ach other; they saw each other; and like stars of heaven which are
separated by millions of leagues, they lived by gazing at each other.

It was thus that Cosette gradually became a woman and developed,
beautiful and loving, with a consciousness of her beauty, and in
ignorance of her love. She was a coquette to boot through her ignorance.

CHAPTER VII--TO ONE SADNESS OPPOSE A SADNESS AND A HALF

All situations have their instincts. Old and eternal Mother Nature
warned Jean Valjean in a dim way of the presence of Marius. Jean Valjean
shuddered to the very bottom of his soul. Jean Valjean saw nothing, knew
nothing, and yet he scanned with obstinate attention, the darkness
in which he walked, as though he felt on one side of him something in
process of construction, and on the other, something which was crumbling
away. Marius, also warned, and, in accordance with the deep law of God,
by that same Mother Nature, did all he could to keep out of sight of
"the father." Nevertheless, it came to pass that Jean Valjean sometimes
espied him. Marius' manners were no longer in the least natural. He
exhibited ambiguous prudence and awkward daring. He no longer came quite
close to them as formerly. He seated himself at a distance and pretended
to be reading; why did he pretend that? Formerly he had come in his old
coat, now he wore his new one every day; Jean Valjean was not sure
that he did not have his hair curled, his eyes were very queer, he wore
gloves; in short, Jean Valjean cordially detested this young man.

Cosette allowed nothing to be divined. Without knowing just what was the
matter with her she was convinced that there was something in it, and
that it must be concealed.

There was a coincidence between the taste for the toilet which had
recently come to Cosette, and the habit of new clothes developed by
that stranger which was very repugnant to Jean Valjean. It might be
accidental, no doubt, certainly, but it was a menacing accident.

He never opened his mouth to Cosette about this stranger. One day,
however, he could not refrain from so doing, and, with that vague
despair which suddenly casts the lead into the depths of its despair, he
said to her: "What a very pedantic air that young man has!"

Cosette, but a year before only an indifferent little girl, would have
replied: "Why, no, he is charming." Ten years later, with the love
of Marius in her heart, she would have answered: "A pedant, and
insufferable to