As he ate his breakfast，Monseigneur Welcome remarked gayly to his sister，who said nothing，and to Madame Magloire，who was grumbling under her breath，that one really does not need either fork or spoon，even of wood，in order to dip a bit of bread in a cup of milk.
'A pretty idea，truly，'said Madame Magloire to herself，as she went and came，'to take in a man like that！and to lodge him close to one's self！
And how fortunate that he did nothing but steal！Ah，mon Dieu！it makes one shudder to think of it！'
As the brother and sister were about to rise from the table，there came a knock at the door.
'Come in，'said the Bishop.
The door opened.
A singular and violent group made its appearance on the threshold.
Three men were holding a fourth man by the collar.The three men were gendarmes；the other was Jean Valjean.
A brigadier of gendarmes，who seemed to be in command of the group，was standing near the door.
He entered and advanced to the Bishop，making a military salute.
'Monseigneur——'said he.
At this word，Jean Valjean，who was dejected and seemed overwhelmed，raised his head with an air of stupefaction.
'Monseigneur！'he murmured.
'So he is not the cure？'
'Silence！'said the gendarme.
'He is Monseigneur the Bishop.'
In the meantime，Monseigneur Bienvenu had advanced as quickly as his great age permitted.
'Ah！here you are！'he exclaimed，looking at Jean Valjean.'I am glad to see you.
Well，but how is this？
I gave you the candlesticks too，which are of silver like the rest，and for which you can certainly get two hundred francs.Why did you not carry them away with your forks and spoons？'
Jean Valjean opened his eyes wide，and stared at the venerable Bishop with an expression which no human tongue can render any account of.
'Monseigneur，'said the brigadier of gendarmes，'so what this man said is true，then？
We came across him.
He was walking like a man who is running away.
We stopped him to look into the matter.He had this silver——'
'And he told you，'interposed the Bishop with a smile，'that it had been given to him by a kind old fellow of a priest with whom he had passed the night？
I see how the matter stands.
And you have brought him back here？
It is a mistake.'
'In that case，'replied the brigadier，'we can let him go？'
'Certainly，'replied the Bishop.
The gendarmes released Jean Valjean，who recoiled.
'Is it true that I am to be released？'he said，in an almost inarticulate voice，and as though he were talking in his sleep.
'Yes，thou art released；dost thou not understand？'said one of the gendarmes.
'My friend，'resumed the Bishop，'before you go，here are your candlesticks.
Take them.'
He stepped to the chimney-piece，took the two silver candlesticks，and brought them to Jean Valjean.
The two women looked on without uttering a word，without a gesture，without a look which could disconcert the Bishop.
Jean Valjean was trembling in every limb.
He took the two candlesticks mechanically，and with a bewildered air.
'Now，'said the Bishop，'go in peace.
By the way，when you return，my friend，it is not necessary to pass through the garden.You can always enter and depart through the street door.
It is never fastened with anything but a latch，either by day or by night.'
Then，turning to the gendarmes：——
'You may retire，gentlemen.'
The gendarmes retired.
Jean Valjean was like a man on the point of fainting.
The Bishop drew near to him，and said in a low voice：——
'Do not forget，never forget，that you have promised to use this money in becoming an honest man.'
Jean Valjean，who had no recollection of ever having promised anything，remained speechless.
The Bishop had emphasized the words when he uttered them.
He resumed with solemnity：——
'Jean Valjean，my brother，you no longer belong to evil，but to good.It is your soul that I buy from you；I withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition，and I give it to God.'
XIII LITTLE GERVAIS
Jean Valjean left the town as though he were fleeing from it.He set out at a very hasty pace through the fields，taking whatever roads and paths presented themselves to him，without perceiving that he was incessantly retracing his steps.
He wandered thus the whole morning，without having eaten anything and without feeling hungry.He was the prey of a throng of novel sensations.
He was conscious of a sort of rage；he did not know against whom it was directed.He could not have told whether he was touched or humiliated.There came over him at moments a strange emotion which he resisted and to which he opposed the hardness acquired during the last twenty years of his life.
This state of mind fatigued him.
He perceived with dismay that the sort of frightful calm which the injustice of his misfortune had conferred upon him was giving way within him.He asked himself what would replace this.
At times he would have actually preferred to be in prison with the gendarmes，and that things should not have happened in this way；it would have agitated him less.Although the season was tolerably far advanced，there were still a few late flowers in the hedge-rows here and there，whose odor as he passed through them in his march recalled to him memories of his childhood.
These memories were almost intolerable to him，it was so long since they had recurred to him.
Unutterable thoughts assembled within him in this manner all day long.
As the sun declined to its setting，casting long shadows athwart the soil from every pebble，Jean Valjean sat down behind a bush upon a large ruddy plain，which was absolutely deserted.
There was nothing on the horizon except the Alps.
Not even the spire of a distant village.Jean Valjean might have been three leagues distant from D——A path which intersected the plain passed a few paces from the bush.
In the middle of this meditation，which would have contributed not a little to render his rags terrifying to any one who might have encountered him，a joyous sound became audible.
