rather than the sense of her words; one of those large tears which are the sombre pearls of the soul welled up slowly in his eyes.
He murmured:
"The proof that God is good is that she is here."
"Father!" said Cosette.
Jean Valjean continued:
"It is quite true that it would be charming for us to live together.
Their trees are full of birds.
I would walk with Cosette.
It is sweet to be among living people who bid each other `good-day,'' who call to each other in the garden.
People see each other from early morning.
We should each cultivate our own little corner.
She would make me eat her strawberries.
I would make her gather my roses.
That would be charming.
Only . . ."
He paused and said gently:
"It is a pity."
The tear did not fall, it retreated, and Jean Valjean replaced it with a smile.
Cosette took both the old man''s hands in hers.
"My God!" said she, "your hands are still colder than before.
Are you ill?
Do you suffer?"
"I?
No," replied Jean Valjean.
"I am very well.
Only . . ."
He paused.
"Only what?"
"I am going to die presently."
Cosette and Marius shuddered.
"To die!" exclaimed Marius.
"Yes, but that is nothing," said Jean Valjean.
He took breath, smiled and resumed:
"Cosette, thou wert talking to me, go on, so thy little robin red-breast is dead?