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She was so little when her mother left her； that she no longer remembered her。
Like all children； who resemble young shoots of the vine； which cling to everything； she had tried to love； she had not succeeded。
All had repulsed her； the Thenardiers； their children； other children。
She had loved the dog； and he had died； after which nothing and nobody would have anything to do with her。
It is a sad thing to say； and we have already intimated it； that； at eight years of age； her heart was cold。 It was not her fault； it was not the faculty of loving that she lacked； alas！ it was the possibility。
Thus； from the very first day； all her sentient and thinking powers loved this kind man。
She felt that which she had never felt beforea sensation of expansion。
The man no longer produced on her the effect of being old or poor； she thought Jean Valjean handsome； just as she thought the hovel pretty。
These are the effects of the dawn； of childhood； of joy。
The novelty of the earth and of life counts for something here。
Nothing is so charming as the coloring reflection of happiness on a garret。 We all have in our past a delightful garret。
Nature； a difference of fifty years； had set a profound gulf between Jean Valjean and Cosette； destiny filled in this gulf。 Destiny suddenly united and wedded with its irresistible power these two uprooted existences； differing in age； alike in sorrow。 One； in fact； pleted the other。
Cosette's instinct sought a father； as Jean Valjean's instinct sought a child。
To meet was to find each other。
At the mysterious moment when their hands touched； they were welded together。
When these two souls perceived each other； they recognized each other as necessary to each other； and embraced each other closely。
Taking the words in their most prehensive and absolute sense； we may say that； separated from every one by the walls of the tomb； Jean Valjean was the widower； and Cosette was the orphan： this situation caused Jean Valjean to bee Cosette's father after a celestial fashion。
And in truth； the mysterious impression produced on Cosette in the depths of the forest of Chelles by the hand of Jean Valjean grasping hers in the dark was not an illusion； but a reality。 The entrance of that man into the destiny of that child had been the advent of God。
Moreover； Jean Valjean had chosen his refuge well。
There he seemed perfectly secure。
The chamber with a dressing…room； which he occupied with Cosette； was the one whose window opened on the boulevard。
This being the only window in the house； no neighbors' glances were to be feared from across the way or at the side。
The ground…floor of Number 50…52； a sort of dilapidated penthouse； served as a wagon…house for market…gardeners； and no munication existed between it and the first story。
It was separated by the flooring； which had neither traps nor stairs； and which formed the diaphragm of the building； as it were。
The first story contained； as we have said； numerous chambers and several attics； only one of which was occupied by the old woman who took charge of Jean Valjean's housekeeping； all the rest was uninhabited。
It was this old woman； ornamented with the name of the principal lodger； and in reality intrusted with the functions of portress； who had let him the lodging on Christmas eve。
He had represented himself to her as a gentleman of means who had been ruined by Spanish bonds； who was ing there to live with his little daughter。 He had paid her six months in advance； and had missioned the old woman to furnish the chamber and dressing…room； as we have seen。 It was this good woman who had lighted the fire in the stove； and prepared everything on the evening of their arrival。
Week followed week； these two beings led a happy life in that hovel。
Cosette laughed； chattered； and sang from daybreak。
Children have their morning song as well as birds。
It sometimes happened that Jean Valjean clasped her tiny red hand； all cracked with chilblains； and kissed it。
The poor child； who was used to being beaten； did not know the meaning of this； and ran away in confusion。
At times she became serious and stared at her little black gown。 Cosette was no longer in rags； she was in mourning。
She had emerged from misery； and she was entering into life。
Jean Valjean had undertaken to teach her to read。
Sometimes； as he made the child spell； he remembered that it was with the idea of doing evil that he had learned to read in prison。
This idea had ended in teaching a child to read。
Then the ex…convict smiled with the pensive smile of the angels。
He felt in it a premeditation from on high； the will of some one who was not man； and he became absorbed in revery。
Good thoughts have their abysses as well as evil ones。
To teach Cosette to read； and to let her play； this constituted nearly the whole of Jean Valjean's existence。
And then he talked of her mother； and he made her pray。
She called him father； and knew no other name for him。
He passed hours in watching her dressing and undressing her doll； and in listening to her prattle。
Life； henceforth； appeared to him to be full of interest； men seemed to him good and just； he no longer reproached any one in thought； he saw no reason why he should not live to be a very old man； now that this child loved him。 He saw a whole future stretching out before him； illuminated by Cosette as by a charming light。
The best of us are not exempt from egotistical thoughts。
At times； he reflected with a sort of joy that she would be ugly。
This is only a personal opinion； but； to utter our whole thought； at the point where Jean Valjean had arrived when he began to love Cosette； it is by no means clear to us that he did not need this encouragement in order that he might persevere in well…doing。 He had just viewed the malice of men and the misery of society under a new aspect inplete aspects； which unfortunately only exhibited one side of the truth； the fate of woman as summed up in Fantine； and public authority as personified in Javert。
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