Chapter 20 Details of the Four Pontarlier Cheese Factory

Now, in order to give a general account of what happened at that table, it would be best to transcribe a passage from a letter written by Mademoiselle Baptistine to Madame de Boischevron, in which the conversation between the convict and the bishop occurred. There are frank and detailed narratives on it. "... the man paid no attention to anyone. He ate greedily like a hungry ghost. After eating the soup, he said: "'My dear abbe, all this is indeed very good for me, but I must say that those coachmen who refuse to eat with me eat better than you.' "Privately, I find this observation harsh. My brother replied:

"'They are more tired than I am.' "'No,' continued the man, 'they have more money. You are poor. I can see that. Perhaps you are not even a curate. You are only a common priest? That is unreasonable, if a merciful God is fair. , you ought to be a priest.' "'Justice is a far cry from the goodness of a merciful God,' said my brother. "After a while he said again: "'Monsieur Jean Valjean, are you going to Pontarlier?' "'That's the appointed route.' "I think he must have said that. Then he went on:

"'I have to start early in the morning. It's a rough road. It's cold at night and hot in the day.' "'It's a good place where you're going,' said my brother. 'During the revolution my family was bankrupt, and I hid at Franche-Contiers at first, working with my two arms. My perseverance Well. I can find many jobs there, if we choose. There are paper mills, tanneries, distilleries, oil presses, large watchmakers, steelworks, copperworks, ironworks and at least two Ten, of which four are in Lods, Chatillon, Autancourt, and Baier, and these are very large.'

"I think I'm not mistaken, my brother must have said the same names, and then he interrupted himself to say: "'My dear sister, do some of our relations live there?' "I replied: "'We used to have, among those relations, M. de Lusnet, who was commander-in-chief of the garrison at Pontarlier before the Revolution.' "'Yes,' went on my brother, 'but in 1993 we all had no relatives, and we all depended on our own hands. I worked. At Pontarière, you, Monsieur Jean Valjean, There's a very old and very interesting industry in the place I'm going to, my sister, and it's those cheese factories they call fruit factories.'

"So my brother persuaded the man to eat, and at the same time told him in great detail about the Pontarlier Fruit Factory. There are two kinds of factories. The 'Big Cang' belongs to the rich, and there are forty or fifty heads in it. Cows can produce 7,000 to 8,000 cheesecakes every summer; there is also a cooperative fruit factory owned by the poor. The rural people in the mid-mountain put their cows together and raise them together, and the products are shared among them. They employ a The cheesemaker, call him Grulan; Grulan collects the milk of each member three times a day, and writes down the amount on the plywood at the same time. At the end of April, the work of the cheese factory begins; in mid-June, those cheesemakers The workers took their cattle to the mountains.

"The man refreshed himself as he ate. My brother gave him that fine mum's blessing, but he didn't drink it himself, because he said it was expensive. My brother took the wine you know. He told him the trifles with an air of contented cheer, and while he talked, he kept on being very courteous. He kept repeating that the Grulans were doing well, as if he was anxious that the man would understand that it was a good place to settle down. place, and felt inconvenient to direct him directly. One incident struck me strongly. I have told you the history of the man, but, my brother, during dinner and until bedtime, except in his Except for a few words about Jesus when I entered the door, there was never a word that could make the man remember who he was, or make the man see who my brother was. On that occasion, It seemed quite possible to admonish him, and to impress the bishop over the head of the criminal for a while. If someone else had come across such a poor man, he might have thought that, while giving material food, , should also give spiritual food, you might as well give some lessons in the condemnation, or say some sympathetic words to encourage him to be a good man in the future. But my brother didn’t even ask about his hometown and history. Because in his history, It was his fault, and my brother seemed to want to avoid everything that could remind him of those things. He said of the mountain people of Pontarlier, only that they were close to the sky, and their work was comfortable. He also said that they were happy because they had no sin. Right at this point, he stopped suddenly, for fear that the two words he said unintentionally might offend that person. After thinking about it carefully, I was confident that I understood my brother's thoughts. He thought to himself, that is called Jean Valjean has too many troubles in his head, and it is better to pretend that nothing is happening, to make him feel at ease, to make him think that he is a person like other people. That will be good, even for a moment. Is not that the deepest understanding of benevolence? My good lady, is he not so considerate and clever in setting aside admonitions, lessons, and hints like that? Isn’t the best love in a person’s pain? Don't touch it? I think this may be what my brother thinks in his heart. Anyway, I can say that even though he had those thoughts, he never showed them to me. From the beginning to the end, he was completely the same person as usual. He dined with Jean Valjean that night as he dined with M. Redon-le-Pleauux, or with the priest of the prelate.

"Dinner was almost over, and while we were all eating figs, there was a knock at the door. It was Mother Ripple, with her baby in her arms. My brother kissed the boy on the forehead and borrowed my fifteen sous. , to Ripple’s mother. By this time, the man was not paying attention, and his concentration was not very focused. He stopped talking and looked very tired. After poor old Ripple left, my brother read the thank you text, Then, turning to the man, she said: 'You probably need to go to bed.' Madame Magloire hastened to clear the table. I knew we should go away and let the traveler rest, and they went upstairs together. After a while, I sent Madam Magloire to bring the black forest suede skin in my room to the man's bed. The night is cold, and that thing can keep out the cold. Unfortunately, the skin is old and the hair is gone. Luoguang. It was bought by my brother when he lived in Dodlingen, near the source of the Danube in Germany. The knife with an ivory handle that I used on the dining table was also bought there at the same time.

"Madame Magloire came upstairs almost at once, and we prayed to God in the laundry room, and then we each retired to our rooms without talking any further."