here."
"No. Do not tell him that it is I. Tell him that some one wishes to speak to him in private, and mention no name."
"Ah!" ejaculated Basque.
"I wish to surprise him."
"Ah!" ejaculated Basque once more, emitting his second "ah!" as an explanation of the first.
And he left the room.
Jean Valjean remained alone.
The drawing-room, as we have just said, was in great disorder. It seemed as though, by lending an air, one might still hear the vague noise of the wedding.
On the polished floor lay all sorts of flowers which had fallen from garlands and head-dresses. The wax candles, burned to stumps, added stalactites of wax to the crystal drops of the chandeliers.
Not a single piece of furniture was in its place. In the corners, three or four arm-chairs, drawn close together in a circle, had the appearance of continuing a conversation. The whole effect was cheerful.
A certain grace still lingers round a dead feast.
It has been a happy thing.
On the chairs in disarray, among those fading flowers, beneath those extinct lights, people have thought of joy.
The sun had succeeded to the chandelier, and made its way gayly into the drawing-room.
Several minutes elapsed.
Jean Valjean stood motionless on the spot where Basque had left him.
He was very pale.
His eyes were hollow, and so sunken in his head by sleeplessness that they nearly disappeared in their orbits.