178 Les Miserables
back. His only thought now was to finish as soon as pos-
sible. He took a step and entered the room.
This room was in a state of perfect calm. Here and there
vague and confused forms were distinguishable, which in
the daylight were papers scattered on a table, open folios,
volumes piled upon a stool, an arm-chair heaped with cloth-
ing, a prie-Dieu, and which at that hour were only shadowy
corners and whitish spots. Jean Valjean advanced with pre-
caution, taking care not to knock against the furniture. He
could hear, at the extremity of the room, the even and tran-
quil breathing of the sleeping Bishop.
He suddenly came to a halt. He was near the bed. He had
arrived there sooner than he had thought for.
Nature sometimes mingles her effects and her spectacles
with our actions with sombre and intelligent appropriate-
ness, as though she desired to make us reflect. For the last
half-hour a large cloud had covered the heavens. At the mo-
ment when Jean Valjean paused in front of the bed, this
cloud parted, as though on purpose, and a ray of light, tra-
versing the long window, suddenly illuminated the Bishop’s
pale face. He was sleeping peacefully. He lay in his bed al-
most completely dressed, on account of the cold of the
Basses-Alps, in a garment of brown wool, which covered his
arms to the wrists. His head was thrown back on the pillow,
in the careless attitude of repose; his hand, adorned with the
pastoral ring, and whence had fallen so many good deeds
and so many holy actions, was hanging over the edge of the
bed. His whole face was illumined with a vague expression
of satisfaction, of hope, and of felicity. It was more than a