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man, now that this child loved him. He saw a whole future
stretching out before him, illuminated by Cosette as by a
charming light. The best of us are not exempt from egotis-
tical thoughts. At times, he reflected with a sort of joy that
she would be ugly.
This is only a personal opinion; but, to utter our whole
thought, at the point where Jean Valjean had arrived when
he began to love Cosette, it is by no means clear to us that
he did not need this encouragement in order that he might
persevere in well-doing. He had just viewed the malice of
men and the misery of society under a new aspect— incom-
plete aspects, which unfortunately only exhibited one side of
the truth, the fate of woman as summed up in Fantine, and
public authority as personified in Javert. He had returned to
prison, this time for having done right; he had quaffed fresh
bitterness; disgust and lassitude were overpowering him;
even the memory of the Bishop probably suffered a tempo-
rary eclipse, though sure to reappear later on luminous and
triumphant; but, after all, that sacred memory was grow-
ing dim. Who knows whether Jean Valjean had not been on
the eve of growing discouraged and of falling once more?
He loved and grew strong again. Alas! he walked with no
less indecision than Cosette. He protected her, and she
strengthened him. Thanks to him, she could walk through
life; thanks to her, he could continue in virtue. He was that
child’s stay, and she was his prop. Oh, unfathomable and di-
vine mystery of the balances of destiny!