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ess； forty years of abandonment and widowhood； had sufficed to restore to this privileged spot ferns； mulleins； hemlock； yarrow； tall weeds； great crimped plants； with large leaves of pale green cloth； lizards； beetles； uneasy and rapid insects； to cause to spring forth from the depths of the earth and to reappear between those four walls a certain indescribable and savage grandeur； and for nature； which disconcerts the petty arrangements of man； and which sheds herself always thoroughly where she diffuses herself at all； in the ant as well as in the eagle； to blossom out in a petty little Parisian garden with as much rude force and majesty as in a virgin forest of the New World。
Nothing is small； in fact； any one who is subject to the profound and penetrating influence of nature knows this。
Although no absolute satisfaction is given to philosophy； either to circumscribe the cause or to limit the effect； the contemplator falls into those unfathomable ecstasies caused by these depositions of force terminating in unity。
Everything toils at everything。
Algebra is applied to the clouds； the radiation of the star profits the rose； no thinker would venture to affirm that the perfume of the hawthorn is useless to the constellations。
Who； then； can calculate the course of a molecule？
How do we know that the creation of worlds is not determined by the fall of grains of sand？
Who knows the reciprocal ebb and flow of the infinitely great and the infinitely little； the reverberations of causes in the precipices of being； and the avalanches of creation？
The tiniest worm is of importance； the great is little； the little is great； everything is balanced in necessity； alarming vision for the mind。
There are marvellous relations between beings and things； in that inexhaustible whole； from the sun to the grub； nothing despises the other； all have need of each other。
The light does not bear away terrestrial perfumes into the azure depths； without knowing what it is doing； the night distributes stellar essences to the sleeping flowers。 All birds that fly have round their leg the thread of the infinite。 Germination is plicated with the bursting forth of a meteor and with the peck of a swallow cracking its egg； and it places on one level the birth of an earthworm and the advent of Socrates。 Where the telescope ends； the microscope begins。
Which of the two possesses the larger field of vision？
Choose。
A bit of mould is a pleiad of flowers； a nebula is an ant…hill of stars。 The same promiscuousness； and yet more unprecedented； exists between the things of the intelligence and the facts of substance。 Elements and principles mingle； bine； wed； multiply with each other； to such a point that the material and the moral world are brought eventually to the same clearness。
The phenomenon is perpetually returning upon itself。
In the vast cosmic exchanges the universal life goes and es in unknown quantities； rolling entirely in the invisible mystery of effluvia； employing everything； not losing a single dream； not a single slumber； sowing an animalcule here； crumbling to bits a planet there； oscillating and winding； making of light a force and of thought an element； disseminated and invisible； dissolving all； except that geometrical point； the I； bringing everything back to the soul…atom； expanding everything in God； entangling all activity； from summit to base； in the obscurity of a dizzy mechanism； attaching the flight of an insect to the movement of the earth； subordinating； who knows？
Were it only by the identity of the law； the evolution of the et in the firmament to the whirling of the infusoria in the drop of water。
A machine made of mind。 Enormous gearing； the prime motor of which is the gnat； and whose final wheel is the zodiac。
BOOK THIRD。THE HOUSE IN THE RUE PLUMET
CHAPTER IV
CHANGE OF GATE
It seemed that this garden； created in olden days to conceal wanton mysteries； had been transformed and bee fitted to shelter chaste mysteries。
There were no longer either arbors； or bowling greens； or tunnels； or grottos； there was a magnificent； dishevelled obscurity falling like a veil over all。
Paphos had been made over into Eden。 It is impossible to say what element of repentance had rendered this retreat wholesome。
This flower…girl now offered her blossom to the soul。
This coquettish garden； formerly decidedly promised； had returned to virginity and modesty。
A justice assisted by a gardener； a goodman who thought that he was a continuation of Lamoignon； and another goodman who thought that he was a continuation of Lenotre； had turned it about； cut； ruffled； decked； moulded it to gallantry； nature had taken possession of it once more； had filled it with shade； and had arranged it for love。
There was； also； in this solitude； a heart which was quite ready。 Love had only to show himself； he had here a temple posed of verdure； grass； moss； the sight of birds； tender shadows； agitated branches； and a soul made of sweetness； of faith； of candor； of hope； of aspiration； and of illusion。
Cosette had left the convent when she was still almost a child； she was a little more than fourteen； and she was at the 〃ungrateful age〃； we have already said； that with the exception of her eyes； she was homely rather than pretty； she had no ungraceful feature； but she was awkward； thin； timid and bold at once； a grown…up little girl； in short。
Her education was finished； that is to say； she has been taught religion； and even and above all； devotion； then 〃history；〃 that is to say the thing that bears that name in convents； geography； grammar； the participles； the kings of France； a little music； a little drawing； etc。； but in all other respects she was utterly ignorant； which is a great charm and a great peril。
The soul of a young girl should not be left in the dark； later on； mirages that are too abrupt and too lively are formed there； as in a dark chamber。 She should be gently and discreetly enlightened； rather with the reflection of realities than with their harsh and direct light。 A useful and graciously austere half…light which dissipates puerile fears and obviates falls。
There is nothing but the maternal instinct； that admirable intuition posed of the memories of the virgin and the experience of the woman； which knows how this half…light is to be created and of what it should consist。
Nothing supplies the place of this instinct。
All the nuns in the world are not worth as much as one mother in the formation of a young girl's soul。
Cosette had had no mother。
She had only had many mothers； in the plural。
As for Jean Valjean； he was； indeed； all tenderness； all solicitude； but he was only an old man and he knew nothing at all。
Now； in this work of education； in this grave matter of preparing a woman for life； what science is required to bat that vast ignorance which is called innocence！
Nothing prepares a young girl for passions like the convent。 The convent turns the thoughts in the direction of the unknown。 The heart； thus thrown back upon itself； works downward within itself； since it cannot overflow； and grows deep； since it cannot expand。 Hence visions； suppositions； conjectures； outlines of romances； a desire for adventures； fantastic constructions； edifices built wholly in the inner obscurity of the mind； sombre and secret abodes where the passions immediately find a lodgement as soon as the open gate permits them to enter。
The convent is a pression which； in order to triumph over the human heart； should last during the whole life。
On quitting the convent； Cosette could have found nothing more sweet and more dangerous than the house in the Rue Plumet。 It was the continuation of solitude with the beginning of liberty； a garden that was closed； but a nature that was acrid； rich； voluptuous； and fragrant； the same dreams as in the convent； but with glimpses of young men； a grating； but one that opened on the street。
Still； when she arrived there； we repeat； she was only a child。 Jean Valjean gave this neglected garden over to her。
〃Do what you like with it；〃 he said to her。
This amused Cosette； she turned over all the clumps and all the stones； she hunted for 〃beasts〃； she played in it； while awaiting the time when she would dream in it； she loved this garden for the insects that she found beneath her feet amid the grass； while awaiting the day when she would love it for the stars that she would see through the boughs above her head。
And then； she loved her father； that is to say； Jean Valjean； with all her soul； with an innocent filial passion which made the goodman a beloved and charming panion to her。
It will be remembered that M。 Madeleine had been in the habit of reading a great deal。
Jean Valjean had continued this practice； he had e to converse well； he possessed the secret riches and the eloquence of a true and humble mind which has spontaneously cultivated itself。 He retained just enough sharpness to season his kindness； his mind was rough and his heart was soft。
During their conversations in the Luxembourg； he gave her explanations of everything； drawing on what he had read； and also on what he had suffered。 As she listened to him； Cosette's eyes wandered vaguely about。
This simple man sufficed for Cosette's thought； the same as the wild garden sufficed for her eyes。
When she had had a good chase after the butterflies； she came panting up to him and said：
〃Ah！
How I have run！〃
He kissed her brow。
Cosette adored the goodman。
She was always at his heels。 Where Jean Valjean was； there happiness was。
Jean Valjean lived neither in the pavilion nor the garden； she took greater pleasure in the paved back courtyard； than in the enclosure filled with flowers； and in his little lodge furnished with straw…seated chairs than in the great drawing…room hung with tapestry； against which stood tufted easy…chairs。 Jean Valjean sometimes said to her； smiling at his happiness in being importuned：
〃Do go to your own quarters！ Leave me alone a little！〃
She gave him those charming and tender scoldings which are so graceful when they e from a daughter to her father。
〃Father； I am very cold in your rooms； why don't you have a carpet here and a stove？〃
〃Dear child； there are so many people who are better than I and who have not even a roof over their heads。〃
〃Then why is there a fire in my rooms； and everything that is needed？〃
〃Because you are a woman and a child。〃
〃Bah！ must men be cold and feel unfortable？〃
〃Certain men。〃
〃That is good； I shall e here so often that you will be obliged to have a fire。〃
And again she said to him：
〃Father； why do you eat horrible bread like that？〃
〃Because； my daughter。〃
〃Well； if you eat it； I will eat it too。〃
Then； in order to prevent Cosette eating black bread； Jean Valjean ate white bread。
Cosette had but a confused recollection of her childhood。
She prayed morning and evening for her mother whom she had never known。 The Thenardiers had remained with her as two hideous figures in a dream。
She remembered that she had gone 〃one day； at night；〃 to fetch water in a forest。
She thought that it had been very far from Paris。
It seemed to her that she had begun to live in an abyss； and that it was Jean Valjean who had rescued her from it。 Her childhood produced upon her the effect of a time when there had been nothing around her but millepeds； spiders； and serpents。 When she meditated in the evening； before falling asleep； as she had not a very clear idea that she was Jean Valjean's daughter； and that he was her father； she fancied that the soul of her mother had passed into that good man and had e to dwell near her。
When he was seated； she leaned her cheek against his white hair； and dropped a silent tear； saying to herself：
〃Perhaps this man is my mother。〃
Cosette； although this is a strange statement to make； in the profound ignorance of a girl brought up in a convent； maternity being also absolutely unintelligible to virginity； had ended by fancying that she had had as little mother as possible。 She d