How long did he remain thus? Jean Valjean sat on the post of his door, motionless as a form of ice. The street was deserted. A few uneasy bourgeois, rapidly returning home, hardly saw him. Each one for himself in times of peril. The lamp-lighter came as usual to light the lantern opposite No. 7, and then went away. Jean Valjean would not have appeared like a living man to anyone who had examined him in that shadow. There is congealment in despair. Alarm bells and a vague and stormy uproar were audible. In the midst of those convulsions the clock of Saint-Paul struck eleven, gravely and without haste, for the tocsin is man and the hour is God. The passage of the hour produced no effect on him. Then a brusque report burst forth in the direction of the Halles, a second yet more violent. It was probably that attack on the barricade in the Rue de la Chanvrerie which Marius had just repulsed. At this double discharge Jean Valjean started. He rose, turning toward the quarter whence the noise proceeded, then fell back upon the post again, folded his arms, and his head slowly sank on his bosom. He resumed his gloomy dialogue with himself.
All at once he raised his eyes. Someone was walking in the street. By the light of the lanterns he perceived a young, livid, and beaming face. Gavroche had just arrived in the Rue de l'Homme Arme. He was staring into the air, apparently in search of something. He saw Jean Valjean perfectly well but took no notice of him. Then he stared below, raised himself on tiptoe, and felt of the doors and windows of the ground floor. They were all shut, bolted, and padlocked. After authenticating five or six barricaded houses, the urchin shrugged his shoulders. Jean Valjean, who an instant previously would not have spoken to anyone, felt irresistibly impelled to accost that child. What is the matter with you, my little fellow? The matter with me is that I am hungry. Little fellow yourself. Jean Valjean fumbled in his fob and pulled out a five-franc piece. But Gavroche, of the wagtail species, had just picked up a stone. He had caught sight of the lantern. You still have your lanterns here. This is disorderly. Smash that for me. He flung the stone. The broken glass fell with such a clatter that the bourgeois in hiding behind their curtains cried that Ninety-three had come again. The lantern went out. The street had suddenly become black. That is right, old street, put on your night-cap. Jean Valjean stepped up and laid the hundred-sou piece in the child's hand. Gavroche stared at it in the darkness. Let us contemplate the tiger. He gazed at it in ecstasy, then held the coin out: Bourgeois, I prefer to smash lanterns. Take back your ferocious beast. You cannot bribe me. Have you a mother? More than you have, perhaps. Keep the money for your mother. Gavroche was touched. Moreover he had noticed that the man had no hat, and this inspired him with confidence. He put the five-franc piece into one of his pockets.
Do you belong in this street? Can you tell me where No. 7 is? What do you want with No. 7? The child paused, fearing he had said too much, and thrust his nails into his hair. An idea flashed through Jean Valjean's mind. Anguish does have these gleams. Are you the person who is bringing a letter that I am expecting? You are not a woman. The letter is for Mademoiselle Cosette, is it not? Cosette: yes, I believe that is the queer name. Give it here. In that case you must know that I was sent from the barricade. Gavroche drew out a paper folded in four and made the military salute. Respect for despatches. It comes from the Provisional Government. He held the paper elevated above his head. Do not go and fancy it is a love letter. It is for a woman, but it is for the people. After all, you have the air of an honest man. Catch hold of it. And make haste, for Mamselle Cosette is waiting. Is it to Saint-Merry that the answer is to be sent? This letter comes from the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, and I am going back there. Good evening, citizen. Gavroche fluttered away with a flight like that of an escaped bird, plunged back into the gloom as though he made a hole in it, and was lost in the mists of the black houses, like smoke in the dark. A few minutes later a startling shiver of glass, the magnificent crash of a lantern rattling down on the pavement, abruptly awakened the indignant bourgeois. It was Gavroche upon his way through the Rue du Chaume.
