us knotty stick. Iron-shod shoes enveloped
his stockingless feet.

No one knew him. He was evidently a chance passer-by, but nevertheless
he directed his footsteps toward the village inn (the best in the
country-side), and entered the kitchen. The host, on hearing the door
open, addressed him without lifting his eyes from the stove.

"What is it this morning?"

"Food and lodging."

"Nothing easier--by paying for it."

"I have money, I can pay."

"In that case we are at your service."

"When will dinner be ready?"

"Immediately."

While the newcomer was depositing his knapsack upon the floor, the host
tore off the corner of an old newspaper, wrote a line or two on the
margin and handed it to a lad standing near. After whispering a few
words in his ear, the lad set off at a run toward the town hall. In a
few moments he returned, bringing the paper. The host read it
attentively, remained silent a moment and then took a step in the
direction of the traveler.

"I cannot receive you, sir!"

"What! Are you afraid I won't pay you? I have money--I can pay."

"You have money, but I have no room."

"Well, put me in the stable."

"The horses occupy all the space there."

"In the loft then--But come, we can settle that after dinner."

"I cannot give you your dinner."

"Bah! I'm hungry. I have been on foot since sunrise and I wish to eat."

"Well, I have nothing."

"Nothing--and all that?"

"All that is engaged by messieurs and wagoners,--twelve of them."

"There's enough food there for twenty."

"I tell you, it is all engaged and paid for in advance."

"Well, I'm at a public inn and hungry. I shall remain."

"Stop! Do you want me to tell you who you are--you are Jean
Valjean--Go!"

The man dropped his head, picked up his knapsack and took his
departure.... That evening the Bishop of the little town of Digne was
sitting with his sister and housekeeper, talking over his day's work
among his parishioners, when there came a violent knock at the door.

"Come in--"

The door opened; a man entered and without waiting for the Bishop to
speak, he cried out--"See here--My name is Jean Valjean. I have been
nineteen years in the galleys. Four days ago I was released and am now
on my way to Pontarlier. This evening when I came into these parts, I
went to an inn and they turned me out. I went to another and they said
"Be gone." I went to the prison; the jailer would not take me in. I went
to a dog's kennel; th