"You are a worthy man," said Gavroche.
And he put the five-franc piece in one of his pockets. Then, with increasing confidence, he added;—
"Do you belong to this street?"
"Yes; why?"
"Can you point me out No. 7?"
"What do you want at No. 7?"
Here the lad stopped, for he feared lest he had said too much. He energetically plunged his nails into his hair, and confined himself to answering,—
"Ah, there it is."
An idea flashed across Jean Valjean's mind, for agony has lucidities of that nature. He said to the boy,—
"Have you brought me the letter which I am expecting?"