s Jean Valjean."

_III.--A Hunted Man_

At Christmas, in the year 1823, an old man came to the village of
Montfermeil, called at the inn, paid money to the rascally innkeeper,
Thenardier, and carried off little Cosette to Paris.

The old man rented a large garret in an old house, and Cosette became
inexpressibly happy with her doll and with the good man who loved her so
tenderly.

Till then Jean Valjean had never loved anything. He had never been a
father, lover, husband, or friend. When he saw Cosette, and had rescued
her, he felt his heart strangely moved. All the affection he had was
aroused, and went out to this child. Jean Valjean was fifty-five and
Cosette eight, and all the love of his life, hitherto untouched, melted
into a benevolent devotion.

Cosette, too, changed. She had been separated from her mother at such an
early age that she could not remember her. And the Thenardiers had
treated her harshly. In Jean Valjean she found a father, just as he
found a daughter in Cosette.

Weeks passed away. These two beings led a wonderfully happy life in the
old garret; Cosette would chatter, laugh, and sing all day.

Jean Valjean was careful never to go out in the daytime, but he began to
be known in the district as "the mendicant who gives away money." There
was one old man who sat by some church steps, and who generally seemed
to be praying, whom Jean Valjean always liked to relieve. One night when
Jean Valjean had dropped a piece of money into his hand as usual, the
beggar suddenly raised his eyes, stared hard at him, and then quickly
dropped his head. Jean Valjean started, and went home greatly troubled.
The face which he fancied he had seen was that of Javert.

A few nights later Jean Valjean found that Javert had taken lodgings in
the same house where he and Cosette lived. Taking the child by the hand,
he at once set out for fresh quarters. They passed through silent and
empty streets, and crossed the river, and it seemed to Jean Valjean that
no one was in pursuit. But soon he noticed four men plainly shadowing
him, and a shudder went over him. He turned from street to street,
trying to escape from the city, and at last found himself entrapped in a
_cul-de-sac._ What was to be done?

There was no time to turn back. Javert had undoubtedly picketed every
outlet. Fortunately for Jean Valjean, there was a deep shadow in the
street, so that his own movements were unseen.

While he stood hesitating, a pa