perceptible can be overleaped, as well in
the case of the mind as in that of the ear. These words: "I am an
ex-convict," proceeding from the mouth of M. Fauchelevent and entering
the ear of Marius overshot the possible. It seemed to him that something
had just been said to him; but he did not know what. He stood with his
mouth wide open.

Then he perceived that the man who was addressing him was frightful.
Wholly absorbed in his own dazzled state, he had not, up to that moment,
observed the other man's terrible pallor.

Jean Valjean untied the black cravat which supported his right arm,
unrolled the linen from around his hand, bared his thumb and showed it
to Marius.

"There is nothing the matter with my hand," said he.

Marius looked at the thumb.

"There has not been anything the matter with it," went on Jean Valjean.

There was, in fact, no trace of any injury.

Jean Valjean continued:

"It was fitting that I should be absent from your marriage. I absented
myself as much as was in my power. So I invented this injury in order
that I might not commit a forgery, that I might not introduce a flaw
into the marriage documents, in order that I might escape from signing."

Marius stammered.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"The meaning of it is," replied Jean Valjean, "that I have been in the
galleys."

"You are driving me mad!" exclaimed Marius in terror.

"Monsieur Pontmercy," said Jean Valjean, "I was nineteen years in the
galleys. For theft. Then, I was condemned for life for theft, for a
second offence. At the present moment, I have broken my ban."

In vain did Marius recoil before the reality, refuse the fact, resist
the evidence, he was forced to give way. He began to understand, and, as
always happens in such cases, he understood too much. An inward shudder
of hideous enlightenment flashed through him; an idea which made him
quiver traversed his mind. He caught a glimpse of a wretched destiny for
himself in the future.

"Say all, say all!" he cried. "You are Cosette's father!"

And he retreated a couple of paces with a movement of indescribable
horror.

Jean Valjean elevated his head with so much majesty of attitude that he
seemed to grow even to the ceiling.

"It is necessary that you should believe me here, sir; although our oath
to others may not be received in law . . ."

Here he paused, then, with a sort of sovereign and sepulchral authority,
he added, articulating slowly, and emphasizin