Towards the middle of the night Jean Valjean woke. Jean Valjean came from a poor peasant family of Brie. He had not learned to read in his childhood. When he reached man’s estate, he became a tree-pruner at Faverolles.
His mother was named Jeanne Mathieu; his father was called Jean Valjean or Vlajean, probably a sobriquet, and a contraction of voilà Jean, 'here’s Jean. ' Jean Valjean was of that thoughtful but not gloomy disposition which constitutes the peculiarity of affectionate natures.
On the whole, however, there was something decidedly sluggish and insignificant about Jean Valjean in appearance, at least. He had lost his father and mother at a very early age. His mother had died of a milk fever, which had not been properly attended to.
His father, a tree-pruner, like himself, had been killed by a fall from a tree. All that remained to Jean Valjean was a sister older than himself,—a widow with seven children, boys and girls.
This sister had brought up Jean Valjean, and so long as she had a husband she lodged and fed her young brother. The husband died. The eldest of the seven children was eight years old. The youngest, one. Jean Valjean had just attained his twenty-fifth year.
He took the father’s place, and, in his turn, supported the sister who had brought him up. This was done simply as a duty and even a little churlishly on the part of Jean Valjean. Thus his youth had been spent in rude and ill-paid toil.
He had never known a 'kind woman friend' in his native parts. He had not had the time to fall in love. He returned at night weary, and ate his broth without uttering a word. His sister, mother Jeanne, often took the best part of his repast from