Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the one hundred thirteenth chapter of Les Miserables.

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>> Brie Carlisle: Take a look, in the book and let's see

what we can find.

Take it chapter by chapter. One

fight M at a time

so many adventures and

mountains we can climb

to give word for word, line by

line, one bite at a time.

>> Brie Carlisle: Welcome to bite at a time books where we read you your

favorite classics, one byte at a time. my name is

Bre Carlisle and I love to read and wanted to

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>> Brie Carlisle: Values today well be

continuing. Les miserables by

Victor Hugo chapter

five which would be impossible with gas

lanterns.

At that moment, a heavy and measured sound began

to be audible at some distance. Jean

Valjean risked a glance around the corner of the street.

Seven or eight soldiers drawn up in a platoon had just

debouched into the rue Paulonceau. He saw

the gleam of their bayonets. They were advancing

towards him, these soldiers at ah whose head he

distinguished. Javerts tall figure advanced slowly and

cautiously. They halted

frequently. It was plain that they were searching

all the nooks of the walls and all the embrasures of the doors and

alleys. This was some patrol that

Javert had encountered. There could be no mistake

as to this surmise and whose aid he

had demanded. Javerts, two acolytes were marching

in their ranks at the rate at which they

were marching, and in consideration of the halts which they were

making, it would take them about a quarter of an hour

to reach the spot where Jean Valjean stood.

It was a frightful moment. A few minutes

only separated Jean Valjean from that terrible precipice which

yawned before him for the third time. And the

galleys now meant not only the galleys,

but Cosette, lost to him forever, that

is to say, a life resembling the interior of a

tomb. There was but one thing which

was possible. Jean Valjean

had this peculiarity that he carried,

as one might say, two beggars

pouches. In one, he kept his saintly

thoughts, in the other, the redoubtable talents of a

convict. He rummaged in the one

or the other according to circumstances.

Among his other resources, thanks to his

numerous escapes from the prison at Toulon, he

was, as it will be remembered, a past

master in the incredible art of crawling up without a ladder or

climbing irons, by sheer muscular force,

by leaning on the nape of his neck, his shoulders, his

hips and his knees, by helping himself on the

rare projections of the stone in the right angle of a

wall as high as the 6th story, if

need be. An art which was rendered

so celebrated and so alarming. That

corner of the wall of the concierge of Paris by which

Madamull, condemned to death, made his escape 20 years

ago. Jean Valjean measured with his

eyes the wall above which he espied the linden.

It was about 18ft in height. The

angle which it formed with the gable of the large building was filled

at its lower extremity by a mass of masonry of a

triangular shape, probably intended to preserve

that too convenient corner from the rubbish of those dirty creatures

called the passersby. This

practice of filling up corners of the wall is much in use in

Paris. This mass was about

5ft in height. The space above the summit of this

mass, which it was necessary to climb, was not more than

14ft. The wall was

surmounted by a flat stone without a coping.

Cosette was the difficulty,

for she did not know how to climb a wall.

Should he abandon her. Jean Valjean did not

once think of that. It was impossible to carry her.

A mans whole strength is required to successfully carry out these

singular ascents. The least burden would disturb

his center of gravity and pull him downwards.

A rope would have been required.

Jean Valjean had none. Where was he to

get a rope at midnight in the rue Paulensou?

Certainly, if Jean Valjean had had a kingdom, he would have

given it for a rope at that moment.

All extreme situations have their lightning flashes,

which sometimes dazzle, sometimes illuminate

us. Jean Valjean's despairing

glance fell on the street lantern post of the blind alley.

Genrot. At that epoch, there

were no gas jets in the streets of Paris. At

nightfall, lanterns placed at regular distances were

lighted. They were ascended and

descended by means of a rope, which

traversed the street from side to side and was

adjusted in a groove of the post. The

pulley over which this rope ran was fastened underneath the

lantern in a little iron box, the key to

which was kept by the lamplighter. And the rope itself was

protected by a metal case. Jean

Valjean, with the energy of a supreme

struggle, crossed the street at one, bound, entered the

blind alley, broke the latch of the little box with

the point of his knife, and an instant later, he was beside

Cosette once more. He had a

rope. These gloomy inventors of

expedients work rapidly when theyre fighting against

fatality. Weve already explained that the

lanterns had not been lighted that night. The

lantern in the cul de sac gin rot was less naturally

extinct like the rest, and one could

pass directly under it without even noticing that it was no

longer in its place. Nevertheless,

the hour, the place, the

darkness, Jean Valjeans absorption,

his singular gestures, his comings and

goings, all had begun to render Cosette

uneasy. Any other child than she

would have given vent to loud shrieks long before

she contented herself with plucking Jean Valjean by the skirt of

his coat. I could hear the sound of the patrols

approach ever more and more distinctly.

Father, said she in a very low

voice, I am afraid.

Who is coming yonder? Hush,

replied the unhappy man. It is Madame

Thenardier. Cosette

shuddered. He added, say

nothing. Dont, interfere with me. If you cry out, if you

weep, the thenardier is lying in wait for you. Shes

coming to take you back. Then without

haste, but without making a useless movement, with

firm and curt precision, the more remarkable at a moment

when the patrol in Javert might come upon him, at any moment,

he ended his cravat, passed it round

Cosettes body under the armpits, taking care

that it should not hurt. The child fastened this

cravat to one end of the rope by means of that knot which

seafaring men call a swallow knot, took the other

end of the rope in his teeth, pulled off his shoes and

stockings, which he threw over the wall, stepped

upon the mass of masonry, and began to raise himself in

the angle of the wall in the gable. With as much

solidity and certainty as though he had the rounds of a

ladder under his feet and elbows. Half

a minute had not elapsed when he was resting on his knees on the

wall, cosette gazed at him in

stupid amazement. Without uttering a word.

Jean Valjean's injunction and the name of Madame

Thenardier had chilled her blood. All

at once she heard Jean Valjeans voice crying to her, though in a very

low tone. Put your back against the

wall. She obeyed. Dont

say a word and dont be alarmed, went on Jean

Valjean, and she felt herself lifted from the

ground. Before she had time to recover herself,

she was on top of the wall. Jean Valjean

grasped her, put her on his back, took

her two tiny hands in his large left hand,

lay down flat on his stomach, and crawled along on top of the

wall as far as the cant. As he

had guessed, there stood a building whose roof started from the top of

the wooden barricade and descended to within a very short distance

of the ground with a gentle slope which grazed the

linden tree. A lucky circumstance,

for the wall was much higher on this side than on the street

side. Jean Valjean could only see the

ground at a great depth below him. He had just

reached the slope of the roof and had not yet left the crest of the

wall when a violent uproar announced the arrival of the

patrol. The thundering voice of Javert was

audible. Search the blind alley. The

rudroit mur is guarded. So is the rue petite

pickpiss. Ill answer for it that hes in the blind

alley. The soldiers rushed into the Jenrot

alley. Jean Valjean allowed himself to slide

down the roof, still holding fast to Cosette,

reached the linden tree and leapt to the

ground. Whether from terror or courage,

Cosette had not breathed a sound, though her

hands were a little abraded.

Thank you for joining bite at a time books today while

we read a.

>> Brie Carlisle: Bite of one of your favorite classics.

>> Brie Carlisle: Again, my name is bree carlisle,

and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next

bite of le miserable.

>> Brie Carlisle: Dont forget to sign up for our

newsletter@biteadatimebooks.com and check

out the shop. You can check out the show notes or

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social media as well.

>> Brie Carlisle: Take a look and let's

see what we can find.

Take it chapter by chapter one

time

so many adventures and

mountains we can climb

take your words go word line.

>> Brie Carlisle: By line one bite at a time.