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ealities than with their harsh and direct light。 A useful and graciously austere half…light which dissipates puerile fears and obviates falls。
There is nothing but the maternal instinct； that admirable intuition posed of the memories of the virgin and the experience of the woman； which knows how this half…light is to be created and of what it should consist。
Nothing supplies the place of this instinct。
All the nuns in the world are not worth as much as one mother in the formation of a young girl's soul。
Cosette had had no mother。
She had only had many mothers； in the plural。
As for Jean Valjean； he was； indeed； all tenderness； all solicitude； but he was only an old man and he knew nothing at all。
Now； in this work of education； in this grave matter of preparing a woman for life； what science is required to bat that vast ignorance which is called innocence！
Nothing prepares a young girl for passions like the convent。 The convent turns the thoughts in the direction of the unknown。 The heart； thus thrown back upon itself； works downward within itself； since it cannot overflow； and grows deep； since it cannot expand。 Hence visions； suppositions； conjectures； outlines of romances； a desire for adventures； fantastic constructions； edifices built wholly in the inner obscurity of the mind； sombre and secret abodes where the passions immediately find a lodgement as soon as the open gate permits them to enter。
The convent is a pression which； in order to triumph over the human heart； should last during the whole life。
On quitting the convent； Cosette could have found nothing more sweet and more dangerous than the house in the Rue Plumet。 It was the continuation of solitude with the beginning of liberty； a garden that was closed； but a nature that was acrid； rich； voluptuous； and fragrant； the same dreams as in the convent； but with glimpses of young men； a grating； but one that opened on the street。
Still； when she arrived there； we repeat； she was only a child。 Jean Valjean gave this neglected garden over to her。
〃Do what you like with it；〃 he said to her。
This amused Cosette； she turned over all the clumps and all the stones； she hunted for 〃beasts〃； she played in it； while awaiting the time when she would dream in it； she loved this garden for the insects that she found beneath her feet amid the grass； while awaiting the day when she would love it for the stars that she would see through the boughs above her head。
And then； she loved her father； that is to say； Jean Valjean； with all her soul； with an innocent filial passion which made the goodman a beloved and charming panion to her。
It will be remembered that M。 Madeleine had been in the habit of reading a great deal。
Jean Valjean had continued this practice； he had e to converse well； he possessed the secret riches and the eloquence of a true and humble mind which has spontaneously cultivated itself。 He retained just enough sharpness to season his kindness； his mind was rough and his heart was soft。
During their conversations in the Luxembourg； he gave her explanations of everything； drawing on what he had read； and also on what he had suffered。 As she listened to him； Cosette's eyes wandered vaguely about。
This simple man sufficed for Cosette's thought； the same as the wild garden sufficed for her eyes。
When she had had a good chase after the butterflies； she came panting up to him and said：
〃Ah！
How I have run！〃
He kissed her brow。
Cosette adored the goodman。
She was always at his heels。 Where Jean Valjean was； there happiness was。
Jean Valjean lived neither in the pavilion nor the garden； she took greater pleasure in the paved back courtyard； than in the enclosure filled with flowers； and in his little lodge furnished with straw…seated chairs than in the great drawing…room hung with tapestry； against which stood tufted easy…chairs。 Jean Valjean sometimes said to her； smiling at his happiness in being importuned：
〃Do go to your own quarters！ Leave me alone a little！〃
She gave him those charming and tender scoldings which are so graceful when they e from a daughter to her father。
〃Father； I am very cold in your rooms； why don't you have a carpet here and a stove？〃
〃Dear child； there are so many people who are better than I and who have not even a roof over their heads。〃
〃Then why is there a fire in my rooms； and everything that is needed？〃
〃Because you are a woman and a child。〃
〃Bah！ must men be cold and feel unfortable？〃
〃Certain men。〃
〃That is good； I shall e here so often that you will be obliged to have a fire。〃
And again she said to him：
〃Father； why do you eat horrible bread like that？〃
〃Because； my daughter。〃
〃Well； if you eat it； I will eat it too。〃
Then； in order to prevent Cosette eating black bread； Jean Valjean ate white bread。
Cosette had but a confused recollection of her childhood。
She prayed morning and evening for her mother whom she had never known。 The Thenardiers had remained with her as two hideous figures in a dream。
She remembered that she had gone 〃one day； at night；〃 to fetch water in a forest。
She thought that it had been very far from Paris。
It seemed to her that she had begun to live in an abyss； and that it was Jean Valjean who had rescued her from it。 Her childhood produced upon her the effect of a time when there had been nothing around her but millepeds； spiders； and serpents。 When she meditated in the evening； before falling asleep； as she had not a very clear idea that she was Jean Valjean's daughter； and that he was her father； she fancied that the soul of her mother had passed into that good man and had e to dwell near her。
When he was seated； she leaned her cheek against his white hair； and dropped a silent tear； saying to herself：
〃Perhaps this man is my mother。〃
Cosette； although this is a strange statement to make； in the profound ignorance of a girl brought up in a convent； maternity being also absolutely unintelligible to virginity； had ended by fancying that she had had as little mother as possible。 She d