3.V.8.3. THEY RECALL THE GARDEN OF THE RUE PLUMET
THIS was the last time. After that last flash of light,
complete
extinction ensued. No more familiarity, no more good-morning
with a kiss, never more that word so profoundly
sweet: "My father!" He was at his own request and
through his own complicity driven out of all his happinesses
one after the other; and he had this sorrow, that after having
lost Cosette wholly in one day, he was afterwards obliged
to lose her again in detail.
The eye eventually becomes accustomed to the light of a
cellar. In short, it sufficed for him to have an apparition of
Cosette every day. His whole life was concentrated in that
one hour.
He seated himself close to her, he gazed at her in
silence,
or he talked to her of years gone by, of her childhood, of
the convent, of her little friends of those bygone days.
One afternoon, — it was on one of those early days in
April,
already warm and fresh, the moment of the sun's great gayety,
the gardens which surrounded the windows of Marius
and Cosette felt the emotion of waking, the hawthorn was on
the point of budding, a jewelled garniture of gillyflowers
spread over the ancient walls, snapdragons yawned through
the crevices of the stones, amid the grass there was a charming
beginning of daisies, and buttercups, the white butterflies
of the year were making their first appearance, the wind, that
minstrel of the eternal wedding, was trying in the trees the
first notes of that grand, auroral symphony which the old
poets called the springtide, — Marius said to Cosette: — "We
said that we would go back to take a look at our garden in the
Rue Plumet. Let us go thither. We must not be ungrateful."
— And away they flitted, like two swallows towards the
spring. This garden of the Rue Plumet produced on them
the effect of the dawn. They already had behind them in
life something which was like the springtime of their love.
The house in the Rue Plumet being held on a lease, still belonged
to Cosette. They went to that garden and that house.
There they found themselves again, there they forgot themselves.
That evening, at the usual hour, Jean Valjean came
to the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire. — "Madame went out with
Monsieur and has not yet returned," Basque said to him. He
seated himself in silence, and waited an hour. Cosette did
not return. He departed with drooping head.
Cosette was so intoxicated with her walk to "their
garden,"
and so joyous at having "lived a whole day in her past," that
she talked of nothing else on the morrow. She did not
notice that she had not seen Jean Valjean.
"In what way did you go thither?" Jean Valjean asked
her."
"On foot."
"And how did you return?"
"In a hackney carriage."
For some time, Jean Valjean had noticed the economical
life led by the young people. He was troubled by it. Marius'
economy was severe, and that word had its absolute meaning
for Jean Valjean. He hazarded a query:
"Why do you not have a carriage of your own? A pretty
coupe would only cost you five hundred francs a month. You
are rich."
"I don't know," replied Cosette.
"It is like Toussaint," resumed Jean Valjean. "She is
gone. You have not replaced her. Why?"
"Nicolette suffices."
"But you ought to have a maid."
"Have I not Marius?"
"You ought to have a house of your own, your own servants,
a carriage, a box at the theatre. There is nothing too fine for
you. Why not profit by your riches? Wealth adds to
happiness."
Cosette made no reply.
Jean Valjean's visits were not abridged. Far from it.
When it is the heart which is slipping, one does not halt on
the downward slope.
When Jean Valjean wished to prolong his visit and to
induce forgetfulness of the hour, he sang the praises of
Marius; he pronounced him handsome, noble, courageous,
witty, eloquent, good. Cosette outdid him. Jean Valjean
began again. They were never weary. Marius — that word
was inexhaustible; those six letters contained volumes. In
this manner, Jean Valjean contrived to remain a long time.
It was so sweet to see Cosette, to forget by her side! It
alleviated his wounds. It frequently happened that Basque
came twice to announce: "M. Gillenormand sends me to
remind Madame la Baronne that dinner is served."
On those days, Jean Valjean was very thoughtful on his
return home.
Was there, then, any truth in that comparison of the
chrysalis
which had presented itself to the mind of Marius? Was
Jean Valjean really a chrysalis who would persist, and who
would come to visit his butterfly?
One day he remained still longer than usual. On the
following
day he observed that there was no fire on the hearth.
— "Hello!" he thought. "No fire." — And he furnished the
explanation for himself. — "It is perfectly simple. It is
April.
The cold weather has ceased."
"Heavens! how cold it is here!" exclaimed Cosette when
she entered.
"Why, no," said Jean Valjean.
"Was it you who told Basque not to make a fire then?"
"Yes, since we are now in the month of May."
"But we have a fire until June. One is needed all the
year
in this cellar."
"I thought that a fire was unnecessary."
"That is exactly like one of your ideas!" retorted
Cosette.
On the following day there was a fire. But the two
armchairs
were arranged at the other end of the room near
the door. " — What is the meaning of this?" thought Jean
Valjean.
He went for the arm-chairs and restored them to their
ordinary
place near the hearth.
This fire lighted once more encouraged him, however. He
prolonged the conversation even beyond its customary limits.
As he rose to take his leave, Cosette said to him:
"My husband said a queer thing to me yesterday."
"What was it?"
"He said to me: 'Cosette, we have an income of thirty
thousand livres. Twenty-seven that you own, and three that
my grandfather gives me.' I replied: 'That makes thirty.'
He went on: 'Would you have the courage to live on the
three thousand?' I answered: 'Yes, on nothing. Provided
that it was with you.' And then I asked: 'Why do you say
that to me?' He replied: 'I wanted to know.'"
Jean Valjean found not a word to answer. Cosette probably
expected some explanation from him; he listened in gloomy
silence. He went back to the Rue de l'Homme Arme; he
was so deeply absorbed that he mistook the door and instead
of entering his own house, he entered the adjoining dwelling.
It was only after having ascended nearly two stories that he
perceived his error and went down again.
His mind was swarming with conjectures. It was evident
that Marius had his doubts as to the origin of the six hundred
thousand francs, that he feared some source that was not pure,
who knows? that he had even, perhaps, discovered that the
money came from him, Jean Valjean, that he hesitated before
this suspicious fortune, and was disinclined to take it as his
own, — preferring that both he and Cosette should remain poor,
rather than that they should be rich with wealth that was not
clean.
Moreover, Jean Valjean began vaguely to surmise that he
was being shown the door.
On the following day, he underwent something like a shock
on entering the ground-floor room. The arm-chairs had
disappeared.
There was not a single chair of any sort.
"Ah, what's this!" exclaimed Cosette as she entered, "no
chairs! Where are the arm-chairs?"
"They are no longer here," replied Jean Valjean.
"This is too much!"
Jean Valjean stammered:
"It was I who told Basque to remove them."
"And your reason?"
"I have only a few minutes to stay to-day."
"A brief stay is no reason for remaining standing."
"I think that Basque needed the chairs for the drawing-room.
"Why?"
"You have company this evening, no doubt."
"We expect no one."
Jean Valjean had not another word to say.
Cosette shrugged her shoulders.
"To have the chairs carried off! The other day you had
the fire put out. How odd you are!"
"Adieu!" murmured Jean Valjean.
He did not say: "Adieu, Cosette." But he had not the
strength to say: "Adieu, Madame."
He went away utterly overwhelmed.
This time he had understood.
On the following day he did not come. Cosette only
observed
the fact in the evening.
"Why," said she, "Monsieur Jean has not been here to-day."
And she felt a slight twinge at her heart, but she hardly
perceived it, being immediately diverted by a kiss from
Marius.
On the following day he did not come.
Cosette paid no heed to this, passed her evening and slept
well that night, as usual, and thought of it only when she
woke. She was so happy! She speedily despatched Nicolette
to M. Jean's house to inquire whether he were ill, and
why he had not come on the previous evening. Nicolette
brought back the reply of M. Jean that he was not ill. He
was busy. He would come soon. As soon as he was able.
Moreover, he was on the point of taking a little journey.
Madame must remember that it was his custom to take trips
from time to time. They were not to worry about him. They
were not to think of him.
Nicolette on entering M. Jean's had repeated to him her
mistress' very words. That Madame had sent her to inquire
why M. Jean bad not come on the preceding evening. " — It
is two days since I have been there," said Jean Valjean gently.
But the remark passed unnoticed by Nicolette, who did not
report it to Cosette.