hat lasted for nine years and some months. I
was like her own father, and she was my child. I do not know whether
you understand, Monsieur Pontmercy, but to go away now, never to see her
again, never to speak to her again, to no longer have anything, would
be hard. If you do not disapprove of it, I will come to see Cosette from
time to time. I will not come often. I will not remain long. You shall
give orders that I am to be received in the little waiting-room. On the
ground floor. I could enter perfectly well by the back door, but that
might create surprise perhaps, and it would be better, I think, for me
to enter by the usual door. Truly, sir, I should like to see a little
more of Cosette. As rarely as you please. Put yourself in my place,
I have nothing left but that. And then, we must be cautious. If I
no longer come at all, it would produce a bad effect, it would be
considered singular. What I can do, by the way, is to come in the
afternoon, when night is beginning to fall."

"You shall come every evening," said Marius, "and Cosette will be
waiting for you."

"You are kind, sir," said Jean Valjean.

Marius saluted Jean Valjean, happiness escorted despair to the door, and
these two men parted.

CHAPTER II--THE OBSCURITIES WHICH A REVELATION CAN CONTAIN

Marius was quite upset.

The sort of estrangement which he had always felt towards the man beside
whom he had seen Cosette, was now explained to him. There was something
enigmatic about that person, of which his instinct had warned him.

This enigma was the most hideous of disgraces, the galleys. This M.
Fauchelevent was the convict Jean Valjean.

To abruptly find such a secret in the midst of one's happiness resembles
the discovery of a scorpion in a nest of turtledoves.

Was the happiness of Marius and Cosette thenceforth condemned to such a
neighborhood? Was this an accomplished fact? Did the acceptance of that
man form a part of the marriage now consummated? Was there nothing to be
done?

Had Marius wedded the convict as well?

In vain may one be crowned with light and joy, in vain may one taste the
grand purple hour of life, happy love, such shocks would force even the
archangel in his ecstasy, even the demigod in his glory, to shudder.

As is always the case in changes of view of this nature, Marius asked
himself whether he had nothing with which to reproach himself. Had he
been wanting in divination? Had he been wanting in prudence? Had he