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was concealing his name； he was concealing his identity； so he concealed his age； he concealed everything； and； as we have just said； he willingly did his duty as a national guard； the sum of his ambition lay in resembling any other man who paid his taxes。 This man had for his ideal； within； the angel； without； the bourgeois。
Let us note one detail； however； when Jean Valjean went out with Cosette； he dressed as the reader has already seen； and had the air of a retired officer。
When he went out alone； which was generally at night； he was always dressed in a workingman's trousers and blouse； and wore a cap which concealed his face。
Was this precaution or humility？ Both。
Cosette was accustomed to the enigmatical side of her destiny； and hardly noticed her father's peculiarities。
As for Toussaint； she venerated Jean Valjean； and thought everything he did right。
One day； her butcher； who had caught a glimpse of Jean Valjean； said to her：
〃That's a queer fish。〃
She replied：
〃He's a saint。〃
Neither Jean Valjean nor Cosette nor Toussaint ever entered or emerged except by the door on the Rue de Babylone。
Unless seen through the garden gate it would have been difficult to guess that they lived in the Rue Plumet。
That gate was always closed。
Jean Valjean had left the garden uncultivated； in order not to attract attention。
In this； possibly； he made a mistake。
BOOK THIRD。THE HOUSE IN THE RUE PLUMET
CHAPTER III
FOLIIS AC FRONDIBUS
The garden thus left to itself for more than half a century had bee extraordinary and charming。
The passers…by of forty years ago halted to gaze at it； without a suspicion of the secrets which it hid in its fresh and verdant depths。
More than one dreamer of that epoch often allowed his thoughts and his eyes to penetrate indiscreetly between the bars of that ancient； padlocked gate； twisted； tottering； fastened to two green and moss…covered pillars； and oddly crowned with a pediment of undecipherable arabesque。
There was a stone bench in one corner； one or two mouldy statues； several lattices which had lost their nails with time； were rotting on the wall； and there were no walks nor turf； but there was enough grass everywhere。
Gardening had taken its departure； and nature had returned。
Weeds abounded； which was a great piece of luck for a poor corner of land。
The festival of gilliflowers was something splendid。
Nothing in this garden obstructed the sacred effort of things towards life； venerable growth reigned there among them。
The trees had bent over towards the nettles； the plant had sprung upward； the branch had inclined； that which crawls on the earth had gone in search of that which expands in the air； that which floats on the wind had bent over towards that which trails in the moss； trunks； boughs； leaves； fibres； clusters； tendrils； shoots； spines； thorns； had mingled； crossed； married； confounded themselves in each other； vegetation in a deep and close embrace； had celebrated and acplished there； under the well…pleased eye of the Creator； in that enclosure three hundred feet square； the holy mystery of fraternity； symbol of the human fraternity。 This garden was no longer a garden； it was a colossal thicket； that is to say； something as impenetrable as a forest； as peopled as a city； quivering like a nest； sombre like a cathedral； fragrant like a bouquet； solitary as a tomb； living as a throng。
In Floreal＇34＇ this enormous thicket； free behind its gate and within its four walls； entered upon the secret labor of germination； quivered in the rising sun； almost like an animal which drinks in the breaths of cosmic love； and which feels the sap of April rising and boiling in its veins； and shakes to the wind its enormous wonderful green locks； sprinkled on the damp earth； on the defaced statues； on the crumbling steps of the pavilion； and even on the pavement of the deserted street； flowers like stars； dew like pearls； fecundity； beauty； life； joy； perfumes。
At midday； a thousand white butterflies took refuge there； and it was a divine spectacle to see that living summer snow whirling about there in flakes amid the shade。
There； in those gay shadows of verdure； a throng of innocent voices spoke sweetly to the soul； and what the twittering forgot to say the humming pleted。
In the evening； a dreamy vapor exhaled from the garden and enveloped it； a shroud of mist； a calm and celestial sadness covered it； the intoxicating perfume of the honeysuckles and convolvulus poured out from every part of it； like an exquisite and subtle poison； the last appeals of the woodpeckers and the wagtails were audible as they dozed among the branches； one felt the sacred intimacy of the birds and the trees； by day the wings rejoice the leaves； by night the leaves protect the wings。
＇34＇ From April 19 to May 20。
In winter the thicket was black； dripping； bristling； shivering； and allowed some glimpse of the house。
Instead of flowers on the branches
and dew in the flowers； the long silvery tracks of the snails were visible on the cold； thick carpet of yellow leaves； but in any fashion； under any aspect； at all seasons； spring； winter； summer； autumn； this tiny enclosure breathed forth melancholy； contemplation； solitude； liberty； the absence of man； the presence of God； and the rusty old gate had the air of saying：
〃This garden belongs to me。〃
It was of no avail that the pavements of Paris were there on every side； the classic and splendid hotels of the Rue de Varennes a couple of paces away； the dome of the Invalides close at hand； the Chamber of Deputies not far off； the carriages of the Rue de Bourgogne and of the Rue Saint…Dominique rumbled luxuriously； in vain； in the vicinity； in vain did the yellow； brown； white； and red omnibuses cross each other's course at the neighboring cross…roads； the Rue Plumet was the desert； and the death of the former proprietors； the revolution which had passed over it； the crumbling away of ancient fortunes； absence； forgetfulness； forty years of abandonment and widowhood； had sufficed to restore to this privileged spot ferns