er how I took hold of the handle of the water-bucket? That
was the first time that I touched thy poor, little hand. It was so cold!
Ah! your hands were red then, mademoiselle, they are very white now. And
the big doll! dost thou remember? Thou didst call her Catherine. Thou
regrettedest not having taken her to the convent! How thou didst make
me laugh sometimes, my sweet angel! When it had been raining, thou didst
float bits of straw on the gutters, and watch them pass away. One day
I gave thee a willow battledore and a shuttlecock with yellow, blue and
green feathers. Thou hast forgotten it. Thou wert roguish so young! Thou
didst play. Thou didst put cherries in thy ears. Those are things of
the past. The forests through which one has passed with one's child, the
trees under which one has strolled, the convents where one has concealed
oneself, the games, the hearty laughs of childhood, are shadows. I
imagined that all that belonged to me. In that lay my stupidity. Those
Thenardiers were wicked. Thou must forgive them. Cosette, the moment
has come to tell thee the name of thy mother. She was called Fantine.
Remember that name--Fantine. Kneel whenever thou utterest it. She
suffered much. She loved thee dearly. She had as much unhappiness as
thou hast had happiness. That is the way God apportions things. He is
there on high, he sees us all, and he knows what he does in the midst of
his great stars. I am on the verge of departure, my children. Love each
other well and always. There is nothing else but that in the world: love
for each other. You will think sometimes of the poor old man who died
here. Oh my Cosette, it is not my fault, indeed, that I have not seen
thee all this time, it cut me to the heart; I went as far as the corner
of the street, I must have produced a queer effect on the people who
saw me pass, I was like a madman, I once went out without my hat. I no
longer see clearly, my children, I had still other things to say, but
never mind. Think a little of me. Come still nearer. I die happy. Give
me your dear and well-beloved heads, so that I may lay my hands upon
them."

Cosette and Marius fell on their knees, in despair, suffocating with
tears, each beneath one of Jean Valjean's hands. Those august hands no
longer moved.

He had fallen backwards, the light of the candles illuminated him.

His white face looked up to heaven, he allowed Cosette and Marius to
cover his hands with kisses.

He was dead.

The