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‘I will wait for you here.’
Jean Valjean looked at Javert. This mode of procedure
was but little in accord with Javert’s habits. However, he
could not be greatly surprised that Javert should now have
a sort of haughty confidence in him, the confidence of the
cat which grants the mouse liberty to the length of its claws,
seeing that Jean Valjean had made up his mind to surren-
der himself and to make an end of it. He pushed open the
door, entered the house, called to the porter who was in bed
and who had pulled the cord from his couch: ‘It is I!’ and
ascended the stairs.
On arriving at the first floor, he paused. All sorrowful
roads have their stations. The window on the landing-place,
which was a sash-window, was open. As in many ancient
houses, the staircase got its light from without and had a
view on the street. The street-lantern, situated directly op-
posite, cast some light on the stairs, and thus effected some
economy in illumination.
Jean Valjean, either for the sake of getting the air, or me-
chanically, thrust his head out of this window. He leaned
out over the street. It is short, and the lantern lighted it from
end to end. Jean Valjean was overwhelmed with amaze-
ment; there was no longer any one there.
Javert had taken his departure.