Kabanata Kabanata 104 · NUMBER 9,430 REAPPEARS, AND COSETTE WINS IT IN THE LOTTERY

Jean Valjean was not dead.

When he fell into the sea, or rather, when he threw himself into it, he

was not ironed, as we have seen. He swam under water until he reached a

vessel at anchor, to which a boat was moored. He found means of hiding

himself in this boat until night. At night he swam off again, and

reached the shore a little way from Cape Brun. There, as he did not

lack money, he procured clothing. A small country-house in the

neighborhood of Balaguier was at that time the dressing-room of escaped

convicts,—a lucrative specialty. Then Jean Valjean, like all the sorry

fugitives who are seeking to evade the vigilance of the law and social

fatality, pursued an obscure and undulating itinerary. He found his

first refuge at Pradeaux, near Beausset. Then he directed his course

towards Grand-Villard, near Briançon, in the Hautes-Alpes. It was a

fumbling and uneasy flight,—a mole’s track, whose branchings are

untraceable. Later on, some trace of his passage into Ain, in the

territory of Civrieux, was discovered; in the Pyrenees, at Accons; at

the spot called Grange-de-Doumec, near the market of Chavailles, and in

the environs of Perigueux at Brunies, canton of La Chapelle-Gonaguet.

He reached Paris. We have just seen him at Montfermeil.

His first care on arriving in Paris had been to buy mourning clothes

for a little girl of from seven to eight years of age; then to procure

a lodging. That done, he had betaken himself to Montfermeil. It will be

remembered that already, during his preceding escape, he had made a

mysterious trip thither, or somewhere in that neighborhood, of which

the law had gathered an inkling.

However, he was thought to be dead, and this still further increased

the obscurity which had gathered about him. At Paris, one of the

journals which chronicled the fact fell into his hands. He felt

reassured and almost at peace, as though he had really been dead.

On the evening of the day when Jean Valjean rescued Cosette from the

claws of the Thénardiers, he returned to Paris. He re-entered it at

nightfall, with the child, by way of the Barrier Monceaux. There he

entered a cabriolet, which took him to the esplanade of the

Observatoire. There he got out, paid the coachman, took Cosette by the

hand, and together they directed their steps through the

darkness,—through the deserted streets which adjoin the Ourcine and the

Glacière, towards the Boulevard de l’Hôpital.

The day had been strange and filled with emotions for Cosette. They had

eaten some bread and cheese purchased in isolated taverns, behind

hedges; they had changed carriages frequently; they had travelled short

distances on foot. She made no complaint, but she was weary, and Jean

Valjean perceived it by the way she dragged more and more on his hand

as she walked. He took her on his back. Cosette, without letting go of

Catherine, laid her head on Jean Valjean’s shoulder, and there fell

asleep.

BOOK FOURTH—THE GORBEAU HOVEL

[Illustration: The Gorbeau Hovel]