rever I
go," the man went on. "They all say to me, 'Be off!' I am very tired and
hungry. Will you let me stay here? I will pay."

"Madame Magloire," said the bishop, "please lay another knife and fork.
Sit down, monsieur, and warm yourself. We shall have supper directly,
and your bed will be got ready while we are supping."

Joy and amazement were on the man's face; he stammered his thanks as
though beside himself.

The bishop, in honour of his guest, had silver forks and spoons placed
on the table.

The man took his food with frightful voracity, and paid no attention to
anyone till the meal was over. Then the bishop showed him his bed in an
alcove, and an hour later the whole household was asleep.

Jean Valjean soon woke up again.

For nineteen years he had been at the galleys. Originally a pruner of
trees, he had broken a baker's window and stolen a loaf one hard winter
when there was no work to be had, and for this the sentence was five
years. Time after time he had tried to escape, and had always been
recaptured; and for each offence a fresh sentence was imposed.

Nineteen years for breaking a window and stealing a loaf! He had gone
into prison sobbing and shuddering. He came out full of hatred and
bitterness.

That night, at the bishop's house, for the first time in nineteen years,
Jean Valjean had received kindness. He was moved and shaken. It seemed
inexplicable.

He got up from his bed. Everyone was asleep, the house was perfectly
still.

Jean Valjean seized the silver plate-basket which stood in the bishop's
room, put the silver into his knapsack, and fled out of the house.

In the morning, while the bishop was breakfasting, the gendarmes brought
in Jean Valjean. The sergeant explained that they had met him running
away, and had arrested him, because of the silver they found on him.

"I gave you the candlesticks, too!" said the bishop; "they are silver.
Why did not you take them with the rest of the plate?" Then, turning to
the gendarmes, "It is a mistake."

"We are to let him go?" said the sergeant.

"Certainly," said the bishop.

The gendarmes retired.

"My friend," said the bishop to Jean Valjean, "here are your
candlesticks. Take them with you." He added in a low voice, "Never
forget that you have promised me to use this silver to become an honest
man. My brother, you belong no longer to evil, but to good."

Jean Valjean never remembered having promised anything. He left the
bishop's