The lovers saw each other every day. Cosette came with M. Fauchelevent. —'This is reversing things,' said Mademoiselle Gillenormand, 'to have the bride come to the house to do the courting like this.
' But Marius’ convalescence had caused the habit to become established, and the armchairs of the Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, better adapted to interviews than the straw chairs of the Rue de l’Homme Armé, had rooted it. Marius and M.
Fauchelevent saw each other, but did not address each other. It seemed as though this had been agreed upon. Every girl needs a chaperon. Cosette could not have come without M. Fauchelevent. In Marius’ eyes, M. Fauchelevent was the condition attached to Cosette. He accepted it.
By dint of discussing political matters, vaguely and without precision, from the point of view of the general amelioration of the fate of all men, they came to say a little more than 'yes' and 'no.
' Once, on the subject of education, which Marius wished to have free and obligatory, multiplied under all forms lavished on every one, like the air and the sun in a word, respirable for the entire population, they were in unison, and they almost conversed. M.
Fauchelevent talked well, and even with a certain loftiness of language—still he lacked something indescribable. M. Fauchelevent possessed something less and also something more, than a man of the world. Marius, inwardly, and in the depths of his thought, surrounded with all sorts of mute questions this M.
Fauchelevent, who was to him simply benevolent and cold. There were moments when doubts as to his own recollections occurred to him. There was a void in his memory, a black spot, an abyss excavated by four months of agony. —Many things had been lost therein.
He had come to the point of asking himself whether