The man stopped, put the bucket on the ground, and laid his two hands on her shoulders, making an effort to see her face in the darkness. Cosette's thin sallow countenance was vaguely designed in the vivid gleam of the sky.
"What is your name?" the man asked her.
"Cosette."
The man seemed to have an electric shock; he looked at her again, then removed his hands, took the bucket up again, and continued his walk. A moment after he asked,—
"Where do you live, little one?"
"At Montfermeil, if you know the place."
"Are we going there?"
"Yes, sir."
There was another pause, and then he began again.
"Who was it that sent you to fetch water from the wood at this hour?"