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infernal accompaniment.
Marius’ ancient estrangement towards this man, towards
this Fauchelevent who had turned into Jean Valjean, was at
present mingled with horror.
In this horror, let us state, there was some pity, and even
a certain surprise.
This thief, this thief guilty of a second offence, had re-
stored that deposit. And what a deposit! Six hundred
thousand francs.
He alone was in the secret of that deposit. He might have
kept it all, he had restored it all.
Moreover, he had himself revealed his situation. Noth-
ing forced him to this. If any one learned who he was, it
was through himself. In this avowal there was something
more than acceptance of humiliation, there was acceptance
of peril. For a condemned man, a mask is not a mask, it is
a shelter. A false name is security, and he had rejected that
false name. He, the galley-slave, might have hidden himself
forever in an honest family; he had withstood this temp-
tation. And with what motive? Through a conscientious
scruple. He himself explained this with the irresistible ac-
cents of truth. In short, whatever this Jean Valjean might
be, he was, undoubtedly, a conscience which was awaken-
ing. There existed some mysterious re-habilitation which
had begun; and, to all appearances, scruples had for a long
time already controlled this man. Such fits of justice and
goodness are not characteristic of vulgar natures. An awak-
ening of conscience is grandeur of soul.
Jean Valjean was sincere. This sincerity, visible, palpable,