“Little one, it is very heavy for you, this thing you are carrying.”
Cosette looked up and said, “Yes, sir.”
“Give it to me,” replied the man. “I am going to carry it.”
Cosette let go of the pail. The man walked beside her.
“It is heavy indeed!” he said between his teeth. Then he asked, “Little one, how old are you?”
“Eight years, sir.”
The man waited a moment before speaking, then said quickly, “You haven’t then any mother?”
“I don’t know,” said the child. Before the man could say any more she added, “I don’t think so. The others have one; but I haven’t any.” After a silence, she said again, “I don’t believe I ever had one.”
The man stopped; he placed the pail on the ground, stooped over, and put his hands on the child’s shoulders, trying to see her face in the darkness.
“What is your name?” said he.