Jean Valjean hung his head, but said nothing.
The boy began again,—
"My two-franc piece, sir."
Jean Valjean's eye remained fixed on the ground.
"My coin," the boy cried, "my silver piece, my money."
It seemed as if Jean Valjean did not hear him, for the boy seized the collar of his blouse and shook him, and at the same time made an effort to remove the iron-shod shoe placed on his coin.
"I want my money, my forty-sous piece."
The boy began crying, and Jean Valjean raised his head. He was still sitting on the ground, and his eyes were misty. He looked at the lad with a sort of amazement, then stretched forth his hand to his stick, and shouted in a terrible voice, "Who is there?"
"I, sir," the boy replied. "Little Gervais; give me back my two francs, if you please. Take away your foot, sir, if you please." Then he grew irritated, though so little, and almost threatening.
"Come, will you lift your foot? Lift it, I say!"