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Les Misérables by Victor Hugo

CHAPTER I—THE CHARYBDIS OF THE FAUBOURG SAINT ANTOINE AND THE SCYLLA OF

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THE FAUBOURG DU TEMPLE The two most memorable barricades which the observer of social maladies can name do not belong to the period in which the action of this work is laid. These two barricades, both of them symbols, under two different aspects, of a redoubtable situation, sprang from the earth at the time of the fatal insurrection of June, 1848, the greatest war of the streets that history has ever beheld. It sometimes happens that, even contrary to principles, even contrary to liberty, equality, and fraternity, even contrary to the universal vote, even contrary to the government, by all for all, from the depths of its anguish, of its discouragements and its destitutions, of its fevers, of its distresses, of its miasmas, of its ignorances, of its darkness, that great and despairing body, the rabble, protests against, and that the populace wages battle against, the people. Beggars attack the common right; the ochlocracy rises against demos. These are melancholy days; for there is always a certain amount of night even in this madness, there is suicide in this duel, and those words which are intended to be insults—beggars, canaille, ochlocracy, populace—exhibit, alas! rather the fault of those who reign than the fault of those who suffer; rather the fault of the privileged than the fault of the disinherited. For our own part, we never pronounce those words without pain and without respect, for when philosophy fathoms the facts to which they correspond, it often finds many a grandeur beside these miseries. Athens was an ochlocracy; the beggars were the making of Holland; the populace saved Rome more than once; and the rabble followed Jesus Christ. There is no thinker who has not at times contemplated the magnificences of the lower classes. It was of this rabble that Saint Jerome was thinking, no doubt, and of all these poor people and all these vagabonds and all these miserable people whence sprang the apostles and the martyrs, when he uttered this mysterious saying: _“Fex urbis, lex orbis,”_—the dregs of the city, the law of the earth. The exasperations of this crowd which suffers and bleeds, its violences contrary to all sense, directed against the principles which are its life, its masterful deeds against the right, are its popular _coups d’état_ and should be repressed. The man of probity sacrifices himself, and out of his very love for this crowd, he combats it. But how excusable he feels it even while holding out against it! How he venerates it even while resisting it! This is one of those rare moments when, while doing that which it is one’s duty to do, one feels something which disconcerts one, and which would dissuade one from proceeding further; one persists, it is necessary, but conscience, though satisfied, is sad, and the accomplishment of duty is complicated with a pain at the heart. June, 1848, let us hasten to say, was an exceptional fact, and almost impossible of classification, in the philosophy of history. All the words which we have just uttered, must be discarded, when it becomes a question of this extraordinary revolt, in which one feels the holy anxiety of toil claiming its rights. It was necessary to combat it, and this was a duty, for it attacked the republic. But what was June, 1848, at bottom? A revolt of the people against itself. Where the subject is not lost sight of, there is no digression; may we, then, be permitted to arrest the reader’s attention for a moment on the two absolutely unique barricades of which we have just spoken and which characterized this insurrection. One blocked the entrance to the Faubourg Saint Antoine; the other defended the approach to the Faubourg du Temple; those before whom these two fearful masterpieces of civil war reared themselves beneath the brilliant blue sky of June, will never forget them. The Saint-Antoine barricade was tremendous; it was three stories high, and seven hundred feet wide. It barred the vast opening of the faubourg, that is to say, three streets, from angle to angle; ravined, jagged, cut up, divided, crenelated, with an immense rent, buttressed with piles that were bastions in themselves throwing out capes here and there, powerfully backed up by two great promontories of houses of the faubourg, it reared itself like a cyclopean dike at the end of the formidable place which had seen the 14th of July. Nineteen barricades were ranged, one behind the other, in the depths of the streets behind this principal barricade. At the very sight of it, one felt the agonizing suffering in the immense faubourg, which had reached that point of extremity when a distress may become a catastrophe. Of what was that barricade made? Of the ruins of three six-story houses demolished expressly, said some. Of the prodigy of all wraths, said others. It wore the lamentable aspect of all constructions of hatred, ruin. It might be asked: Who built this? It might also be said: Who destroyed this? It was the improvisation of the ebullition. Hold! take this door! this grating! this penthouse! this chimney-piece! this broken brazier! this cracked pot! Give all! cast away all! Push this roll, dig, dismantle, overturn, ruin everything! It was the collaboration of the pavement, the block of stone, the beam, the bar of iron, the rag, the scrap, the broken pane, the unseated chair, the cabbage-stalk, the tatter, the rag, and the malediction. It was grand and it was petty. It was the abyss parodied on the public place by hubbub. The mass beside the atom; the strip of ruined wall and the broken bowl,—threatening fraternization of every sort of rubbish. Sisyphus had thrown his rock there and Job his potsherd. Terrible, in short. It was the acropolis of the barefooted. Overturned carts broke the uniformity of the slope; an immense dray was spread out there crossways, its axle pointing heavenward, and seemed a scar on that tumultuous façade; an omnibus hoisted gayly, by main force, to the very summit of the heap, as though the architects of this bit of savagery had wished to add a touch of the street urchin humor to their terror, presented its horseless, unharnessed pole to no one knows what horses of the air. This gigantic heap, the alluvium of the revolt, figured to the mind an Ossa on Pelion of all revolutions; ’93 on ’89, the 9th of Thermidor on the 10th of August, the 18th of Brumaire on the 11th of January, Vendemiaire on Prairial, 1848 on 1830. The situation deserved the trouble and this barricade was worthy to figure on the very spot whence the Bastille had disappeared. If the ocean made dikes, it is thus that it would build. The fury of the flood was stamped upon this shapeless mass. What flood? The crowd. One thought one beheld hubbub petrified. One thought one heard humming above this barricade as though there had been over their hive, enormous, dark bees of violent progress. Was it a thicket? Was it a bacchanalia? Was it a fortress? Vertigo seemed to have constructed it with blows of its wings. There was something of the cesspool in that redoubt and something Olympian in that confusion. One there beheld in a pell-mell full of despair, the rafters of roofs, bits of garret windows with their figured paper, window sashes with their glass planted there in the ruins awaiting the cannon, wrecks of chimneys, cupboards, tables, benches, howling topsyturveydom, and those thousand poverty-stricken things, the very refuse of the mendicant, which contain at the same time fury and nothingness. One would have said that it was the tatters of a people, rags of wood, of iron, of bronze, of stone, and that the Faubourg Saint Antoine had thrust it there at its door, with a colossal flourish of the broom making of its misery its barricade. Blocks resembling headsman’s blocks, dislocated chains, pieces of woodwork with brackets having the form of gibbets, horizontal wheels projecting from the rubbish, amalgamated with this edifice of anarchy the sombre figure of the old tortures endured by the people. The barricade Saint Antoine converted everything into a weapon; everything that civil war could throw at the head of society proceeded thence; it was not combat, it was a paroxysm; the carbines which defended this redoubt, among which there were some blunderbusses, sent bits of earthenware bones, coat-buttons, even the casters from night-stands, dangerous projectiles on account of the brass. This barricade was furious; it hurled to the clouds an inexpressible clamor; at certain moments, when provoking the army, it was covered with throngs and tempest; a tumultuous crowd of flaming heads crowned it; a swarm filled it; it had a thorny crest of guns, of sabres, of cudgels, of axes, of pikes and of bayonets; a vast red flag flapped in the wind; shouts of command, songs of attack, the roll of drums, the sobs of women and bursts of gloomy laughter from the starving were to be heard there. It was huge and living, and, like the back of an electric beast, there proceeded from it little flashes of lightning. The spirit of revolution covered with its cloud this summit where rumbled that voice of the people which resembles the voice of God; a strange majesty was emitted by this titanic basket of rubbish. It was a heap of filth and it was Sinai. As we have said previously, it attacked in the name of the revolution—what? The revolution. It—that barricade, chance, hazard, disorder, terror, misunderstanding, the unknown—had facing it the Constituent Assembly, the sovereignty of the people, universal suffrage, the nation, the republic; and it was the Carmagnole bidding defiance to the Marseillaise. Immense but heroic defiance, for the old faubourg is a hero. The faubourg and its redoubt lent each other assistance. The faubourg shouldered the redoubt, the redoubt took its stand under cover of the faubourg. The vast barricade spread out like a cliff against which the strategy of the African generals dashed itself. Its caverns, its excrescences, its warts, its gibbosities, grimaced, so to speak, and grinned beneath the smoke. The mitraille vanished in shapelessness; the bombs plunged into it; bullets only succeeded in making holes in it; what was the use of cannonading chaos? and the regiments, accustomed to the fiercest visions of war, gazed with uneasy eyes on that species of redoubt, a wild beast in its boar-like bristling and a mountain by its enormous size. A quarter of a league away, from the corner of the Rue du Temple which debouches on the boulevard near the Château-d’Eau, if one thrust one’s head bodily beyond the point formed by the front of the Dallemagne shop, one perceived in the distance, beyond the canal, in the street which mounts the slopes of Belleville at the culminating point of the rise, a strange wall reaching to the second story of the house fronts, a sort of hyphen between the houses on the right and the houses on the left, as though the street had folded back on itself its loftiest wall in order to close itself abruptly. This wall was built of paving-stones. It was straight, correct, cold, perpendicular, levelled with the square, laid out by rule and line. Cement was lacking, of course, but, as in the case of certain Roman walls, without interfering with its rigid architecture. The entablature was mathematically parallel with the base. From distance to distance, one could distinguish on the gray surface, almost invisible loopholes which resembled black threads. These loopholes were separated from each other by equal spaces. The street was deserted as far as the eye could reach. All windows and doors were closed. In the background rose this barrier, which made a blind thoroughfare of the street, a motionless and tranquil wall; no one was visible, nothing was audible; not a cry, not a sound, not a breath. A sepulchre. The dazzling sun of June inundated this terrible thing with light. It was the barricade of the Faubourg of the Temple. As soon as one arrived on the spot, and caught sight of it, it was impossible, even for the boldest, not to become thoughtful before this mysterious apparition. It was adjusted, jointed, imbricated, rectilinear, symmetrical and funereal. Science and gloom met there. One felt that the chief of this barricade was a geometrician or a spectre. One looked at it and spoke low. From time to time, if some soldier, an officer or representative of the people, chanced to traverse the deserted highway, a faint, sharp whistle was heard, and the passer-by fell dead or wounded, or, if he escaped the bullet, sometimes a biscaïen was seen to ensconce itself in some closed shutter, in the interstice between two blocks of stone, or in the plaster of a wall. For the men in the barricade had made themselves two small cannons out of two cast-iron lengths of gas-pipe, plugged up at one end with tow and fire-clay. There was no waste of useless powder. Nearly every shot told. There were corpses here and there, and pools of blood on the pavement. I remember a white butterfly which went and came in the street. Summer does not abdicate. In the neighborhood, the spaces beneath the portes-cochères were encumbered with wounded. One felt oneself aimed at by some person whom one did not see, and one understood that guns were levelled at the whole length of the street. Massed behind the sort of sloping ridge which the vaulted canal forms at the entrance to the Faubourg du Temple, the soldiers of the attacking column, gravely and thoughtfully, watched this dismal redoubt, this immobility, this passivity, whence sprang death. Some crawled flat on their faces as far as the crest of the curve of the bridge, taking care that their shakos did not project beyond it. The valiant Colonel Monteynard admired this barricade with a shudder.—“How that is built!” he said to a Representative. “Not one paving-stone projects beyond its neighbor. It is made of porcelain.”—At that moment, a bullet broke the cross on his breast, and he fell. “The cowards!” people said. “Let them show themselves. Let us see them! They dare not! They are hiding!” The barricade of the Faubourg du Temple, defended by eighty men, attacked by ten thousand, held out for three days. On the fourth, they did as at Zaatcha, as at Constantine, they pierced the houses, they came over the roofs, the barricade was taken. Not one of the eighty cowards thought of flight, all were killed there with the exception of the leader, Barthélemy, of whom we shall speak presently. The Saint-Antoine barricade was the tumult of thunders; the barricade of the Temple was silence. The difference between these two redoubts was the difference between the formidable and the sinister. One seemed a maw; the other a mask. Admitting that the gigantic and gloomy insurrection of June was composed of a wrath and of an enigma, one divined in the first barricade the dragon, and behind the second the sphinx. These two fortresses had been erected by two men named, the one, Cournet, the other, Barthélemy. Cournet made the Saint-Antoine barricade; Barthélemy the barricade of the Temple. Each was the image of the man who had built it. Cournet was a man of lofty stature; he had broad shoulders, a red face, a crushing fist, a bold heart, a loyal soul, a sincere and terrible eye. Intrepid, energetic, irascible, stormy; the most cordial of men, the most formidable of combatants. War, strife, conflict, were the very air he breathed and put him in a good humor. He had been an officer in the navy, and, from his gestures and his voice, one divined that he sprang from the ocean, and that he came from the tempest; he carried the hurricane on into battle. With the exception of the genius, there was in Cournet something of Danton, as, with the exception of the divinity, there was in Danton something of Hercules. Barthélemy, thin, feeble, pale, taciturn, was a sort of tragic street urchin, who, having had his ears boxed by a policeman, lay in wait for him, and killed him, and at seventeen was sent to the galleys. He came out and made this barricade. Later on, fatal circumstance, in London, proscribed by all, Barthélemy slew Cournet. It was a funereal duel. Some time afterwards, caught in the gearing of one of those mysterious adventures in which passion plays a part, a catastrophe in which French justice sees extenuating circumstances, and in which English justice sees only death, Barthélemy was hanged. The sombre social construction is so made that, thanks to material destitution, thanks to moral obscurity, that unhappy being who possessed an intelligence, certainly firm, possibly great, began in France with the galleys, and ended in England with the gallows. Barthélemy, on occasion, flew but one flag, the black flag.
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Chapters

1. Chapter 1 2. CHAPTER XIV—WHAT HE THOUGHT 3. CHAPTER XIII—LITTLE GERVAIS 4. CHAPTER IX—A MERRY END TO MIRTH 5. CHAPTER III—THE LARK 6. CHAPTER XIII—THE SOLUTION OF SOME QUESTIONS CONNECTED WITH THE 7. CHAPTER II—HOW JEAN MAY BECOME CHAMP 8. CHAPTER VII—THE TRAVELLER ON HIS ARRIVAL TAKES PRECAUTIONS FOR 9. CHAPTER XI—CHAMPMATHIEU MORE AND MORE ASTONISHED 10. CHAPTER V—A SUITABLE TOMB 11. CHAPTER XIX—THE BATTLE-FIELD AT NIGHT 12. CHAPTER II—IN WHICH THE READER WILL PERUSE TWO VERSES, WHICH ARE OF 13. CHAPTER III—THE ANKLE-CHAIN MUST HAVE UNDERGONE A CERTAIN PREPARATORY 14. CHAPTER VIII—THE UNPLEASANTNESS OF RECEIVING INTO ONE’S HOUSE A POOR 15. CHAPTER X—HE WHO SEEKS TO BETTER HIMSELF MAY RENDER HIS SITUATION 16. CHAPTER XI—NUMBER 9,430 REAPPEARS, AND COSETTE WINS IT IN THE LOTTERY 17. CHAPTER V—A FIVE-FRANC PIECE FALLS ON THE GROUND AND PRODUCES A TUMULT 18. CHAPTER X—WHICH EXPLAINS HOW JAVERT GOT ON THE SCENT 19. CHAPTER XI—END OF THE PETIT-PICPUS 20. CHAPTER VIII—FAITH, LAW 21. CHAPTER IV—IN WHICH JEAN VALJEAN HAS QUITE THE AIR OF HAVING READ 22. CHAPTER VII—IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND THE ORIGIN OF THE SAYING: DON’T 23. CHAPTER IX—CLOISTERED 24. CHAPTER VII—THE GAMIN SHOULD HAVE HIS PLACE IN THE CLASSIFICATIONS OF 25. CHAPTER VIII—IN WHICH THE READER WILL FIND A CHARMING SAYING OF THE 26. CHAPTER XIII—LITTLE GAVROCHE 27. CHAPTER VIII—TWO DO NOT MAKE A PAIR 28. CHAPTER V—THE UTILITY OF GOING TO MASS, IN ORDER TO BECOME A 29. CHAPTER VIII—MARBLE AGAINST GRANITE 30. CHAPTER VI—RES ANGUSTA 31. CHAPTER VI—THE SUBSTITUTE 32. CHAPTER IX—ECLIPSE 33. CHAPTER IV—COMPOSITION OF THE TROUPE 34. CHAPTER I—MARIUS, WHILE SEEKING A GIRL IN A BONNET, ENCOUNTERS A MAN 35. CHAPTER XIII—SOLUS CUM SOLO, IN LOCO REMOTO, NON COGITABUNTUR ORARE 36. CHAPTER XVI—IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND THE WORDS TO AN ENGLISH AIR WHICH 37. CHAPTER XXII—THE LITTLE ONE WHO WAS CRYING IN VOLUME TWO 38. CHAPTER VI—ENJOLRAS AND HIS LIEUTENANTS 39. CHAPTER IV—AN APPARITION TO MARIUS 40. CHAPTER VIII—THE CHAIN-GANG 41. CHAPTER II—MOTHER PLUTARQUE FINDS NO DIFFICULTY IN EXPLAINING A 42. CHAPTER VI—OLD PEOPLE ARE MADE TO GO OUT OPPORTUNELY 43. CHAPTER II—IN WHICH LITTLE GAVROCHE EXTRACTS PROFIT FROM NAPOLEON THE 44. CHAPTER III—THE VICISSITUDES OF FLIGHT 45. CHAPTER IV—THE TWO DUTIES: TO WATCH AND TO HOPE 46. CHAPTER VI—MARIUS BECOMES PRACTICAL ONCE MORE TO THE EXTENT OF GIVING 47. CHAPTER VII—THE OLD HEART AND THE YOUNG HEART IN THE PRESENCE OF EACH 48. CHAPTER III—M. MABEUF 49. CHAPTER V—ORIGINALITY OF PARIS 50. CHAPTER I—SOME EXPLANATIONS WITH REGARD TO THE ORIGIN OF GAVROCHE’S 51. CHAPTER VI—RECRUITS 52. CHAPTER VIII—MANY INTERROGATION POINTS WITH REGARD TO A CERTAIN LE 53. CHAPTER III—THE EXTREME EDGE 54. CHAPTER III—GAVROCHE WOULD HAVE DONE BETTER TO ACCEPT ENJOLRAS’ 55. CHAPTER VII—GAVROCHE AS A PROFOUND CALCULATOR OF DISTANCES 56. CHAPTER IV—GAVROCHE’S EXCESS OF ZEAL 57. CHAPTER IX—EMPLOYMENT OF THE OLD TALENTS OF A POACHER AND THAT 58. CHAPTER XX—THE DEAD ARE IN THE RIGHT AND THE LIVING ARE NOT IN THE 59. CHAPTER XXIV—PRISONER 60. CHAPTER VI—FUTURE PROGRESS 61. CHAPTER V—IN THE CASE OF SAND AS IN THAT OF WOMAN, THERE IS A FINENESS 62. CHAPTER VII—ONE SOMETIMES RUNS AGROUND WHEN ONE FANCIES THAT ONE IS 63. CHAPTER IX—MARIUS PRODUCES ON SOME ONE WHO IS A JUDGE OF THE MATTER, 64. CHAPTER XII—THE GRANDFATHER 65. CHAPTER I 66. CHAPTER II—MARIUS, EMERGING FROM CIVIL WAR, MAKES READY FOR DOMESTIC 67. CHAPTER IV—MADEMOISELLE GILLENORMAND ENDS BY NO LONGER THINKING IT A 68. CHAPTER VI—THE TWO OLD MEN DO EVERYTHING, EACH ONE AFTER HIS OWN 69. CHAPTER VIII—TWO MEN IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND 70. CHAPTER IV—THE IMMORTAL LIVER 71. CHAPTER II—THE OBSCURITIES WHICH A REVELATION CAN CONTAIN 72. CHAPTER IV—ATTRACTION AND EXTINCTION 73. CHAPTER III—A PEN IS HEAVY TO THE MAN WHO LIFTED THE FAUCHELEVENT’S 74. CHAPTER VI—THE GRASS COVERS AND THE RAIN EFFACES 75. CHAPTER I—M. MYRIEL 76. CHAPTER II—M. MYRIEL BECOMES M. WELCOME 77. 1712. This palace was a genuine seignorial residence. Everything about 78. CHAPTER III—A HARD BISHOPRIC FOR A GOOD BISHOP 79. CHAPTER IV—WORKS CORRESPONDING TO WORDS 80. CHAPTER V—MONSEIGNEUR BIENVENU MADE HIS CASSOCKS LAST TOO LONG 81. CHAPTER VI—WHO GUARDED HIS HOUSE FOR HIM 82. CHAPTER VII—CRAVATTE 83. CHAPTER VIII—PHILOSOPHY AFTER DRINKING 84. CHAPTER IX—THE BROTHER AS DEPICTED BY THE SISTER 85. CHAPTER X—THE BISHOP IN THE PRESENCE OF AN UNKNOWN LIGHT 86. CHAPTER XI—A RESTRICTION 87. CHAPTER XII—THE SOLITUDE OF MONSEIGNEUR WELCOME 88. CHAPTER XIII—WHAT HE BELIEVED 89. CHAPTER XIV—WHAT HE THOUGHT 90. CHAPTER I—THE EVENING OF A DAY OF WALKING 91. CHAPTER II—PRUDENCE COUNSELLED TO WISDOM. 92. CHAPTER III—THE HEROISM OF PASSIVE OBEDIENCE. 93. CHAPTER IV—DETAILS CONCERNING THE CHEESE-DAIRIES OF PONTARLIER. 94. CHAPTER V—TRANQUILLITY 95. CHAPTER VI—JEAN VALJEAN 96. CHAPTER VII—THE INTERIOR OF DESPAIR 97. CHAPTER VIII—BILLOWS AND SHADOWS 98. CHAPTER IX—NEW TROUBLES 99. CHAPTER X—THE MAN AROUSED 100. CHAPTER XI—WHAT HE DOES 101. CHAPTER XII—THE BISHOP WORKS 102. CHAPTER XIII—LITTLE GERVAIS 103. CHAPTER I—THE YEAR 1817 104. CHAPTER II—A DOUBLE QUARTETTE 105. CHAPTER III—FOUR AND FOUR 106. CHAPTER IV—THOLOMYÈS IS SO MERRY THAT HE SINGS A SPANISH DITTY 107. CHAPTER V—AT BOMBARDA’S 108. CHAPTER VI—A CHAPTER IN WHICH THEY ADORE EACH OTHER 109. CHAPTER VII—THE WISDOM OF THOLOMYÈS 110. CHAPTER VIII—THE DEATH OF A HORSE 111. CHAPTER IX—A MERRY END TO MIRTH 112. CHAPTER I—ONE MOTHER MEETS ANOTHER MOTHER 113. CHAPTER II—FIRST SKETCH OF TWO UNPREPOSSESSING FIGURES 114. CHAPTER III—THE LARK 115. CHAPTER I—THE HISTORY OF A PROGRESS IN BLACK GLASS TRINKETS 116. CHAPTER II—MADELEINE 117. CHAPTER III—SUMS DEPOSITED WITH LAFFITTE 118. CHAPTER IV—M. MADELEINE IN MOURNING 119. CHAPTER V—VAGUE FLASHES ON THE HORIZON 120. CHAPTER VI—FATHER FAUCHELEVENT 121. CHAPTER VII—FAUCHELEVENT BECOMES A GARDENER IN PARIS 122. CHAPTER VIII—MADAME VICTURNIEN EXPENDS THIRTY FRANCS ON MORALITY 123. CHAPTER IX—MADAME VICTURNIEN’S SUCCESS 124. CHAPTER X—RESULT OF THE SUCCESS 125. CHAPTER XI—CHRISTUS NOS LIBERAVIT 126. CHAPTER XII—M. BAMATABOIS’S INACTIVITY 127. CHAPTER XIII—THE SOLUTION OF SOME QUESTIONS CONNECTED WITH THE 128. CHAPTER I—THE BEGINNING OF REPOSE 129. CHAPTER II—HOW JEAN MAY BECOME CHAMP 130. CHAPTER I—SISTER SIMPLICE 131. CHAPTER II—THE PERSPICACITY OF MASTER SCAUFFLAIRE 132. CHAPTER III—A TEMPEST IN A SKULL 133. CHAPTER IV—FORMS ASSUMED BY SUFFERING DURING SLEEP 134. CHAPTER V—HINDRANCES 135. CHAPTER VI—SISTER SIMPLICE PUT TO THE PROOF 136. CHAPTER VII—THE TRAVELLER ON HIS ARRIVAL TAKES PRECAUTIONS FOR 137. CHAPTER VIII—AN ENTRANCE BY FAVOR 138. CHAPTER IX—A PLACE WHERE CONVICTIONS ARE IN PROCESS OF FORMATION 139. CHAPTER X—THE SYSTEM OF DENIALS 140. CHAPTER XI—CHAMPMATHIEU MORE AND MORE ASTONISHED 141. CHAPTER I—IN WHAT MIRROR M. MADELEINE CONTEMPLATES HIS HAIR 142. CHAPTER II—FANTINE HAPPY 143. CHAPTER III—JAVERT SATISFIED 144. CHAPTER IV—AUTHORITY REASSERTS ITS RIGHTS 145. CHAPTER V—A SUITABLE TOMB 146. CHAPTER I—WHAT IS MET WITH ON THE WAY FROM NIVELLES 147. CHAPTER II—HOUGOMONT 148. CHAPTER III—THE EIGHTEENTH OF JUNE, 1815 149. CHAPTER IV—A 150. CHAPTER V—THE QUID OBSCURUM OF BATTLES 151. CHAPTER VI—FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON 152. CHAPTER VII—NAPOLEON IN A GOOD HUMOR 153. CHAPTER VIII—THE EMPEROR PUTS A QUESTION TO THE GUIDE LACOSTE 154. CHAPTER IX—THE UNEXPECTED 155. CHAPTER X—THE PLATEAU OF MONT-SAINT-JEAN 156. CHAPTER XI—A BAD GUIDE TO NAPOLEON; A GOOD GUIDE TO BÜLOW 157. CHAPTER XII—THE GUARD 158. CHAPTER XIII—THE CATASTROPHE 159. CHAPTER XIV—THE LAST SQUARE 160. CHAPTER XV—CAMBRONNE 161. CHAPTER XVI—QUOT LIBRAS IN DUCE? 162. CHAPTER XVII—IS WATERLOO TO BE CONSIDERED GOOD? 163. CHAPTER XVIII—A RECRUDESCENCE OF DIVINE RIGHT 164. CHAPTER XIX—THE BATTLE-FIELD AT NIGHT 165. CHAPTER I—NUMBER 24,601 BECOMES NUMBER 9,430 166. CHAPTER II—IN WHICH THE READER WILL PERUSE TWO VERSES, WHICH ARE OF THE 167. CHAPTER III—THE ANKLE-CHAIN MUST HAVE UNDERGONE A CERTAIN PREPARATORY 168. CHAPTER I—THE WATER QUESTION AT MONTFERMEIL 169. CHAPTER II—TWO COMPLETE PORTRAITS 170. CHAPTER III—MEN MUST HAVE WINE, AND HORSES MUST HAVE WATER 171. CHAPTER IV—ENTRANCE ON THE SCENE OF A DOLL 172. CHAPTER V—THE LITTLE ONE ALL ALONE 173. CHAPTER VI—WHICH POSSIBLY PROVES BOULATRUELLE’S INTELLIGENCE 174. CHAPTER VII—COSETTE SIDE BY SIDE WITH THE STRANGER IN THE DARK 175. CHAPTER VIII—THE UNPLEASANTNESS OF RECEIVING INTO ONE’S HOUSE A POOR 176. CHAPTER IX— THÉNARDIER AND HIS MANŒUVRES 177. CHAPTER X—HE WHO SEEKS TO BETTER HIMSELF MAY RENDER HIS SITUATION WORSE 178. CHAPTER XI—NUMBER 9,430 REAPPEARS, AND COSETTE WINS IT IN THE LOTTERY 179. CHAPTER I—MASTER GORBEAU 180. CHAPTER II—A NEST FOR OWL AND A WARBLER 181. CHAPTER III—TWO MISFORTUNES MAKE ONE PIECE OF GOOD FORTUNE 182. CHAPTER IV—THE REMARKS OF THE PRINCIPAL TENANT 183. CHAPTER V—A FIVE-FRANC PIECE FALLS ON THE GROUND AND PRODUCES A TUMULT 184. CHAPTER I—THE ZIGZAGS OF STRATEGY 185. CHAPTER II—IT IS LUCKY THAT THE PONT D’AUSTERLITZ BEARS CARRIAGES 186. CHAPTER III—TO WIT, THE PLAN OF PARIS IN 1727 187. CHAPTER IV—THE GROPINGS OF FLIGHT 188. CHAPTER V—WHICH WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE WITH GAS LANTERNS 189. CHAPTER VI—THE BEGINNING OF AN ENIGMA 190. CHAPTER VII—CONTINUATION OF THE ENIGMA 191. CHAPTER VIII—THE ENIGMA BECOMES DOUBLY MYSTERIOUS 192. CHAPTER IX—THE MAN WITH THE BELL 193. CHAPTER X—WHICH EXPLAINS HOW JAVERT GOT ON THE SCENT 194. episode of the thousand-franc bill. She had seen it! She had handled 195. CHAPTER I—NUMBER 62 RUE PETIT-PICPUS 196. CHAPTER II—THE OBEDIENCE OF MARTIN VERGA 197. CHAPTER III—AUSTERITIES 198. CHAPTER IV—GAYETIES 199. CHAPTER V—DISTRACTIONS 200. CHAPTER VI—THE LITTLE CONVENT 201. CHAPTER VII—SOME SILHOUETTES OF THIS DARKNESS 202. CHAPTER VIII—POST CORDA LAPIDES 203. CHAPTER IX—A CENTURY UNDER A GUIMPE 204. CHAPTER X—ORIGIN OF THE PERPETUAL ADORATION 205. CHAPTER XI—END OF THE PETIT-PICPUS 206. CHAPTER I—THE CONVENT AS AN ABSTRACT IDEA 207. CHAPTER II—THE CONVENT AS AN HISTORICAL FACT 208. CHAPTER III—ON WHAT CONDITIONS ONE CAN RESPECT THE PAST 209. CHAPTER IV—THE CONVENT FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF PRINCIPLES 210. CHAPTER V—PRAYER 211. CHAPTER VI—THE ABSOLUTE GOODNESS OF PRAYER 212. CHAPTER VII—PRECAUTIONS TO BE OBSERVED IN BLAME 213. CHAPTER VIII—FAITH, LAW 214. CHAPTER I—WHICH TREATS OF THE MANNER OF ENTERING A CONVENT 215. CHAPTER II—FAUCHELEVENT IN THE PRESENCE OF A DIFFICULTY 216. CHAPTER III—MOTHER INNOCENTE 217. CHAPTER IV—IN WHICH JEAN VALJEAN HAS QUITE THE AIR OF HAVING READ 218. CHAPTER V—IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO BE DRUNK IN ORDER TO BE IMMORTAL 219. CHAPTER VI—BETWEEN FOUR PLANKS 220. CHAPTER VII—IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND THE ORIGIN OF THE SAYING: DON’T LOSE 221. CHAPTER VIII—A SUCCESSFUL INTERROGATORY 222. CHAPTER IX—CLOISTERED 223. CHAPTER I—PARVULUS 224. CHAPTER II—SOME OF HIS PARTICULAR CHARACTERISTICS 225. CHAPTER III—HE IS AGREEABLE 226. CHAPTER IV—HE MAY BE OF USE 227. CHAPTER V—HIS FRONTIERS 228. CHAPTER VI—A BIT OF HISTORY 229. CHAPTER VII—THE GAMIN SHOULD HAVE HIS PLACE IN THE CLASSIFICATIONS OF 230. CHAPTER VIII—IN WHICH THE READER WILL FIND A CHARMING SAYING OF THE 231. CHAPTER IX—THE OLD SOUL OF GAUL 232. CHAPTER X—ECCE PARIS, ECCE HOMO 233. CHAPTER XI—TO SCOFF, TO REIGN 234. CHAPTER XII—THE FUTURE LATENT IN THE PEOPLE 235. CHAPTER XIII—LITTLE GAVROCHE 236. CHAPTER I—NINETY YEARS AND THIRTY-TWO TEETH 237. CHAPTER II—LIKE MASTER, LIKE HOUSE 238. CHAPTER III—LUC-ESPRIT 239. CHAPTER IV—A CENTENARIAN ASPIRANT 240. CHAPTER V—BASQUE AND NICOLETTE 241. CHAPTER VI—IN WHICH MAGNON AND HER TWO CHILDREN ARE SEEN 242. CHAPTER VII—RULE: RECEIVE NO ONE EXCEPT IN THE EVENING 243. CHAPTER VIII—TWO DO NOT MAKE A PAIR 244. CHAPTER I—AN ANCIENT SALON 245. CHAPTER II—ONE OF THE RED SPECTRES OF THAT EPOCH 246. 1794. Pontmercy fought at Spire, at Worms, at Neustadt, at Turkheim, at 247. CHAPTER III—REQUIESCANT 248. introduction into history of M. le Marquis de Bonaparte, 249. CHAPTER IV—END OF THE BRIGAND 250. CHAPTER V—THE UTILITY OF GOING TO MASS, IN ORDER TO BECOME A 251. CHAPTER VI—THE CONSEQUENCES OF HAVING MET A WARDEN 252. CHAPTER VII—SOME PETTICOAT 253. CHAPTER VIII—MARBLE AGAINST GRANITE 254. CHAPTER I—A GROUP WHICH BARELY MISSED BECOMING HISTORIC 255. CHAPTER II—BLONDEAU’S FUNERAL ORATION BY BOSSUET 256. CHAPTER III—MARIUS’ ASTONISHMENTS 257. CHAPTER IV—THE BACK ROOM OF THE CAFÉ MUSAIN 258. CHAPTER V—ENLARGEMENT OF HORIZON 259. CHAPTER VI—RES ANGUSTA 260. CHAPTER I—MARIUS INDIGENT 261. CHAPTER II—MARIUS POOR 262. CHAPTER III—MARIUS GROWN UP 263. CHAPTER IV—M. MABEUF 264. CHAPTER V—POVERTY A GOOD NEIGHBOR FOR MISERY 265. CHAPTER VI—THE SUBSTITUTE 266. CHAPTER I—THE SOBRIQUET: MODE OF FORMATION OF FAMILY NAMES 267. CHAPTER II—LUX FACTA EST 268. CHAPTER III—EFFECT OF THE SPRING 269. CHAPTER IV—BEGINNING OF A GREAT MALADY 270. CHAPTER V—DIVERS CLAPS OF THUNDER FALL ON MA’AM BOUGON 271. CHAPTER VI—TAKEN PRISONER 272. CHAPTER VII—ADVENTURES OF THE LETTER U DELIVERED OVER TO CONJECTURES 273. CHAPTER VIII—THE VETERANS THEMSELVES CAN BE HAPPY 274. CHAPTER IX—ECLIPSE 275. CHAPTER I—MINES AND MINERS 276. CHAPTER II—THE LOWEST DEPTHS 277. CHAPTER III—BABET, GUEULEMER, CLAQUESOUS, AND MONTPARNASSE 278. CHAPTER IV—COMPOSITION OF THE TROUPE 279. CHAPTER I—MARIUS, WHILE SEEKING A GIRL IN A BONNET, ENCOUNTERS A MAN IN 280. CHAPTER II—TREASURE TROVE 281. CHAPTER III—QUADRIFRONS 282. CHAPTER IV—A ROSE IN MISERY 283. CHAPTER V—A PROVIDENTIAL PEEP-HOLE 284. CHAPTER VI—THE WILD MAN IN HIS LAIR 285. CHAPTER VII—STRATEGY AND TACTICS 286. CHAPTER VIII—THE RAY OF LIGHT IN THE HOVEL 287. CHAPTER IX—JONDRETTE COMES NEAR WEEPING 288. CHAPTER X—TARIFF OF LICENSED CABS: TWO FRANCS AN HOUR 289. CHAPTER XI—OFFERS OF SERVICE FROM MISERY TO WRETCHEDNESS 290. CHAPTER XII—THE USE MADE OF M. LEBLANC’S FIVE-FRANC PIECE 291. CHAPTER XIII—SOLUS CUM SOLO, IN LOCO REMOTO, NON COGITABUNTUR ORARE 292. CHAPTER XIV—IN WHICH A POLICE AGENT BESTOWS TWO FISTFULS ON A LAWYER 293. CHAPTER XV—JONDRETTE MAKES HIS PURCHASES 294. CHAPTER XVI—IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND THE WORDS TO AN ENGLISH AIR WHICH 295. CHAPTER XVII—THE USE MADE OF MARIUS’ FIVE-FRANC PIECE 296. CHAPTER XVIII—MARIUS’ TWO CHAIRS FORM A VIS-A-VIS 297. CHAPTER XIX—OCCUPYING ONE’S SELF WITH OBSCURE DEPTHS 298. CHAPTER XX—THE TRAP 299. CHAPTER XXI—ONE SHOULD ALWAYS BEGIN BY ARRESTING THE VICTIMS 300. CHAPTER XXII—THE LITTLE ONE WHO WAS CRYING IN VOLUME TWO 301. CHAPTER I—WELL CUT 302. CHAPTER II—BADLY SEWED 303. CHAPTER III—LOUIS PHILIPPE 304. CHAPTER IV—CRACKS BENEATH THE FOUNDATION 305. CHAPTER V—FACTS WHENCE HISTORY SPRINGS AND WHICH HISTORY IGNORES 306. CHAPTER VI—ENJOLRAS AND HIS LIEUTENANTS 307. CHAPTER I—THE LARK’S MEADOW 308. CHAPTER II—EMBRYONIC FORMATION OF CRIMES IN THE INCUBATION OF PRISONS 309. CHAPTER III—APPARITION TO FATHER MABEUF 310. CHAPTER IV—AN APPARITION TO MARIUS 311. CHAPTER I—THE HOUSE WITH A SECRET 312. CHAPTER II—JEAN VALJEAN AS A NATIONAL GUARD 313. 1831. The municipal information collected at that time had even reached 314. CHAPTER III—FOLIIS AC FRONDIBUS 315. CHAPTER IV—CHANGE OF GATE 316. CHAPTER V—THE ROSE PERCEIVES THAT IT IS AN ENGINE OF WAR 317. CHAPTER VI—THE BATTLE BEGUN 318. CHAPTER VII—TO ONE SADNESS OPPOSE A SADNESS AND A HALF 319. CHAPTER VIII—THE CHAIN-GANG 320. CHAPTER I—A WOUND WITHOUT, HEALING WITHIN 321. CHAPTER II—MOTHER PLUTARQUE FINDS NO DIFFICULTY IN EXPLAINING A 322. CHAPTER I—SOLITUDE AND THE BARRACKS COMBINED 323. CHAPTER II—COSETTE’S APPREHENSIONS 324. CHAPTER III—ENRICHED WITH COMMENTARIES BY TOUSSAINT 325. CHAPTER IV—A HEART BENEATH A STONE 326. CHAPTER V—COSETTE AFTER THE LETTER 327. CHAPTER VI—OLD PEOPLE ARE MADE TO GO OUT OPPORTUNELY 328. CHAPTER I—THE MALICIOUS PLAYFULNESS OF THE WIND 329. CHAPTER II—IN WHICH LITTLE GAVROCHE EXTRACTS PROFIT FROM NAPOLEON THE 330. CHAPTER III—THE VICISSITUDES OF FLIGHT 331. CHAPTER I—ORIGIN 332. CHAPTER II—ROOTS 333. CHAPTER III—SLANG WHICH WEEPS AND SLANG WHICH LAUGHS 334. CHAPTER IV—THE TWO DUTIES: TO WATCH AND TO HOPE 335. CHAPTER I—FULL LIGHT 336. CHAPTER II—THE BEWILDERMENT OF PERFECT HAPPINESS 337. CHAPTER III—THE BEGINNING OF SHADOW 338. CHAPTER IV—A CAB RUNS IN ENGLISH AND BARKS IN SLANG 339. CHAPTER V—THINGS OF THE NIGHT 340. CHAPTER VI—MARIUS BECOMES PRACTICAL ONCE MORE TO THE EXTENT OF GIVING 341. CHAPTER VII—THE OLD HEART AND THE YOUNG HEART IN THE PRESENCE OF EACH 342. CHAPTER I—JEAN VALJEAN 343. CHAPTER II—MARIUS 344. CHAPTER III—M. MABEUF 345. CHAPTER I—THE SURFACE OF THE QUESTION 346. CHAPTER II—THE ROOT OF THE MATTER 347. CHAPTER III—A BURIAL; AN OCCASION TO BE BORN AGAIN 348. CHAPTER IV—THE EBULLITIONS OF FORMER DAYS 349. CHAPTER V—ORIGINALITY OF PARIS 350. CHAPTER I—SOME EXPLANATIONS WITH REGARD TO THE ORIGIN OF GAVROCHE’S 351. CHAPTER II—GAVROCHE ON THE MARCH 352. CHAPTER III—JUST INDIGNATION OF A HAIR-DRESSER 353. CHAPTER IV—THE CHILD IS AMAZED AT THE OLD MAN 354. CHAPTER V—THE OLD MAN 355. CHAPTER VI—RECRUITS 356. CHAPTER I—HISTORY OF CORINTHE FROM ITS FOUNDATION 357. CHAPTER II—PRELIMINARY GAYETIES 358. CHAPTER III—NIGHT BEGINS TO DESCEND UPON GRANTAIRE 359. CHAPTER IV—AN ATTEMPT TO CONSOLE THE WIDOW HUCHELOUP 360. CHAPTER V—PREPARATIONS 361. CHAPTER VI—WAITING 362. CHAPTER VII—THE MAN RECRUITED IN THE RUE DES BILLETTES 363. CHAPTER VIII—MANY INTERROGATION POINTS WITH REGARD TO A CERTAIN LE 364. CHAPTER I—FROM THE RUE PLUMET TO THE QUARTIER SAINT-DENIS 365. CHAPTER II—AN OWL’S VIEW OF PARIS 366. CHAPTER III—THE EXTREME EDGE 367. CHAPTER I—THE FLAG: ACT FIRST 368. CHAPTER II—THE FLAG: ACT SECOND 369. CHAPTER III—GAVROCHE WOULD HAVE DONE BETTER TO ACCEPT ENJOLRAS’ CARBINE 370. CHAPTER IV—THE BARREL OF POWDER 371. CHAPTER V—END OF THE VERSES OF JEAN PROUVAIRE 372. CHAPTER VI—THE AGONY OF DEATH AFTER THE AGONY OF LIFE 373. CHAPTER VII—GAVROCHE AS A PROFOUND CALCULATOR OF DISTANCES 374. CHAPTER I—A DRINKER IS A BABBLER 375. CHAPTER II—THE STREET URCHIN AN ENEMY OF LIGHT 376. CHAPTER III—WHILE COSETTE AND TOUSSAINT ARE ASLEEP 377. CHAPTER IV—GAVROCHE’S EXCESS OF ZEAL 378. CHAPTER I—THE CHARYBDIS OF THE FAUBOURG SAINT ANTOINE AND THE SCYLLA OF 379. CHAPTER II—WHAT IS TO BE DONE IN THE ABYSS IF ONE DOES NOT CONVERSE 380. CHAPTER III—LIGHT AND SHADOW 381. CHAPTER IV—MINUS FIVE, PLUS ONE 382. CHAPTER V—THE HORIZON WHICH ONE BEHOLDS FROM THE SUMMIT OF A BARRICADE 383. CHAPTER VI—MARIUS HAGGARD, JAVERT LACONIC 384. CHAPTER VII—THE SITUATION BECOMES AGGRAVATED 385. CHAPTER VIII—THE ARTILLERY-MEN COMPEL PEOPLE TO TAKE THEM SERIOUSLY 386. CHAPTER IX—EMPLOYMENT OF THE OLD TALENTS OF A POACHER AND THAT 387. CHAPTER X—DAWN 388. CHAPTER XI—THE SHOT WHICH MISSES NOTHING AND KILLS NO ONE 389. CHAPTER XII—DISORDER A PARTISAN OF ORDER 390. 1832. Captain Fannicot, a bold and impatient bourgeois, a sort of 391. CHAPTER XIII—PASSING GLEAMS 392. CHAPTER XIV—WHEREIN WILL APPEAR THE NAME OF ENJOLRAS’ MISTRESS 393. CHAPTER XV—GAVROCHE OUTSIDE 394. CHAPTER XVI—HOW FROM A BROTHER ONE BECOMES A FATHER 395. CHAPTER XVII—MORTUUS PATER FILIUM MORITURUM EXPECTAT 396. CHAPTER XVIII—THE VULTURE BECOME PREY 397. CHAPTER XIX—JEAN VALJEAN TAKES HIS REVENGE 398. CHAPTER XX—THE DEAD ARE IN THE RIGHT AND THE LIVING ARE NOT IN THE 399. CHAPTER XXI—THE HEROES 400. CHAPTER XXII—FOOT TO FOOT 401. CHAPTER XXIII—ORESTES FASTING AND PYLADES DRUNK 402. CHAPTER XXIV—PRISONER 403. CHAPTER I—THE LAND IMPOVERISHED BY THE SEA 404. CHAPTER II—ANCIENT HISTORY OF THE SEWER 405. CHAPTER III—BRUNESEAU 406. CHAPTER IV 407. CHAPTER V—PRESENT PROGRESS 408. CHAPTER VI—FUTURE PROGRESS 409. 1806. All sorts of obstacles hindered this operation, some peculiar to 410. CHAPTER I—THE SEWER AND ITS SURPRISES 411. CHAPTER II—EXPLANATION 412. CHAPTER III—THE “SPUN” MAN 413. CHAPTER IV—HE ALSO BEARS HIS CROSS 414. CHAPTER V—IN THE CASE OF SAND AS IN THAT OF WOMAN, THERE IS A FINENESS 415. CHAPTER VI—THE FONTIS 416. CHAPTER VII—ONE SOMETIMES RUNS AGROUND WHEN ONE FANCIES THAT ONE IS 417. CHAPTER VIII—THE TORN COAT-TAIL 418. CHAPTER IX—MARIUS PRODUCES ON SOME ONE WHO IS A JUDGE OF THE MATTER, 419. CHAPTER X—RETURN OF THE SON WHO WAS PRODIGAL OF HIS LIFE 420. CHAPTER XI—CONCUSSION IN THE ABSOLUTE 421. CHAPTER XII—THE GRANDFATHER 422. CHAPTER I 423. CHAPTER I—IN WHICH THE TREE WITH THE ZINC PLASTER APPEARS AGAIN 424. CHAPTER II—MARIUS, EMERGING FROM CIVIL WAR, MAKES READY FOR DOMESTIC 425. CHAPTER III—MARIUS ATTACKED 426. 7. Ah! There we have it! Ah! so you want her! Well, you shall have her. 427. CHAPTER IV—MADEMOISELLE GILLENORMAND ENDS BY NO LONGER THINKING IT A 428. CHAPTER V—DEPOSIT YOUR MONEY IN A FOREST RATHER THAN WITH A NOTARY 429. CHAPTER VI—THE TWO OLD MEN DO EVERYTHING, EACH ONE AFTER HIS OWN 430. CHAPTER VII—THE EFFECTS OF DREAMS MINGLED WITH HAPPINESS 431. CHAPTER VIII—TWO MEN IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND 432. CHAPTER I—THE 16TH OF FEBRUARY, 1833 433. CHAPTER II—JEAN VALJEAN STILL WEARS HIS ARM IN A SLING 434. CHAPTER III—THE INSEPARABLE 435. CHAPTER IV—THE IMMORTAL LIVER 68 436. CHAPTER I—THE SEVENTH CIRCLE AND THE EIGHTH HEAVEN 437. CHAPTER II—THE OBSCURITIES WHICH A REVELATION CAN CONTAIN 438. CHAPTER I—THE LOWER CHAMBER 439. CHAPTER II—ANOTHER STEP BACKWARDS 440. CHAPTER III—THEY RECALL THE GARDEN OF THE RUE PLUMET 441. CHAPTER IV—ATTRACTION AND EXTINCTION 442. CHAPTER I—PITY FOR THE UNHAPPY, BUT INDULGENCE FOR THE HAPPY 443. CHAPTER II—LAST FLICKERINGS OF A LAMP WITHOUT OIL 444. CHAPTER III—A PEN IS HEAVY TO THE MAN WHO LIFTED THE FAUCHELEVENT’S 445. CHAPTER IV—A BOTTLE OF INK WHICH ONLY SUCCEEDED IN WHITENING 446. CHAPTER V—A NIGHT BEHIND WHICH THERE IS DAY 447. CHAPTER VI—THE GRASS COVERS AND THE RAIN EFFACES

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