Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the one hundred eighth 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.

>> Brie Carlisle: 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

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>> Brie Carlisle: Today well be continuing Les

Miserable by Victor Hugo

chapter five the five franc piece

falls on the ground and produces a

tumult near Saint

Medards church. There was a poor man who was in the habit

of crouching on the brink of a public well which had been

condemned, and on whom Jean

Valjean was fond of bestowing charity. He

never passed this man without giving him a few sous.

Sometimes he spoke to him. Those who

envied this mendicant said that he belonged to the police.

He was an ex beadle of 75 who was

constantly mumbling his prayers.

One evening, as, Jean Valjean was passing

by, when he had not gazette with

him, he saw the beggar in his usual place

beneath the lantern which had just been lighted.

The man seemed engaged in prayer according to

his custom, and was much bent over.

Jean Valjean stepped up to him and placed his customary

alms in his hand. The mendicant

raised his eyes, suddenly, stared intently at

Jean Valjean, then dropped his head

quickly the movement was like a flash of

lightning. Jean Valjean was seized with a

shudder. It seemed to him that he had just caught

sight by the light of the street lantern. Not

of the placid and beaming visage of the old beetle.

But of a well known and startling face.

He experienced the same impression that one would have on

finding oneself all of a sudden face to face

in the dark with a tiger. He

recoiled, terrified,

petrified, daring neither to breathe, to speak,

to remain nor to flee. Staring at the

beggar who had dropped his head, which was

enveloped in a rag. It no longer appeared to know that he

was there at this strange

moment. An instinct, possibly, The

mysterious instinct of self preservation

restrained Jean Valjean from uttering a word.

The beggar had the same figure, the same

rags, the same appearance as he had every

day. Bah. Said Jean

Valjean. I am mad. I am

dreaming. Impossible. And he

returned profoundly troubled. He

hardly dared to confess, even to himself that the face which

he thought he had seen was the face of Javert.

That night, on thinking the matter over, he regretted not

having questioned the man in order to force him to raise his

head a second time. On the following

day, at nightfall, he went back. The beggar

was at his post. Good day, my good man,

said Jean Valjean resolutely. Handing him a

sou. The beggar raised his head and

replied in a whining voice. Thanks, my good

sir. It was unmistakably the ex

beadle. Jean Valjean felt completely

reassured. He began to laugh. How the

deuce could I have thought that I saw Javert there. He thought,

am I going to lose my eyesight now? And he thought

no more about it. A few days afterwards,

it might have been at 08:00 in the evening he

was in his room and engaged in making Cosette spill

aloud. When he heard the house door open and then shut

again. This struck him as

singular. The old woman, who was the only

inhabitant of the house except himself, always went

to bed at nightfall. So that she might not burn out her

candles. Jean Valjean made a sign to

Cosette to be quiet. He heard someone

ascending the stairs. It might possibly be the

old woman who might have fallen ill and have been out to the

apothecarys. Jean Valjean

listened. The step was

heavy and sounded like that of a man. But

the old woman wore stout shoes. And theres nothing which so

strongly resembles the step of a man as that of an old

woman. Nevertheless, Jean Valjean

blew out his candle. He had sent Cosette to

bed, saying to her in a low voice, get into

bed very softly. And as he kissed her

brow, the steps paused. Jean

Valjean remained silent, motionless, with his

back towards the door, seated on the chair from which he had

not stirred, and holding his breath in the dark,

after the expiration of a rather long interval,

he turned round as he heard nothing more.

And as he raised his eyes towards the door of his chamber, he saw

a light through the keyhole. This

light formed a sort of sinister star in the blackness of the

door and the wall. There was

evidently someone there who was holding a candle in his hand

and listening. Several minutes

elapsed thus, and the light

retreated. But he heard no sound of footsteps,

which seemed to indicate that the person whod been listening at the door

had removed his shoes. Jean

Valjean threw himself all dressed as he was on his

bed and could not close his eyes all night.

At daybreak, just as he was falling into a doze through

fatigue, he was awakened by the creaking of a door which opened

on some attic at the end of the corridor.

Then he heard the same masculine footstep which had ascended the

stairs on the preceding evening.

The step was approaching. He sprang off the

bed and applied his eye to the keyhole, which was

tolerably large, hoping to see the person who had made his way by

night into the house and had listened at his door as

he passed. It was a man, in

fact, who passed this time without pausing in front of Jean

Valjeans Chamber, and the corridor was

too dark to allow of the persons face being distinguished.

But when the man reached the staircase, a ray of light from

without made it stand out like a silhouette. And

Jean Valjean had a complete view of his back.

The man was of lofty stature, clad

in a long frock coat with a cudgel under his

arm. The formidable neck and shoulders

belonged to Javert. Jean Valjean

might have attempted to catch another glimpse of him through his window opening on

the boulevard, but he would have been obliged to open the

window. He dared not.

It was evident that this man had entered with a key, and

like himself, who had given him that

key? What was the meaning of this?

When the old woman came to do the work at 07:00 in the morning,

Jean Valjean cast a penetrating glance on her,

but he did not question her. The good

woman appeared as usual, as, she swept up. She

remarked to him, possibly monsieur

may have heard someone come in last night.

At that age and on that boulevard, 08:00 in the

evening was the dead of the night. That is

true. By the way, he replied, in the most natural tone

possible. Who was it? It was

a new lodger who has come into the house, said the

old woman. And what is his

name? I dont know exactly.

Dumont or Daumont or some name of that

sort. And who is this monsieur

Dumont? The woman gazed at

him with her little polecat eyes and answered,

a gentleman of property like yourself.

Perhaps she had no ulterior meaning. Jean

Valjean thought he perceived one when

the old woman had taken her departure. He did up 100 francs which

he had in a cupboard into a roll and put it in

his pocket.

In spite of all the precautions which he took in this operation

so that he might not be heard rattling silver, a hundred

supis escaped from his hands and rolled noisily on the

floor. When darkness came on,

he descended and carefully scrutinized both sides of the

boulevard. He saw no

one. The boulevard appeared to be absolutely

deserted. It is true that a person

can conceal himself behind trees. He

went upstairs again. Come, he said

to Cosette. He took her by the hand and

they both went out.

Thank you for joining bite at a timebooks today while

we read 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: Dont forget to sign up for our

newsletter@biteadatimebooks.com and check

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

our website, biteaditimebooks.com, for

the rest of the links for our show. wed love to hear from you on

social media as well.

>> Brie Carlisle: Hm.

Take a look and a broken 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.

>> Brie Carlisle: Line by line, one bite at a time.