LES MISERABLES

By Victor Hugo
GROUP 1
Summary: Jean Valjean was born of a peasant family. Uneducated and with
no special skill, He did whatever work came his way to help out a sister who
had seven children. One night, when the family had nothing to eat, he stole
bread from a shop. He was caught and sentenced to five years in the galleys.
Near end of his fourth year, he was helped by his fellow inmates to escape.
He was retaken and his sentence was extended to three years. He made
three more unsuccessful attempts and each time years were added to the
original sentence until he had served a total of nineteen years.
While in the galleys it was apparent that, in physical strength, he far
surpasses all the other inmates of the prison. His strength was equal to that
of four men, a quality that made him easily recognizable. He talked a little
and never laughed. From year to year his soul had withered more and more.
Jean Valjean entered the galleys of frightened youth; he came out a
hardened man, condemning society, sentencing into his hatred for in his
mind, it was society which was responsible for the doom he had undergone.
At last, after nineteen years of torture and slavery, he was set free. On
his way to his home village, he entered a town and looked for lodging; but at
every place he went to, he was turned away for it had become known that he
was Jean Valjean, former convict and galley slave, and therefore dangerous.
In desperation, he went to the town prison but the guard would not let him in.
He tried a dog-kennel but even the dog did not want him. At last, he came to
a stone bench in front of a church. He lay down on the bench. Just then an
old woman came out of the church and pointing to a little house next to
church, told Jean Valjean to knock there. He did as he was told and was
astonished when, after telling the bishop about his past, he was bidden to eat
with and from silver plates. He was also given a clean, soft bed to sleep in
and was even called “Monsieur” Monsieur to a convict is a glass of water to
a man dying of thirst at sea. Ignominy thirst for respect.
 GROUP 2
As the cathedral clock struck two, Jean Valjean awoke. What awakened him
was, too good bed. For nearly twenty years he had not sleep in a bed, and,
although he had not undressed, the sensation was too novel not to disturb his
sleep. He had sleep something more than four hours. His fatigue was passed
away. He was not accustomed to give many hours to repost. He could not get to
sleep again and so he began to think.
Those six silver plates took possession of him. There they were, within a few
steps. His mind wavered a whole hour, and along one, in fluctuation and in
struggle. The clock struck three. He opened his eyes, rose up hastily in bed, reach
out his arms and felt for his haversack, which he had put into the corner of the
alcove, and found himself, he knew not how, seated on his bed. All was still in the
house. With stealthy steps, he move towards the door of the next room, which was
the bishop’s, as we know. On reaching the door, he found it unlatched. The bishop
had not closed it. He took one step and was in the room.
A deep calm filled the chamber. Here and there and distinct, confused forms
could be distinguish; which by day, where papers scattered over the table, open
folios, books piled on its stool, an arm chair with clothes on it, a prie-dieu but now
where only dark corners and whitish spots. Jean Valjean advances, carefully
avoiding the furnitures. At the further end of the room he could hear the equal and
quiet breathing of sleeping bishop.
He did not remove his eyes from the old man. The only thing which was plain
from his attitude and his countenance was a strange indecision. You would have
said he was hesitating between two realms, that of the doomed and that of the
saved. He appeared ready either to cleave this skull or to kiss his hand.
On a few moment he raised his hand slowly to his forehead and took of his
hat; then, letting his hand fall with the same slowness, Jean Valjean resumed his
contemplations, his cap in his left hand, his club in his right and his hair bristling
on his fierce-looking head.
Under this frightful gaze the bishop still slept in profound peace.
The crucifix above the mantelpiece was dimly visible in the moonlight, apparently
extending its arms towards both, with a benediction for one and a pardon for the
other.
Suddenly Jean Valjean put on his cap, then passed quickly, without looking at the
bishop, along the bed, straight to the cupboard which he perceived near its head;
he raised the drill to force the lock; the kay was in it; he opened it; the first thing he
saw was the basket of silver, he took it, crossed the room with hasty strides,
careless of noise, reached the door, entered the oratory, took his stick, stepped
out, put the silver in his knapsack, threw away the basket, ran across the garden,
leaped over the wall like a tiger and fled…..
GROUP 3
The next day at sunrise, Monseigneur Bienvenu was walking in the garden.
Madame Magloire ran towards him quite beside herself.
“Monseigneur, Monseigneur,” cried she, “does your greatness know where the
silver basket is?”
“Yes”, said the bishop.
“God be praised!” said she, “I did not know what had become of it.”
The bishop had just found the basket on a flower-bed.
He gave it to Madame Magloire and said: “There it is.”
“Yes,” said she, “but there is nothing in it. The silver?”
“Ah!” said the bishop, “it is the silver then that troubles you. I do not know where
that is.”
“Good heavens! It is stolen. That man who came last night stole it.”
And in the twinkling of an eye, with all the agility of which her age was capable,
Madame Magloire ran to the oratory, went into the alcove, and came back to the
bishop. The bishop was bending with some sadness over a cochlearia des
Guillons, which the basket had broken in falling. He looked up at Madame
Magloire’s cry:
Monseigneur, the man has gone! The silver is stolen” While she was uttering this
exclamation, her eyes fell on an angle of the garden where she saw traces of an
escalade. A capstone of the wall had been thrown down.
“See, there is where he got out; he jumped into Cochefilet lane. The abominable
fellow! He has stolen our silver!”
The bishop was silent for a moment, then raising his eyes, he said mildly to
Madame Magloire:
“Now first, did the silver belong to us?”
Madame Magloire did not answer; after a moment the bishop continued:
“Madame Maglorie, I have for a long time wrongfully withheld this silveer, it
belonged to the poor. Who was this man? A poor man evidently.”
In a few minutes he was breakfasting at the same table at which Jean Valjean sat
the night before. While breakfasting, Monseigneur Bienvenu pleasantly remarked
to his sister who said nothing, and Madame Magloire who was grumbling to herself,
that there was really no need even of a wooden spoon or fork to dip a piece of
bread into a cup of milk. Just as the brother and sister were rising from the table,
there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” said the bishop.
GROUP 4
The door opened. A strange, fierce group appeared on the threshold. Three
men were holding a fourth by the collar. The three men were gendarmes; the
fourth, Jean Valjean. A brigadier of gendarmes, who appeared to head the
group, was near the door. He advanced towards the bishop, giving a military
salute.
“Monseigneur,” said he-
At this word, Jean Valjean, who was sullen and seemed entirely cast down,
raised his head with a stupefied air-
“Monsigneur!” he murmured, , “then it is not the cure!”
“Silence!” said a gendarme, “It is Monseigneur, the bishop.”
In the meantime, Monseigneur Bienvenu had approached as quickly as his
great age permitted:
‘Ah, there you are! said he, looking towards Jean Valjean, “I am glad to see
you. But! I gave you the candlesticks also, which are silver like the rst, and
would bring two hundred francs. Why did you not take them along with your
plates?”
Jean Valjean opened his eyes and looked at the bishop with an expression
which no human tongue could describe.
“Monseigneur,” said the brigadier, “then what this man said was true?
We met him. He was going like a man who was running away, and we
arrested him in order to see. He had silver.
GROUP 5
“And he told you,” Interrupted the bishop, with a smile, “that it had been given
him by a good old priest with whom he had passed the night. I see it all. And
you brought him back here? It is all a mistake.”
“If that is so,“ said the brigadier, “We can let him go.”
“Certainly,” replied the bishop.
The gendarmes released Jean Valjean, who shrank back.
“It is true they let me go?” he said in a voice almost inarticulate, as if he were
speaking in his sleep.
“My friend,” said the bishop, “before you go away, here are your candlesticks;
take them.”
He went to mantel piece, took the two candlesticks, and brought them to Jean
Valjean. The two women beheld the action without a word, or gesture, or look
that might disturb the bishop. Jean Valjean was trembling in every limb. He
took the two candlesticks; and with a wild appearance.
GROUP 6
“Now,” said the bishop, “go in peace.”
Then turning to the gendarmes, he said: ‘Messieurs, you can retire. “The
gendarmes withdrew.
Jean Valjean felt like a man who is just about to faint. The approached him,
and said, in a low voice:
“Forget not, never forget that you have promised me to use this silver to
become an honest man.”
Jean Valjean, who had no recollection off this promise, stood confounded.
The bishop had laid much stress upon these words as he uttered them. He
continued, solemnly:
“Jean Valjean, my brother: you belong no longer to evil, but to good. It is your
soul that I am buying for. I withdraw it from dark thoughts and from the spirit
of perdition, and give I give it to God!”

Jean Valjean went out of the city as if he were escaping. He made all haste
to get into the open country, taking the first lanes and by-paths that offered,
without noticing that he was every moment retracing his steps. He wandered
thus all morning. He had eaten nothing, but he felt no hunger. He was the
prey of a multitude of sensations.