Les Misérables, page 31
CHAPTER X--THE MAN AROUSED
As the Cathedral clock struck two in the morning, Jean Valjean awoke.
What woke him was that his bed was too good. It was nearly twenty yearssince he had slept in a bed, and, although he had not undressed, thesensation was too novel not to disturb his slumbers.
He had slept more than four hours. His fatigue had passed away. He wasaccustomed not to devote many hours to repose.
He opened his eyes and stared into the gloom which surrounded him; thenhe closed them again, with the intention of going to sleep once more.
When many varied sensations have agitated the day, when various matterspreoccupy the mind, one falls asleep once, but not a second time.Sleep comes more easily than it returns. This is what happened to JeanValjean. He could not get to sleep again, and he fell to thinking.
He was at one of those moments when the thoughts which one has in one'smind are troubled. There was a sort of dark confusion in his brain. Hismemories of the olden time and of the immediate present floated therepell-mell and mingled confusedly, losing their proper forms, becomingdisproportionately large, then suddenly disappearing, as in a muddy andperturbed pool. Many thoughts occurred to him; but there was one whichkept constantly presenting itself afresh, and which drove away allothers. We will mention this thought at once: he had observed the sixsets of silver forks and spoons and the ladle which Madame Magloire hadplaced on the table.
Those six sets of silver haunted him.--They were there.--A few pacesdistant.--Just as he was traversing the adjoining room to reach theone in which he then was, the old servant-woman had been in the actof placing them in a little cupboard near the head of the bed.--He hadtaken careful note of this cupboard.--On the right, as you entered fromthe dining-room.--They were solid.--And old silver.--From the ladle onecould get at least two hundred francs.--Double what he had earned innineteen years.--It is true that he would have earned more if "the_administration_ had not _robbed him_."
His mind wavered for a whole hour in fluctuations with which there wascertainly mingled some struggle. Three o'clock struck. He opened hiseyes again, drew himself up abruptly into a sitting posture, stretchedout his arm and felt of his knapsack, which he had thrown down on acorner of the alcove; then he hung his legs over the edge of the bed,and placed his feet on the floor, and thus found himself, almost withoutknowing it, seated on his bed.
He remained for a time thoughtfully in this attitude, which would havebeen suggestive of something sinister for any one who had seen himthus in the dark, the only person awake in that house where all weresleeping. All of a sudden he stooped down, removed his shoes and placedthem softly on the mat beside the bed; then he resumed his thoughtfulattitude, and became motionless once more.
Throughout this hideous meditation, the thoughts which we have aboveindicated moved incessantly through his brain; entered, withdrew,re-entered, and in a manner oppressed him; and then he thought, also,without knowing why, and with the mechanical persistence of revery, ofa convict named Brevet, whom he had known in the galleys, and whosetrousers had been upheld by a single suspender of knitted cotton. Thecheckered pattern of that suspender recurred incessantly to his mind.
He remained in this situation, and would have so remained indefinitely,even until daybreak, had not the clock struck one--the half or quarterhour. It seemed to him that that stroke said to him, "Come on!"
He rose to his feet, hesitated still another moment, and listened; allwas quiet in the house; then he walked straight ahead, with short steps,to the window, of which he caught a glimpse. The night was not verydark; there was a full moon, across which coursed large clouds driven bythe wind. This created, outdoors, alternate shadow and gleams of light,eclipses, then bright openings of the clouds; and indoors a sort oftwilight. This twilight, sufficient to enable a person to see his way,intermittent on account of the clouds, resembled the sort of livid lightwhich falls through an air-hole in a cellar, before which the passers-bycome and go. On arriving at the window, Jean Valjean examined it. It hadno grating; it opened in the garden and was fastened, according to thefashion of the country, only by a small pin. He opened it; but as arush of cold and piercing air penetrated the room abruptly, he closedit again immediately. He scrutinized the garden with that attentive gazewhich studies rather than looks. The garden was enclosed by a tolerablylow white wall, easy to climb. Far away, at the extremity, he perceivedtops of trees, spaced at regular intervals, which indicated that thewall separated the garden from an avenue or lane planted with trees.
Having taken this survey, he executed a movement like that of a man whohas made up his mind, strode to his alcove, grasped his knapsack, openedit, fumbled in it, pulled out of it something which he placed on thebed, put his shoes into one of his pockets, shut the whole thing upagain, threw the knapsack on his shoulders, put on his cap, drew thevisor down over his eyes, felt for his cudgel, went and placed it in theangle of the window; then returned to the bed, and resolutely seized theobject which he had deposited there. It resembled a short bar ofiron, pointed like a pike at one end. It would have been difficult todistinguish in that darkness for what employment that bit of iron couldhave been designed. Perhaps it was a lever; possibly it was a club.
In the daytime it would have been possible to recognize it as nothingmore than a miner's candlestick. Convicts were, at that period,sometimes employed in quarrying stone from the lofty hills which environToulon, and it was not rare for them to have miners' tools at theircommand. These miners' candlesticks are of massive iron, terminated atthe lower extremity by a point, by means of which they are stuck intothe rock.
He took the candlestick in his right hand; holding his breath and tryingto deaden the sound of his tread, he directed his steps to the door ofthe adjoining room, occupied by the Bishop, as we already know.
On arriving at this door, he found it ajar. The Bishop had not closedit.
