jean valjean went into the house with marius' letter.

he groped his way up the stairs, as pleased with the darkness as an owl who grips his prey, opened and shut his door softly, listened to see whether he could hear any noise,--made sure that, to all appearances, cosette and toussaint were asleep, and plunged three or four matches into the bottle of the fumade lighter before he could evoke a spark, so greatly did his hand tremble. what he had just done smacked of theft. at last the candle was lighted; he leaned his elbows on the table, unfolded the paper, and read.

in violent emotions, one does not read, one flings to the earth, so to speak, the paper which one holds, one clutches it like a victim, one crushes it, one digs into it the nails of one's wrath, or of one's joy; one hastens to the end, one leaps to the beginning; attention is at fever heat; it takes up in the gross, as it were, the essential points; it seizes on one point, and the rest disappears. in marius' note to cosette, jean valjean saw only these words:--

"i die. when thou readest this, my soul will be near thee."

in the presence of these two lines, he was horribly dazzled; he remained for a moment, crushed, as it were, by the change of emotion which was taking place within him, he stared at marius' note with a sort of intoxicated amazement, he had before his eyes that splendor, the death of a hated individual.

he uttered a frightful cry of inward joy. so it was all over. the catastrophe had arrived sooner than he had dared to hope. the being who obstructed his destiny was disappearing. that man had taken himself off of his own accord, freely, willingly. this man was going to his death, and he, jean valjean, had had no hand in the matter, and it was through no fault of his. perhaps, even, he is already dead. here his fever entered into calculations. no, he is not dead yet. the letter had evidently been intended for cosette to read on the following morning; after the two discharges that were heard between eleven o'clock and midnight, nothing more has taken place; the barricade will not be attacked seriously until daybreak; but that makes no difference, from the moment when "that man" is concerned in this war, he is lost; he is caught in the gearing. jean valjean felt himself delivered. so he was about to find himself alone with cosette once more. the rivalry would cease; the future was beginning again. he had but to keep this note in his pocket. cosette would never know what had become of that man. all that there requires to be done is to let things take their own course. this man cannot escape. if he is not already dead, it is certain that he is about to die. what good fortune!

having said all this to himself, he became gloomy.

then he went down stairs and woke up the porter.

about an hour later, jean valjean went out in the complete costume of a national guard, and with his arms. the porter had easily found in the neighborhood the wherewithal to complete his equipment. he had a loaded gun and a cartridge-box filled with cartridges.

he strode off in the direction of the markets.

冉阿让拿着马吕斯的信回家去。

他一路摸黑，上了楼梯，象个抓获猎物的夜猫子，自幸处在黑暗中，轻轻地旋开又关上他的房门，细听了一阵周围是否有声音，根据一切迹象，看来珂赛特和杜桑都已睡了，他在菲玛德打火机的瓶子里塞了三根或四根火柴，才打出一点火星，他的手抖得太厉害了，因为做贼自然心虚。最后，他的蜡烛算是点上了，他两肘支在桌上，展开那张纸来看。

人在感情强烈冲动时，是不能好好看下去的。他一把抓住手里的纸，可以说，当成俘虏似的全力揪住，捏作一团，把愤怒或狂喜的指甲掐了进去，一眼便跑到了末尾，又跳回到开头，他的注意力也在发高烧，他只能看懂一个大概，大致的情况，一些主要的东西，他抓住一点，其余部分全不见了。在马吕斯写给珂赛特的那张纸里冉阿让只看见这些字：

“……我决心去死。当你念着这封信时，我的灵魂将在你的身边。”

面对这两行字，他心里起了一阵幸灾乐祸的狂喜，他好象被心情上的这一急剧转变压垮了，他怀着惊喜交集的陶醉感，久久望着马吕斯的信，眼前浮起一幅仇人死亡的美丽图景。

他在心里发出一阵狞恶的欢呼。这样，也就没有事了。事情的好转比原先敢于预期的还来得早。他命中的绊脚石就要消失了。它自己心甘情愿、自由自在地走开了。他冉阿让绝没有干预这件事，这中间也没有他的过失，“这个人”便要死去了。甚至他也许已经死了。想到此地，他那发热的头脑开始计算：“不对，他还没有死。”这信明明是写给珂赛特明天早晨看的，在十一点和午夜之间发生了那两次爆炸以后，他还没有遇到什么，街垒要到天亮时才会受到认真的攻打，但是，没有关系，只要“这个人”参加了这场战斗，他便完了，他已陷在那一套齿轮里了。冉阿让感到他自己已经得救。这样一来，他又可以独自一人和珂赛特生活下去了。竞争已经停止，前途又有了希望。他只消把这信揣在衣袋里。珂赛特永远不会知道“这个人”的下落。“一切听其自然就可以了。这个人决逃不了。如果现在他还没有死，他迟早总得死。多么幸福！”

他对自己说了这一切以后，感到心里郁闷恓惶。

他随即走下楼去，叫醒那看门人。

大致一个钟头过后，冉阿让出去了，穿上了国民自卫军的全套制服，并带了武器。看门人没有费多大的劲，便在附近一带，为他配齐了装备。他有一支上了枪弹的步枪和一只盛满枪弹的弹盒。他朝着菜市场那边走去。