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CHAPTER III
ENRICHED WITH
COMMENTARIES
BY TOUSSAINT
In the garden, near the railing on the street, there was
a stone bench, screened from the eyes of the curious by a
plantation of yoke-elms, but which could, in case of neces-
sity, be reached by an arm from the outside, past the trees
and the gate.
One evening during that same month of April, Jean
Valjean had gone out; Cosette had seated herself on this
bench after sundown. The breeze was blowing briskly in
the trees, Cosette was meditating; an objectless sadness was
taking possession of her little by little, that invincible sad-
ness evoked by the evening, and which arises, perhaps, who
knows, from the mystery of the tomb which is ajar at that
hour.
Perhaps Fantine was within that shadow.
Cosette rose, slowly made the tour of the garden, walking
on the grass drenched in dew, and saying to herself, through