140 Les Miserables
er utter a single word, with the exception of a few words
about Jesus when he entered, which could remind the man
of what he was, nor of what my brother was. To all appear-
ances, it was an occasion for preaching him a little sermon,
and of impressing the Bishop on the convict, so that a mark
of the passage might remain behind. This might have ap-
peared to any one else who had this, unfortunate man in
his hands to afford a chance to nourish his soul as well as
his body, and to bestow upon him some reproach, seasoned
with moralizing and advice, or a little commiseration, with
an exhortation to conduct himself better in the future. My
brother did not even ask him from what country he came,
nor what was his history. For in his history there is a fault,
and my brother seemed to avoid everything which could
remind him of it. To such a point did he carry it, that at
one time, when my brother was speaking of the mountain-
eers of Pontarlier, who exercise a gentle labor near heaven,
and who, he added, are happy because they are innocent, he
stopped short, fearing lest in this remark there might have
escaped him something which might wound the man. By
dint of reflection, I think I have comprehended what was
passing in my brother’s heart. He was thinking, no doubt,
that this man, whose name is Jean Valjean, had his misfor-
tune only too vividly present in his mind; that the best thing
was to divert him from it, and to make him believe, if only
momentarily, that he was a person like any other, by treating
him just in his ordinary way. Is not this indeed, to under-
stand charity well? Is there not, dear Madame, something
truly evangelical in this delicacy which abstains from ser-