jean valjean turned round at the knock which he heard on his door.
"come in," he said feebly.
the door opened.
cosette and marius made their appearance.
cosette rushed into the room.
marius remained on the threshold, leaning against the jamb of the door.
"cosette!" said jean valjean.
and he sat erect in his chair, his arms outstretched and trembling, haggard, livid, gloomy, an immense joy in his eyes.
cosette, stifling with emotion, fell upon jean valjean's breast.
"father!" said she.
jean valjean, overcome, stammered:
"cosette! she! you! madame! it is thou! ah! my god!"
and, pressed close in cosette's arms, he exclaimed:
"it is thou! thou art here! thou dost pardon me then!"
marius, lowering his eyelids, in order to keep his tears from flowing, took a step forward and murmured between lips convulsively contracted to repress his sobs:
"my father!"
"and you also, you pardon me!" jean valjean said to him.
marius could find no words, and jean valjean added:
"thanks."
cosette tore off her shawl and tossed her hat on the bed.
"it embarrasses me," said she.
and, seating herself on the old man's knees, she put aside his white locks with an adorable movement, and kissed his brow.
jean valjean, bewildered, let her have her own way.
cosette, who only understood in a very confused manner, redoubled her caresses, as though she desired to pay marius' debt.
jean valjean stammered:
"how stupid people are! i thought that i should never see her again. imagine, monsieur pontmercy, at the very moment when you entered, i was saying to myself:`all is over. here is her little gown, i am a miserable man, i shall never see cosette again,' and i was saying that at the very moment when you were mounting the stairs. was not i an idiot? just see how idiotic one can be! one reckons without the good god. the good god says:
"`you fancy that you are about to be abandoned, stupid! no. no, things will not go so. come, there is a good man yonder who is in need of an angel.' and the angel comes, and one sees one's cosette again! and one sees one's little cosette once more! ah! i was very unhappy."
for a moment he could not speak, then he went on:
"i really needed to see cosette a little bit now and then. a heart needs a bone to gnaw. but i was perfectly conscious that i was in the way. i gave myself reasons: `they do not want you, keep in your own course, one has not the right to cling eternally.' ah! god be praised, i see her once more! dost thou know, cosette, thy husband is very handsome? ah! what a pretty embroidered collar thou hast on, luckily. i am fond of that pattern. it was thy husband who chose it, was it not? and then, thou shouldst have some cashmere shawls. let me call her thou, monsieur pontmercy. it will not be for long."
and cosette began again:
"how wicked of you to have left us like that! where did you go? why have you stayed away so long? formerly your journeys only lasted three or four days. i sent nicolette, the answer always was: he is absent.' how long have you been back? why did you not let us know? do you know that you are very much changed? ah! what a naughty father! he has been ill, and we have not known it! stay, marius, feel how cold his hand is!"
"so you are here! monsieur pontmercy, you pardon me!" repeated jean valjean.
at that word which jean valjean had just uttered once more, all that was swelling marius' heart found vent.
he burst forth:
"cosette, do you hear? he has come to that! he asks my forgiveness! and do you know what he has done for me, cosette? he has saved my life. he has done more--he has given you to me. and after having saved me, and after having given you to me, cosette, what has he done with himself? he has sacrificed himself. behold the man. and he says to me the ingrate, to me the forgetful, to me the pitiless, to me the guilty one: thanks! cosette, my whole life passed at the feet of this man would be too little.that barricade, that sewer, that furnace, that cesspool,--all that he traversed for me, for thee, cosette! he carried me away through all the deaths which he put aside before me, and accepted for himself. every courage, every virtue, every heroism, every sanctity he possesses! cosette, that man is an angel!"
"hush! hush!" said jean valjean in a low voice. "why tell all that?"
"but you!" cried marius with a wrath in which there was veneration, "why did you not tell it to me? it is your own fault, too. you save people's lives, and you conceal it from them! you do more, under the pretext of unmasking yourself, you calumniate yourself. it is frightful."
"i told the truth," replied jean valjean.
"no," retorted marius, "the truth is the whole truth; and that you did not tell. you were monsieur madeleine, why not have said so? you saved javert, why not have said so? i owed my life to you, why not have said so?"
"because i thought as you do. i thought that you were in the right. it was necessary that i should go away. if you had known about that affair, of the sewer, you would have made me remain near you. i was therefore forced to hold my peace. if i had spoken, it would have caused embarrassment in every way."
"it would have embarrassed what? embarrassed whom?" retorted marius. "do you think that you are going to stay here? we shall carry you off. ah! good heavens! when i reflect that it was by an accident that i have learned all this. you form a part of ourselves. you are her father, and mine. you shall not pass another day in this dreadful house. do not imagine that you will be here to-morrow."
"to-morrow," said jean valjean, "i shall not be here, but i shall not be with you."
"what do you mean?" replied marius. "ah! come now, we are not going to permit any more journeys. you shall never leave us again. you belong to us. we shall not loose our hold of you."
"this time it is for good," added cosette. "we have a carriage at the door. i shall run away with you. if necessary, i shall employ force."
and she laughingly made a movement to lift the old man in her arms.
"your chamber still stands ready in our house," she went on. "if you only knew how pretty the garden is now! the azaleas are doing very well there. the walks are sanded with river sand; there are tiny violet shells. you shall eat my strawberries. i water them myself. and no more `madame,' no more `monsieur jean,' we are living under a republic, everybody says thou, don't they, marius? the programme is changed. if you only knew, father, i have had a sorrow, there was a robin redbreast which had made her nest in a hole in the wall, and a horrible cat ate her. my poor, pretty, little robin red-breast which used to put her head out of her window and look at me! i cried over it. i should have liked to kill the cat. but now nobody cries any more. everybody laughs, everybody is happy. you are going to come with us. how delighted grandfather will be! you shall have your plot in the garden, you shall cultivate it, and we shall see whether your strawberries are as fine as mine. and, then, i shall do everything that you wish, and then, you will obey me prettily."
jean valjean listened to her without hearing her. he heard the music of her voice rather than the sense of her words; one of those large tears which are the sombre pearls of the soul welled up slowly in his eyes.
he murmured:
"the proof that god is good is that she is here."
"father!" said cosette.
jean valjean continued:
"it is quite true that it would be charming for us to live together. their trees are full of birds. i would walk with cosette. it is sweet to be among living people who bid each other `good-day,' who call to each other in the garden. people see each other from early morning. we should each cultivate our own little corner. she would make me eat her strawberries. i would make her gather my roses. that would be charming. only . . ."
he paused and said gently:
"it is a pity."
the tear did not fall, it retreated, and jean valjean replaced it with a smile.
cosette took both the old man's hands in hers.
"my god!" said she, "your hands are still colder than before. are you ill? do you suffer?"
"i? no," replied jean valjean. "i am very well. only . . ."
he paused.
"only what?"
"i am going to die presently."
cosette and marius shuddered.
"to die!" exclaimed marius.
"yes, but that is nothing," said jean valjean.
he took breath, smiled and resumed:
"cosette, thou wert talking to me, go on, so thy little robin red-breast is dead? speak, so that i may hear thy voice."
marius gazed at the old man in amazement.
cosette uttered a heartrending cry.
"father! my father! you will live. you are going to live. i insist upon your living, do you hear?"
jean valjean raised his head towards her with adoration.
"oh! yes, forbid me to die. who knows? perhaps i shall obey. i was on the verge of dying when you came. that stopped me, it seemed to me that i was born again."
"you are full of strength and life," cried marius. "do you imagine that a person can die like this? you have had sorrow, you shall have no more. it is i who ask your forgiveness, and on my knees! you are going to live, and to live with us, and to live a long time. we take possession of you once more. there are two of us here who will henceforth have no other thought than your happiness."
"you see," resumed cosette, all bathed in tears, "that marius says that you shall not die."
jean valjean continued to smile.
"even if you were to take possession of me, monsieur pontmercy, would that make me other than i am? no, god has thought like you and myself, and he does not change his mind; it is useful for me to go. death is a good arrangement. god knows better than we what we need. may you be happy, may monsieur pontmercy have cosette, may youth wed the morning, may there be around you, my children, lilacs and nightingales; may your life be a beautiful, sunny lawn, may all the enchantments of heaven fill your souls, and now let me, who am good for nothing, die; it is certain that all this is right. come, be reasonable, nothing is possible now, i am fully conscious that all is over. and then, last night, i drank that whole jug of water. how good thy husband is, cosette! thou art much better off with him than with me."
a noise became audible at the door.
it was the doctor entering.
"good-day, and farewell, doctor," said jean valjean. "here are my poor children."
marius stepped up to the doctor. he addressed to him only this single word: "monsieur? . . ." but his manner of pronouncing it contained a complete question.
the doctor replied to the question by an expressive glance.
"because things are not agreeable," said jean valjean, "that is no reason for being unjust towards god."
a silence ensued.
all breasts were oppressed.
jean valjean turned to cosette. he began to gaze at her as though he wished to retain her features for eternity.
in the depths of the shadow into which he had already descended, ecstasy was still possible to him when gazing at cosette. the reflection of that sweet face lighted up his pale visage.
the doctor felt of his pulse.
"ah! it was you that he wanted!" he murmured, looking at cosette and marius.
and bending down to marius' ear, he added in a very low voice:
"too late."
jean valjean surveyed the doctor and marius serenely, almost without ceasing to gaze at cosette.
these barely articulate words were heard to issue from his mouth:
"it is nothing to die; it is dreadful not to live."
all at once he rose to his feet. these accesses of strength are sometimes the sign of the death agony. he walked with a firm step to the wall, thrusting aside marius and the doctor who tried to help him, detached from the wall a little copper crucifix which was suspended there, and returned to his seat with all the freedom of movement of perfect health, and said in a loud voice, as he laid the crucifix on the table:
"behold the great martyr."
then his chest sank in, his head wavered, as though the intoxication of the tomb were seizing hold upon him.
his hands, which rested on his knees, began to press their nails into the stuff of his trousers.
cosette supported his shoulders, and sobbed, and tried to speak to him, but could not.
among the words mingled with that mournful saliva which accompanies tears, they distinguished words like the following:
"father, do not leave us. is it possible that we have found you only to lose you again?"
it might be said that agony writhes. it goes, comes, advances towards the sepulchre, and returns towards life. there is groping in the action of dying.
jean valjean rallied after this semi-swoon, shook his brow as though to make the shadows fall away from it and became almost perfectly lucid once more.
he took a fold of cosette's sleeve and kissed it.
"he is coming back! doctor, he is coming back," cried marius.
"you are good, both of you," said jean valjean. "i am going to tell you what has caused me pain. what has pained me, monsieur pontmercy, is that you have not been willing to touch that money. that money really belongs to your wife. i will explain to you, my children, and for that reason, also, i am glad to see you. black jet comes from england, white jet comes from norway. all this is in this paper, which you will read. for bracelets, i invented a way of substituting for slides of soldered sheet iron, slides of iron laid together.it is prettier, better and less costly. you will understand how much money can be made in that way. so cosette's fortune is really hers. i give you these details, in order that your mind may be set at rest."
the portress had come upstairs and was gazing in at the half-open door. the doctor dismissed her.
but he could not prevent this zealous woman from exclaiming to the dying man before she disappeared: "would you like a priest?"
"i have had one," replied jean valjean.
and with his finger he seemed to indicate a point above his head where one would have said that he saw some one.
it is probable, in fact, that the bishop was present at this death agony.
cosette gently slipped a pillow under his loins.
jean valjean resumed:
"have no fear, monsieur pontmercy, i adjure you. the six hundred thousand francs really belong to cosette. my life will have been wasted if you do not enjoy them! we managed to do very well with those glass goods. we rivalled what is called berlin jewellery. however, we could not equal the black glass of england. a gross, which contains twelve hundred very well cut grains, only costs three francs."
when a being who is dear to us is on the point of death, we gaze upon him with a look which clings convulsively to him and which would fain hold him back.
cosette gave her hand to marius, and both, mute with anguish, not knowing what to say to the dying man, stood trembling and despairing before him.
jean valjean sank moment by moment. he was failing; he was drawing near to the gloomy horizon.
his breath had become intermittent; a little rattling interrupted it. he found some difficulty in moving his forearm, his feet had lost all movement, and in proportion as the wretchedness of limb and feebleness of body increased, all the majesty of his soul was displayed and spread over his brow. the light of the unknown world was already visible in his eyes.
his face paled and smiled. life was no longer there, it was something else.
his breath sank, his glance grew grander. he was a corpse on which the wings could be felt.
he made a sign to cosette to draw near, then to marius; the last minute of the last hour had, evidently, arrived.
he began to speak to them in a voice so feeble that it seemed to come from a distance, and one would have said that a wall now rose between them and him.
"draw near, draw near, both of you. i love you dearly. oh! how good it is to die like this! and thou lovest me also, my cosette. i knew well that thou still felt friendly towards thy poor old man. how kind it was of thee to place that pillow under my loins! thou wilt weep for me a little, wilt thou not? not too much. i do not wish thee to have any real griefs. you must enjoy yourselves a great deal, my children. i forgot to tell you that the profit was greater still on the buckles without tongues than on all the rest. a gross of a dozen dozens cost ten francs and sold for sixty. it really was a good business. so there is no occasion for surprise at the six hundred thousand francs, monsieur pontmercy.it is honest money.you may be rich with a tranquil mind. thou must have a carriage, a box at the theatres now and then, and handsome ball dresses, my cosette, and then, thou must give good dinners to thy friends, and be very happy. i was writing to cosette a while ago. she will find my letter. i bequeath to her the two candlesticks which stand on the chimney-piece. they are of silver, but to me they are gold, they are diamonds; they change candles which are placed in them into wax-tapers. i do not know whether the person who gave them to me is pleased with me yonder on high. i have done what i could. my children, you will not forget that i am a poor man, you will have me buried in the first plot of earth that you find, under a stone to mark the spot. this is my wish. no name on the stone. if cosette cares to come for a little while now and then, it will give me pleasure. and you too, monsieur pontmercy. i must admit that i have not always loved you. i ask your pardon for that. now she and you form but one for me. i feel very grateful to you. i am sure that you make cosette happy. if you only knew, monsieur pontmercy, her pretty rosy cheeks were my delight; when i saw her in the least pale, i was sad. in the chest of drawers, there is a bank-bill for five hundred francs. i have not touched it. it is for the poor. cosette, dost thou see thy little gown yonder on the bed? dost thou recognize it? that was ten years ago, however. how time flies! we have been very happy. all is over. do not weep, my children, i am not going very far, i shall see you from there, you will only have to look at night, and you will see me smile. cosette, dost thou remember montfermeil? thou wert in the forest, thou wert greatly terrified; dost thou remember how i took hold of the handle of the water-bucket? that was the first time that i touched thy poor, little hand. it was so cold! ah! your hands were red then, mademoiselle, they are very white now. and the big doll! dost thou remember? thou didst call her catherine. thou regrettedest not having taken her to the convent! how thou didst make me laugh sometimes, my sweet angel! when it had been raining, thou didst float bits of straw on the gutters, and watch them pass away. one day i gave thee a willow battledore and a shuttlecock with yellow, blue and green feathers. thou hast forgotten it. thou wert roguish so young! thou didst play. thou didst put cherries in thy ears. those are things of the past. the forests through which one has passed with one's child, the trees under which one has strolled, the convents where one has concealed oneself, the games, the hearty laughs of childhood, are shadows. i imagined that all that belonged to me. in that lay my stupidity. those thenardiers were wicked. thou must forgive them. cosette, the moment has come to tell thee the name of thy mother. she was called fantine. remember that name--fantine. kneel whenever thou utterest it. she suffered much. she loved thee dearly. she had as much unhappiness as thou hast had happiness. that is the way god apportions things. he is there on high, he sees us all, and he knows what he does in the midst of his great stars. i am on the verge of departure, my children. love each other well and always. there is nothing else but that in the world: love for each other. you will think sometimes of the poor old man who died here. oh my cosette, it is not my fault, indeed, that i have not seen thee all this time, it cut me to the heart; i went as far as the corner of the street, i must have produced a queer effect on the people who saw me pass, i was like a madman, i once went out without my hat. i no longer see clearly, my children, i had still other things to say, but never mind. think a little of me. come still nearer. i die happy. give me your dear and well-beloved heads, so that i may lay my hands upon them."
cosette and marius fell on their knees, in despair, suffocating with tears, each beneath one of jean valjean's hands. those august hands no longer moved.
he had fallen backwards, the light of the candles illuminated him.
his white face looked up to heaven, he allowed cosette and marius to cover his hands with kisses.
he was dead.
the night was starless and extremely dark. no doubt, in the gloom,
some immense angel stood erect with wings outspread, awaiting that soul.
冉阿让听见敲门声，就转过身去。
“进来。”他用微弱的声音说。
门一开，珂赛特和马吕斯出现了。
珂赛特跑进房间。
马吕斯在门口站着，靠在门框上。
“珂赛特！”冉阿让说，他在椅子上竖起身来，张开颤抖的两臂，神情惊恐，面色惨白，看起来很骇人，目光里显出无限欢快。
珂赛特因激动而感到窒息，倒在冉阿让的怀中。
“父亲！”她喊着。
冉阿让精神错乱，结结巴巴地说：
“珂赛特！她！是您！夫人！啊！我的上帝！”
于是，在珂赛特的紧抱之中，他叫道：
“是你呀！你在这儿！你原谅我了！”
马吕斯垂着眼帘不让眼泪淌下，走近一步，嘴唇痉挛地紧缩着，忍住痛哭，轻轻地喊了一声：
“我的父亲！”
“您也是呀，您也原谅我了！”冉阿让说。
马吕斯一句话也说不出，冉阿让又说：“谢谢。”
珂赛特把围巾拉下来，把帽子扔在床上。
“戴着不方便。”她说。
她于是坐在老人的膝上，一边用可爱的动作把他的白发撂开，吻他的额头。
冉阿让随她摆布，神情恍惚。
珂赛特模糊地懂得了一点，她加倍亲热，好象要替马吕斯赎罪。
冉阿让含糊地说：
“我真傻！我以为见不到她了。您想想，彭眉胥先生，你们进来的时候，我正在想：‘完了，她的小裙衫在这儿，我是一个悲惨的人，我见不到珂赛特了。”我这样想时，你们正在上楼梯。我多愚蠢呀！蠢到如此地步！我们考虑问题没有想到上帝。慈悲的上帝说：‘你以为他们就这样把你遗弃了，傻瓜！不会的，不会，决不会这样的。来吧，这里有个可怜人需要一个天使。’天使就来了，我又见到了我的珂赛特，我又见到了我的小珂赛特！啊！我曾经万分痛苦呀！”
他有一阵子几乎说不出话来，后来又继续说下去：
“我实在十分需要偶尔来看看珂赛特。一颗心，需要一点寄托。但我又感到我是个多余的人。我自己说服自己：‘他们不需要你了，待在你自己的角落里吧，你无权永远赖着不走。’啊！感谢上帝，我又见到她了！你知道吗，珂赛特，你的丈夫很漂亮？啊！你有一个美丽的绣花领子，这样好得很。我爱这种花样。是你丈夫选择的，对吗？还有，你应当有几条开司米围巾，彭眉胥先生，让我称她‘你’吧。这不会很久了。”
珂赛特接着说：
“您这样把我们丢下多不近人情！您上哪儿去啦？为什么离开这么久？以前您多次的旅行最多三四天。我差妮珂莱特来，老回答说：‘他没有回来。’您什么时候回来的？为什么不告诉我们？您变化很大，您知道吗？啊！坏父亲！他生了病，我们竟不知道！你瞧，马吕斯，摸摸他的手，竟然冷成这个样！”
“这么说您来了！彭眉胥先生，您原谅我了。”冉阿让又说了一遍。
听了冉阿让重复这句话，一切拥塞在马吕斯心头的东西找到了发泄的机会，爆发出来了：
“珂赛特，你听见吗？他还这样说！要我原谅他。你知道他怎样对待我吗，珂赛特？他救了我的命。他做的还不止这些，他把你给了我。在救了我之后，在把你给了我之后，珂赛特，他自己又怎么样呢？他牺牲了自己。他就是这样一个人。而对我这忘恩负义的人，对我这个健忘的人，对我这个残酷的人，对我这个罪人，他却说：‘谢谢！’珂赛特，我一辈子为他鞠躬尽瘁也不能报答他。这个街垒，这条阴沟，这个火坑，这些污水沟，他都经历过了，为了我，为了你，珂赛特！他背着我，使我避开一切死难，而他自己却承受一切。一切勇敢，一切道义，一切英雄精神，一切神圣的品德，他都具备了！珂赛特，这个人真是一位天使！”
“嘘！嘘！”冉阿让轻声说，“为什么要说这些话？”
“但是您！”马吕斯生气然而又尊敬地说，“为什么您不说这些事？这也是您的过错，您救了别人的命，还要瞒着别人！尤其是，借口说您要暴露自己，您其实是在诽谤自己，这真可怕。”
“我说的是真话。”冉阿让回答。
“没有，”马吕斯又说，“讲真话，要讲全部的真话，而您并没有讲。您是马德兰先生，为什么没有讲？您救了沙威，为什么不讲？您救了我的命，为什么不讲？”
“因为我想的和您一样，我觉得您有道理。我应该走开。如果您知道了阴沟的事，您就要留我在你们身边。因此我不应该说。如果我说出来，大家都会感到拘束了。”
“拘束什么！谁拘束呢！”马吕斯回答。“难道您还想待在这儿吗？我们要带您走。啊！天哪！我想到我完全是偶然获悉这些情况的！我们要把您接去，您和我们是分不开的。您是她的父亲，也是我的。您不会再多留一天在这可怕的屋子里了。您不要以为您明天还在这儿。”
“明天，”冉阿让说，“我不会在这儿，但也不会在您的家里。”
“您这是什么意思？”马吕斯问，“啊，现在我们不允许您再去旅行。您不要再离开我们，您是我们的人，我们不放您走了。”
“这一次，说了是要算数的。”珂赛特加上一句。“我们有车子在下面，我们要把您带走，如果有必要的话，我还要用武力呢！”
于是她笑着做出用手臂抱起老人的姿势。
“家里一直保留着您住的房间，”她继续说，“您可知道现在花园可真美呀！杜鹃花开得很茂盛。小路都用河沙铺过了，沙里还有小的紫色贝壳。您将要吃到我的草莓，是我自己浇水种的。没有什么夫人，也没有什么让先生了，我们都生活在共和国里，大家都以‘你’相称。对吗？马吕斯？生活的法则也变了。您不知道，父亲，我有一件伤心事，有一只知更鸟在墙头洞里做了窝，一只可恶的猫把它吃掉了。我那可怜的美丽的小知更鸟把头伸在它的窗口望着我！我曾为它哭泣，我真想杀了那只猫！但现在没有人哭了。大家都欢笑，大家都幸福。您和我们一起回去。外祖父会多么高兴呀！在花园里您将要有您的一小块地，您自己耕种，我们看看您的草莓是不是和我的长得一样好。还有，我样样依顺您，还有，您得好好地听我的话。”
冉阿让在听着，但又没听见，他听着她那象音乐一样的说话声，而不是听懂她话的意思；一大颗眼泪，灵魂里幽暗的珍珠，慢慢地在眼里出现，于是他轻声说：
“足以证明上帝是慈悲的，她在这儿了。”
“父亲！”珂赛特呼唤着。
冉阿让继续说：
“不错，能在一起生活，这多好。树上有很多鸟。我和珂赛特去散步，和活着的人一样，互相问好，在花园里相互呼唤，这多甜蜜。从清早就能相见。我们每人各种一块地。她种的草莓给我吃，我让她摘我的玫瑰花，这该多么好呀。但是……”
他停下来温和地说：
“可惜。”
眼泪没落下来，又收回去了，冉阿让用一个微笑代替了它。
珂赛特把老人的双手握在她手中。
“我的上帝！”她说，“您的手更冷了。您有病吗？您不舒服吗？”
“我吗，没有病，”冉阿让回答说，“我很舒服，可是……”
他又停下不说了。
“可是怎么样呢？”
“我马上就要死了。”
珂赛特和马吕斯听了以后就打颤。
“要死了！”马吕斯叫道。
“是呀，但这不算什么。”冉阿让说。
他呼吸了一下，微笑着，又说了下去：
“珂赛特，你刚才在和我说话，继续下去，再说点，那么说你的小知更鸟是死了，讲吧，让我听听你的声音！”
马吕斯吓呆了，他望着老人。
珂赛特发出一声凄厉的叫声。
“父亲！我的父亲！您要活下去，您会活的，我要您活下去，听见了吧！”
冉阿让抬起头来向着她，带着一种热爱的神色：“噢，是的，禁止我死吧。谁知道？我可能会听从的。你们来时我正要死去，就这样我就停了下来，我觉得我好象又活过来了。”
“您是充满了活力和生命的，”马吕斯大声说，“难道您认为一个人会这样死去吗？您曾痛苦过，以后再不会有了。是我在请求您的原谅，我还要跪着请求您的原谅！您会活着的，和我们一起活着，并且还会长寿。我们接您回去。我们两人从今以后只有一个愿望，那就是您的幸福！”
“您看，”珂赛特满面泪痕地说，“马吕斯说您不会死的。”
冉阿让微笑着继续说：
“彭眉胥先生，您带我回去，难道我就不会是现在的我了吗？不行，上帝的想法和您我一样，并且他不会改变主张，我最好还是离开。死是一种妥善的安排。上帝比我们更知道我们需要的是什么。祝你们快乐，祝彭眉胥先生有着珂赛特，青春要和清晨作伴，我的孩子们，你们四周有丁香，又有黄莺，你们的生命象朝阳下美丽的草坪，天上的喜悦充满你们的心灵，现在我已一无用处，让我死吧，肯定这一切都会好的。你们看，要懂道理，现在一切都已经不能挽救了，我觉得自己是绝对完了。一个钟头以前，我昏厥了一次。还有昨天晚上，我喝完了这一罐水。你的丈夫真好，珂赛特！你跟着他比跟着我好多了。”
门上发出声音。是医生进来了。
“早安和再见，医生，”冉阿让说，“这是我可怜的孩子们。”马吕斯走近医生，他只向他说了两个字：“先生？……”但说时的神情等于完整地提了一个问题。
医生向他丢了一个有表情的眼色作回答。
“因为这种事使人感到不愉快，”冉阿让说，“这不能成为自己对上帝不公正的一种借口。”
大家静默无言，所有人的心都感到沉重。
冉阿让转向珂赛特，向她凝视着，好象要把她的形象带到永生里去那样。他虽已沉入黑暗深处，但望着珂赛特他还会出神。这个温柔的容貌使他苍白的脸发出光芒，墓窟因而也有着它的光彩。
医生为他诊脉。
“啊！原来他缺少的是你们。”他望着珂赛特和马吕斯轻声说。
于是他凑近马吕斯的耳边轻声加了一句：
“太迟了。”
冉阿让几乎不停地望着珂赛特，安静地看看马吕斯和医生。我们听见从他嘴里含糊地说出这样的一句话：
“死不算一回事，可怕的是不能活了。”
忽然他站起身来，这种体力的恢复有时就是临终的挣扎。他稳稳地走向墙壁，把要扶他的马吕斯和医生推开，取下挂在墙上的铜十字架，回来坐下的动作好象完全健康时那样自由自在，他把十字架放在桌上并且高声说：
“这就是伟大的殉道者。”
然后他的胸部下陷，头摇晃了一下，好象墓中的沉醉侵占了他，放在膝上的两只手开始用手指甲抠裤子的布。
珂赛特扶着他的双肩呜咽着，想要和他说话又说不出来。我们听见她含着凄惶的口水伴着眼泪这样说：“父亲，不要离开我们，怎么能刚找到您就失去您呢？”
我们可以说垂死的挣扎有如蛇行，它去了又来，走近坟墓而又回头走向生命，在死亡的动作里有着摸索的过程。
冉阿让在半昏迷状态之后，又恢复了一点气力，他摇晃了一下脑袋，象要甩掉黑暗，接着几乎变得完全清醒了。他拿起珂赛特的一角袖子吻了一下。
“他缓过来了！医生，他缓过来了！”马吕斯喊着。
“你们两个人都好，”冉阿让说，“我告诉你们什么事在使我痛苦。使我痛苦的是，彭眉胥先生，您不肯动用那笔款。那笔款确是您夫人的。我要向你们解释，我的孩子们，也就是为了这个原因，我很高兴见到你们。黑玉是英国的产品，白玉是挪威的产品。这一切都写在这张纸上，你们以后看吧。关于手镯，我发明了不用焊药焊住金属扣环，而是把金属扣环搭紧，这样比较美观，而且价廉物美。你们明白这样可以赚很多钱。因此珂赛特的财产确是属于她的。我讲这些详情为了使你们安心。”
看门的上楼来了，通过半开的门向里面探望着，医生叫她走开，但没能制止这个热心的妇人在走开之前向垂死的人大声说：
“您需要一个神父吗？”
“我已有了一个。”冉阿让回答。
这时他用手指好象指着他头上方的某一处，他好象看见有个人。
大概主教真的在这临终的时刻来到了。
珂赛特轻手轻脚地把一个枕头塞在他的腰部。
冉阿让又说：
“彭眉胥先生，不用担心，我恳求您。那六十万法郎是属于珂赛特的。如果你们不愿享受它，那我就白活了！我们很成功地做出了这些玻璃饰物。我们和被称作柏林的首饰竞争，可是比不上德国的黑玻璃。一罗有一千二百粒打磨得整齐的珠子只要三个法郎。”
当我们所爱的一个人要临终时，我们的眼睛就盯住他，想把他留住。他们两人痛苦得说不出话来，不知要向垂死的人说些什么，他们失望地颤抖着站在他眼前，马吕斯握着珂赛特的手。
冉阿让一点一点地衰竭下去，他不断地在变弱，他已接近黑暗的天边。他的呼吸已断断续续；喉中有种嘎嘎的响声在间歇地截断气息，他的上臂已很难移动，足部也已经不能动，当四肢失灵，身体越来越衰竭时，庄严的灵魂在上升，并且已经显示在他的额头上。他的眼珠里已经出现了未知世界的光明。
他的脸逐渐失色，但仍带着笑容，生命已经结束，有的是其他的东西。他的呼吸中断，眼睛睁大，人们觉得这是一具长着翅膀的尸体。
他做了一个手势要珂赛特走近，又要马吕斯走近；这肯定是最后一小时的最后一分钟，他用微弱得好象来自远方的声音和他们说话，现在好象已有一堵墙把他和他们隔开了。
“过来，你俩过来，我很爱你们，啊！这样死去有多好！你也一样，你爱我，我的珂赛特。我知道你对你这个老人一直是有感情的，你把这靠垫放在我腰部是多么体贴我！你将会稍稍为我哭一下，对不对？可不要太过分。我不愿你真的难过。你们应当多多享乐，我的孩子。我还忘了告诉你们，没有扣针的扣环比所有的一切更赚钱。十二打的成本只合十个法郎，卖出去是六十法郎。这真是一个好买卖。所以您不要再为会有六十万法郎而感到诧异了，彭眉胥先生。这是清白的钱，你们可以安享富贵。应该有一辆车，不时定一个包厢到戏院去看看戏，做些漂亮的舞会服装，我的珂赛特，用盛宴招待你们的朋友，要生活得非常幸福。刚才我写了封信给珂赛特。她会找到我的信的。我把壁炉上这对烛台留给她。烛台是银的，但对我来说它是金的，是钻石的，它能把插在上面的蜡烛变成神烛。我不知道把它赠给我的那一位在天上是否对我感到满意，我已尽我所能了。孩子们，你们不要忘了我是一个穷苦人，你们把我埋在随便哪一块地上，用一块石板盖着做记号。这是我的遗愿。石上不要刻名字。如果珂赛特有时能来看望我一下，我会感到愉快。还有您也来，彭眉胥先生。我要向您承认，我并非一直都对您有好感的，我为此向您道歉。现在您和她，对我来说是一个人了。我十分感激您，我感到您使珂赛特幸福。您可知道，彭眉胥先生，她那红润而美丽的双颊就是我的愉快，当我看见她有点憔悴时，我便心里发愁。在橱柜里有一张五百法郎的票子。我还没有动用。这是施舍给穷人的。珂赛特，你看见你的小裙衫在这张床上吗？你还认得吗？其实这还只是十年前的事。时间过得多么快呀！我们曾经多么幸福呀。现在完了。孩子们不要哭，我去不了多远。我从那儿看得见你们。当天黑下来的时候，你们只要注意瞧，会望见我在微笑。珂赛特，你还记得在孟费郿，在树林里，你多么害怕，你还记得当时我提起水桶把吗？那是第一次我接触到你这可怜的小手，它是冰凉的！啊！当时你的手冻得通红，小姐，现在你的手是雪白的了。还有你的大娃娃！你记得吗？你叫她卡特琳。你后悔没有把她带进修女院！有时你真令我发笑，我可爱的天使！下雨的时候，你把草茎放在水沟里看着它们漂去。有一天，我买了一个柳条拍子和一个黄蓝绿三色的羽毛球给你。你忘了这些事了。你小时候多调皮！你玩着。你把樱桃放在耳朵里。这些都是过去的事了。我和我的孩子经过的森林，我们一起在下面散步的树木，我们一起藏身的修女院，种种游戏，童年时代欢畅的嬉笑，都已经消失了。我一直认为这一切是属于我的，我愚蠢之处就在于此。德纳第家的人都很凶狠，原谅他们吧。珂赛特，现在我该把你母亲的名字告诉你了。她叫芳汀。记住这个名字：芳汀。当你提到她的名字时，你应当跪下。她吃过很多苦。她非常爱你，她的痛苦正和你的幸福成对比。这是上帝的安排。他在天上，他看见我们大家，他在他的星宿中知道他做的一切。我就要去了，孩子们，你们永远相爱吧。世上除了相爱之外几乎没有别的了。你们有时想想死在这儿的可怜的老人。啊！我的珂赛特，这些时候我没有见到你，这可不怪我，那时我心都碎了；我一直走到你住的那条街的拐角上，见到我走过的人一定觉得我古怪，我好象疯了一样，有一次我没有戴帽子就出去了。孩子们，我现在已看不大清楚了，我还有话要说，算了吧。你们稍稍地想一想我。你们是上帝保佑的人。我不知道我怎么啦，我看见光亮。你们俩再挨近我些，我愉快地死去。把你们亲爱的头挨近我，我好把手放上去。”
珂赛特和马吕斯跪下，心慌意乱，悲泪哽咽，每人靠着冉阿让的一只手，这只庄严的手已不再动弹了。
他倒向后面，两支烛光照着他；他那白色的脸望着上天，他让珂赛特和马吕斯拼命吻他的手，他死了。
夜没有星光，一片漆黑，在黑暗中，可能有一个站着的大天使展开着双翅，在等待着这个灵魂。
