Chapter 247 San Dusan speaks more vividly

In the garden, there is a stone bench near the iron gate facing the street. In order to block people's curious eyes, a row of elms were planted beside the stone bench. However, strictly speaking, if a passerby raises his arm from It stretches through the gap between the iron gate and Qianjin elm, and it can still reach the top of the stone bench. Still in that April, one day, near dusk, Jean Valjean went out into the street, and Cosette was sitting on a stone bench, when the sun had already set.The wind in the woods was already a bit chilly. Cosette was thinking about something in her heart, and an inexplicable sadness gradually controlled her. The insurmountable sadness brought about by the confusion, perhaps, was caused by her at this moment. Caused by a mysterious force in the half-open tomb of the man, who knows?

Fantine may be in the misty twilight. Cosette stood up and walked slowly around the garden, stepping on the dew-stained grass, like a sleepwalker. She said sadly: "It is really necessary to wear wooden shoes when walking in the garden at this time. If it’s not good, you’ll catch a cold.” She returned to the stone bench. When she was about to sit down, she found that there was a rather large stone placed in the place where she had left, which was obviously not there before. Cosette looked at the stone and wondered what it meant.She thought that this stone would never come to the seat by itself, someone must have put it there, someone must have stretched his arm through the crack in the iron gate.As soon as the thought occurred to her, she became frightened.This time I was really scared.There was nothing to doubt, the stone was there, and she ran away without touching it, not daring to look back.After hiding in the house, she immediately closed the long window and door facing the steps, and pushed the board door, door lever and iron bolt.She asked Toussaint:

"Is my dad back yet?" "Not yet, girl." (We have already written about Toussaint's stuttering, and once we have mentioned it, we don't need to mention it again. I hope the reader will allow us to de-emphasize this point. We hate the kind of music score that records other people's defects one by one.) Jean Valjean is a person who likes to think and travel at night. He often doesn't come home until late at night. "Toussaint," continued Cosette, "you will surely close the gate to the garden at night, fasten the bars, and put the little irons in the rings?"

"Oh! Don't worry, girl." Toussaint was never careless in these respects, and Cosette was well aware of it, but she could not restrain herself from adding: "The problem is this place is so remote!" "That's all," said Toussaint, "that's fine. If someone came to kill us, we wouldn't even have time to grunt. Especially since Monsieur doesn't sleep in this big house. But you don't have to be afraid, girl." I have to close the doors and windows like iron barrels every night. Two lonely women! Really, when I think about it, my hairs will stand on end! Just think about it. In the middle of the night, I saw many men coming into your room, Say to you: 'Don't shout!' They will cut your neck when they come up. Die, there is no big deal, die if you want to die, you also know that there is no other way to not die, the terrible thing is that those people come up to touch you , That's not a taste. Besides, those knives must be hard to cut! God!"

"Stop talking," said Cosette, "shut everything up." Cosette was terrified by Toussaint's impromptu dramatic lines, and perhaps recalling the strange things that happened to her that week, she dared not say to her: "Go and see who put the stone on the stone bench. A block!" I was afraid that the door to the garden would open, and those "men" would rush in.She asked Dusan to close all the doors and windows carefully one by one, inspected the whole house, from the attic to the cellar, turned around and shut herself in the bedroom, pushed the iron bars, checked under the bed, and felt anxious. asleep.All night she saw the stone, as big as a mountain, and full of holes.

When the sun was rising--it is the nature of the rising sun to make us laugh at all the disturbances of the night, often in proportion to our fears--when the sun came out, Cosette awoke, Thinking of her own false alarm as a nightmare, she said to herself, "Where am I going? It's the same thing as I thought I heard footsteps in the garden last night! And the shadow of the chimney The same thing! Am I going to be a coward now?" The sun's rays, coming in fiercely through the cracks in the shutters, made the damask curtains purple, and completely restored her self-confidence and cleared her mind of everything. , even the stone is gone.

"There will be no stones on the bench, just as there will be no man in the round hat in the garden. It is all because of my dream that there are stones and other things." She put on her clothes, went downstairs to the garden, and ran to the stone bench, feeling that she was covered in cold sweat, and the stone was still in the same place. But it was only for a moment.A nighttime fear becomes a curiosity by day. "What does it matter!" she said, "let me see." She removed the rather large stone, and what appeared beneath it seemed to be a letter. It was a white envelope.Cosette picked it up and looked at it.Look at this side, there is no name and address, and there is no seal on the other side.The envelope was open, but not empty.Several sheets of paper were exposed inside.

Cosette reached inside to feel it.This is no longer fear, nor curiosity, but the beginning of doubt. Cosette drew out the contents of the envelope to look.It was a small stack of papers, numbered on each sheet, and with a few lines written in a beautiful hand, thought Cosette, and in a fine handwriting. Cosette looked for a name, there was none, and for a signature, there was none.Who is this for?Maybe it was for her, because it was on the bench she sat on.Who sent it?An irresistible allure took hold of her.She wanted to take her eyes away from the few sheets of paper trembling in her hands.She looked up at the sky, at the street, at the acacias bathing in the sun, at the pigeons flying over the roofs of her neighbours, and then she glanced swiftly down the manuscript, and said to herself that she should know where it was written. What exactly is it.

She read: