'Yes，madame！'cried Cosette，waking with a start，'here I am！here I am！'
And she sprang out of bed，her eyes still half shut with the heaviness of sleep，extending her arms towards the corner of the wall.
'Ah！mon Dieu，my broom！'said she.
She opened her eyes wide now，and beheld the smiling countenance of Jean Valjean.
'Ah！so it is true！'said the child.
'Good morning，Monsieur.'
Children accept joy and happiness instantly and familiarly，being themselves by nature joy and happiness.
Cosette caught sight of Catherine at the foot of her bed，and took possession of her，and，as she played，she put a hundred questions to Jean Valjean.
Where was she？
Was Paris very large？Was Madame Thenardier very far away？
Was she to go back？etc.，etc.All at once she exclaimed，'How pretty it is here！'
It was a frightful hole，but she felt free.
'Must I sweep？'she resumed at last.
'Play！'said Jean Valjean.
The day passed thus.
Cosette，without troubling herself to understand anything，was inexpressibly happy with that doll and that kind man.
BOOK FOURTH.——THE GORBEAU HOVEL
Ⅲ TWO MISFORTUNES MAKE ONE PIECE OF GOOD FORTUNE
On the following morning，at daybreak，Jean Valjean was still by Cosette's bedside；he watched there motionless，waiting for her to wake.
Some new thing had come into his soul.
Jean Valjean had never loved anything；for twenty-five years he had been alone in the world.
He had never been father，lover，husband，friend.In the prison he had been vicious，gloomy，chaste，ignorant，and shy.
The heart of that ex-convict was full of virginity.His sister and his sister's children had left him only a vague and far-off memory which had finally almost completely vanished；he had made every effort to find them，and not having been able to find them，he had forgotten them.
Human nature is made thus；the other tender emotions of his youth，if he had ever had any，had fallen into an abyss.
When he saw Cosette，when he had taken possession of her，carried her off，and delivered her，he felt his heart moved within him.
All the passion and affection within him awoke，and rushed towards that child.
He approached the bed，where she lay sleeping，and trembled with joy.
He suffered all the pangs of a mother，and he knew not what it meant；for that great and singular movement of a heart which begins to love is a very obscure and a very sweet thing.
Poor old man，with a perfectly new heart！
Only，as he was five and fifty，and Cosette eight years of age，all that might have been love in the whole course of his life flowed together into a sort of ineffable light.
It was the second white apparition which he had encountered.The Bishop had caused the dawn of virtue to rise on his horizon；Cosette caused the dawn of love to rise.
The early days passed in this dazzled state.
Cosette，on her side，had also，unknown to herself，become another being，poor little thing！
She was so little when her mother left her，that she no longer remembered her.
Like all children，who resemble young shoots of the vine，which cling to everything，she had tried to love；she had not succeeded.
All had repulsed her，——the Thenardiers，their children，other children.
She had loved the dog，and he had died，after which nothing and nobody would have anything to do with her.
It is a sad thing to say，and we have already intimated it，that，at eight years of age，her heart was cold.It was not her fault；it was not the faculty of loving that she lacked；alas！it was the possibility.
Thus，from the very first day，all her sentient and thinking powers loved this kind man.
She felt that which she had never felt before——a sensation of expansion.
The man no longer produced on her the effect of being old or poor；she thought Jean Valjean handsome，just as she thought the hovel pretty.
These are the effects of the dawn，of childhood，of joy.
The novelty of the earth and of life counts for something here.
Nothing is so charming as the coloring reflection of happiness on a garret.We all have in our past a delightful garret.
Nature，a difference of fifty years，had set a profound gulf between Jean Valjean and Cosette；destiny filled in this gulf.Destiny suddenly united and wedded with its irresistible power these two uprooted existences，differing in age，alike in sorrow.One，in fact，completed the other.
Cosette's instinct sought a father，as Jean Valjean's instinct sought a child.
To meet was to find each other.
At the mysterious moment when their hands touched，they were welded together.
When these two souls perceived each other，they recognized each other as necessary to each other，and embraced each other closely.
Taking the words in their most comprehensive and absolute sense，we may say that，separated from every one by the walls of the tomb，Jean Valjean was the widower，and Cosette was the orphan：this situation caused Jean Valjean to become Cosette's father after a celestial fashion.
And in truth，the mysterious impression produced on Cosette in the depths of the forest of Chelles by the hand of Jean Valjean grasping hers in the dark was not an illusion，but a reality.The entrance of that man into the destiny of that child had been the advent of God.
Moreover，Jean Valjean had chosen his refuge well.
There he seemed perfectly secure.
The chamber with a dressing-room，which he occupied with Cosette，was the one whose window opened on the boulevard.
This being the only window in the house，no neighbors'glances were to be feared from across the way or at the side.
The ground-floor of Number 50-52，a sort of dilapidated penthouse，served as a wagon-house for market-gardeners，and no communication existed between it and the first story.
It was separated by the flooring，which had neither traps nor stairs，and which formed the diaphragm of the building，as it were.
The first story contained，as we have said，numerous chambers and several attics，only one of which was occupied by the old woman who took charge of Jean Valjean's housekeeping；all the rest was uninhabited.
