Chapter 238 Four changed the iron gate

The garden, which had once been used to hide evil secrets, seemed to have become fit to shelter pure ones.There are no cradles, shallow grasslands, flower sheds, or grottoes there, but only a lush, unadorned resort surrounded by green shade everywhere.Paphos has been restored to its original appearance as the Garden of Eden.I don't know what kind of regret has sanctified this quiet land.The flower girl now offers her flowers only to the soul.This pretty garden, once badly defiled, has returned to its virginal state.A chairman, with the help of a gardener, a certain A who thinks he is the successor of La Moignon, and a certain B who thinks he is the successor of Le Notre, twist it, cut it, knead it, groom it, dress it up, To win the favor of a beautiful woman, nature takes it back, making it verdant and quiet, suitable for normal love.

In this desolate garden, there is also a heart that has already been prepared.Love can appear at any time, and here it has a temple of green forests, green grass, moss, sighs of birds, soft shadows, and swaying branches, and a temple of tenderness, faith, sincerity, hope, and volunteering. and a soul made of fantasy. Cosette was almost a child when she left the convent, she was only fourteen and a little bit, and at that "unpleasant" age, we have said that, except for her eyes, she was not only unbeautiful, but also It's still a bit ugly, but there's nothing unpleasant about it, just clumsy, thin, not generous, and reckless at the same time, in short, he looks like a big boy.

Her education was over, that is, she had religious lessons, and even, above all, prayer, and "history," as they called it in the convent: geography, grammar, participle, French Kings, a little music, drawing a nose, etc., and knowing nothing else, it's a lovely place, but it's also a danger.A little girl's mind cannot be left in the dark, lest later on her mind will have images too sudden and too intense, like the darkroom of a camera.It should come into contact with the light slowly and moderately, and should come into contact with the reflection of actual things first, not with the direct, hard light.Half-bright light, solemn and gentle light, is good for dispelling childish fear and preventing corruption.Only a motherly instinct, a convincing intuition embracing the memories of virginity and the experience of a married woman, knows how and with what to produce this half-light.Nothing can replace this instinct.All the nuns in the world are not as good as a mother in nurturing a maiden's soul.

Cosette had never had a mother, but many nuns. As for Jean Valjean, he was full of kindness and concern, but after all he was only an old man who knew nothing. And in this education, in this serious business of preparing a woman for life, how much wisdom must be used to combat this state of ignorance which is called innocence! Nothing is more capable of equipping a young girl with the conditions for wild passions than a convent.The monastery turns the human mind to the unknown world.A repressed heart, unable to expand, digs inward; unable to open, it drills deep.Hence all kinds of illusions, all kinds of superstitions, all kinds of conjectures, all kinds of castles in the air, all kinds of longing for adventures, all kinds of grotesque ideas, all kinds of mirages all built in the dark place of the soul, all kinds of madness and love that will settle down immediately once they break through the iron bars Those hidden and secret places.In order to control the human heart, the monastery imposes a lifelong restraint on the human heart.

For Cosette, who had just left the convent, there was nothing more beautiful and more dangerous than the house in Rue Plumet.This is the continuation of loneliness and the beginning of freedom; a closed garden, but there are rich, lush, sad, and beautiful natural scenery; I still have those dreams in the monastery in my heart, but I can occasionally glimpse some teenagers The figure of a man; there is an iron gate, but it faces the street. We repeat, though, when she got here, she was just a kid.Jean Valjean handed over the deserted garden to her, and said: "You can do whatever you want here." Cosette was very happy, she turned all the grass and stones, looking for "bugs", she played there, and She loves the garden because she can find insects under her feet in the grass, not because she can look up at the stars from the branches.

Besides, she loved her father, that is to say, Jean Valjean, she loved him with all her soul, and treated the old man with the innocence of a filial son, as a companion to whom she was devoted.We remember that M. Madeleine read a great deal, and that Jean Valjean continued to read, which gave him the faculty of conversation.He was rich in knowledge and had the eloquence that a humble, sincere, cultured man acquires through self-education.He retained just enough roughness to temper his kindness, and he was a man of rough manners and good heart.In the Luxembourg Gardens, when they sat side by side and talked, he used to explain everything in detail, drawing from book knowledge and personal suffering.Cosette listened attentively, and looked away from her thoughts.

This simple man was as satisfying to Cosette's mind as this desert garden was to her play.When she had chased the butterflies enough, she ran to him panting and said, "Ah! I can't run anymore!" and he kissed her on the forehead. Cosette loved the old man very much.She follows him all the time.Wherever Jean Valjean was, there was happiness.Jean Valjean, who lived neither in a house nor in a garden, felt to her that the flowery garden was not as good as the flagged courtyard at the back, nor was the great drawing-room with its wall hangings and upholstered armchairs against the wall. Not as good as the cottage with just two straw chairs.Sometimes Jean Valjean, delighted at being pestered by her, would say with a smile: "Not to your own room yet! Let me have a good rest by myself!"

At this time, she asked him the kind of cute and funny question that disregarded the dignity of father and daughter: "Father, I'm freezing to death in your room! Why don't you put a rug and a fire here?" "My dear child, there are many people who are much better than me, but they don't even have a tile on their heads." "Then why is there a fire in my house and nothing is wanting?" "Because you are a woman and a child." "No! Shouldn't men be cold and hungry?" "Some men." "Well, then I'm going to be here all the time and you'll have to make a fire."

She also said to him: "Father, why do you keep eating this bad bread?" "No reason, my daughter." "Well, if you want to eat this, I will eat this." So, in order not to let Cosette eat black bread, Jean Valjean had to eat white bread instead. Cosette only vaguely remembers her childhood.She recalls praying mornings and evenings for a mother she didn't know.The Thenardiers seemed to her to be two grimaces she had seen in a dream.She also recalled going to a wood "one night" to fetch water.She thought it was a long way from Paris.It seemed to her that she had once lived in a black hole, from which Jean Valjean had rescued her.In her mind, her childhood was a time when there were only centipedes, spiders, and snakes around her.She could not quite comprehend how she could be Jean Valjean's daughter, and how he could be her father, and when she thought of these things at night before going to sleep, she thought that her mother's spirit was in the old man's body. Lived with her.

Often, as he sat, she would lean her face against his white hair and weep a silent tear, thinking: "Perhaps he is my mother, this man!" There is another point, which is strange to say: Cosette is a girl brought up by a seminary, with very poor knowledge, motherhood, which she absolutely could not understand in her virginity, so she finally thought that she just had as little experience as possible. Mother.This mother, she doesn't even know her name.Whenever she asked Jean Valjean about her mother's name, Jean Valjean was always silent.If she asked again, he would answer with a smile.Once, when she had to ask clearly, his smile turned into tears.

Jean Valjean kept his mouth shut, and the name of Fantine was lost. Is this out of caution?Out of respect?Is it afraid that if it spreads to other people's ears, it will also cause some memories? When Cosette was little, Jean Valjean had always loved to talk to her about her mother, but when she was a grown girl, this could no longer be the case.He felt he was afraid to talk.Was it because of Cosette, or because of Fantine?He felt a sort of reverence which prevented him from admitting the soul into Cosette's thoughts, from allowing a dead man to take a third place in their destiny.In his heart, the more sacred that ghost is, the more terrifying it is.Whenever he thought of Fantine, he felt a pressure that kept him from speaking.He seemed to see something in the darkness like a finger on his lips.Fantine was a person who knew shame, but before she was alive, shame had been violently forced out of her heart. Did this shame return to her after her death, guarding the peace of the dead with grief and indignation? , protecting her in her tomb with angry eyebrows?Had Jean Valjean felt this pressure unconsciously?Those of us who believe in ghosts will not reject such mysterious explanations.Therefore, even in the presence of Cosette, it was impossible to mention the name Fantine. One day Cosette said to him: "Father, I saw my mother in a dream last night. She has two big wings. My mother should have reached the status of a saint when she was alive." "Through suffering," replied Jean Valjean. Jean Valjean, however, was happy. When Cosette went out with him, she always leaned against his arm, full of pride and happiness.Knowing that this blissful tenderness belonged to him alone, Jean Valjean felt himself intoxicated.The poor man was immersed in the blessings of Qi Tian, ​​trembling with joy, he secretly rejoiced that he would be able to spend this life like this, he thought in his heart that the suffering he had suffered was not enough, and he did not deserve to enjoy such wonderful happiness, he did not Thank God from the bottom of my soul that such a worthless man is so sincerely loved by this innocent child.