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]