Uncertainty was at an end for Jean Valjean: fortunately it still lasted for the men. He took advantage of their hesitation. It was time lost for them, but gained for him.
He slipped from under the gate where he had concealed himself, and went down the Rue des Postes, towards the region of the Jardin des Plantes. Cosette was beginning to be tired. He took her in his arms and carried her.
There were no passers-by, and the street lanterns had not been lighted on account of there being a moon. He redoubled his pace.
In a few strides he had reached the Goblet potteries, on the front of which the moonlight rendered distinctly legible the ancient inscription:— De Goblet fils c’est ici la fabrique; Venez choisir des cruches et des brocs, Des pots à fleurs, des tuyaux, de la brique.
À tout venant le Cœur vend des Carreaux. 14 He left behind him the Rue de la Clef, then the Fountain Saint-Victor, skirted the Jardin des Plantes by the lower streets, and reached the quay. There he turned round. The quay was deserted. The streets were deserted.
There was no one behind him. He drew a long breath. He gained the Pont d’Austerlitz. Tolls were still collected there at that epoch. He presented himself at the toll office and handed over a sou. 'It is two sous,' said the old soldier in charge of the bridge.
'You are carrying a child who can walk. Pay for two. ' He paid, vexed that his passage should have aroused remark. Every flight should be an imperceptible slipping away.
A heavy cart was crossing the Seine at the same time as himself, and on its way, like him, to the right bank. This was of use to him. He could traverse the bridge in