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‘He is a man who never changes his habits, and he has
never received any one except in the evening.’
‘Of what man are you speaking?’ asked Cosette.
‘I? I said nothing.’
‘What do you hope, then?’
‘Wait until the day after to-morrow.’
‘You wish it?’
‘Yes, Cosette.’
She took his head in both her hands, raising herself on
tiptoe in order to be on a level with him, and tried to read
his hope in his eyes.
Marius resumed:—
‘Now that I think of it, you ought to know my address:
something might happen, one never knows; I live with that
friend named Courfeyrac, Rue de la Verrerie, No. 16.’
He searched in his pocket, pulled out his penknife, and
with the blade he wrote on the plaster of the wall:—
‘16 Rue de la Verrerie.’
In the meantime, Cosette had begun to gaze into his eyes
once more.
‘Tell me your thought, Marius; you have some idea. Tell
it to me. Oh! tell me, so that I may pass a pleasant night.’
‘This is my idea: that it is impossible that God should
mean to part us. Wait; expect me the day after to-morrow.’
‘What shall I do until then?’ said Cosette. ‘You are out-
side, you go, and come! How happy men are! I shall remain
entirely alone! Oh! How sad I shall be! What is it that you
are going to do to-morrow evening? tell me.’
‘I am going to try something.’