Les miserables (Abridged) - Victor Hugo [462]
He paused and said mildly:
“It is a pity.”
The tear did not fall, it went back, and Jean Valjean replaced it with a smile.
Cosette took both the old man’s hands in her own.
“My God!” said she, “your hands are colder yet. Are you sick? Are you suffering?”
“No,” answered Jean Valjean. “I am very well. Only—”
He stopped.
“Only what?”
“I shall die in a few minutes.”
Cosette and Marius shuddered.
“Die!” exclaimed Marius.
“Yes, but that is nothing,” said Jean Valjean.
He breathed, smiled, and continued.
“Cosette, you are speaking to me, go on, speak again, your little red-breast is dead then, speak, let me hear your voice!”
Marius, petrified, gazed upon the old man.
Cosette uttered a piercing cry:
“Father! my father! you shall live. You are going to live. I will have you live, do you hear!”
Jean Valjean raised his head towards her with adoration.
“Oh yes, forbid me to die. Who knows? I shall obey perhaps. I was just dying when you came. That stopped me, it seemed to me that I was born again.”
“You are full of strength and life,” exclaimed Marius. “Do you think people die like that? You have had trouble, you shall have no more. I ask your pardon now, and that on my knees! You shall live, and live with us, and live long. We will take you back. Both of us here will have but one thought henceforth, your happiness!”
“You see,” added Cosette in tears, “that Marius says you will not die.”
Jean Valjean continued to smile.
“If you should take me back, Monsieur Pontmercy, would that make me different from what I am? No; God thought as you and I did, and he has not changed his mind; it is best that I should go away. Death is a good arrangement. God knows better than we do what we need. That you are happy, that Monsieur Pontmercy has Cosette, that youth espouses morn ing, that there are about you, my children, lilacs and nightingales, that your life is a beautiful lawn in the sunshine, that all the enchantments of heaven fill your souls, and now, that I who am good for nothing, that I die; surely all this is well. Look you, be reasonable, there is nothing else possible now, I am sure that it is all over. An hour ago I had a fainting fit. And then, last night, I drank that pitcher full of water. How good your husband is, Cosette! You are much better off than with me.”
There was a noise at the door. It was the physician coming in.
“Good day and good-by, doctor,” said Jean Valjean. “Here are my poor children.”
Marius approached the physician. He addressed this single word to him: “Monsieur?” but in the manner of pronouncing it, there was a complete question.
The physician answered the question by an expressive glance.
“Because things are unpleasant,” said Jean Valjean, “that is no reason for being unjust towards God.”
There was a silence. All hearts were oppressed.
Jean Valjean turned towards Cosette. He began to gaze at her as if he would take a look which should endure through eternity. At the depth of shadow to which he had already descended, ecstasy was still possible to him while beholding Cosette. The reflection of that sweet countenance illumined his pale face. The sepulchre may have its enchantments.
The physician felt his pulse.
“Ah! it was you he needed!” murmured he, looking at Cosette and Marius.
And, bending towards Marius’ ear he added very low:
“Too late.”
Jean Valjean, almost without ceasing to gaze upon Cosette, turned upon Marius and the physician a look of serenity. They heard these almost inarticulate words come from his lips:
“It is nothing to die; it is frightful not to live.”
Suddenly he arose. These returns of strength are sometimes a sign of the death-struggle. He walked with a firm step to the wall, put aside Marius and the physician, who offered to assist him, took down from the wall the little copper crucifix