y far off, and mingled with the
darkness of the place. He hugged the wall and halted. Moreover, he did
not understand what it was that was moving behind him. The lack of sleep
and food, and his emotions had caused him also to pass into the state of
a visionary. He beheld a gleam, and around that gleam, forms. What was
it? He did not comprehend.

Jean Valjean having paused, the sound ceased.

The men of the patrol listened, and heard nothing, they looked and saw
nothing. They held a consultation.

There existed at that epoch at this point of the Montmartre sewer a sort
of cross-roads called de service, which was afterwards suppressed, on
account of the little interior lake which formed there, swallowing up
the torrent of rain in heavy storms. The patrol could form a cluster in
this open space. Jean Valjean saw these spectres form a sort of circle.
These bull-dogs' heads approached each other closely and whispered
together.

The result of this council held by the watch dogs was, that they had
been mistaken, that there had been no noise, that it was useless to get
entangled in the belt sewer, that it would only be a waste of time,
but that they ought to hasten towards Saint-Merry; that if there
was anything to do, and any "bousingot" to track out, it was in that
quarter.

From time to time, parties re-sole their old insults. In 1832, the word
bousingot formed the interim between the word jacobin, which had become
obsolete, and the word demagogue which has since rendered such excellent
service.

The sergeant gave orders to turn to the left, towards the watershed of
the Seine.

If it had occurred to them to separate into two squads, and to go in
both directions, Jean Valjean would have been captured. All hung on
that thread. It is probable that the instructions of the prefecture,
foreseeing a possibility of combat and insurgents in force, had
forbidden the patrol to part company. The patrol resumed its march,
leaving Jean Valjean behind it. Of all this movement, Jean Valjean
perceived nothing, except the eclipse of the lantern which suddenly
wheeled round.

Before taking his departure, the Sergeant, in order to acquit his
policeman's conscience, discharged his gun in the direction of Jean
Valjean. The detonation rolled from echo to echo in the crypt, like the
rumbling of that titanic entrail. A bit of plaster which fell into the
stream and splashed up the water a few paces away from Jean Valjean,
warned him that