There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. "Rather a devil," groaned her son, "to have done this. Nevertheless it was overwhelming. She had trembled on the verge of such a resolution before, but this time quite definitely she made it. She floundered deep. She felt that she had passed a difficult corner, and that now she could go on talking with him again, just as she had been used to do before she understood what was the matter with her. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. The vast area in front of Westminster Hall was thronged with people, and it was only by a vigorous application of their staves that the constables could force a passage for the vehicle. “And so you have been thinking?” her father began, quoting her letter and looking over his slanting glasses at her. ” The man smiled at him.
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