e longer, but it was the road through which, for the last three months, he had become accustomed to pass every day on his way from the Rue de l''Homme Arme to the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, in order to avoid the obstructions and the mud in the Rue Vielle-du-Temple.
This road, through which Cosette had passed, excluded for him all possibility of any other itinerary.
Jean Valjean entered his lodgings.
He lighted his candle and mounted the stairs.
The apartment was empty.
Even Toussaint was no longer there.
Jean Valjean''s step made more noise than usual in the chambers.
All the cupboards stood open. He penetrated to Cosette''s bedroom.
There were no sheets on the bed. The pillow, covered with ticking, and without a case or lace, was laid on the blankets folded up on the foot of the mattress, whose covering was visible, and on which no one was ever to sleep again. All the little feminine objects which Cosette was attached to had been carried away; nothing remained except the heavy furniture and the four walls.
Toussaint''s bed was despoiled in like manner. One bed only was made up, and seemed to be waiting some one, and this was Jean Valjean''s bed.
Jean Valjean looked at the walls, closed some of the cupboard doors, and went and came from one room to another.
Then he sought his own chamber once more, and set his candle on a table.