if you are wilting, I will come to see her,for I assure you that I desire it greatly. If I had not longed to seeCosette I should not have made you the confession I have done, but havegone away; but wishing to remain at the spot where Cosette is, andcontinue to see her, I was obliged to tell you everything honestly.You follow my reasoning, do you not? It is a thing easy to understand.Look you, I have had her with me for nine years: we lived at first inthat hovel on the boulevard, then in the convent, and then near theLuxembourg. It was there that you saw her for the first time, and youremember her blue plush bonnet. Next we went to the district of theInvalides, where there were a railway and a garden, the Rue Plumet. Ilived in a little back yard where I could hear her pianoforte. Suchwas my life, and
we never separated. That lasted nine years and sevenmonths; I was like her father, and she was my child. I do not knowwhether you understand me, M. Pontmercy, but it would be difficult togo away now, see her no more, speak to her no more, and have nothingleft. If you have no objection, I will come and see Cosette every nowand then, but not too often, and I will not remain long. You can tellthem to show me into the little room on the ground-floor; I wouldcertainly come in by the back door, which is used by the servants, butthat might cause surprise, so it is better, I think, for me to come bythe front door. Really, sir, I should like to see Cosette a little,but as rarely as you please. Put yourself in my place. I have onlythat left. And then, again, we must be careful, and if I did not comeat all it would have a bad effect, and appear singular. For instance,what I can do is to come in the evening, when it is beginning to growdark."
"You can come every evening," said Marius, "and Cosette will expectyou."
"You are kind, sir," said Jean Valjean.
Marius bowed to Jean Valjean, happiness accompanied despair to thedoor, and these two men parted.