Assuredly，if any one had said to him at such moments that the hour would come when that name would ring in his ears，when the hideous words，Jean Valjean，would suddenly emerge from the darkness and rise in front of him，when that formidable light，capable of dissipating the mystery in which he had enveloped himself，would suddenly blaze forth above his head，and that that name would not menace him，that that light would but produce an obscurity more dense，that this rent veil would but increase the mystery，that this earthquake would solidify his edifice，that this prodigious incident would have no other result，so far as he was concerned，if so it seemed good to him，than that of rendering his existence at once clearer and more impenetrable，and that，out of his confrontation with the phantom of Jean Valjean，the good and worthy citizen Monsieur Madeleine would emerge more honored，more peaceful，and more respected than ever——if any one had told him that，he would have tossed his head and regarded the words as those of a madman.
Well，all this was precisely what had just come to pass；all that accumulation of impossibilities was a fact，and God had permitted these wild fancies to become real things！
His revery continued to grow clearer.
He came more and more to an understanding of his position.
It seemed to him that he had but just waked up from some inexplicable dream，and that he found himself slipping down a declivity in the middle of the night，erect，shivering，holding back all in vain，on the very brink of the abyss.
He distinctly perceived in the darkness a stranger，a man unknown to him，whom destiny had mistaken for him，and whom she was thrusting into the gulf in his stead；in order that the gulf might close once more，it was necessary that some one，himself or that other man，should fall into it：he had only let things take their course.
The light became complete，and he acknowledged this to himself：That his place was empty in the galleys；that do what he would，it was still awaiting him；that the theft from little Gervais had led him back to it；that this vacant place would await him，and draw him on until he filled it；that this was inevitable and fatal；and then he said to himself，'that，at this moment，be had a substitute；that it appeared that a certain Champmathieu had that ill luck，and that，as regards himself，being present in the galleys in the person of that Champmathieu，present in society under the name of M.Madeleine，he had nothing more to fear，provided that he did not prevent men from sealing over the head of that Champmathieu this stone of infamy which，like the stone of the sepulchre，falls once，never to rise again.'
All this was so strange and so violent，that there suddenly took place in him that indescribable movement，which no man feels more than two or three times in the course of his life，a sort of convulsion of the conscience which stirs up all that there is doubtful in the heart，which is composed of irony，of joy，and of despair，and which may be called an outburst of inward laughter.
He hastily relighted his candle.
'Well，what then？'he said to himself；'what am I afraid of？What is there in all that for me to think about？
I am safe；all is over.
I had but one partly open door through which my past might invade my life，and behold that door is walled up forever！That Javert，who has been annoying me so long；that terrible instinct which seemed to have divined me，which had divined me——good God！and which followed me everywhere；that frightful hunting-dog，always making a point at me，is thrown off the scent，engaged elsewhere，absolutely turned from the trail：
henceforth he is satisfied；he will leave me in peace；he has his Jean Valjean.Who knows？it is even probable that he will wish to leave town！And all this has been brought about without any aid from me，and I count for nothing in it！
Ah！but where is the misfortune in this？Upon my honor，people would think，to see me，that some catastrophe had happened to me！
After all，if it does bring harm to some one，that is not my fault in the least：
it is Providence which has done it all；it is because it wishes it so to be，evidently.
Have I the right to disarrange what it has arranged？
What do I ask now？Why should I meddle？
It does not concern me；what！
I am not satisfied：but what more do I want？
The goal to which I have aspired for so many years，the dream of my nights，the object of my prayers to Heaven，——security，——I have now attained；it is God who wills it；I can do nothing against the will of God，and why does God will it？In order that I may continue what I have begun，that I may do good，that I may one day be a grand and encouraging example，that it may be said at last，that a little happiness has been attached to the penance which I have undergone，and to that virtue to which I have returned.
Really，I do not understand why I was afraid，a little while ago，to enter the house of that good cure，and to ask his advice；this is evidently what he would have said to me：It is settled；let things take their course；let the good God do as he likes！'
Thus did he address himself in the depths of his own conscience，bending over what may be called his own abyss；he rose from his chair，and began to pace the room：
'Come，'said he，'let us think no more about it；my resolve is taken！'but he felt no joy.
Quite the reverse.
One can no more prevent thought from recurring to an idea than one can the sea from returning to the shore：
the sailor calls it the tide；the guilty man calls it remorse；God upheaves the soul as he does the ocean.
After the expiration of a few moments，do what he would，he resumed the gloomy dialogue in which it was he who spoke and he who listened，saying that which he would have preferred to ignore，and listened to that which he would have preferred not to hear，yielding to that mysterious power which said to him：
'Think！'as it said to another condemned man，two thousand years ago，'March on！'
