"Yes," resumed the Bishop, "you have come from a very sad place. Listen. There will be more joy in heaven over the tear-bathed face of a repentant sinner than over the white robes of a hundred just men. If you emerge from that sad place with thoughts of hatred 5 and of wrath against mankind, you are deserving of pity; if you emerge with thoughts of good will and of peace, you are more worthy than any one of us."

In the meantime, Madame Magloire had served supper: soup, made with water, oil, bread, and salt; 10 a little bacon, a bit of mutton, figs, a fresh cheese, and a large loaf of rye bread.

The Bishop's face at once assumed that expression of gayety which is peculiar to hospitable natures. "To table!" he cried gayly. As was his custom when a 15 stranger supped with him, he made the man sit on his right. Mademoiselle Baptistine, perfectly peaceable and natural, took her seat at his left.

The Bishop asked a blessing; then helped the soup himself, according to his custom. The man began to 20 eat hungrily. He paid no attention to any one. He ate with the voracity of a starving man. However, after supper he said:

"Monsieur le Curé, all this is far too good for me; but I must say that the carters who would not allow 25 me to eat with them keep a better table than you do." "They are more fatigued than I," gently replied the Bishop.

"No," returned the man, "they have more money.

5

You are poor; I see that plainly. You cannot be even a curate. Are you really a curé? Ah, if the good God were but just, you certainly ought to be a curé !"

"The good God is more than just," said the Bishop. A moment later he added:

"Monsieur Jean Valjean, is it to Pontarlier that you are going?"

"With my road marked out for me. I must be on 10 my way by daybreak to-morrow. Traveling is hard. If the nights are cold, the days are hot."

"You are going to a good country," said the Bishop. "I lived there for some time by the toil of my hands. My will was good. I found plenty to occupy me. 15 One has only to choose. There are paper mills, tanneries, distilleries, oil factories, watch factories on a large scale, steel mills, copper works, twenty iron foundries at least, four of which are tolerably large. They have in the country of Pontarlier, whither you are going, 20 Monsieur Valjean, a truly charming industry. It is their cheese-dairies."

He recurred frequently to that comfortable trade of cheese-making, as though he wished the man to understand, without advising him directly and harshly, 25 that this would afford him a refuge. Neither during supper, nor during the entire evening did the Bishop utter a single word which could remind the man of what he was, nor of what the Bishop himself was. This might have appeared to any one else who had this

unfortunate man in his hands to afford a chance to bestow upon him some reproach, seasoned with advice, or a little pity, or with an exhortation to conduct himself better in the future. The Bishop did not even ask him from what country he came, nor what 5 was his history. He was thinking, no doubt, that this man, whose name is Jean Valjean, had his misfortune only too vividly present in his mind; that the best thing was to divert him from it, and to make him believe, if only momentarily, that he was a person like 10 any other, by treating him just in his ordinary way. Is not this, indeed, to understand charity well?

The man, by this time, was not paying much heed to anything. He was no longer talking, and he seemed very much fatigued. The Bishop said grace, then 15 turned to the man and said to him, "You must be in great need of your bed."

Then after bidding his sister good night, Bishop Welcome took one of the two silver candlesticks from the table, handed the other to his guest, and said to 20 him,

"Monsieur, I will conduct you to your room."

The man followed him.

The Bishop installed his guest in the alcove. A fresh white bed had been prepared there. The man 25 set the candle down on a table.

"Well," said the Bishop, "may you pass a good night. To-morrow morning, before you set out, you shall drink a cup of warm milk from our cows."

10

"Thanks, Monsieur l'Abbé," said the man.

Then, turning abruptly to the old man, he folded his arms, and bending upon his host a savage gaze, he exclaimed in a hoarse voice:

5 "Ah! really! You lodge me in your house, close to yourself, like this? Have you really reflected well? How do you know that I have not been an assassin ?"

The Bishop replied:

"That is the concern of the good God."

Then gravely, and moving his lips like one who is praying or talking to himself, he raised two fingers of his right hand and bestowed his benediction on the man, who did not bow, and without turning his head 15 or looking behind him, he returned to his bedroom, where he knelt and said a brief prayer. A moment later he was in his garden, walking, meditating, his heart and soul wholly absorbed in those grand and mysterious things which God shows at night to the 20 eyes which remain open.

As for the man, he was actually so fatigued that he did not even profit by the nice white sheets. Snuffing out his candle, he dropped, all dressed as he was, upon the bed, where he immediately fell into a profound 25 sleep.

Midnight struck as the Bishop returned from his garden to his apartment.

A few minutes later all were asleep in the little house.

QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

1. From what famous novel is 8. Why did Jean Valjean in