Page 1722 - les-miserables

gazed upon and adored the things that she wore, her knot
of ribbon, her gloves, her sleeves, her shoes, her cuffs, as sa-
cred objects of which he was the master. He dreamed that
he was the lord of those pretty shell combs which she wore
in her hair, and he even said to himself, in confused and
suppressed stammerings of voluptuousness which did not
make their way to the light, that there was not a ribbon of
her gown, not a mesh in her stockings, not a fold in her bod-
ice, which was not his. Beside Cosette he felt himself beside
his own property, his own thing, his own despot and his
slave. It seemed as though they had so intermingled their
souls, that it would have been impossible to tell them apart
had they wished to take them back again.—‘This is mine.’
‘No, it is mine.’ ‘I assure you that you are mistaken. This
is my property.’ ‘What you are taking as your own is my-
self.’— Marius was something that made a part of Cosette,
and Cosette was something which made a part of Marius.
Marius felt Cosette within him. To have Cosette, to pos-
sess Cosette, this, to him, was not to be distinguished from
breathing. It was in the midst of this faith, of this intoxica-
tion, of this virgin possession, unprecedented and absolute,
of this sovereignty, that these words: ‘We are going away,’
fell suddenly, at a blow, and that the harsh voice of reality
cried to him: ‘Cosette is not yours!’
Marius awoke. For six weeks Marius had been living,
as we have said, outside of life; those words, going away!
caused him to re-enter it harshly.
He found not a word to say. Cosette merely felt that his
hand was very cold. She said to him in her turn: ‘What is

1722 Les Miserables