t say that the carters who would not allow me to eat with them keep
a better table than you do.'

"Between ourselves, the remark rather shocked me. My brother replied:--

"'They are more fatigued than I.'

"'No,' returned the man, 'they have more money. You are poor; I see that
plainly. You cannot be even a curate. Are you really a cure? Ah, if the
good God were but just, you certainly ought to be a cure!'

"'The good God is more than just,' said my brother.

"A moment later he added:--

"'Monsieur Jean Valjean, is it to Pontarlier that you are going?'

"'With my road marked out for me.'

"I think that is what the man said. Then he went on:--

"'I must be on my way by daybreak to-morrow. Travelling is hard. If the
nights are cold, the days are hot.'

"'You are going to a good country,' said my brother. 'During the
Revolution my family was ruined. I took refuge in Franche-Comte at
first, and there I lived for some time by the toil of my hands. My will
was good. I found plenty to occupy me. One has only to choose. There are
paper mills, tanneries, distilleries, oil factories, watch factories
on a large scale, steel mills, copper works, twenty iron foundries at
least, four of which, situated at Lods, at Chatillon, at Audincourt, and
at Beure, are tolerably large.'

"I think I am not mistaken in saying that those are the names which my
brother mentioned. Then he interrupted himself and addressed me:--

"'Have we not some relatives in those parts, my dear sister?'

"I replied,--

"'We did have some; among others, M. de Lucenet, who was captain of the
gates at Pontarlier under the old regime.'

"'Yes,' resumed my brother; 'but in '93, one had no longer any
relatives, one had only one's arms. I worked. They have, in the
country of Pontarlier, whither you are going, Monsieur Valjean, a
truly patriarchal and truly charming industry, my sister. It is their
cheese-dairies, which they call fruitieres.'

"Then my brother, while urging the man to eat, explained to him, with
great minuteness, what these fruitieres of Pontarlier were; that they
were divided into two classes: the big barns which belong to the rich,
and where there are forty or fifty cows which produce from seven to
eight thousand cheeses each summer, and the associated fruitieres, which
belong to the poor; these are the peasants of mid-mountain, who hold
their cows in common, and share the proceeds. 'They engage the services
of a cheese-maker, whom th