t solid, and to
make of it a lever wherewith to raise the door or to break the lock. Not
a bar stirred. The teeth of a tiger are not more firmly fixed in their
sockets. No lever; no prying possible. The obstacle was invincible.
There was no means of opening the gate.

Must he then stop there? What was he to do? What was to become of him?
He had not the strength to retrace his steps, to recommence the journey
which he had already taken. Besides, how was he to again traverse that
quagmire whence he had only extricated himself as by a miracle? And
after the quagmire, was there not the police patrol, which assuredly
could not be twice avoided? And then, whither was he to go? What
direction should he pursue? To follow the incline would not conduct
him to his goal. If he were to reach another outlet, he would find it
obstructed by a plug or a grating. Every outlet was, undoubtedly, closed
in that manner. Chance had unsealed the grating through which he had
entered, but it was evident that all the other sewer mouths were barred.
He had only succeeded in escaping into a prison.

All was over. Everything that Jean Valjean had done was useless.
Exhaustion had ended in failure.

They were both caught in the immense and gloomy web of death, and Jean
Valjean felt the terrible spider running along those black strands and
quivering in the shadows. He turned his back to the grating, and fell
upon the pavement, hurled to earth rather than seated, close to Marius,
who still made no movement, and with his head bent between his knees.
This was the last drop of anguish.

Of what was he thinking during this profound depression? Neither of
himself nor of Marius. He was thinking of Cosette.

CHAPTER VIII--THE TORN COAT-TAIL

In the midst of this prostration, a hand was laid on his shoulder, and a
low voice said to him:

"Half shares."

Some person in that gloom? Nothing so closely resembles a dream as
despair. Jean Valjean thought that he was dreaming. He had heard no
footsteps. Was it possible? He raised his eyes.

A man stood before him.

This man was clad in a blouse; his feet were bare; he held his shoes
in his left hand; he had evidently removed them in order to reach Jean
Valjean, without allowing his steps to be heard.

Jean Valjean did not hesitate for an instant. Unexpected as was this
encounter, this man was known to him. The man was Thenardier.

Although awakened, so to speak, with a start, Jean Valjean, accusto