Jean Valjean was prudent enough never to go out by day.
Every evening, at twilight, he walked for an hour or two,
sometimes alone, often with Cosette, seeking the most deserted
side alleys of the boulevard, and entering churches at nightfall.
He liked to go to Saint-Medard, which is the nearest church.
When he did not take Cosette with him, she remained with the old woman;
but the child's delight was to go out with the good man. She preferred
an hour with him to all her rapturous tete-a-tetes with Catherine.
He held her hand as they walked, and said sweet things to her.
It turned out that Cosette was a very gay little person.
The old woman attended to the housekeeping and cooking and went
They lived soberly, always having a little fire, but like people
in very moderate circumstances. Jean Valjean had made no alterations
in the furniture as it was the first day; he had merely had the glass
door leading to Cosette's dressing-room replaced by a solid door.
He still wore his yellow coat, his black breeches, and his old hat.
In the street, he was taken for a poor man. It sometimes happened
that kind-hearted women turned back to bestow a sou on him.
Jean Valjean accepted the sou with a deep bow. It also happened
occasionally that he encountered some poor wretch asking alms;
then he looked behind him to make sure that no one was observing him,
stealthily approached the unfortunate man, put a piece of money
into his hand, often a silver coin, and walked rapidly away.
This had its disadvantages. He began to be known in the neighborhood
under the name of the beggar who gives alms.
The old principal lodger, a cross-looking creature, who was
thoroughly permeated, so far as her neighbors were concerned, with the
inquisitiveness peculiar to envious persons, scrutinized Jean Valjean
a great deal, without his suspecting the fact. She was a little deaf,
which rendered her talkative. There remained to her from her past,
two teeth,--one above, the other below,--which she was continually
knocking against each other. She had questioned Cosette, who had
not been able to tell her anything, since she knew nothing herself
except that she had come from Montfermeil. One morning, this spy saw
Jean Valjean, with an air which struck the old gossip as peculiar,
entering one of the uninhabited compartments of the hovel.
She followed him with the step of an old cat, and was able to observe
him without being seen, through a crack in the door, which was directly
opposite him. Jean Valjean had his back turned towards this door,
by way of greater security, no doubt. The old woman saw him fumble
in his pocket and draw thence a case, scissors, and thread; then he
began to rip the lining of one of the skirts of his coat, and from
the opening he took a bit of yellowish paper, which he unfolded.
The old woman recognized, with terror, the fact that it was
a bank-bill for a thousand francs. It was the second or third
only that she had seen in the course of her existence. She fled in alarm.
A moment later, Jean Valjean accosted her, and asked her to go
and get this thousand-franc bill changed for him, adding that it
was his quarterly income, which he had received the day before.
"Where?" thought the old woman. "He did not go out until six
o'clock in the evening, and the government bank certainly is not
open at that hour." The old woman went to get the bill changed,
and mentioned her surmises. That thousand-franc note, commented on
and multiplied, produced a vast amount of terrified discussion among
the gossips of the Rue des Vignes Saint-Marcel.
A few days later, it chanced that Jean Valjean was sawing some wood,
in his shirt-sleeves, in the corridor. The old woman was in the chamber,
putting things in order. She was alone. Cosette was occupied
in admiring the wood as it was sawed. The old woman caught sight
of the coat hanging on a nail, and examined it. The lining had been
sewed up again. The good woman felt of it carefully, and thought
she observed in the skirts and revers thicknesses of paper.
More thousand-franc bank-bills, no doubt!
She also noticed that there were all sorts of things in the pockets.
Not only the needles, thread, and scissors which she had seen, but a
big pocket-book, a very large knife, and--a suspicious circumstance--
several wigs of various colors. Each pocket of this coat had the air
of being in a manner provided against unexpected accidents.
Thus the inhabitants of the house reached the last days of winter.