Late the next morning, Valjean returns to the Rue des Filles du Calvaire and asks for Marius. His somber and weary air makes a strange contrast with the festive appearance of the living room. Marius greets him with the greatest cordiality. He seems to insist on disregarding the strain that has existed between them and invites Valjean to make his home with him. Valjean interrupts by blurting out that he is an ex-convict. As corroboration, he shows him his perfectly sound hand and explains the subterfuge as a means of avoiding the signing of legal documents. Appalled, Marius urges him to continue, and Valjean complies by briefly stating his background, his meeting with Cosette, and his love for her—the depth of which he does not reveal, however. His confession ends with a reference to the 600,000 francs, which he explains as a trust.
Marius is puzzled by this unnecessary honesty. Valjean answers by explaining the tyranny of his confession, which demands nothing less than absolute truth, which rejects the most compelling excuse. He cannot bear to be befriended under false pretenses. Poignantly, he refers to the tragic destiny that requires him to be despised by others in order that he may respect himself. Marius is crushed by Valjean's revelations but is magnanimous enough to shake his hand.
The painful conversation is interrupted by Cosette's charming intrusion. She gossips, coaxes her father to smile, pleads for permission to remain. When Marius asks her to leave them in privacy, she goes, with playful reproaches and threats. Cosette's visit reminds Valjean of the emotional impact his confession will have on her, and, his face bathed in tears, he longs for death. Marius instantly promises to keep it a secret from her and offers him a reward for managing Cosette's money so scrupulously. His magnanimity, however, is mixed with aversion, and he suggests that Valjean stop seeing Cosette. At first Valjean agrees, but then blanches at the magnitude of the sacrifice. He who in the past has asked nothing for himself now humbly pleads with Marius not to separate him permanently from her. He invokes his immense love, promises to come rarely and remain unobtrusive. Marius understands this pathetic plea and reluctantly allows Valjean a nightly visit.
When Valjean goes, Marius is the prey of mixed emotions, but dismay is dominant. He wonders whether he has been too lenient with Valjean, whether he should have investigated the old man more carefully. Apprehensively, he wonders if he has not paid too dearly for his happiness, if his whole life is to be tarnished by this infernal shadow. He has, certainly, a measure of esteem for his father-in-law. His scrupulous administration of Cosette's fortune has been admirable. His confession, so painful and so dangerous for himself, indicates a certain nobility of spirit. But Marius cannot forget the Thénardier incident nor Valjean's revenge on Javert at the barricades.
Beyond the practical considerations, Valjean poses a metaphysical problem for Marius. How can Cosette have achieved such innocence in daily contact with such evil; how could such an impure tool have created a work of such purity? God's methods are unfathomable. Ultimately, Marius' lasting impression is one of revulsion, and relief that Valjean is willing to retire into the background. In spite of his enlightenment, Marius still retains the prejudices of his time in regard to criminal matters. He does not yet understand the cruelty, even the immorality, of the French penal system, which for a single crime brands a man for life.
The next evening at dusk, Valjean is respectfully greeted by a servant and introduced into a neglected, dank room on the ground floor. Two armchairs have been installed with a worn bedside rug by way of carpet. Cosette enters and greets him with the most tender affection, but Valjean remains stubbornly reserved. He refuses to kiss her, refuses her invitation to dinner, even addresses her formally as "Madame." Cosette is puzzled and disturbed by Valjean's eccentricity, especially his insistence that he be called Monsieur Jean. She pleads with him to return to their former intimacy and scolds him affectionately. Briefly Valjean yields to the poignant temptation to call Cosette "tu" ("thou," the familiar form of address), but he regains his self-control and departs with a respectful "Madame."
Cosette resigns herself to Valjean's bizarre ways. She has the room cleaned up but otherwise accepts their painful estrangement. The rest of the household simply dismisses Valjean as an eccentric. No one suspects the agony he is suffering.
In the next few weeks, Cosette's new life, new social engagements, her absorption with Marius, make the loosening of old ties easier for her. For Valjean, however, love will not die. He cannot resist the temptation to lengthen his visits. Cosette's accidental return to the word "father" brings him to the brink of tears, but the gulf between them continues to widen. Every gesture of familiarity is gradually dropped. Valjean's happiness is reduced to an hour a day of contemplation or reminiscence.
One day in April, moved by the rebirth of nature, Marius and Cosette go back on a little pilgrimage to the garden of the Rue Plumet and forget all about Valjean. Valjean is not discouraged by this involuntary snub. To prolong his visit, he even resorts to the stratagem of praising Marius. Cosette, delighted to talk about her husband, does not notice the passage of time, but Marius subtly manages to shunt Valjean aside. When the old man's visits last too long, a servant is sent to remind Cosette that it is time for dinner. At the end of April, the fire is not lit in the fireplace. When Cosette orders the fire re-lit, the chairs are moved to a far corner.
One evening Cosette reports that Marius has asked her whether she could live on his income alone. Valjean concludes, to his great distress, that Marius suspects Cosette's money really comes from him and that it is tainted. At last Marius makes his hostility brutally clear. He has the chairs taken away, and Valjean, unable to delude himself any longer, stops coming. Cosette in her new marital happiness scarcely notices his absence. However, she does send her maid to inquire, and Valjean generously pretends that he has been busy and is about to take a trip.
During the last months of spring and the first months of summer, 1833, Valjean takes a daily walk in the direction of the Rue des Filles du Calvaire. He is in a complete trance. When he approaches his destination he slows down, and when he reaches the street he stops. He stares ahead yearningly at his forbidden paradise and a tear slips down his cheek. Gradually, like a pendulum whose oscillations grow shorter, he abbreviates his walks.
Hugo points out that Marius feels it a matter of husbandly duty to separate Valjean from Cosette; new and mysterious information has confirmed his darkest suspicions of the old man. Cosette is almost equally blameless. Marius exerts a magnetic influence on her and almost involuntarily she yields to his wishes. In any case, her neglect of her father is only superficial; under the surface, her love is as deep as ever. She does occasionally inquire about Valjean, but he encourages the estrangement by pretending to be out of town. Besides, what is known as the ingratitude of children is merely the fulfillment of the scheme of nature. It forces the young to look to life and to neglect the generation that represents the past and is journeying toward the grave.
The pendulum finally comes to a halt. One day, Jean Valjean merely takes a few steps, sits down on a milestone, and returns home. The next day, he does not leave his room. The following day, he does not get out of bed. His janitress, who prepares his meager meal, finds the dish untouched. A week elapses and Valjean does not leave his bed. The janitress' husband, when he hears the news, pronounces the case hopeless, and the doctor, after his visit, conforms his diagnosis. He announces that Valjean is suffering from the loss of a loved one.
One evening, Valjean has trouble finding his pulse. Driven by a supreme compulsion, he puts on his clothes with extreme difficulty, takes out his valise, and spreads Cosette's clothes on the bed. Then he lights the bishop's candlesticks. The effect is disturbingly funereal. Every movement drains his strength. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and finds he has aged thirty years. At last, after a tremendous effort, he manages to sit down and in a trembling hand writes Cosette a last letter. It contains a reassuring explanation of the source of his fortune. Suddenly he is overcome by an immense despair, by an overwhelming yearning to die in Cosette's presence. At that moment, he hears a knock on the door.
