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mediately put in circulation in the galleries of the court…house； in verses that limped a little：
Maitre Corbeau； sur un dossier perche；＇13＇
Tenait dans son bee une saisie executoire；
Maitre Renard； par l'odeur alleche；
Lui fit a peu pres cette histoire： He！ bonjour。
Etc。
＇13＇ Lawyer Corbeau； perched on a docket； held in his beak a writ of execution； Lawyer Renard； attracted by the smell； addressed him nearly as follows； etc。
The two honest practitioners； embarrassed by the jests； and finding the bearing of their heads interfered with by the shouts of laughter which followed them； resolved to get rid of their names； and hit upon the expedient of applying to the king。
Their petition was presented to Louis XV。
on the same day when the Papal Nuncio； on the one hand； and the Cardinal de la Roche…Aymon on the other； both devoutly kneeling； were each engaged in putting on； in his Majesty's presence； a slipper on the bare feet of Madame du Barry； who had just got out of bed。
The king； who was laughing； continued to laugh； passed gayly from the two bishops to the two lawyers； and bestowed on these limbs of the law their former names； or nearly so。
By the kings mand； Maitre Corbeau was permitted to add a tail to his initial letter and to call himself Gorbeau。 Maitre Renard was less lucky； all he obtained was leave to place a P in front of his R； and to call himself Prenard； so that the second name bore almost as much resemblance as the first。
Now； according to local tradition； this Maitre Gorbeau had been the proprietor of the building numbered 50…52 on the Boulevard de l'Hopital。 He was even the author of the monumental window。
Hence the edifice bore the name of the Gorbeau house。
Opposite this house； among the trees of the boulevard； rose a great elm which was three…quarters dead； almost directly facing it opens the Rue de la Barriere des Gobelins； a street then without houses； unpaved； planted with unhealthy trees； which was green or muddy according to the season； and which ended squarely in the exterior wall of Paris。
An odor of copperas issued in puffs from the roofs of the neighboring factory。
The barrier was close at hand。
In 1823 the city wall was still in existence。
This barrier itself evoked gloomy fancies in the mind。
It was the road to Bicetre。
It was through it that； under the Empire and the Restoration； prisoners condemned to death re…entered Paris on the day of their execution。
It was there； that； about 1829； was mitted that mysterious assassination； called 〃The assassination of the Fontainebleau barrier；〃 whose authors justice was never able to discover； a melancholy problem which has never been elucidated； a frightful enigma which has never been unriddled。
Take a few steps； and you e upon that fatal Rue Croulebarbe； where Ulbach stabbed the goat…girl of Ivry to the sound of thunder； as in the melodramas。 A few paces more； and you arrive at the abominable pollarded elms of the Barriere Saint…Jacques； that expedient of the philanthropist to conceal the scaffold； that miserable and shameful Place de Grove of a shop…keeping and bourgeois society； which recoiled before the death penalty； neither daring to abolish it with grandeur； nor to uphold it with authority。
Leaving aside this Place Saint…Jacques； which was； as it were； predestined； and which has always been horrible； probably the most mournful spot on that mournful boulevard； seven and thirty years ago； was the spot which even to…day is so unattractive； where stood the building Number 50…52。
Bourgeois houses only began to spring up there twenty…five years later。 The place was unpleasant。
In addition to the gloomy thoughts which assailed one there； one was conscious of being between the Salpetriere； a glimpse of whose dome could be seen； and Bicetre； whose outskirts one was fairly touching； that is to say； between the madness of women and the madness of men。
As far as the eye could see； one could perceive nothing but the abattoirs； the city wall； and the fronts of a few factories； resembling barracks or monasteries； everywhere about stood hovels； rubbish； ancient walls blackened like cerecloths； new white walls like winding…sheets； everywhere parallel rows of trees； buildings erected on a line； flat constructions； long； cold rows； and the melancholy sadness of right angles。
Not an unevenness of the ground； not a caprice in the architecture； not a fold。 The ensemble was glacial； regular； hideous。
Nothing oppresses the heart like symmetry。
It is because symmetry is ennui； and ennui is at the very foundation of grief。
Despair yawns。 Something more terrible than a hell where one suffers may be imagined； and that is a hell where one is bored。
If such a hell existed； that bit of the Boulevard de l'Hopital might have formed the entrance to it。
Nevertheless； at nightfall； at the moment when the daylight is vanishing； especially in winter； at the hour when the twilight breeze tears from the elms their last russet leaves； when the darkness is deep and starless； or when the moon and the wind are making openings in the clouds and losing themselves in the shadows； this boulevard suddenly bees frightful。
The black lines sink inwards and are lost in the shades； like morsels of the infinite。 The passer…by cannot refrain from recalling the innumerable traditions of the place which are connected with the gibbet。 The solitude of this spot； where so many crimes have been mitted； had something terrible about it。
One almost had a presentiment of meeting with traps in that darkness； all the confused forms of the darkness seemed suspicious； and the long； hollow square； of which one caught a glimpse between each tree； seemed graves： by day it was ugly； in the evening melancholy； by night it was sinister。
In summer； at twilight； one saw； here and there； a few old women seated at the foot of the elm； on benches mouldy with rain。 These good old women were fond of begging。
However； this quarter； which had a superannuated rather than an antique air； was tending even then to transformation。
Even at that time any one who was desirous of seeing it had to make haste。 Each day some detail of the whole effect was disappearing。 For the last twenty years the station of the Orleans railway has stood beside the old faubourg and distracted it； as it does to…day。 Wherever it is placed on the borders of a capital； a railway station is the death of a suburb and the birth of a city。 It seems as though； around these great centres of the movements of a people； the earth； full of germs； trembled and yawned； to engulf the ancient dwellings of men and to allow new ones to spring forth； at the rattle of these powerful machines； at the breath of these monstrous horses of civilization which devour coal and vomit fire。 The old houses crumble and new ones rise。
Since the Orleans railway has invaded the region of the Salpetriere； the ancient； narrow streets which adjoin the moats Saint…Victor and the Jardin des Plantes tremble； as they are violently traversed three or four times each day by those currents of coach fiacres and omnibuses which； in a given time； crowd back the houses to the right and the left； for there are things which are odd when said that are rigorously exact； and just as it is true to say that in large cities the sun makes the southern fronts of houses to vegetate and grow； it is certain that the frequent passage of vehicles enlarges streets。
The symptoms of a new life are evident。 In this old provincial quarter； in the wildest nooks； the pavement shows itself； the sidewalks begin to crawl and to grow longer； even where there are as yet no pedestrians。
One morning；a memorable morning in July； 1845；black pots of bitumen were seen smoking there； on that day it might be said that civilization had arrived in the Rue de l'Ourcine； and that Paris had entered the suburb of Saint…Marceau。
BOOK FOURTH。THE GORBEAU HOVEL
CHAPTER II
A NEST FOR OWL AND A WARBLER
It was in front of this Gorbeau house that Jean Valjean halted。 Like wild birds； he had chosen this desert place to construct his nest。
He fumbled in his waistcoat pocket； drew out a sort of a pass…key； opened the door； entered； closed it again carefully； and ascended the staircase； still carrying Cosette。
At the top of the stairs he drew from his pocket another key； with which he opened another door。
The chamber which he entered； and which he closed again instantly； was a kind of moderately spacious attic； furnished with a mattress laid on the floor； a table； and several chairs； a stove in which a fire was burning； and whose embers were visible； stood in one corner。
A lantern on the boulevard cast a vague light into this poor room。 At the extreme end there was a dressing…room with a folding bed； Jean Valjean carried the child to this bed and laid her down there without waking her。
He struck a match and lighted a candle。
All this was prepared beforehand on the table； and； as he had done on the previous evening； he began to scrutinize Cosette's face with a gaze full of ecstasy； in which the expression of kindness and tenderness almost amounted to aberration。
The little girl； with that tranquil confidence which belongs only to extreme strength and extreme weakness； had fallen asleep without knowing with whom she was； and continued to sleep without knowing where she was。
Jean Valjean bent down and kissed that child's hand。
Nine months before he had kissed the hand of the mother； who had also just fallen asleep。
The same sad； piercing； religious sentiment filled his heart。
He knelt beside Cosette's bed。
lt was broad daylight； and the child still slept。
A wan ray of the December sun penetrated the window of the attic and lay upon the ceiling in long threads of light and shade。
All at once a heavily laden carrier's cart； which was passing along the boulevard； shook the frail bed； like a clap of thunder； and made it quiver from top to bottom。
〃Yes； madame！〃 cried Cosette； waking with a start； 〃here I am！ here I am！〃
And she sprang out of bed； her eyes still half shut with the heaviness of sleep； extending her arms towards the corner of the wall。
〃Ah！ mon Dieu； my broom！〃 said she。
She opened her eyes wide now； and beheld the smiling countenance of Jean Valjean。
〃Ah！ so it is true！〃 said the child。
〃Good morning； Monsieur。〃
Children accept joy and happiness instantly and familiarly； being themselves by nature joy and happiness。
Cosette caught sight of Catherine at the foot of her bed； and took possession of her； and； as she played； she put a hundred questions to Jean Valjean。
Where was she？
Was Paris very large？ Was Madame Thenardier very far away？
Was she to go back？ etc。； etc。 All at once she exclaimed； 〃How pretty it is here！〃
It was a frightful hole； but she felt free。
〃Must I sweep？〃 she resumed at last。
〃Play！〃 said Jean Valjean。
The day passed thus。
Cosette； without troubling herself to understand anything； was inexpressibly happy with that doll and that kind man。
BOOK FOURTH。THE GORBEAU HOVEL
CHAPTER III
TWO MISFORTUNES MAKE ONE PIECE OF GOOD FORTUNE
On the following morning； at daybreak； Jean Valjean was still by Cosette's bedside； he watched there motionless； waiting for her to wake。
Some new thing had e into his soul。
Jean Valjean had never loved anything； for twenty…five years he had been alone in the world。
He had never been father； lover； husband； friend。 In the prison he had been vicious； gloomy； chaste； ignorant； and shy。
The heart of that ex…convict was full of virginity。 His sister and his sister's children had left him only a vague and far…off memory which had finally almost pletely vanished； he had made every effort to find them； and not having been able to find them； he had forgotten them。
Human nature is made thus； the other tender emotions of his youth； if he had ever had any； had fallen into an abyss。
When he saw Cosette； when he had taken possession of her； carried her off； and delivered her； he felt his heart moved within him。
All the passion and affection within him awoke； and rushed towards that child。
He approached the bed； where she lay sleeping； and trembled with joy。
He suffered all the pangs of a mother； and he knew not what it meant； for that great and singular movement of a heart which begins to love is a very obscure and a very sweet thing。
Poor old man； with a perfectly new heart！
Only； as he was five and fifty； and Cosette eight years of age； all that might have been love in the whole course of his life flowed together into a sort of ineffable light。
It was the second white apparition which he had encountered。 The Bishop had caused the dawn of virtue to rise on his horizon； Cosette caused the dawn of love to rise。
The early days passed in this dazzled state。
Cosette； on her side； had also； unknown to herself； bee another being； poor little thing！
She was so little when her mother left her； that she no longer remembered her。
Like all children； who resemble young shoots of the vine； which cling to ever