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We have already gazed into the depths of this conscience； the moment has now e when we must take another look into it。 We do so not without emotion and trepidation。
There is nothing more terrible in existence than this sort of contemplation。 The eye of the spirit can nowhere find more dazzling brilliance and more shadow than in man； it can fix itself on no other thing which is more formidable； more plicated； more mysterious； and more infinite。
There is a spectacle more grand than the sea； it is heaven：
there is a spectacle more grand than heaven； it is the inmost recesses of the soul。
To make the poem of the human conscience； were it only with reference to a single man； were it only in connection with the basest of men； would be to blend all epics into one superior and definitive epic。 Conscience is the chaos of chimeras； of lusts； and of temptations； the furnace of dreams； the lair of ideas of which we are ashamed； it is the pandemonium of sophisms； it is the battlefield of the passions。 Penetrate； at certain hours； past the livid face of a human being who is engaged in reflection； and look behind； gaze into that soul； gaze into that obscurity。
There； beneath that external silence； battles of giants； like those recorded in Homer； are in progress； skirmishes of dragons and hydras and swarms of phantoms； as in Milton； visionary circles； as in Dante。
What a solemn thing is this infinity which every man bears within him； and which he measures with despair against the caprices of his brain and the actions of his life！
Alighieri one day met with a sinister…looking door； before which he hesitated。
Here is one before us； upon whose threshold we hesitate。 Let us enter； nevertheless。
We have but little to add to what the reader already knows of what had happened to Jean Valjean after the adventure with Little Gervais。 From that moment forth he was； as we have seen； a totally different man。 What the Bishop had wished to make of him； that he carried out。 It was more than a transformation； it was a transfiguration。
He succeeded in disappearing； sold the Bishop's silver； reserving only the candlesticks as a souvenir； crept from town to town； traversed France； came to M。 sur M。； conceived the idea which we have mentioned； acplished what we have related； succeeded in rendering himself safe from seizure and inaccessible； and； thenceforth； established at M。 sur M。； happy in feeling his conscience saddened by the past and the first half of his existence belied by the last； he lived in peace； reassured and hopeful； having henceforth only two thoughts；to conceal his name and to sanctify his life； to escape men and to return to God。
These two thoughts were so closely intertwined in his mind that they formed but a single one there； both were equally absorbing and imperative and ruled his slightest actions。
In general； they conspired to regulate the conduct of his life； they turned him towards the gloom； they rendered him kindly and simple； they counselled him to the same things。
Sometimes； however； they conflicted。
In that case； as the reader will remember； the man whom all the country of M。 sur M。 called M。 Madeleine did not hesitate to sacrifice the first to the secondhis security to his virtue。
Thus； in spite of all his reserve and all his prudence； he had preserved the Bishop's candlesticks； worn mourning for him； summoned and interrogated all the little Savoyards who passed that way； collected information regarding the families at Faverolles； and saved old Fauchelevent's life； despite the disquieting insinuations of Javert。
It seemed； as we have already remarked； as though he thought； following the example of all those who have been wise； holy； and just； that his first duty was not towards himself。
At the same time； it must be confessed； nothing just like this had yet presented itself。
Never had the two ideas which governed the unhappy man whose sufferings we are narrating； engaged in so serious a struggle。 He understood this confusedly but profoundly at the very first words pronounced by Javert； when the latter entered his study。
At the moment when that name； which he had buried beneath so many layers； was so strangely articulated； he was struck with stupor； and as though intoxicated with the sinister eccentricity of his destiny； and through this stupor he felt that shudder which precedes great shocks。
He bent like an oak at the approach of a storm； like a soldier at the approach of an assault。
He felt shadows filled with thunders and lightnings descending upon his head。 As he listened to Javert； the first thought which occurred to him was to go； to run and denounce himself； to take that Champmathieu out of prison and place himself there； this was as painful and as poignant as an incision in the living flesh。
Then it passed away； and he said to himself； 〃We will see！
We will see！〃
He repressed this first； generous instinct； and recoiled before heroism。
It would be beautiful； no doubt； after the Bishop's holy words； after so many years of repentance and abnegation； in the midst of a penitence admirably begun； if this man had not flinched for an instant； even in the presence of so terrible a conjecture； but had continued to walk with the same step towards this yawning precipice； at the bottom of which lay heaven； that would have been beautiful； but it was not thus。
We must render an account of the things which went on in this soul； and we can only tell what there was there。 He was carried away； at first； by the instinct of self…preservation； he rallied all his ideas in haste； stifled his emotions； took into consideration Javert's presence； that great danger； postponed all decision with the firmness of terror； shook off thought as to what he had to do； and resumed his calmness as a warrior picks up his buckler。
He remained in this state during the rest of the day； a whirlwind within； a profound tranquillity without。
He took no 〃preservative measures；〃 as they may be called。
Everything was still confused； and jostling together in his brain。
His trouble was so great that he could not perceive the form of a single idea distinctly； and he could have told nothing about himself； except that he had received a great blow。
He repaired to Fantine's bed of suffering； as usual； and prolonged his visit； through a kindly instinct； telling himself that he must behave thus； and remend her well to the sisters； in case he should be obliged to be absent himself。
He had a vague feeling that he might be obliged to go to Arras； and without having the least in the world made up his mind to this trip； he said to himself that being； as he was； beyond the shadow of any suspicion； there could be nothing out of the way in being a witness to what was to take place； and he engaged the tilbury from Scaufflaire in order to be prepared in any event。
He dined with a good deal of appetite。
On returning to his room； he muned with himself。
He examined the situation； and found it unprecedented； so unprecedented that in the midst of his revery he rose from his chair； moved by some inexplicable impulse of anxiety； and bolted his door。
He feared lest something more should enter。 He was barricading himself against possibilities。
A moment later he extinguished his light； it embarrassed him。
lt seemed to him as though he might be seen。
By whom？
Alas！
That on which he desired to close the door had already entered； that which he desired to blind was staring him in the face； his conscience。
His conscience； that is to say； God。
Nevertheless； he deluded himself at first； he had a feeling of security and of solitude； the bolt once drawn； he thought himself impregnable； the candle extinguished； he felt himself invisible。
Then he took possession of himself：
he set his elbows on the table； leaned his head on his hand； and began to meditate in the dark。
〃Where do I stand？
Am not I dreaming？
What have I heard？
Is it really true that I have seen that Javert； and that he spoke to me in that manner？
Who can that Champmathieu be？
So he resembles me！ Is it possible？
When I reflect that yesterday I was so tranquil； and so far from suspecting anything！
What was I doing yesterday at this hour？
What is there in this incident？
What will the end be？ What is to be done？〃
This was the torment in which he found himself。
His brain had lost its power of retaining ideas； they passed like waves； and he clutched his brow in both hands to arrest them。
Nothing but anguish extricated itself from this tumult which overwhelmed his will and his reason； and from which he sought to draw proof and resolution。
His head was burning。
He went to the window and threw it wide open。 There were no stars in the sky。
He returned and seated himself at the table。
The first hour passed in this manner。
Gradually； however； vague outlines began to take form and to fix themselves in his meditation； and he was able to catch a glimpse with precision of the reality；not the whole situation； but some of the details。
He began by recognizing the fact that； critical and extraordinary as was this situation； he was pletely master of it。
This only caused an increase of his stupor。
Independently of the severe and religious aim which he had assigned to his actions； all that he had made up to that day had been nothing but a hole in which to bury his name。
That which he had always feared most of all in his hours of self…munion； during his sleepless nights； was to ever hear that name pronounced； he had said to himself； that that would be the end of all things for him； that on the day when that name made its reappearance it would cause his new life to vanish from about him； andwho knows？ perhaps even his new soul within him； also。
He shuddered at the very thought that this was possible。
Assuredly； if any one had said to him at such moments that the hour would e when that name would ring in his ears； when the hideous words； Jean Valjean； would suddenly emerge from the darkness and rise in front of him； when that formidable light； capable of dissipating the mystery in which he had enveloped himself； would suddenly blaze forth above his head； and that that name would not menace him； that that light would but produce an obscurity more dense； that this rent veil would but increase the mystery； that this earthquake would solidify his edifice； that this prodigious incident would have no other result； so far as he was concerned； if so it seemed good to him； than that of rendering his existence at once clearer and more impenetrable； and that； out of his confrontation with the phantom of Jean Valjean； the good and worthy citizen Monsieur Madeleine would emerge more honored； more peaceful； and more respected than everif any one had told him that； he would have tossed his head and regarded the words as those of a madman。
Well； all this was precisely what had just e to pass； all that accumulation of impossibilities was a fact； and God had permitted these wild fancies to bee real things！
His revery continued to grow clearer。
He came more and more to an understanding of his position。
It seemed to him that he had but just waked up from some inexplicable dream； and that he found himself slipping down a declivity in the middle of the night； erect； shivering； holding back all in vain； on the very brink of the abyss。
He distinctly perceived in the darkness a stranger； a man unknown to him； whom destiny had mistaken for him； and whom she was thrusting into the gulf in his stead； in order that the gulf might close once more； it was necessary that some one； himself or that other man； should fall into it： he had only let things take their course。
The light became plete； and he acknowledged this to himself： That his place was empty in the galleys； that do what he would； it was still awaiting him； that the theft from little Gervais had led him back to it； that this vacant place would await him； and draw him on until he filled it； that this was inevitable and fatal； and then he said to himself； 〃that； at this moment； be had a substitute； that it appeared that a certain Champmathieu had that ill luck； and that； as regards himself； being present in the galleys in the person of that Champmathieu； present in society under the name of M。 Madeleine； he had nothing more to fear； provided that he did not prevent men from sealing over the head of that Champmathieu this stone of infamy which； like the stone of the sepulchre； falls once； never to rise again。〃
All this was so strange and so violent； that there suddenly took place in him that indescribable movement； which no man feels more than two or three times in the course of his life； a sort of convulsion of the conscience which stirs up all that there is doubtful in the heart； which is posed of irony； of joy； and of despair； and which may be called an outburst of inward laughter。
He hastily relighted his candle。
〃Well； what then？〃 he said to himself； 〃what am I afraid of？ What is there in all that for me to think about？
I am safe； all is over。
I had but one partly open door