to the magnanimity of an insurgent
who, holding him under his pistol, had fired into the air, instead of
blowing out his brains.

Marius read. He had evidence, a certain date, irrefragable proof, these
two newspapers had not been printed expressly for the purpose of backing
up Thenardier's statements; the note printed in the Moniteur had been an
administrative communication from the Prefecture of Police. Marius could
not doubt.

The information of the cashier-clerk had been false, and he himself had
been deceived.

Jean Valjean, who had suddenly grown grand, emerged from his cloud.
Marius could not repress a cry of joy.

"Well, then this unhappy wretch is an admirable man! the whole of that
fortune really belonged to him! he is Madeleine, the providence of a
whole countryside! he is Jean Valjean, Javert's savior! he is a hero! he
is a saint!"

"He's not a saint, and he's not a hero!" said Thenardier. "He's an
assassin and a robber."

And he added, in the tone of a man who begins to feel that he possesses
some authority:

"Let us be calm."

Robber, assassin--those words which Marius thought had disappeared and
which returned, fell upon him like an ice-cold shower-bath.

"Again!" said he.

"Always," ejaculated Thenardier. "Jean Valjean did not rob Madeleine,
but he is a thief. He did not kill Javert, but he is a murderer."

"Will you speak," retorted Marius, "of that miserable theft, committed
forty years ago, and expiated, as your own newspapers prove, by a whole
life of repentance, of self-abnegation and of virtue?"

"I say assassination and theft, Monsieur le Baron, and I repeat that I
am speaking of actual facts. What I have to reveal to you is absolutely
unknown. It belongs to unpublished matter. And perhaps you will find in
it the source of the fortune so skilfully presented to Madame la Baronne
by Jean Valjean. I say skilfully, because, by a gift of that nature it
would not be so very unskilful to slip into an honorable house whose
comforts one would then share, and, at the same stroke, to conceal one's
crime, and to enjoy one's theft, to bury one's name and to create for
oneself a family."

"I might interrupt you at this point," said Marius, "but go on."

"Monsieur le Baron, I will tell you all, leaving the recompense to your
generosity. This secret is worth massive gold. You will say to me: 'Why
do not you apply to Jean Valjean?' For a very simple reason; I know
that he has stripped himself, a