ned by Jean Valjean''s absence, ended by being satisfied with it.
From the moment when Marius took his place, and was the substitute, Cosette would not have regretted God himself. She set her sweet little foot, shod in white satin, on Marius'' foot.
The arm-chair being occupied, M. Fauchelevent was obliterated; and nothing was lacking.
And, five minutes afterward, the whole table from one end to the other, was laughing with all the animation of forgetfulness.
At dessert, M. Gillenormand, rising to his feet, with a glass of champagne in his hand--only half full so that the palsy of his eighty years might not cause an overflow,--proposed the health of the married pair.
"You shall not escape two sermons," he exclaimed.
"This morning you had one from the cure, this evening you shall have one from your grandfather.
Listen to me; I will give you a bit of advice: Adore each other.
I do not make a pack of gyrations, I go straight to the mark, be happy.
In all creation, only the turtle-doves are wise. Philosophers say:
`Moderate your joys.''
I say:
`Give rein to your joys.''
Be as much smitten with each other as fiends. Be in a rage about it.
The philosophers talk stuff and nonsense. I should like to stuff their philosophy down their gullets again. Can there be too many perfumes, too many open rose-buds, too many nightingales singing, too many green leaves, too much aurora in life? can people love each other too much? can people please each other too much?