Page 67 - les-miserables

Near the seated man stood a young boy, the shepherd
lad. He was offering the old man a jar of milk.
While the Bishop was watching him, the old man spoke:
‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘I need nothing.’ And his smile quitted
the sun to rest upon the child.
The Bishop stepped forward. At the sound which he
made in walking, the old man turned his head, and his face
expressed the sum total of the surprise which a man can
still feel after a long life.
‘This is the first time since I have been here,’ said he, ‘that
any one has entered here. Who are you, sir?’
The Bishop answered:—
‘My name is Bienvenu Myriel.’
‘Bienvenu Myriel? I have heard that name. Are you the
man whom the people call Monseigneur Welcome?’
‘I am.’
The old man resumed with a half-smile
‘In that case, you are my bishop?’
‘Something of that sort.’
‘Enter, sir.’
The member of the Convention extended his hand to the
Bishop, but the Bishop did not take it. The Bishop confined
himself to the remark:—
‘I am pleased to see that I have been misinformed. You
certainly do not seem to me to be ill.’
‘Monsieur,’ replied the old man, ‘I am going to recover.’
He paused, and then said:—
‘I shall die three hours hence.’
Then he continued:—

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