the last day he goes
scarce beyond his own threshold. And now he can not go down the
stairs; now he is in his own lonely room, alone. He sees death camping
in his silent chamber, but feels no fright. No, no! rather,

"Death, like a friend's voice from a distant field
Approaching, called.
* * * * * *
For sure no gladlier does the stranded wreck
See, through the gray skirts of a lifting squall,
The boat that bears the hope of life approach
To save the life despaired of, than he saw
Death dawning on him, and the close of all."

But Cossette, Cossette! To see her once. Just once, only once! To
touch her hand--O that were heaven! But he says to his heart, "I shall
not touch her hand, and I shall not see her face--no more, no more!"
And the little garments he brought her when he took her from her
slavery with the Thenardiers, there they are upon his bed, where he can
touch them, as if they were black tresses of the woman he had loved and
lost. The bishop's candlesticks are lit. He is about to die, and
writes in his poor, sprawling fashion to Cossette--writes to her. He
fronts her always, as the hills front the dawn. He ceases, and sobs
like a breaking heart. O! "She is a smile that has passed over me. I
shall never see her again!" And the door dashes open; Marius and
Cossette are come. Joy, joy to the old heart! Jean Valjean thinks it
is heaven's morning. Marius has discovered that Jean Valjean is not
his murderer, but his savior; that he has, at imminent peril of his
life, through the long, oozy quagmire of the sewer, with his giant
strength, borne him across the city, saved him; and now, too late,
Marius began to see in Jean Valjean "a strangely lofty and saddened
form," and has come to take this great heart home. But God will do
that himself. Jean Valjean is dying. He looks at Cossette as if he
would take a look which would endure through eternity, kisses a fold of
her garment, and half articulates, "It--is--nothing to die;" then
suddenly rises, walks to the wall, brings back a crucifix, lays it near
his hand. "The Great Martyr," he says; fondles Marius and Cossette;
sobs to Cossette, "Not to see you broke my heart;" croons to himself,
"You love me;" puts his hands upon their heads in a caress, saying, "I
do not see clearly now." Later he half whispered, "I see a light!"
And a man and woman are raining kisses on a dead man's hands. And on
that blank sto