ey call the grurin; the grurin receives the
milk of the associates three times a day, and marks the quantity on
a double tally. It is towards the end of April that the work of the
cheese-dairies begins; it is towards the middle of June that the
cheese-makers drive their cows to the mountains.'

"The man recovered his animation as he ate. My brother made him drink
that good Mauves wine, which he does not drink himself, because he says
that wine is expensive. My brother imparted all these details with that
easy gayety of his with which you are acquainted, interspersing his
words with graceful attentions to me. He recurred frequently to that
comfortable trade of grurin, as though he wished the man to understand,
without advising him directly and harshly, that this would afford him
a refuge. One thing struck me. This man was what I have told you. Well,
neither during supper, nor during the entire evening, did my brother
utter a single word, with the exception of a few words about Jesus when
he entered, which could remind the man of what he was, nor of what my
brother was. To all appearances, it was an occasion for preaching him
a little sermon, and of impressing the Bishop on the convict, so that a
mark of the passage might remain behind. This might have appeared to any
one else who had this, unfortunate man in his hands to afford a chance
to nourish his soul as well as his body, and to bestow upon him
some reproach, seasoned with moralizing and advice, or a little
commiseration, with an exhortation to conduct himself better in the
future. My brother did not even ask him from what country he came,
nor what was his history. For in his history there is a fault, and my
brother seemed to avoid everything which could remind him of it. To such
a point did he carry it, that at one time, when my brother was speaking
of the mountaineers of Pontarlier, who exercise a gentle labor near
heaven, and who, he added, are happy because they are innocent, he
stopped short, fearing lest in this remark there might have escaped him
something which might wound the man. By dint of reflection, I think
I have comprehended what was passing in my brother's heart. He was
thinking, no doubt, that this man, whose name is Jean Valjean, had his
misfortune only too vividly present in his mind; that the best thing
was to divert him from it, and to make him believe, if only momentarily,
that he was a person like any other, by treating him just in his
ordinar