CHAPTER I.
JEAN VALJEAN.
That same day, about four in the afternoon, Jean Valjean was seated onone of the most solitary slopes of the Champ de Mars. Either throughprudence, a desire to reflect, or simply in consequence of one of thoseinsensible changes of habits which gradually introduce themselves intoall existences, he now went out very rarely with Cosette. He had onhis workman's jacket and gray canvas trousers, and his long peakedcap concealed his face. He was at present calm and happy by Cosette'sside; what had startled and troubled him for a while was dissipated;but during the last week or fortnight anxieties of a fresh nature hadsprung up. One day, while walking along the boulevard, he noticedThénardier; thanks to his disguise, Thénardier did not recognize him,but after that Jean Valjean saw him several times again, and now felta certainty that Thénardier was prowling about the quarter. This wassufficient to make him form a grand resolution, for Thénardier presentwas every peril at once; moreover, Paris was not quiet, and politicaltroubles offered this inconvenience to any man who had something in hislife to hide,--that the police had become very restless and suspicious,and when trying to find a man like Pepin or Morey, might very easilydiscover a man like Jean Valjean. He therefore resolved to leave Paris,even France, and go to England; he had warned Cosette, and hoped tobe off within a week. He was sitting on the slope, revolving in hismind all sorts of thoughts,--Thénardier, the police, the journey,and the difficulty of obtaining a passport. From all these points ofview he was anxious; and lastly, an inexplicable fact, which had juststruck him, and from which he was still hot, added to his alarm. Onthe morning of that very day he, the only person up in the house, andwalking in the garden before Cosette's shutters were opened, suddenlyperceived this line on the wall, probably scratched with a nail, 16_Rue de la Verrerie_.
It was quite recent; the lines were white on the old black mortar, anda bed of nettles at the foot of the wall was powdered with fine freshplaster. This had probably been inscribed during the night. What wasit,--an address, a signal for others, or a warning for himself? Inany case, it was evident that the secrecy of the garden was violated,and that strangers entered it. He remembered the strange incidentswhich had already alarmed the house, and his mind was at work on thissubject; but he was careful not to say a word to Cosette about the linewritten on the wall, for fear of alarming her. In the midst of histroubled thoughts he perceived, from a shadow which the sun threw, thatsome one was standing on the crest of the slope immediately behind him.He was just going to turn, when a folded paper fell on his knees, as ifa hand had thrown it over his head; he opened the paper and read thesewords, written in large characters, and in pencil: LEAVE YOUR HOUSE.
Jean Valjean rose smartly, but there was no longer any one on theslope; he looked round him, and perceived a person, taller than a childand shorter than a man, dressed in a gray blouse and dust-coloredcotton-velvet trousers, bestriding the parapet, and slipping down intothe moat of the Champ de Mars. Jean Valjean at once went home verythoughtfully.