ety。
Sometimes he crossed his arms and leaned on his hoe； and slowly descended the endless spirals of revery。
He recalled his former panions：
how wretched they were； they rose at dawn； and toiled until night； hardly were they permitted to sleep； they lay on camp beds； where nothing was tolerated but mattresses two inches thick； in rooms which were heated only in the very harshest months of the year； they were clothed in frightful red blouses； they were allowed； as a great favor； linen trousers in the hottest weather； and a woollen carter's blouse on their backs when it was very cold； they drank no wine； and ate no meat； except when they went on 〃fatigue duty。〃
They lived nameless； designated only by numbers； and converted； after a manner； into ciphers themselves； with downcast eyes； with lowered voices； with shorn heads； beneath the cudgel and in disgrace。
Then his mind reverted to the beings whom he had under his eyes。
These beings also lived with shorn heads； with downcast eyes； with lowered voices； not in disgrace； but amid the scoffs of the world； not with their backs bruised with the cudgel； but with their shoulders lacerated with their discipline。
Their names； also； had vanished from among men； they no longer existed except under austere appellations。 They never ate meat and they never drank wine； they often remained until evening without food； they were attired； not in a red blouse； but in a black shroud； of woollen； which was heavy in summer and thin in winter； without the power to add or subtract anything from it； without having even； according to the season； the resource of the linen garment or the woollen cloak； and for six months in the year they wore serge chemises which gave them fever。
They dwelt； not in rooms warmed only during rigorous cold； but in cells where no fire was ever lighted； they slept； not on mattresses two inches thick； but on straw。
And finally； they were not even allowed their sleep； every night； after a day of toil； they were obliged； in the weariness of their first slumber； at the moment when they were falling sound asleep and beginning to get warm； to rouse themselves； to rise and to go and pray in an ice…cold and gloomy chapel； with their knees on the stones。
On certain days each of these beings in turn had to remain for twelve successive hours in a kneeling posture； or prostrate； with face upon the pavement； and arms outstretched in the form of a cross。
The others were men； these were women。
What had those men done？
They had stolen； violated； pillaged； murdered； assassinated。
They were bandits； counterfeiters； poisoners； incendiaries； murderers； parricides。
What had these women done？
They had done nothing whatever。
On the one hand； highway robbery； fraud； deceit； violence； sensuality； homicide； all sorts of sacrilege； every variety of crime； on the other； one thing only； innocence。
Perfect innocence； almost caught up into heaven in a mysterious assumption； attached to the earth by virtue； already possessing something of heaven through holiness。
On the one hand； confidences over crimes； which are exchanged in whispers； on the other； the confession of faults made aloud。 And what crimes！
And what faults！
On the one hand； miasms； on the other； an ineffable perfume。 On the one hand； a moral pest； guarded from sight； penned up under the range of cannon； and literally devouring its plague…stricken victims； on the other； the chaste flame of all souls on the same hearth。 There； darkness； here； the shadow； but a shadow filled with gleams of light； and of gleams full of radiance。
Two strongholds of slavery； but in the first； deliverance possible； a legal limit always in sight； and then； escape。
In the second； perpetuity； the sole hope； at the distant extremity of the future； that faint light of liberty which men call death。
In the first； men are bound only with chains； in the other； chained by faith。
What flowed from the first？
An immense curse； the gnashing of teeth； hatred； desperate viciousness； a cry of rage against human society； a sarcasm against heaven。
What results flowed from the second？
Blessings and love。
And in these two places； so similar yet so unlike； these two species of beings who were so very unlike； were undergoing the same work； expiation。
Jean Valjean understood thoroughly the expiation of the former； that personal expiation； the expiation for one's self。
But he did not understand that of these last； that of creatures without reproach and without stain； and he trembled as he asked himself： The expiation of what？
What expiation？
A voice within his conscience replied：
〃The most divine of human generosities； the expiation for others。〃
Here all personal theory is withheld； we are only the narrator； we place ourselves at Jean Valjean's point of view； and we translate his impressions。
Before his eyes he had the sublime summit of abnegation； the highest possible pitch of virtue； the innocence which pardons men their faults； and which expiates in their stead； servitude submitted to； torture accepted； punishment claimed by souls which have not sinned； for the sake of sparing it to souls which have fallen； the love of humanity swallowed up in the love of God； but even there preserving its distinct and mediatorial character； sweet and feeble beings possessing the misery of those who are punished and the smile of those who are repensed。
And he remembered that he had dared to murmur！
Often； in the middle of the night； he rose to listen to the grateful song of those innocent creatures weighed down with severities； and the blood ran cold in his veins at the thought that those who were justly chastised raised their voices heavenward only in blasphemy； and that he； wretch that he was； had shaken his fist at God。
There was one striking thing which caused him to meditate deeply； like a warning whisper from Providence itself：
the scaling of that wall； the passing of those barriers； the adventure accepted even at the risk of death； the painful and difficult ascent； all those efforts even； which he had made to escape from that other place of expiation； he had made in order to gain entrance into this one。
Was this a symbol of his destiny？
This house was a prison likewise and bore a melancholy resemblance to that other one whence he had fled； and yet he had never conceived an idea of anything similar。
Again he beheld gratings； bolts； iron barsto guard whom？
Angels。
These lofty walls which he had seen around tigers； he now beheld once more around lambs。
This was a place of expiation； and not of punishment； and yet； it was still more austere； more gloomy； and more pitiless than the other。
These virgins were even more heavily burdened than the convicts。 A cold； harsh wind； that wind which had chilled his youth； traversed the barred and padlocked grating of the vultures； a still harsher and more biting breeze blew in the cage of these doves。
Why？
When he thought on these things； all that was within him was lost in amazement before this mystery of sublimity。
In these