"Are not pewter forks and spoons to be had?" said the
Bishop.
"Pewter smells," said Madame Magloire. 15
"Then iron?" continued the Bishop.
"Iron has a bad taste," and Madame Magloire grimaced
expressively.
"That still leaves wood," exclaimed the Bishop triumphantly.
Later, at breakfast, the Bishop jokingly commented 20
to his silent sister and grumbling housekeeper, that
for a breakfast of bread and milk even a wooden fork was
unnecessary.
"Just think of it," muttered Madame Magloire as she
trotted back and forth between the dining room and kitchen, 25
"to take in a convict like that, and let him eat and sleep
with decent people. It's lucky that he didn't do worse
than steal. It terrifies one just to think of what might have
happened."
At the moment that the Bishop and his sister were 30
leaving the table, there was a knock at the door.
The door opened, and there appeared three gendarmes
holding a man by the collar. The man was Jean Valjean.
The leader of the party, a corporal, saluted the Bishop.
"Monseigneur," he began.