Chapter 249 After reading the letter, Cosette

While reading the letter, Cosette gradually fell into a dream.She saw the last line of the stack of papers, raised her eyes, and happened to see the handsome officer walking past the iron gate with his face raised high.Cosette found him ugly. She went back to play with the stack of papers carefully.The handwriting on the paper was very beautiful, Cosette thought, the handwriting was written by one person, but the ink marks were different, sometimes thick black, sometimes very light, as if new water had been added to the inkpot, which showed that they were written on different days of.Therefore, it is a kind of occasional memory made from feeling, irregular, out of order, without choice, without purpose, and comes at hand.Cosette had never seen anything like it.She can understand most of what is said in this essay, as if she has seen a half-opened treasure house door.Every word of those mysterious words dazzled her, and bathed her heart in a strange light.Her former education had often spoken to her of the soul, but never of love, almost as if it had spoken of coals rather than fire.The essays on these fifteen sheets of paper gently revealed to her all love, pain, destiny, life, eternity, beginning, and end one by one.It was as if an open hand had suddenly thrown a handful of light at her.She felt in those few lines a passionate, passionate, noble, sincere character, a noble purpose, a great pain and a great hope, a depressed heart, and a frank admiration.What is this essay?a letter.A letter with no name of recipient, no name of sender, no date, no signature, urgent and unquestioning words, a letter from an angel to a virgin, a secret covenant in an extraterrestrial world, a lonely soul to a ghost Shadow's love letter.It was a pessimistic and desperate strange man who seemed to be preparing to live quietly in death, and sent the secret of fate, the key to life, and love to a strange woman.It was written with feet in the grave and fingers in the sky.Those words, falling on the paper one by one, can be called a drop of soul.

Now, who sent these few things to her?Who wrote it?Cosette had no doubts.Must be the only one.he! Her heart lighted up again.She felt a joy she had never felt before and a deep sorrow.It's him!It was he who wrote it to her!He has been here!It was he who stretched his arm in through the iron gate!When she forgot him, he found her again!But had she really forgotten him?No!there has never been!She had thought of that once in a moment of insanity.She had always loved him, had always adored him.The fire in her had burned for some time beneath its own ashes.But she could see clearly that it had only burned a little deeper, and now it was coming up again, enveloping her in flames.The sheaf of papers fell into her fire like a splinter of glowing coals bursting from another soul, and she felt a conflagration begin again.She deeply understood every word in the essay: "Yes!" she said, "I feel all this deeply! This is exactly the kind of mood I have seen in his eyes before."

When she finished reading the handwriting for the third time, Lieutenant Theodule came back from the iron gate, stepping on the stone pavement in the middle of the street, shaking the spurs on his boots, making Ke Seth had to look up.She thought him vulgar, clumsy, stupid, useless, pompous, obnoxious, disrespectful and very ugly, and the officer thought he ought to put a smile on her face.She turned her head away quickly, ashamed and angry, and almost caught something and threw it on his head. She escaped in, went back to the house, locked herself in the bedroom, read the essays over and over again, memorized them, and thought about them carefully. After reading enough, she kissed it and stuffed it under her shirt. inside.

It's over.Cosette was once more in a state of faerie love.The abyss in the Immortal Cave was opened again. All day long Cosette was in a state of intoxication.She hardly thought of anything, and the thoughts in her mind became a mess.There is no way to analyze any problem, and we can only look forward to it leisurely and flickeringly.She dared not ask herself to agree to anything, nor did she want to ask herself to refuse anything.His face was haggard and his body was trembling.Sometimes, she seemed to feel as if she was in a hallucination; she asked herself: "Is this real?" At this time, she would pinch the stack of papers she loved in her clothes and press it to her chest, feeling the corners of the paper pierce. His own flesh, if Jean Valjean had seen her at this moment, would have trembled at the unprecedented radiance in her eyes. "Yes!" she thought. "It must be him! He sent it to me!"

She also thought that it was an angel who cared about him, and God cared about him, and returned him to her. O beautification of love!O fantasy!The so-called God's concern and the so-called angel's care are nothing more than a doughnut thrown by one gangster from the Charlemagne Court through the roof of Raffles Prison to another gangster in the Lion's Groove.