ay.
One day I gave thee a willow battledore and a shuttlecock with yellow, blue and green feathers.
Thou hast forgotten it.
Thou wert roguish so young!
Thou didst play.
Thou didst put cherries in thy ears.
Those are things of the past.
The forests through which one has passed with one''s child, the trees under which one has strolled, the convents where one has concealed oneself, the games, the hearty laughs of childhood, are shadows.
I imagined that all that belonged to me.
In that lay my stupidity.
Those Thenardiers were wicked.
Thou must forgive them.
Cosette, the moment has come to tell thee the name of thy mother.
She was called Fantine.
Remember that name--Fantine.
Kneel whenever thou utterest it.
She suffered much.
She loved thee dearly.
She had as much unhappiness as thou hast had happiness.
That is the way God apportions things.
He is there on high, he sees us all, and he knows what he does in the midst of his great stars.
I am on the verge of departure, my children.
Love each other well and always.
There is nothing else but that in the world:
love for each other.
You will think sometimes of the poor old man who died here.
Oh my Cosette, it is not my fault, indeed, that I have not seen thee all this time, it cut me to the heart; I went as far as the corner of the street, I must have produced a queer effect on the people who saw me pass, I was like a madman, I once went out without my hat.