At the man’s knock the bishop, who lived alone with his sister, Madame Magloire, and an old housekeeper, said “Come in;” and the ex-convict entered.

He told them at once that his name was Jean Valjean, that he was a galley-slave, who had spent nineteen years at the hulks, and that he had been walking for four days since his release.  “It is the same wherever I go,” the man went on.  “They all say to me, ‘Be off!’ I am very tired and hungry.  Will you let me stay here?  I will pay.”

“Madame Magloire,” said the bishop, “please lay another knife and fork.  Sit down, monsieur, and warm yourself.  We shall have supper directly, and your bed will be got ready while we are supping.”

Joy and amazement were on the man’s face; he stammered his thanks as though beside himself.

The bishop, in honour of his guest, had silver forks and spoons placed on the table.

The man took his food with frightful voracity, and paid no attention to anyone till the meal was over.  Then the bishop showed him his bed in an alcove, and an hour later the whole household was asleep.

Jean Valjean soon woke up again.

For nineteen years he had been at the galleys.  Originally a pruner of trees, he had broken a baker’s window and stolen a loaf one hard winter when there was no work to be had, and for this the sentence was five years.  Time after time he had tried to escape, and had always been recaptured; and for each offence a fresh sentence was imposed.

Nineteen years for breaking a window and stealing a loaf!  He had gone into prison sobbing and shuddering.  He came out full of hatred and bitterness.

That night, at the bishop’s house, for the first time in nineteen years, Jean Valjean had received kindness.  He was moved and shaken.  It seemed inexplicable.

He got up from his bed.  Everyone was asleep, the house was perfectly still.

Jean Valjean seized the silver plate-basket which stood in the bishop’s room, put the silver into his knapsack, and fled out of the house.

In the morning, while the bishop was breakfasting, the gendarmes brought in Jean Valjean.  The sergeant explained that they had met him running away, and had arrested him, because of the silver they found on him.

“I gave you the candlesticks, too!” said the bishop; “they are silver.  Why did not you take them with the rest of the plate?” Then, turning to the gendarmes, “It is a mistake.”

“We are to let him go?” said the sergeant.

“Certainly,” said the bishop.

The gendarmes retired.

“My friend,” said the bishop to Jean Valjean, “here are your candlesticks.  Take them with you.”  He added in a low voice, “Never forget that you have promised me to use this silver to become an honest man.  My brother, you belong no longer to evil, but to good.”

Jean Valjean never remembered having promised anything.  He left the bishop’s house and the town dazed and stupefied.  It was a new world he had come into.