138 Les Miserables
you really a cure? Ah, if the good God were but just, you
certainly ought to be a cure!’
‘‘The good God is more than just,’ said my brother.
‘A moment later he added:—
‘‘Monsieur Jean Valjean, is it to Pontarlier that you are
going?’
‘‘With my road marked out for me.’
‘I think that is what the man said. Then he went on:—
‘‘I must be on my way by daybreak to-morrow. Travelling
is hard. If the nights are cold, the days are hot.’
‘‘You are going to a good country,’ said my brother. ‘Dur-
ing the Revolution my family was ruined. I took refuge in
Franche-Comte at first, and there I lived for some time by
the toil of my hands. My will was good. I found plenty to
occupy me. One has only to choose. There are paper mills,
tanneries, distilleries, oil factories, watch factories on a
large scale, steel mills, copper works, twenty iron found-
ries at least, four of which, situated at Lods, at Chatillon, at
Audincourt, and at Beure, are tolerably large.’
‘I think I am not mistaken in saying that those are the
names which my brother mentioned. Then he interrupted
himself and addressed me:—
‘‘Have we not some relatives in those parts, my dear sis-
ter?’
‘I replied,—
‘‘We did have some; among others, M. de Lucenet, who
was captain of the gates at Pontarlier under the old regime.’
‘‘Yes,’ resumed my brother; ‘but in ‘93, one had no lon-
ger any relatives, one had only one’s arms. I worked. They