雨果 悲惨世界 英文版1-第19章

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heads　of　unequal　heights；　and　from　this　gesture　it　was　divined　that　the　thing　which　he　had　done；　whatever　it　was；　he　had　done　for　the　sake　of　clothing　and　nourishing　seven　little　children。
　　He　set　out　for　Toulon。
　　He　arrived　there；　after　a　journey　of　twenty…seven　days；　on　a　cart；　with　a　chain　on　his　neck。
　　At　Toulon　he　was　clothed　in　the　red　cassock。
　　All　that　had　constituted　his　life；　even　to　his　name；　was　effaced；　he　was　no　longer　even　Jean　Valjean；　he　was　number　24；601。　What　became　of　his　sister？　What　became　of　the　seven　children？
　　Who　troubled　himself　about　that？　What　bees　of　the　handful　of　leaves　from　the　young　tree　which　is　sawed　off　at　the　root？
　　It　is　always　the　same　story。
　　These　poor　living　beings；　these　creatures　of　God；　henceforth　without　support；　without　guide；　without　refuge；　wandered　away　at　random；who　even　knows？　each　in　his　own　direction　perhaps；　and　little　by　little　buried　themselves　in　that　cold　mist　which　engulfs　solitary　destinies；　gloomy　shades；　into　which　disappear　in　succession　so　many　unlucky　heads；　in　the　sombre　march　of　the　human　race。
　　They　quitted　the　country。　The　clock…tower　of　what　had　been　their　village　forgot　them；　the　boundary　line　of　what　had　been　their　field　forgot　them；　after　a　few　years'　residence　in　the　galleys；　Jean　Valjean　himself　forgot　them。　In　that　heart；　where　there　had　been　a　wound；　there　was　a　scar。　That　is　all。
　　Only　once；　during　all　the　time　which　he　spent　at　Toulon；　did　he　hear　his　sister　mentioned。
　　This　happened；　I　think；　towards　the　end　of　the　fourth　year　of　his　captivity。
　　I　know　not　through　what　channels　the　news　reached　him。
　　Some　one　who　had　known　them　in　their　own　country　had　seen　his　sister。
　　She　was　in　Paris。　She　lived　in　a　poor　street　Rear　Saint…Sulpice；　in　the　Rue　du　Gindre。　She　had　with　her　only　one　child；　a　little　boy；　the　youngest。　Where　were　the　other　six？
　　Perhaps　she　did　not　know　herself。　Every　morning　she　went　to　a　printing　office；　No。　3　Rue　du　Sabot；　where　she　was　a　folder　and　stitcher。
　　She　was　obliged　to　be　there　at　six　o'clock　in　the　morninglong　before　daylight　in　winter。　In　the　same　building　with　the　printing　office　there　was　a　school；　and　to　this　school　she　took　her　little　boy；　who　was　seven　years　old。　But　as　she　entered　the　printing　office　at　six；　and　the　school　only　opened　at　seven；　the　child　had　to　wait　in　the　courtyard；　for　the　school　to　open；　for　an　hourone　hour　of　a　winter　night　in　the　open　air！　They　would　not　allow　the　child　to　e　into　the　printing　office；　because　he　was　in　the　way；　they　said。
　　When　the　workmen　passed　in　the　morning；　they　beheld　this　poor　little　being　seated　on　the　pavement；　overe　with　drowsiness；　and　often　fast　asleep　in　the　shadow；　crouched　down　and　doubled　up　over　his　basket。
　　When　it　rained；　an　old　woman；　the　portress；　took　pity　on　him；　she　took　him　into　her　den；　where　there　was　a　pallet；　a　spinning…wheel；　and　two　wooden　chairs；　and　the　little　one　slumbered　in　a　corner；　pressing　himself　close　to　the　cat　that　he　might　suffer　less　from　cold。
　　At　seven　o'clock　the　school　opened；　and　he　entered。
　　That　is　what　was　told　to　Jean　Valjean。
　　They　talked　to　him　about　it　for　one　day；　it　was　a　moment；　a　flash；　as　though　a　window　had　suddenly　been　opened　upon　the　destiny　of　those　things　whom　he　had　loved；　then　all　closed　again。
　　He　heard　nothing　more　forever。
　　Nothing　from　them　ever　reached　him　again；　he　never　beheld　them；　he　never　met　them　again；　and　in　the　continuation　of　this　mournful　history　they　will　not　be　met　with　any　more。
　　Towards　the　end　of　this　fourth　year　Jean　Valjean's　turn　to　escape　arrived。
　　His　rades　assisted　him；　as　is　the　custom　in　that　sad　place。　He　escaped。
　　He　wandered　for　two　days　in　the　fields　at　liberty；　if　being　at　liberty　is　to　be　hunted；　to　turn　the　head　every　instant；　to　quake　at　the　slightest　noise；　to　be　afraid　of　everything；of　a　smoking　roof；　of　a　passing　man；　of　a　barking　dog；　of　a　galloping　horse；　of　a　striking　clock；　of　the　day　because　one　can　see；　of　the　night　because　one　cannot　see；　of　the　highway；　of　the　path；　of　a　bush；　of　sleep。
　　On　the　evening　of　the　second　day　he　was　captured。　He　had　neither　eaten　nor　slept　for　thirty…six　hours。
　　The　maritime　tribunal　condemned　him；　for　this　crime；　to　a　prolongation　of　his　term　for　three　years；　which　made　eight　years。
　　In　the　sixth　year　his　turn　to　escape　occurred　again；　he　availed　himself　of　it；　but　could　not　acplish　his　flight　fully。
　　He　was　missing　at　roll…call。　The　cannon　were　fired；　and　at　night　the　patrol　found　him　hidden　under　the　keel　of　a　vessel　in　process　of　construction；　he　resisted　the　galley　guards　who　seized　him。
　　Escape　and　rebellion。　This　case；　provided　for　by　a　special　code；　was　punished　by　an　addition　of　five　years；　two　of　them　in　the　double　chain。
　　Thirteen　years。　In　the　tenth　year　his　turn　came　round　again；　he　again　profited　by　it；　he　succeeded　no　better。
　　Three　years　for　this　fresh　attempt。　Sixteen　years。
　　Finally；　I　think　it　was　during　his　thirteenth　year；　he　made　a　last　attempt；　and　only　succeeded　in　getting　retaken　at　the　end　of　four　hours　of　absence。
　　Three　years　for　those　four　hours。　Nineteen　years。
　　In　October；　1815；　he　was　released；　he　had　entered　there　in　1796；　for　having　broken　a　pane　of　glass　and　taken　a　loaf　of　bread。
　　Room　for　a　brief　parenthesis。
　　This　is　the　second　time；　during　his　studies　on　the　penal　question　and　damnation　by　law；　that　the　author　of　this　book　has　e　across　the　theft　of　a　loaf　of　bread　as　the　point　of　departure　for　the　disaster　of　a　destiny。　Claude　Gaux　had　stolen　a　loaf；　Jean　Valjean　had　stolen　a　loaf。　English　statistics　prove　the　fact　that　four　thefts　out　of　five　in　London　have　hunger　for　their　immediate　cause。
　　Jean　Valjean　had　entered　the　galleys　sobbing　and　shuddering；　he　emerged　impassive。
　　He　had　entered　in　despair；　he　emerged　gloomy。
　　What　had　taken　place　in　that　soul？


BOOK　SECONDTHE　FALL
CHAPTER　VII　
　　CHAPTER　VII
　　THE　INTERIOR　OF　DESPAIR
　　　Let　us　try　to　say　it。
　　It　is　necessary　that　society　should　look　at　these　things；　because　it　is　itself　which　creates　them。
　　He　was；　as　we　have　said；　an　ignorant　man；　but　he　was　not　a　fool。　The　light　of　nature　was　ignited　in　him。
　　Unhappiness；　which　also　possesses　a　clearness　of　vision　of　its　own；　augmented　the　small　amount　of　daylight　which　existed　in　this　mind。
　　Beneath　the　cudgel；　beneath　the　chain；　in　the　cell；　in　hardship；　beneath　the　burning　sun　of　the　galleys；　upon　the　plank　bed　of　the　convict；　he　withdrew　into　his　own　consciousness　and　meditated。
　　He　constituted　himself　the　tribunal。
　　He　began　by　putting　himself　on　trial。
　　He　recognized　the　fact　that　he　was　not　an　innocent　man　unjustly　punished。　He　admitted　that　he　had　mitted　an　extreme　and　blameworthy　act；　that　that　loaf　of　bread　would　probably　not　have　been　refused　to　him　had　he　asked　for　it；　that；　in　any　case；　it　would　have　been　better　to　wait　until　he　could　get　it　through　passion　or　through　work；　that　it　is　not　an　unanswerable　argument　to　say；　〃Can　one　wait　when　one　is　hungry？〃
　　That；　in　the　first　place；　it　is　very　rare　for　any　one　to　die　of　hunger；　literally；　and　next；　that；　fortunately　or　unfortunately；　man　is　so　constituted　that　he　can　suffer　long　and　much；　both　morally　and　physically；　without　dying；　that　it　is　therefore　necessary　to　have　patience；　that　that　would　even　have　been　better　for　those　poor　little　children；　that　it　had　been　an　act　of　madness　for　him；　a　miserable；　unfortunate　wretch；　to　take　society　at　large　violently　by　the　collar；　and　to　imagine　that　one　can　escape　from　misery　through　theft；　that　that　is　in　any　case　a　poor　door　through　which　to　escape　from　misery　through　which　infamy　enters；　in　short；　that　he　was　in　the　wrong。
　　Then　he　asked　himself
　　Whether　he　had　been　the　only　one　in　fault　in　his　fatal　history。　Whether　it　was　not　a　serious　thing；　that　he；　a　laborer；　out　of　work；　that　he；　an　industrious　man；　should　have　lacked　bread。
　　And　whether；　the　fault　once　mitted　and　confessed；　the　chastisement　had　not　been　ferocious　and　disproportioned。
　　Whether　there　had　not　been　more　abuse　on　the　part　of　the　law；　in　respect　to　the　penalty；　than　there　had　been　on　the　part　of　the　culprit　in　respect　to　his　fault。
　　Whether　there　had　not　been　an　excess　of　weights　in　one　balance　of　the　scale；　in　the　one　which　contains　expiation。
　　Whether　the　over…weight　of　the　penalty　was　not　equivalent　to　the　annihilation　of　the　crime；　and　did　not　result　in　reversing　the　situation；　of　replacing　the　fault　of　the　delinquent　by　the　fault　of　the　repression；　of　converting　the　guilty　man　into　the　victim；　and　the　debtor　into　the　creditor；　and　of　ranging　the　law　definitely　on　the　side　of　the　man　who　had　violated　it。
　　Whether　this　penalty；　plicated　by　successive　aggravations　for　attempts　at　escape；　had　not　ended　in　being　a　sort　of　outrage　perpetrated　by　the　stronger　upon　the　feebler；　a　crime　of　society　against　the　individual；　a　crime　which　was　being　mitted　afresh　every　day；　a　crime　which　had　lasted　nineteen　years。
　　He　asked　himself　whether　human　society　could　have　the　right　to　force　its　members　to　suffer　equally　in　one　case　for　its　own　unreasonable　lack　of　foresight；　and　in　the　other　case　for　its　pitiless　foresight；　and　to　seize　a　poor　man　forever　between　a　defect　and　an　excess；　a　default　of　work　and　an　excess　of　punishment。
　　Whether　it　was　not　outrageous　for　society　to　treat　thus　precisely　those　of　its　members　who　were　the　least　well　endowed　in　the　division　of　goods　made　by　chance；　and　consequently　the　most　deserving　of　consideration。
　　These　questions　put　and　answered；　he　judged　society　and　condemned　it。
　　He　condemned　it　to　his　hatred。
　　He　made　it　responsible　for　the　fate　which　he　was　suffering；　and　he　said　to　himself　that　it　might　be　that　one　day　he　should　not　hesitate　to　call　it　to　account。
　　He　declared　to　himself　that　there　was　no　equilibrium　between　the　harm　which　he　had　caused　and　the　harm　which　was　being　done　to　him；　he　finally　arrived　at　the　conclusion　that　his　punishment　was　not；　in　truth；　unjust；　but　that　it　most　assuredly　was　iniquitous。
　　Anger　may　be　both　foolish　and　absurd；　one　can　be　irritated　wrongfully；　one　is　exasperated　only　when　there　is　some　show　of　right　on　one's　side　at　bottom。
　　Jean　Valjean　felt　himself　exasperated。
　　And　besides；　human　society　had　done　him　nothing　but　harm；　he　had　never　seen　anything　of　it　save　that　angry　face　which　it　calls　Justice；　and　which　it　shows　to　those　whom　it　strikes。
　　Men　had　only　touched　him　to　bruise　him。
　　Every　contact　with　them　had　been　a　blow。　Never；　since　his　infancy；　since　the　days　of　his　mother；　of　his　sister；　had　he　ever　encountered　a　friendly　word　and　a　kindly　glance。　From　suffering　to　suffering；　he　had　gradually　arrived　at　the　conviction　that　life　is　a　war；　and　that　in　this　war　he　was　the　conquered。　He　had　no　other　weapon　than　his　hate。
　　He　resolved　to　whet　it　in　the　galleys　and　to　bear　it　away　with　him　when　he　departed。
　　There　was　at　Toulon　a　school　for　the　convicts；　kept　by　the　Ignorantin　friars；　where　the　most　necessary　branches　were　taught　to　those　of　the　unfortunate　men　who　had　a　mind　for　them。
　　He　was　of　the　number　who　had　a　mind。
　　He　went　to　school　at　the　age　of　forty；　and　learned　to　read；　to　wr