For his part, Valjean holds on to Cosette's hand as though it is life itself. It is not a hard grip for there is no strength left in him, but he will also not be letting go at any point soon.

'You have not been in here before. A dog doctor would have done, but I do not mind it if I may look on you again. Ah! I thought I should never see you again, I thought I had lost you, and it was all correct. Your husband is the best of men, he gave me his arm, did you see? He is very strong. Such a good young man.'

His eyelids falter and fall at this point, as a wave of fatigue sweeps over him. So strange, to go from tiredness from which he thought he would never rise, to feeling as alive as a boy, and now as if he could sleep forever. But it passes after a moment, and he opens his eyes again.

'Black jet comes from England, Cosette. White jet comes from Norway. You will tell him? I was going to write it all down so that you might see, and not forget it. Find me a pen and I will do it now, so you will be able to read it when I am gone. The money is really yours, I would not like you to forget. Oh! I can hardly believe you are here.'

He is unaware that Marius might overhear any of this, but it does not matter a bit if he does.