"Madame Thénardier."
The man continued with an accent which he strove to render careless, but in which there was, for all that, a singular tremor:—
"What is this Madame Thénardier?"
"She is my mistress," the child said, "and keeps the inn."
"The inn?" remarked the man; "well, I am going to lodge there to-night. Show me the way."
"We are going to it."
Though the man walked rather quickly, Cosette had no difficulty in keeping up with him; she no longer felt fatigue, and from time to time raised her eyes to this man with a sort of indescribable calmness and confidence. She had never been taught to turn her eyes toward Providence, and yet she felt within her something that resembled hope and joy, and which rose to heaven. After the lapse of a few minutes the man continued,—
"Does Madame Thénardier keep no servant?"
"No, sir."
"Is there no one but you?"