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He secretly took cognizance of Jean Perliez's sufferings, and a wave of pity surged up in his heart. "I will have to speak to him myself," he thought. The curtain went up, disclosing Esperance, a book in her hand, her back to the public. She was not reading. That was evident from the weary droop of her body, from the rigid gaze into space.
"Yes," murmured Jean, his eyes cast down like a criminal, "I love you." "I knew it." Bettina lost a little of her assurance; her voice trembled slightly. She continued, however, with an effort. "M. le Curé, I do not blame you entirely for what has happened, but certainly it is partly your fault." "My fault?" "Yes, your fault. I am certain you have spoken to Jean too much of me, much too much.
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."
We'll be wantin' to know if there's ae word about him intil't." "There may be, Aunt Jean." Hester set her cup of tea down untasted, and began to open her letter. "But tak' yer tea first, Hester. Jean's an impatient body. That's too bad of ye, Jean; her toast's gettin' cold." "Oh, that's no matter at all, Aunt Ellen. I'll take it as soon as I see if he's home all right.
"Because if I lit up the world by day as well as by night the plants would produce neither fruit nor flower. And though I do not warm the earth, I supply it with dew, which makes it fertile and fruitful." She was then about to continue her course, but Jean, begging her to stop one moment longer, questioned her about the pear-tree which had ceased to bear fruit.
Malo was staying at the chateau all alone, with the farmer's wife to come in and cook her dinner: not a soul in the house at night but herself and her brindled sheep dog. She had to be there a week, and Jean suggested to his people to ask her to Réchamp.
We were so taken by surprise." "You may indeed say so, Susie. You must know, Monsieur l'Abbe, that yesterday was my sister's birthday. But first, pardon me, Monsieur Jean, is it not?" "Yes, Miss Percival, Monsieur Jean." "Well, Monsieur Jean, a little more of that excellent soup, if you please."
Let's go and tell Miss Ferris all that we've found out so far, and leave the whole matter in her hands." Then Jean justified the confidence that Betty had shown in her. "You couldn't do anything better," she said, rising to leave. "I wish I'd known her well enough to talk things over with her, not public things like this, I mean, but private ones.
"I liked being with Jean." "I don't know what you see in Jean. I think she's a most stupid, commonplace girl. I'm not at all anxious to be friends with her in Waverton, and I'm very glad I couldn't go to-day.
Only one thing is asked of him: that he should grow into an honest man." The child was comforted by contact with his mother's warm body. He could be heard sucking her milk and gurgling and snorting. Jean Michel turned in his chair, and said once more, with some emphasis: "There's nothing finer than an honest man."
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