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‘Come, child,’ he said to Cosette; and he made haste to
quit the Rue Pontoise.
He took a circuit, turned into the Passage des Patriarch-
es, which was closed on account of the hour, strode along
the Rue de l’Epee-de-Bois and the Rue de l’Arbalete, and
plunged into the Rue des Postes.
At that time there was a square formed by the intersec-
tion of streets, where the College Rollin stands to-day, and
where the Rue Neuve-Sainte-Genevieve turns off.
It is understood, of course, that the Rue Neuve-Sainte-
Genevieve is an old street, and that a posting-chaise does
not pass through the Rue des Postes once in ten years. In
the thirteenth century this Rue des Postes was inhabited by
potters, and its real name is Rue des Pots.
The moon cast a livid light into this open space. Jean
Valjean went into ambush in a doorway, calculating that if
the men were still following him, he could not fail to get a
good look at them, as they traversed this illuminated space.
In point of fact, three minutes had not elapsed when
the men made their appearance. There were four of them
now. All were tall, dressed in long, brown coats, with round
hats, and huge cudgels in their hands. Their great stature
and their vast fists rendered them no less alarming than did
their sinister stride through the darkness. One would have
pronounced them four spectres disguised as bourgeois.
They halted in the middle of the space and formed a
group, like men in consultation. They had an air of indeci-
sion. The one who appeared to be their leader turned round
and pointed hastily with his right hand in the direction