” Then she looked up at him with frightened eyes. ’ She shook her head sadly. ‘Beg your pardon, ma’am, but she’s enough to try the patience of a saint. It just made me mad to the boiling point. She loved the market, the horses trotting about, the bishops forced to be on the same road with old washer-women, the fools begging for a Florin or a ducat. “You must fetch a doctor,” she said. The gallows has groaned for him for years. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. “Please search everywhere,” she said. Of the women felons' rooms nothing has yet been said. Fire; she was full of it.
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