on several gardens. Cosette pronounced these gardens hideous: for the first timein her life, she found flowers ugly. The smallest scrap of thegutter of the street would have met her wishes better. She decidedto gaze at the sky, as though she thought that Marius might comefrom that quarter.
All at once, she burst into tears. Not that this was ficklenessof soul; but hopes cut in twain by dejection--that was her case. She had a confused consciousness of something horrible. Thoughts wererife in the air, in fact. She told herself that she was not sureof anything, that to withdraw herself from sight was to be lost;and the idea that Marius could return to her from heaven appearedto her no longer charming but mournful.
Then, as is the nature of these clouds, calm returned to her,and hope and a sort of unconscious smile, which yet indicated trustin God.
Every one in the house was still asleep. A country-like silence reigned. Not a shutter had been opened. The porter''s lodge was closed. Toussaint had not risen, and Cosette, naturally, thought that herfather was asleep. She must have suffered much, and she must havestill been suffering greatly, for she said to herself, that herfather had been unkind; but she counted on Marius. The eclipseof such a light was decidedly impossible. Now and then, she heardsharp shocks in the distance, and she said: "It is odd that peopleshould be opening and shutting their carriage gates so early." They were the reports of the cannon battering the barricade.