<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0103" id="link2HCH0103"></SPAN></p>
<h2> CHAPTER XI—NUMBER 9,430 REAPPEARS, AND COSETTE WINS IT IN THE LOTTERY </h2>
<h3> Jean Valjean was not dead. </h3>
<p>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
Briancon, 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>On the evening of the day when Jean Valjean rescued Cosette from the claws
of the Thenardiers, 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 Glaciere, towards the Boulevard
de l'Hopital.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />
1 of 2
2 of 2
Previous
Next
Update Required
To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.