CHAPTER VI--OLD PEOPLE ARE MADE TO GO OUT OPPORTUNELY

  When evening came, Jean Valjean went out; Cosette dressed herself. Shearranged her hair in the most becoming manner, and she put on a dresswhose bodice had received one snip of the scissors too much, and which,through this slope, permitted a view of the beginning of her throat, andwas, as young girls say, "a trifle indecent." It was not in the leastindecent, but it was prettier than usual. She made her toilet thuswithout knowing why she did so.

  Did she mean to go out? No.

  Was she expecting a visitor? No.

  At dusk, she went down to the garden. Toussaint was busy in her kitchen,which opened on the back yard.

  She began to stroll about under the trees, thrusting aside the branchesfrom time to time with her hand, because there were some which hung verylow.

  In this manner she reached the bench.

  The stone was still there.

  She sat down, and gently laid her white hand on this stone as though shewished to caress and thank it.

  All at once, she experienced that indefinable impression which oneundergoes when there is some one standing behind one, even when she doesnot see the person.

  She turned her head and rose to her feet.

  It was he.

  His head was bare. He appeared to have grown thin and pale. His blackclothes were hardly discernible. The twilight threw a wan light onhis fine brow, and covered his eyes in shadows. Beneath a veil ofincomparable sweetness, he had something about him that suggested deathand night. His face was illuminated by the light of the dying day, andby the thought of a soul that is taking flight.

  He seemed to be not yet a ghost, and he was no longer a man.

  He had flung away his hat in the thicket, a few paces distant.

  Cosette, though ready to swoon, uttered no cry. She retreated slowly,for she felt herself attracted. He did not stir. By virtue of somethingineffable and melancholy which enveloped him, she felt the look in hiseyes which she could not see.

  Cosette, in her retreat, encountered a tree and leaned against it. Hadit not been for this tree, she would have fallen.

  Then she heard his voice, that voice which she had really never heard,barely rising above the rustle of the leaves, and murmuring:--

  "Pardon me, here I am. My heart is full. I could not live on as I wasliving, and I have come. Have you read what I placed there on the bench?Do you recognize me at all? Have no fear of me. It is a long time, youremember the day, since you looked at me at the Luxembourg, near theGladiator. And the day when you passed before me? It was on the 16th ofJune and the 2d of July. It is nearly a year ago. I have not seen youfor a long time. I inquired of the woman who let the chairs, and shetold me that she no longer saw you. You lived in the Rue de l'Ouest, onthe third floor, in the front apartments of a new house,--you see thatI know! I followed you. What else was there for me to do? And then youdisappeared. I thought I saw you pass once, while I was reading thenewspapers under the arcade of the Odéon. I ran after you. But no. Itwas a person who had a bonnet like yours. At night I came hither. Donot be afraid, no one sees me. I come to gaze upon your windows nearat hand. I walk very softly, so that you may not hear, for you might bealarmed. The other evening I was behind you, you turned round, I fled.Once, I heard you singing. I was happy. Did it affect you because Iheard you singing through the shutters? That could not hurt you. No,it is not so? You see, you are my angel! Let me come sometimes; I thinkthat I am going to die. If you only knew! I adore you. Forgive me, Ispeak to you, but I do not know what I am saying; I may have displeasedyou; have I displeased you?"

  "Oh! my mother!" said she.

  And she sank down as though on the point of death.

  He grasped her, she fell, he took her in his arms, he pressed her close,without knowing what he was doing. He supported her, though he wastottering himself. It was as though his brain were full of smoke;lightnings darted between his lips; his ideas vanished; it seemed to himthat he was accomplishing some religious act, and that he was committinga profanation. Moreover, he had not the least passion for this lovelywoman whose force he felt against his breast. He was beside himself withlove.

  She took his hand and laid it on her heart. He felt the paper there, hestammered:--

  "You love me, then?"

  She replied in a voice so low that it was no longer anything more than abarely audible breath:--

  "Hush! Thou knowest it!"

  And she hid her blushing face on the breast of the superb andintoxicated young man.

  He fell upon the bench, and she beside him. They had no words more. Thestars were beginning to gleam. How did it come to pass that their lipsmet? How comes it to pass that the birds sing, that snow melts, thatthe rose unfolds, that May expands, that the dawn grows white behind theblack trees on the shivering crest of the hills?

  A kiss, and that was all.

  Both started, and gazed into the darkness with sparkling eyes.

  They felt neither the cool night, nor the cold stone, nor the dampearth, nor the wet grass; they looked at each other, and their heartswere full of thoughts. They had clasped hands unconsciously.

  She did not ask him, she did not even wonder, how he had entered there,and how he had made his way into the garden. It seemed so simple to herthat he should be there!

  From time to time, Marius' knee touched Cosette's knee, and bothshivered.

  At intervals, Cosette stammered a word. Her soul fluttered on her lipslike a drop of dew on a flower.

  Little by little they began to talk to each other. Effusion followedsilence, which is fulness. The night was serene and splendid overhead.These two beings, pure as spirits, told each other everything, theirdreams, their intoxications, their ecstasies, their chimæras, theirweaknesses, how they had adored each other from afar, how they hadlonged for each other, their despair when they had ceased to see eachother. They confided to each other in an ideal intimacy, which nothingcould augment, their most secret and most mysterious thoughts. Theyrelated to each other, with candid faith in their illusions, all thatlove, youth, and the remains of childhood which still lingered aboutthem, suggested to their minds. Their two hearts poured themselves outinto each other in such wise, that at the expiration of a quarter of anhour, it was the young man who had the young girl's soul, and the younggirl who had the young man's soul. Each became permeated with the other,they were enchanted with each other, they dazzled each other.

  When they had finished, when they had told each other everything, shelaid her head on his shoulder and asked him:--

  "What is your name?"

  "My name is Marius," said he. "And yours?"

  "My name is Cosette."

  BOOK SIXTH.--LITTLE GAVROCHE