One day, Cosette chanced to look at herself in her mirror, and she said to herself: 'Really! ' It seemed to her almost that she was pretty. This threw her in a singularly troubled state of mind. Up to that moment she had never thought of her face.
She saw herself in her mirror, but she did not look at herself. And then, she had so often been told that she was homely; Jean Valjean alone said gently: 'No indeed! no indeed!
' At all events, Cosette had always thought herself homely, and had grown up in that belief with the easy resignation of childhood. And here, all at once, was her mirror saying to her, as Jean Valjean had said: 'No indeed! ' That night, she did not sleep.
'What if I were pretty! ' she thought. 'How odd it would be if I were pretty! ' And she recalled those of her companions whose beauty had produced a sensation in the convent, and she said to herself: 'What! Am I to be like Mademoiselle So-and-So?
' The next morning she looked at herself again, not by accident this time, and she was assailed with doubts: 'Where did I get such an idea? ' said she; 'no, I am ugly. ' She had not slept well, that was all, her eyes were sunken and she was pale.
She had not felt very joyous on the preceding evening in the belief that she was beautiful, but it made her very sad not to be able to believe in it any longer.
She did not look at herself again, and for more than a fortnight she tried to dress her hair with her back turned to the mirror. In the evening, after dinner, she generally embroidered in wool or did some convent needlework in the drawing-room, and Jean Valjean