Chapter 110 Fifty-one five-franc silver coins fell to the ground

Jean Valjean was fond of giving money to a poor man who used to squat on the curb of a filled public well near the chapel of St. Mita.When he passed the man, he could not avoid giving him a few sous.He still talks to him sometimes.Those who were jealous of the beggar said he was the eyeliner of the police.It was a seventy-five-year-old chapel servant, and the prayers in his mouth never stopped. One evening, Jean Valjean was passing by that place, this time without Cosette, and the backlight on the side of the road had just been lit, and he saw the beggar squatting under the light, in his usual place.The man, as usual, seemed to be praying, bent low.Jean Valjean came up to him, and delivered the alms to him as usual.The beggar suddenly raised his eyes, gave Jean Valjean a hard look, and then lowered his head again.This movement was as quick as a flash, and Jean Valjean was startled.It seemed to him that what he saw in the dim light of the street lamp just now was not the calm and stupid face of the old handyman, but a frightening face he had seen before.He had the impression that he had encountered a tiger in the dark.He was so frightened that he took a step back, afraid to breathe, speak, stay, or run away, and stared blankly at the man with his head bowed and covered with a rag, as if he had long forgotten that he was still standing in front of him. beggar.An instinct, perhaps the mysterious instinct of self-preservation, stifled Jean Valjean at these strange moments.The beggar's figure, his tattered clothes, and his appearance were all the same as usual. "Damn it! . . . " said Jean Valjean, "I'm mad! I'm dreaming! It's impossible!" He returned home, bewildered.

He hardly dared to tell himself that the face he thought he saw was Javert's. When he was figuring it out alone at night, he regretted not asking the man a word, forcing him to look up again. He went there again the next night.The beggar was there again. "Good day, old man," said Jean Valjean boldly, giving him a sou.The beggar looked up, and said in a mournful voice, "Thank you, my good sir." It was indeed the old chore. Jean Valjean felt himself completely settled.He laughed. "Damn it! When did I see Javert?" thought he. "What a joke, am I an old fool now?" He didn't think about that anymore.

A few days later, at about eight o'clock in the evening, he was teaching Cosette to spell loudly in his room, when he heard someone push the door of the shabby house, and then shut it again.He felt strange.The lonely old woman who lived with him used to go to bed after dark so as not to waste the candle.Jean Valjean immediately motioned to Cosette to be silent.He heard someone coming up the stairs.At best, maybe it's just that the old lady is sick and has returned from a trip to the pharmacy.Jean Valjean listened carefully.The footsteps were heavy, and sounded like a man's footsteps, but the grandmother always wore big shoes, and nothing was more like a man's footsteps than an old woman's footsteps.But Jean Valjean blew out the candle.

He sent Cosette to bed, whispering to her, "Go to sleep gently," and just as he was kissing her forehead, the footsteps stopped.Jean Valjean remained silent and motionless, with his back to the door, still sitting in his chair, holding his breath in the darkness.After a considerable time, when he heard the silence, he turned quietly, looked towards the door, and saw a light in the keyhole.That little light, appearing on the dark walls and door, is like a disaster star.Apparently someone was eavesdropping outside with a candle. After a few minutes, the candlelight went away, but he heard no more footsteps, which may mean that the person who came to eavesdrop at the door had taken off his shoes.

Jean Valjean lay on the bed with his clothes on, and could not close his eyes all night. At dawn, he was dozing off from exhaustion, when suddenly he was awakened by a knock at the door, which came from a shabby room at the bottom of the passage, and then he heard someone walking, and The footsteps of the man who went upstairs last night were the same.The footsteps came closer and closer.He hurriedly jumped out of bed, put his eyes on the keyhole, which was quite big, and he hoped to find out who the person who came upstairs to eavesdrop at his door last night would be while that person was passing by.It was indeed a man who passed by the door of Jean Valjean's room, and he went on without stopping.At that time, the light in the corridor was too dark to see his face clearly, but when the man approached the stairs, a ray of sunlight from outside made his body stand out like a silhouette, Jean Valjean Saw his entire back.He was a tall man, wearing a long overcoat and carrying a short stick under his arm.That was the frightening image of Javert.

Jean Valjean might have contrived to take another look at him at the window facing the street.But he had to open the window first, he dared not. It was evident that the man had come in with a key, as if returning to his own home.But who gave him the key?what the hell is it? At seven o'clock in the morning, when the old woman came in to clean the house, Jean Valjean looked at her with piercing eyes, but did not ask her a question.The grandma's expression is still the same as usual. While sweeping the floor, she said to him: "Perhaps sir heard someone come in last night?"

In those years, on that road, eight o'clock in the evening was already the dead of night. "Yes, I heard," he replied in the most natural voice, "who is it?" "It's a new lodger," said the old woman. "We've got one more person here." "What is your name?" "I don't quite know. Domon or Mr. Domon, that's a name like that." "What are you doing, Mr. Dumeng?" The old woman stared at him with mouse eyes, and replied: "Those who earn interest are the same as you." Perhaps she did not mean it, but Jean Valjean could not help being suspicious.

After the old woman left, he rolled up the hundred or so francs in the closet and put them in his pocket.He was very careful in doing this, lest the noise of the coins should be heard, but, despite his caution, a five-franc piece of silver slipped from his hand, and rolled loudly on the tiled floor. As the sun went down, he ran downstairs and took a good look around on the road.nobody.The road seemed to be absolutely quiet.It's also quite possible that someone is hiding behind a tree. He went back upstairs again. "Come," he said to Cosette. He took her hand, and the two of them went out together.