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I took hold of the handle of the water-bucket? That was the
first time that I touched thy poor, little hand. It was so cold!
Ah! your hands were red then, mademoiselle, they are very
white now. And the big doll! dost thou remember? Thou
didst call her Catherine. Thou regrettedest not having taken
her to the convent! How thou didst make me laugh some-
times, my sweet angel! When it had been raining, thou didst
float bits of straw on the gutters, and watch them pass away.
One day I gave thee a willow battledore and a shuttlecock
with yellow, blue and green feathers. Thou hast forgot-
ten it. Thou wert roguish so young! Thou didst play. Thou
didst put cherries in thy ears. Those are things of the past.
The forests through which one has passed with one’s child,
the trees under which one has strolled, the convents where
one has concealed oneself, the games, the hearty laughs of
childhood, are shadows. I imagined that all that belonged to
me. In that lay my stupidity. Those Thenardiers were wick-
ed. Thou must forgive them. Cosette, the moment has come
to tell thee the name of thy mother. She was called Fantine.
Remember that name—Fantine. Kneel whenever thou ut-
terest it. She suffered much. She loved thee dearly. She had
as much unhappiness as thou hast had happiness. That is
the way God apportions things. He is there on high, he sees
us all, and he knows what he does in the midst of his great
stars. I am on the verge of departure, my children. Love
each other well and always. There is nothing else but that
in the world: love for each other. You will think sometimes
of the poor old man who died here. Oh my Cosette, it is not
my fault, indeed, that I have not seen thee all this time, it