convent is a perfectly venial offence in our sight.
It is one of the faults which resemble a duty. The nuns had committed it, not only without difficulty, but even with the applause of their own consciences.
In the cloister, what is called the "government" is only an intermeddling with authority, an interference which is always questionable.
In the first place, the rule; as for the code, we shall see.
Make as many laws as you please, men; but keep them for yourselves.
The tribute to Caesar is never anything but the remnants of the tribute to God. A prince is nothing in the presence of a principle.
Fauchelevent limped along behind the hearse in a very contented frame of mind.
His twin plots, the one with the nuns, the one for the convent, the other against it, the other with M. Madeleine, had succeeded, to all appearance.
Jean Valjean''s composure was one of those powerful tranquillities which are contagious. Fauchelevent no longer felt doubtful as to his success.
What remained to be done was a mere nothing.
Within the last two years, he had made good Father Mestienne, a chubby-cheeked person, drunk at least ten times.
He played with Father Mestienne.
He did what he liked with him.
He made him dance according to his whim. Mestienne''s head adjusted itself to the cap of Fauchelevent''s will. Fauchelevent''s confidence was perfect.