CHAPTER X.
THE MAN AWAKE.
As two o'clock pealed from the cathedral bell, Jean Valjean awoke. Whataroused him was that the bed was too comfortable, for close on twentyyears he had not slept in a bed, and though he had not undressed, thesensation was too novel not to disturb his sleep. He had been asleepfor more than four hours, and his weariness had worn off; and he wasaccustomed not to grant many hours to repose. He opened his eyes andlooked into the surrounding darkness, and then he closed them againto go to sleep once more. When many diverse sensations have agitateda day, and when matters preoccupy the mind, a man may sleep, but hecannot go to sleep again. Sleep comes more easily than it returns, andthis happened to Jean Valjean. As he could not go to sleep again, hebegan thinking.
It was one of those moments in which the ideas that occupy the mind aretroubled, and there was a species of obscure oscillation in his brain.His old recollections and immediate recollections crossed each other,and floated confusedly, losing their shape, growing enormously, andthen disappearing suddenly, as if in troubled and muddy water. Manythoughts occurred to him, but there was one which constantly revertedand expelled all the rest. This thought we will at once describe; hehad noticed the six silver forks and spoons and the great ladle whichMadame Magloire put on the table. This plate overwhelmed him; it wasthere, a few yards from him. When he crossed the adjoining room toreach the one in which he now was, the old servant was putting itin a small cupboard at the bed-head,--he had carefully noticed thiscupboard; it was on the right as you came in from the dining-room. Theplate was heavy and old, the big soup-ladle was worth at least 200francs, or double what he had earned in nineteen years, though it wastrue that he would have earned more had not the officials robbed him.
His mind oscillated for a good hour, in these fluctuations with whicha struggle was most assuredly blended. When three o'clock struck heopened his eyes, suddenly sat up, stretched out his arms, and felt forhis knapsack which he had thrown into a corner of the alcove, then lethis legs hang, and felt himself seated on the bed-side almost withoutknowing how. He remained for a while thoughtfully in this attitude,which would have had something sinister about it, for any one who hadseen him, the only wakeful person in the house. All at once he stooped,took off his shoes, then resumed his thoughtful posture, and remainedmotionless. In the midst of this hideous meditation, the ideas whichwe have indicated incessantly crossed his brain, entered, went out,returned, and weighed upon him; and then he thought, without knowingwhy, and with the mechanical obstinacy of reverie, of a convict he hadknown at the bagne, of the name of Brevet, whose trousers were onlyheld up by a single knitted brace. The draught-board design of thatbrace incessantly returned to his mind. He remained in this situation,and would have probably remained so till sunrise, had not the clockstruck the quarter or the half-hour. It seemed as if this stroke saidto him, To work! He rose, hesitated for a moment and listened; all wassilent in the house, and he went on tip-toe to the window, throughwhich he peered. The night was not very dark; there was a full moon,across which heavy clouds were chased by the wind. This producedalternations of light and shade, and a species of twilight in the room;this twilight, sufficient to guide him, but intermittent in consequenceof the clouds, resembled that livid hue produced by the grating ofa cellar over which people are continually passing. On reaching thewindow, Jean Valjean examined it; it was without bars, looked on thegarden, and was only closed, according to the fashion of the country,by a small peg. He opened it, but as a cold sharp breeze suddenlyentered the room, he closed it again directly. He gazed into the gardenwith that attentive glance which studies rather than looks, and foundthat it was enclosed by a white-washed wall, easy to climb over. Beyondit he noticed the tops of trees standing at regular distances, whichproved that this wall separated the garden from a public walk.
After taking this glance, he walked boldly to the alcove, opened hisknapsack, took out something which he laid on the bed, put his shoesin one of the pouches, placed the knapsack on his shoulders, put onhis cap, the peak of which he pulled over his eyes, groped for hisstick, which he placed in the window nook, and then returned to thebed, and took up the object he had laid on it. It resembled a shortiron bar, sharpened at one of its ends. It would have been difficultto distinguish in the darkness for what purpose this piece of ironhad been fashioned; perhaps it was a lever, perhaps it was a club.By daylight it could have been seen that it was nothing but a minerscandlestick. The convicts at that day were sometimes employed inextracting rock from the lofty hills that surround Toulon, and it wasnot infrequent for them to have mining tools at their disposal. Theminer's candlesticks are made of massive steel, and have a point atthe lower end, by which they are dug into the rock. He took the bar inhis right hand, and holding his breath and deadening his footsteps hewalked towards the door of the adjoining room, the Bishop's as we know.On reaching this door he found it ajar--the Bishop had not shut it.