Jean Valjean não estava morto.
Quando caiu ao mar, ou melhor, quando nele se lançou, não estava
algemado, como vimos. Nadou debaixo de água até alcançar um navio
fundeado, ao qual estava amarrado um bote. Encontrou maneira de se
esconder nesse bote até à noite. À noite, nadou novamente e alcançou a
costa um pouco adiante do Cabo Brun. Ali, como não lhe faltava dinheiro,
conseguiu roupa. Uma pequena casa de campo nos arredores de Balaguier
era, naquela época, o camarim de forçados evadidos — uma especialidade
lucrativa. Então Jean Valjean, como todos os tristes fugitivos que
procuram escapar à vigilância da lei e da fatalidade social, seguiu um
itinerário obscuro e sinuoso. Encontrou o seu primeiro refúgio em
Pradeaux, perto de Beausset. Depois, dirigiu-se para Grand-Villard,
perto de Briançon, nos Altos-Alpes. Era uma fuga tateante e inquieta —
um rasto de toupeira, cujas ramificações são impossíveis de rastrear.
Mais tarde, descobriu-se algum vestígio da sua passagem em Ain, no
território de Civrieux; nos Pirenéus, em Accons; no local chamado
Grange-de-Doumec, perto do mercado de Chavailles, e nos arredores de
Perigueux, em Brunies, cantão de La Chapelle-Gonaguet. Chegou a Paris.
Acabámos de o ver em Montfermeil.
O seu primeiro cuidado ao chegar a Paris fora comprar roupas de luto
para uma menina de sete a oito anos de idade; depois, arranjar um
alojamento. Feito isso, dirigira-se a Montfermeil. Lembrar-se-á que,
já durante a sua evasão anterior, fizera uma viagem misteriosa até lá,
ou para algum lado naquela vizinhança, da qual a lei obtivera um
indício.
Contudo, julgava-se que estava morto, e isso aumentava ainda mais a
obscuridade que se acumulava à sua volta. Em Paris, caiu-lhe nas mãos
um dos jornais que relataram o facto. Sentiu-se tranquilizado e quase
em paz, como se tivesse realmente morrido.
Na noite do dia em que Jean Valjean salvou Cosette das garras dos
Thenardier, regressou a Paris. Reentrou na cidade ao anoitecer, com a
criança, pela Barreira de Monceaux. Ali, entrou num cabriolé que o
levou até à esplanada do Observatório. Aí desceu, pagou ao cocheiro,
pegou na mão de Cosette, e, juntos, dirigiram os passos através da
escuridão — pelas ruas desertas que confinam com a Ourcine e a
Glacière, em direção ao Boulevard do Hospital.
O dia fora estranho e cheio de emoções para Cosette. Comeram pão e
queijo comprados em tabernas isoladas, atrás de sebes; mudaram de
carruagem frequentemente; percorreram pequenas distâncias a pé. Ela não
se queixou, mas estava cansada, e Jean Valjean percebeu-o pela forma
como ela puxava cada vez mais a sua mão enquanto andava. Pegou-a às
costas. Cosette, sem largar Catarina, encostou a cabeça ao ombro de
Jean Valjean e adormeceu.
Jean Valjean was not dead.
When he fell into the sea, or rather, when he threw himself into it, he
was not ironed, as we have seen. He swam under water until he reached a
vessel at anchor, to which a boat was moored. He found means of hiding
himself in this boat until night. At night he swam off again, and
reached the shore a little way from Cape Brun. There, as he did not
lack money, he procured clothing. A small country-house in the
neighborhood of Balaguier was at that time the dressing-room of escaped
convicts,—a lucrative specialty. Then Jean Valjean, like all the sorry
fugitives who are seeking to evade the vigilance of the law and social
fatality, pursued an obscure and undulating itinerary. He found his
first refuge at Pradeaux, near Beausset. Then he directed his course
towards Grand-Villard, near Briançon, in the Hautes-Alpes. It was a
fumbling and uneasy flight,—a mole’s track, whose branchings are
untraceable. Later on, some trace of his passage into Ain, in the
territory of Civrieux, was discovered; in the Pyrenees, at Accons; at
the spot called Grange-de-Doumec, near the market of Chavailles, and in
the environs of Perigueux at Brunies, canton of La Chapelle-Gonaguet.
He reached Paris. We have just seen him at Montfermeil.
His first care on arriving in Paris had been to buy mourning clothes
for a little girl of from seven to eight years of age; then to procure
a lodging. That done, he had betaken himself to Montfermeil. It will be
remembered that already, during his preceding escape, he had made a
mysterious trip thither, or somewhere in that neighborhood, of which
the law had gathered an inkling.
However, he was thought to be dead, and this still further increased
the obscurity which had gathered about him. At Paris, one of the
journals which chronicled the fact fell into his hands. He felt
reassured and almost at peace, as though he had really been dead.
On the evening of the day when Jean Valjean rescued Cosette from the
claws of the Thénardiers, he returned to Paris. He re-entered it at
nightfall, with the child, by way of the Barrier Monceaux. There he
entered a cabriolet, which took him to the esplanade of the
Observatoire. There he got out, paid the coachman, took Cosette by the
hand, and together they directed their steps through the
darkness,—through the deserted streets which adjoin the Ourcine and the
Glacière, towards the Boulevard de l’Hôpital.
The day had been strange and filled with emotions for Cosette. They had
eaten some bread and cheese purchased in isolated taverns, behind
hedges; they had changed carriages frequently; they had travelled short
distances on foot. She made no complaint, but she was weary, and Jean
Valjean perceived it by the way she dragged more and more on his hand
as she walked. He took her on his back. Cosette, without letting go of
Catherine, laid her head on Jean Valjean’s shoulder, and there fell
asleep.
