Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the one hundred thirty-eighth chapter of Les Miserables.

Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!

Follow, rate, and review Bite at a Time Books where we read you your favorite classics, one bite at a time. Available wherever you listen to podcasts.

Check out our website, or join our Facebook Group!

Get exclusive Behind the Scenes content on our YouTube!

We are now part of the Bite at a Time Books Productions network!

If you ever wondered what inspired your favorite classic novelist to write their stories, what was happening in their lives or the world at the time, check out Bite at a Time Books Behind the Story wherever you listen to podcasts.

Follow us on all the socials: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook - TikTok

Follow Bree at: Instagram - Twitter - Facebook

>> 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

share my passion with listeners like you. If you

want to know whats coming next and vote on upcoming

books, sign up for our

newsletter@biteattimebooks.com dot.

Youll also find our new t shirts in the shop,

including podcast shirts and quote shirts from your

favorite classic novels. Be sure to follow my

show on your favorite podcast platform so you get all the new

episodes. You can find most of our links in the

show notes, but also our website,

byteadatimebooks.com includes all of the links for

our show, including to our Patreon to

support the show and YouTube where we have special

behind the narration of the episodes. We are part

of the bite at a Time books productions network. If

youd also like to hear what inspired your favorite classic

authors to write their novels and what was going

on in the world at the time, check out the bite at a

time books behind the story podcast. Wherever

you listen to podcasts, please note,

while we try to keep the text as close to the original as

possible, some words have been changed

to honor the marginalized communities whove identified the

words as harmful and to stay in alignment

with Byte at a time books brand.

>> Brie Carlisle: Values today well be

continuing les miserable by

Victor Hugo book

eight cemeteries take that which has

committed them. Chapter

one which treats of the manner of entering a

convent. It was

into this house that Jean Valjean had,

as Fauchelevert expressed it, fallen from the

sky. He had scaled the wall of the garden which

formed the angle of the rue Polonceau.

That hymn of the angels which he had heard in the middle of the

night, was the nuns chanting matins.

That hole of which he had caught a glimpse in the gloom

was the chapel. That phantom which

he had seen stretched on the ground, was the sister who was making

reparation. That bell,

the sound of which had so strangely surprised him,

was the gardeners bell attached to the knee of father

Fauchelever Cosette once

put to bed. Jean Valjean and Fauchelevert

had, as we have already seen,

sopped on a glass of wine and a bit of cheese before a good

crackling fire. Then the only

bed in the hut being occupied by Cosette each threw himself

on a truss of straw. Before he shut

his eyes, Jean Valjean said, I must

remain here henceforth. This

remark chatted through Faucheleverts head all night long.

To tell the truth, neither of them

slept. Jean Valjean, feeling that he was

discovered and that Javert was on his scent, understood

that he and Cosette were lost if they returned to Paris,

then the new storm which had just burst upon him had stranded

him in this cloister. Jean Valjean

had henceforth but one thought to remain

there. Now, for an unfortunate man

in his position, this convent was both the safest and

the most dangerous of places. The most dangerous

because a, snowman might enter there. If he were

discovered, it was a flagrant offense,

and Jean Valjean would find but one step

intervening between the convent and prisonthe

safest. Because if he could manage to get himself accepted there

and remain there, who would ever seek him in such a

place? To dwell in an impossible

place was safety on his

side. Fauchelevent was cudgelling his brainstor.

He began by declaring to himself that he understood nothing of the

matter. How had Monsieur Madeleine got

there when the walls were what they were?

Cloister walls are not to be stepped over. How

did he get there? With a child. One cannot scale

a perpendicular wall with a child in one's arms.

Who was that child? Where did they both

come from? Since Fauchelevert had lived in the

convent, he had heard nothing of M. Sur m m. And he knew nothing

of what had taken place there. Father

Madeleine had an air which discouraged

questions. And besides, Fauchelevert said to

himself, one does not question a saint.

Monsieur Madeleine had preserved all his prestige in

Faucheleverts eyes only

from some words which Jean Valjean had let

fall. The gardener thought he could draw the inference that

Monsieur Madeleine had probably become bankrupt

through the hard times and that he was pursued by

his creditors, or that he had

compromised himself in some political affair and was in

hiding, which last did not displease

Fauchelevent, who, like many of our peasants of the north, had an old

fund of bonapartism about him. While

in hiding, Monsieur Madeleine had selected the convent as a

refuge, and it was quite simple that he should wish

to remain there. But the inexplicable

point to which Fauchelevent returned constantly and over

which he wearied his brain, was that Monsieur

Madeleine should be there and that he should have that little girl with

him. Fauchelever saw them,

touched them, spoke to them, and still did not

believe it possible the incomprehensible had just

made its entrance into Faucheleras hut.

Voschelevert groped about amid conjectures and could see

nothing clearly. But this, Monsieur

Madeleine, saved my life. This

certainly alone was sufficient and decided his

course. He said to himself, it is my

turn now, he added. In his conscience,

Monsieur Madeleine did not stop to deliberate. When it was a question of

thrusting himself under the card for the purpose of dragging me

out. He made up his mind to save Monsieur

Madeleine. Nevertheless, he put many

questions to himself and made himself divers replies.

After what he did for me, would I save him if he were a

thief just the same? If he were an assassin would

I save him just the same? Since

he is a saint, shall I save him just the

same? But what a problem it was

to manage to have him remain in the convent.

Fauchelevert did not recoil in the face of this almost chimerical

undertaking. This poor peasant of Picardy, without

any other ladder than his self devotion, his good

will, and a little of that old rustic cunning,

on this occasion, enlisted in the service of a generous

enterprise, undertook to scale the difficulties

of the cloister and the steep escarpments of the rule of Saint

Benoit. Father Fauchelevert was an

old man who had been an egoist all his

life, and who, towards the end of his days,

Holt, infirm, with no interest left to

him in the world, found it sweet to be grateful

and perceiving a generous action to be performed,

flung himself upon it like a man who, at the moment when he

is dying, should find close to his hand a

glass of good wine which he had never tasted and

should swallow it with avidity. We may

add that the air which he had breathed for many years in this

convent had destroyed all personality in him.

And it ended by rendering a good action of some kind

absolutely necessary to him. So

he took his resolve to devote himself to Monsieur

Madeleine. Weve just called him a poor

peasant of Picardy. That description is

just but incomplete at the point of this

story, which we have now reached a little of, Father Faucheleverts

physiology becomes useful.

He was a peasant, but he had been a notary,

which added trickery to his cunning and

penetration to his ingeniousness. Having,

through various causes, failed in his business, he

had descended to the calling of a carter and a laborer.

But in spite of oaths and lashings which horses

seemed to require, something of the notary

had lingered in him. He had some natural

wit. He talked good grammar. He

conversed which is a rare thing in a village. And the other

peasants said of him, he talks almost like a gentleman with a

hat. Posh livert belonged, in

fact, to that species which the impertinent and flippant

vocabulary of the last century qualified as demi

bourgois, demi lout, and which the metaphor

showered by the chateau upon the thatched cottage,

ticketed in the pigeon hole of the plebeian,

rather rustic, rather citified,

pepper and salt. Fauchelever,

though sorely tried and partially used by fate,

worn out, a sort of poor,

threadbare old soul, was nevertheless an

impulsive man and extremely spontaneous in his

actions, a precious quality which

prevents one from ever being wicked.

His defects and his vices, for he had some,

were all superficial. In short,

his physiognomy was of the kind which succeeds with an

observer. His aged face had none

of those disagreeable wrinkles at the top of the forehead which

signify malice or stupidity.

At daybreak, Father Fauchelevert opened his eyes.

After having done an enormous deal of thinking and

beheld Monsieur Madeleine seated on his truss of straw and

watching Cosette slumbers, Fauchelevert

sat up and said, now.

>> Brie Carlisle: That you are here, how are you going to contrive to

entertain?

>> Brie Carlisle: This remark summed up the situation and aroused Jean Valjean

from his reverie. The two men took counsel

together.

>> Brie Carlisle: In the first place, said Fauchelevert,

youll begin by not setting foot outside of this

chamber, either you or the child.

One step in the garden and we are done for.

>> Brie Carlisle: That is true, Monsieur

Madeleine, resumed Fauchelevert.

>> Brie Carlisle: Youve arrived at a very auspicious moment, I

mean to say a very inauspicious moment.

One of the ladies is very ill. This will prevent

them from looking much in our direction. It

seems that she is dying. The prayers of the 40

hours are being said. The whole community is in

confusion. That occupies them. The one

whos on the point of departure is a saint. In fact,

we are all saints here. All. The difference between them

and me is that they say our cell and that I stay my

cabin. The prayers for the dying are to be said,

and then the prayers for the dead. We shall be at peace

here for today, but I will not answer for tomorrow.

>> Brie Carlisle: Still, observed Jean Valjean,

this cottage is the niche of the wall. It is

hidden by a sort of ruin. There are trees, and

it is not visible from the convent.

>> Brie Carlisle: And I add that the nuns never come near

it.

>> Brie Carlisle: Well, said Jean Valjean.

The interrogation mark which accentuated this. Well

signified, it seems to me that 1 may remain concealed

here. It was to this interrogation point

that Fauchelevert responded, theyre the little

girls.

>> Brie Carlisle: What little girls?

>> Brie Carlisle: Asked Jean Valjean. Just as Fauchelevert

opened his mouth to explain the words which he had uttered, a bell

emitted one strike.

>> Brie Carlisle: None is dead, said he. Theres

the knell.

>> Brie Carlisle: And he made a sign to Jean Valjean to listen.

The bell struck a second time.

>> Brie Carlisle: It is the knell. Monsieur Madeleine

Nibel will continue to strike once a minute for 24

hours until the body is taken from the church.

You see, they play at recreation

hours. It suffices to have a ball roll aside to

send them all hither, in spite of prohibitions, to

hunt and rummage for it all about here.

Those cherubs are devils.

>> Brie Carlisle: Who? asked Jean Valjean.

>> Brie Carlisle: The little girls, you would be very quickly

discovered. They would shriek, oh, a man. There

is no danger today. There will be no recreation

hour. The day will be entirely devoted to

prayers. You hear the bell? As I told

you, a stroke each minute. It is the death

knell.

>> Brie Carlisle: I understand, Father Fauchelevert. There are

pupils. And Jean Valjean thought

to himself, here is cosettes education

already provided. Fauchelevert.

>> Brie Carlisle: Exclaimed pardine. Theyre little girls

indeed. And they would ball around you, and they

would rush off to be manheares to have the

plague. You see how they fasten a belt to my paw as

though I were a wild beast?

>> Brie Carlisle: Jean Valjean fell into more and more profound

thought. This convent would be our

salvation, he murmured. Then he

raised his voice.

>> Brie Carlisle: Yes.

>> Brie Carlisle: The difficulty is to remain here. No,

said Fauchelevert.

>> Brie Carlisle: The difficulty is to get out.

>> Brie Carlisle: Jean Valjean felt the blood rush back to his heart.

To get out?

>> Brie Carlisle: Yes, Monsieur Madeleine. In order to return

here, it is first necessary to get out.

>> Brie Carlisle: And after waiting until another stroke of the knell had sounded,

Fauchelevert went on.

>> Brie Carlisle: You must not be found here in this fashion.

Whence come you for me? You fall

from heaven because I know you. But the nuns require

one to enter by the door.

>> Brie Carlisle: All at once they heard a rather complicated pealing from

another bell. Ah, said Fauchelevert.

>> Brie Carlisle: Theyre ringing up the vocal mothers. Theyre going to

the chapter. They always hold a chapter when one

dies. She died at daybreak. People

generally do die at daybreak. But cannot you get out by the way

in which you entered? Come.

I do not ask for the sake of questioning you, but how did you get

in?

>> Brie Carlisle: Jean Valjean turned pale. The very

thought of descending again into that terrible street made him

shudder. You make your way out of a forest filled with

tigers. And once out of it, imagine a friendly council that

shall advise you to return thither. Jean

Valjean pictured himself, the whole police force still engaged

in swarming in that quarter. Agents on the

watch, sentinels everywhere,

frightful fists extended towards his collar.

Jaanvert at the corner of the intersection of the streets. Perhaps

impossible, said he. Father Fauchelevert

say that I fell from the sky.

>> Brie Carlisle: But I believe it.

>> Brie Carlisle: I believe it, retorted Fauchelevert.

>> Brie Carlisle: You have no need to tell me that. The good God

must have taken you in his hand for the purpose of getting a good look

at you close to and then dropped you

only he meant to place you in a mans convent.

He made a mistake. Come. There goes another

pill. That is to order the porter to go and

inform the municipality that the dead doctor is to come here

and view a corpse. All that is the ceremony of

dying. These good ladies are not at all fond of

that visit. A doctor is a man who does not believe in

anything. He lifts the veil.

Sometimes he lifts something else, too. How

quickly they have had that doctor summoned this time.

What is the matter? Your little one is asleep.

What is her name?

>> Brie Carlisle: Cosette.

>> Brie Carlisle: She is your daughter? You are her grandfather, that

is?

>> Brie Carlisle: Yes.

>> Brie Carlisle: Itll be easy enough for her to get out of here. I

have my service door, which opens on the courtyard. I

knock, the porter opens. I have my vintage basket

on my back. The child is in it. I go out.

Father Fauchelevent goes out with his basket. That

is perfectly natural. You will tell the child to keep

very quiet. Shell be under the COVID I

will leave her for whatever time is required with a good old

friend, a fruit seller whom I know in the rue

Chemernvuhrde, who is deaf and who has a little

bed. I will shout in the fruit sellers ear that she is

a niece of mine and that she has to keep her from me until

tomorrow. The little one will re enter with

you, for I will contrive to have you re enter.

It must be done. But how will you manage to

get out?

>> Brie Carlisle: Jean Valjean shook his head. No one must

see me. The whole point lies there, father

Fauchelevert. Find some means of getting me out in a

basket, undercover. Like Cosette,

Fauchelevert scratched the lobe of his ear with the middle finger of his

left hand, a sign of serious embarrassment.

A third peal created a diversion.

>> Brie Carlisle: that is the dead doctor taking.

>> Brie Carlisle: His departure, said Fauchelevert.

>> Brie Carlisle: He has taken a look and said, she is dead. That is

well, when the doctors sign the passport for

paradise, the undertakers company sends a coffin.

If it is a mother, the mothers lay her out. If she

is a sister, the sisters lay her out, after

which I nail her up. That forms a part of my

gardeners duty. a gardener is a bit of a gravedigger.

She is placed in a lower hall of the church, which communicates

with the street and into which no man may enter

save the doctor of the dead. I dont count the

undertakers men and myself as men. It is in that

hall that I nail up the coffin. The undertakers

men come and get it and whip up coachmen. thats the way

one goes to heaven. They fetch a box with nothing in

it, and they take it away again with something in it. Thats

what a burial is like, de profundis.

>> Brie Carlisle: A horizontal ray of sunshine lightly touched the face of the

sleeping Cosette, who lay with her mouth vaguely open

and had the air of an angel drinking in the light.

Jean Valjean had fallen to gazing at her.

He was no longer listening to Fauchelevert.

That one is not listened to as no reason for preserving

silence. The good old gardener went on

tranquilly with his babble.

>> Brie Carlisle: The grave is dug in the Vaugirard cemetery.

They declare that they are going to surpass that Vaugirard

cemetery. It is an ancient cemetery which is

outside the regulations, which has no

uniform, and which is going to retire. It is

a shame, for it is convenient. I have a friend

there, Father Mastienne, the gravedigger.

The nuns here possess one privilege. It is to be

taken to that cemetery at nightfall. There is a special

permission from the prefecture on their behalf. But

how many events have happened since yesterday, mother?

crucifixion is dead, and Father Madeleine.

>> Brie Carlisle: Is buried, said Jean Valjean, smiling

sadly. Pachelevert caught the

word goodness.

>> Brie Carlisle: If you were here for good, it would be a real burial.

>> Brie Carlisle: A fourth pail burst out.

Posh lover hastily detached the bell kneecap from its

nail and buckled it on his knee again.

>> Brie Carlisle: This time it is for me. The mother prioress

wants me. Good. Now I am

pricking myself on the tongue of my buckle. Monsieur Madeleine, dont

stir from here and wait for me. Something new has

come up. If you are hungry, there is wine,

bread, and cheese.

>> Brie Carlisle: And he hastened out of the hut, crying coming.

Jean Valjean watched him hurrying across the garden as fast

as his crooked leg would permit, casting a sidelong

glance by the way, on his melon patch. Less

than ten minutes later, father Fauchelevert whose

bell put the nuns and his road to flight tapped gently at a

door and a gentle voice replied,

forever.

>> Brie Carlisle: Forever.

>> Brie Carlisle: That is to say, enter the door

was the one leading to the parlor reserved for seeing the gardener on

business. This parlor adjoined the chapel

hall. The prioress, seated on the only chair

in the parlor, was waiting for Fauchelever.

Thank you for joining bite at a time books today, while we wrote a

bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlisle and

I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite

of Le Miserable.

>> Brie Carlisle: Ah.

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

newsletter@byteaditimebooks.com and check

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

our website, biteeditimebooks.com, for

the rest of the links for our show. Wed love to

hear from you on social media as well.

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

see what we can find

take it chapter by chapter one

night at a time

so many adventures and

mountains we can climb

line by line, one bite at a time.