It seemed to them that their sorrows, their sleepless nights, their tears, their anguish, their terrors, their despair, converted into caresses and rays of light, rendered still more charming
the charming hour which was approaching; and that their griefs were but so many handmaidens who were preparing the toilet of joy. How good it is to have suffered!
Their unhappiness formed a halo round their happiness.
The long agony of their love was terminating in an ascension.
It was the same enchantment in two souls, tinged with voluptuousness in Marius, and with modesty in Cosette.
They said to each other in low tones:
"We will go back to take a look at our little garden in the Rue Plumet."
The folds of Cosette''s gown lay across Marius.
Such a day is an ineffable mixture of dream and of reality. One possesses and one supposes.
One still has time before one to divine. The emotion on that day, of being at mid-day and of dreaming of midnight is indescribable.
The delights of these two hearts overflowed upon the crowd, and inspired the passers-by with cheerfulness.
People halted in the Rue Saint-Antoine, in front of Saint-Paul, to gaze through the windows of the carriage at the orange-flowers quivering on Cosette''s head.││本││作││品││由││思││兔││網││提││供││線││上││閱││讀││