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The first story contained, as we have said, numerous chambers and several attics, only one of which was occupied by the old woman who took charge of Jean Valjean's housekeeping; all the rest was uninhabited. It was this old woman, ornamented with the name of the principal lodger, and in reality intrusted with the functions of portress, who had let him the lodging on Christmas eve.
What was this figure of the shadows which had for its only object the preservation of the rising of a star from every shadow and from every cloud? That was Jean Valjean's secret; that was also God's secret. In the presence of this double secret, Marius recoiled. The one, in some sort, reassured him as to the other. God was as visible in this affair as was Jean Valjean. God has his instruments.
"You can earn a hundred francs," went on Jean Valjean, "if you will grant me shelter for this night." The moon shone full upon Jean Valjean's terrified countenance. "What! so it is you, Father Madeleine!" said the man. That name, thus pronounced, at that obscure hour, in that unknown spot, by that strange man, made Jean Valjean start back. He had expected anything but that.
It will be perceived that it was not without reason that Jean Valjean's passport described him as a very dangerous man. From year to year this soul had dried away slowly, but with fatal sureness. When the heart is dry, the eye is dry. On his departure from the galleys it had been nineteen years since he had shed a tear. A man overboard! What matters it? The vessel does not halt. The wind blows.
The first day that Cosette went out in her black damask gown and mantle, and her white crape bonnet, she took Jean Valjean's arm, gay, radiant, rosy, proud, dazzling. "Father," she said, "how do you like me in this guise?" Jean Valjean replied in a voice which resembled the bitter voice of an envious man: "Charming!" He was the same as usual during their walk.
Fauchelevent took in his aged, trembling, and wrinkled hands Jean Valjean's two robust hands, and stood for several minutes as though incapable of speaking. At length he exclaimed: "Oh! that would be a blessing from the good God, if I could make you some little return for that! Save your life! Monsieur le Maire, dispose of the old man!" A wonderful joy had transfigured this old man.
The "gleam" still shone like a star in the deepening sky, till it stood at length over the waters at the gates of the great bar that led out into the Infinite. And last of all, the "call," clear and unmistakable; and there sure enough, waiting beyond the bar, was the "Pilot," the Master of the gleam, "ready to receive the soul". Jean Valjean's death in Les Miserables.
Chance having ordained that he should encounter, in a case which he had argued, a former employee of the Laffitte establishment, he had acquired mysterious information, without seeking it, which he had not been able, it is true, to probe, out of respect for the secret which he had promised to guard, and out of consideration for Jean Valjean's perilous position.
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."
Half a minute had not elapsed when he was resting on his knees on the wall. Cosette gazed at him in stupid amazement, without uttering a word. Jean Valjean's injunction, and the name of Madame Thenardier, had chilled her blood. All at once she heard Jean Valjean's voice crying to her, though in a very low tone: "Put your back against the wall." She obeyed.
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