Tranquillity — Les Misérables

After bidding his sister good night, Monseigneur Bienvenu takes one of the two silver candlesticks from the table, hands the other to his guest, and will conduct him to his room. The alcove is reached only by crossing the Bishop's bedroom. Madame Magloire is putting the silverware in the cupboard near the head of the bed. This is her last care every evening. A fresh white bed has been prepared. The man sets the candle down. Tomorrow, before he sets out, a cup of warm milk from their cows. Thanks, Monsieur l'Abbé.

Hardly has he said that peaceful word when, without transition, he makes a strange movement that would have frozen the two women. He turns, folds his arms, and bends a savage gaze on his host. You lodge me in your house, close to yourself like this? Then a laugh with something monstrous in it: Have you really reflected well? How do you know that I have not been an assassin? The Bishop replies that that is the concern of the good God. He raises two fingers, blesses the man, who does not bow, and returns to his bedroom without turning his head or looking behind him.

When the alcove is in use, a serge curtain hides the altar. The Bishop kneels there, says a brief prayer, and goes into the garden, absorbed in the things God shows at night to eyes that remain open. The guest is too tired to use the white sheets. He snuffs the candle with his nostrils after the manner of convicts, drops dressed onto the bed, and falls at once into a profound sleep. Midnight strikes as the Bishop comes in from the garden. A few minutes later all were asleep in the little house.