apestry。
All winter long； Cosette's little house was heated from top to bottom。
Jean Valjean inhabited the sort of porter's lodge which was situated at the end of the back courtyard； with a mattress on a folding…bed； a white wood table； two straw chairs； an earthenware water…jug； a few old volumes on a shelf； his beloved valise in one corner； and never any fire。
He dined with Cosette； and he had a loaf of black bread on the table for his own use。
When Toussaint came； he had said to her：
〃It is the young lady who is the mistress of this house。〃〃And you； monsieur？〃
Toussaint replied in amazement。〃I am a much better thing than the master； I am the father。〃
Cosette had been taught housekeeping in the convent； and she regulated their expenditure； which was very modest。
Every day； Jean Valjean put his arm through Cosette's and took her for a walk。 He led her to the Luxembourg； to the least frequented walk； and every Sunday he took her to mass at Saint…Jacques…du…Haut…Pas； because that was a long way off。
As it was a very poor quarter； he bestowed alms largely there； and the poor people surrounded him in church； which had drawn down upon him Thenardier's epistle： 〃To the benevolent gentleman of the church of Saint…Jacques…du…Haut…Pas。〃 He was fond of taking Cosette to visit the poor and the sick。 No stranger ever entered the house in the Rue Plumet。
Toussaint brought their provisions； and Jean Valjean went himself for water to a fountain near by on the boulevard。
Their wood and wine were put into a half…subterranean hollow lined with rock…work which lay near the Rue de Babylone and which had formerly served the chief…justice as a grotto； for at the epoch of follies and 〃Little Houses〃 no love was without a grotto。
In the door opening on the Rue de Babylone； there was a box destined for the reception of letters and papers； only； as the three inhabitants of the pavilion in the Rue Plumet received neither papers nor letters； the entire usefulness of that box； formerly the go…between of a love affair； and the confidant of a love…lorn lawyer； was now limited to the tax…collector's notices； and the summons of the guard。 For M。 Fauchelevent； independent gentleman； belonged to the national guard； he had not been able to escape through the fine meshes of the census of 1831。
The municipal information collected at that time had even reached the convent of the Petit…Picpus； a sort of impenetrable and holy cloud； whence Jean Valjean had emerged in venerable guise； and； consequently； worthy of mounting guard in the eyes of the townhall。
Three or four times a year； Jean Valjean donned his uniform and mounted guard； he did this willingly； however； it was a correct disguise which mixed him with every one； and yet left him solitary。 Jean Valjean had just attained his sixtieth birthday； the age of legal exemption； but he did not appear to be over fifty； moreover； he had no desire to escape his sergeant…major nor to quibble with te de Lobau； he possessed no civil status； he was concealing his name； he was concealing his identity； so he concealed his age； he concealed everything； and； as we have just said； he willingly did his duty as a national guard； the sum of his ambition lay in resembling any other man who paid his taxes。 This man had for his ideal； within； the angel； without； the bourgeois。
Let us note one detail； however； when Jean Valjean went out with Cosette； he dressed as the reader has already seen； and had the air of a retired officer。
When he went out alone； which was generally at night； he was always dressed in a workingman's trousers and blouse； and wore a cap which concealed his face。
Was this precaution or humility？ Both。
Cosette was accustomed to the enigmatical side of her destiny； and hardly noticed her father's peculiarities。
As for Toussaint； she venerated Jean Valjean； and thought everything he did right。
One day； her butcher； who had caught a glimpse of Jean Valjean； said to her：
〃That's a queer fish。〃
She replied：
〃He's a saint。〃
Neither Jean Valjean nor Cosette nor Toussaint ever entered or emerged except by the door on the Rue de Babylone。
Unless seen through the garden gate it would have been difficult to guess that they lived in the Rue Plumet。
That gate was always closed。
Jean Valjean had left the garden uncultivated； in order not to attract attention。
In this； possibly； he made a mistake。
BOOK THIRD。THE HOUSE IN THE RUE PLUMET
CHAPTER III
FOLIIS AC FRONDIBUS
The garden thus left to itself for more than half a century had bee extraordinary and charming。
The passers…by of forty years ago halted to gaze at it； without a suspicion of the secrets which it hid in its fresh and verdant depths。
More than one dreamer of that epoch often allowed his thoughts and his eyes to penetrate indiscreetly between the bars of that ancient； padlocked gate； twisted； tottering； fastened to two green and moss…covered pillars； and oddly crowned with a pediment of undecipherable arabesque。
There was a stone bench in one corner； one or two mouldy statues； several lattices which had lost their nails with time； were rotting on the wall； and there were no walks nor turf； but there was enough grass everywhere。
Gardening had taken its departure； and nature had returned。
Weeds abounded； which was a great piece of luck for a poor corner of land。
The festival of gilliflowers was something splendid。
Nothing in this garden obstructed the sacred effort of things towards life； venerable growth reigned there among them。
The trees had bent over towards the nettles； the plant had sprung upward； the branch had inclined； that which crawls on the earth had gone in search of that which expands in the air； that which floats on the wind had bent over towards that which trails in the moss； trunks； boughs； leaves； fibres； clusters； tendrils； shoots； spines； thorns； had mingled； crossed； married； confounded themselves in each other； vegetation in a deep and close embrace； had celebrated and acplished there； under the well…pleased eye of the Creator； in that enclosure three hundred feet square； the holy mystery of fraternity； symbol of the human fraternity。 This garden was no longer a garden； it was a colossal thicket； that is to say； something as impenetrable as a forest； as peopled as a city； quivering like a nest； sombre like a cathedral； fragrant like a bouquet； solitary as a tomb； living as a throng。
In Floreal＇34＇ this enormous thicket； free behind its gate and within its four walls； entered upon the secret labor of germination； quivered in the rising sun； almost like an animal which drinks in the breaths of cosmic love； and which feels the sap of April rising and boiling in its veins； and shakes to the wind its enormous wonderful green locks； sprinkled on the damp earth； on the defaced statues； on the crumbling steps of the pavilion； and even on the pavement of the deserted street； flowers like stars； dew like pearls； fecundity； beauty； life； joy； perfumes。
At midday； a thousand white butterflies took refuge there； and it was a divine spectacle to see that living sum