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felt that he could never do anything but crawl, walk at the
most, beheld wings sprouting on Cosette.
Moreover, from the mere inspection of Cosette’s toilet,
a woman would have recognized the fact that she had no
mother. Certain little proprieties, certain special conven-
tionalities, were not observed by Cosette. A mother, for
instance, would have told her that a young girl does not
dress in damask.
The first day that Cosette went out in her black damask
gown and mantle, and her white crape bonnet, she took Jean
Valjean’s arm, gay, radiant, rosy, proud, dazzling. ‘Father,’
she said, ‘how do you like me in this guise?’ Jean Valjean
replied in a voice which resembled the bitter voice of an en-
vious man: ‘Charming!’ He was the same as usual during
their walk. On their return home, he asked Cosette:—
‘Won’t you put on that other gown and bonnet again,—
you know the ones I mean?’
This took place in Cosette’s chamber. Cosette turned to-
wards the wardrobe where her cast-off schoolgirl’s clothes
were hanging.
‘That disguise!’ said she. ‘Father, what do you want me to
do with it? Oh no, the idea! I shall never put on those hor-
rors again. With that machine on my head, I have the air of
Madame Mad-dog.’
Jean Valjean heaved a deep sigh.
From that moment forth, he noticed that Cosette, who
had always heretofore asked to remain at home, saying: ‘Fa-
ther, I enjoy myself more here with you,’ now was always
asking to go out. In fact, what is the use of having a hand-

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