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marketing’ well or ill; and she remained dejected, absorbed,
attentive to but a single thought, her eyes vague and staring
as when one gazes by night at a black and fathomless spot
where an apparition has vanished.
However, she did not allow Jean Valjean to perceive any-
thing of this, except her pallor.
She still wore her sweet face for him.
This pallor sufficed but too thoroughly to trouble Jean
Valjean. Sometimes he asked her:—
‘What is the matter with you?’
She replied: ‘There is nothing the matter with me.’
And after a silence, when she divined that he was sad
also, she would add:—
‘And you, father—is there anything wrong with you?’
‘With me? Nothing,’ said he.
These two beings who had loved each other so exclusive-
ly, and with so touching an affection, and who had lived
so long for each other now suffered side by side, each on
the other’s account; without acknowledging it to each other,
without anger towards each other, and with a smile.