The future was not so black. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. There must be real Valjeans, else how could authors write about them? Supposing some day she met one of these astonishing creators, who could make one cry and laugh and forget, who could thrill one with love and anger and tenderness? Most of us have witnessed carnivals. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. ” He spoke loudly. Here again instinct guided her. A quarter of an hour passed. “Child!” he cried. ” “Then come back.
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