CHAPTER X DAWN

CHAPTER X DAWN
At that moment, Cosette awoke.
Her chamber was narrow, neat,mbt shoes saleunobtrusive, with a long sash-window,facing the East on the back court-yard of the house.
Cosette knew nothing of what was going on in Paris. She had notbeen there on the preceding evening, and she had already retiredto her chamber when Toussaint had said:
"It appears that there is a row."
Cosette had slept only a few hours, but soundly. She had hadsweet dreams, which possibly arose from the fact that her littlebed was very white. Some one, who was Marius, had appeared to herin the light. She awoke with the sun in her eyes, which, at first,produced on her the effect of being a continuation of her dream.Her first thought on emerging from this dream was a smiling one. Cosette felt herself thoroughly reassured. Like Jean Valjean,she had, a few hours previously, passed through that reactionof the soul which absolutely will not hear of unhappiness. She began to cherish hope, with all her might,mbt shoes without knowing why. Then she felt a pang at her heart. It was three days since shehad seen Marius. But she said to herself that he must have receivedher letter, that he knew where she was, and that he was so cleverthat he would find means of reaching her.--And that certainlyto-day, and perhaps that very morning.--It was broad daylight,but the rays of light were very horizontal; she thought that itwas very early, but that she must rise, nevertheless, in order toreceive Marius.
She felt that she could not live without Marius, and that,consequently, that was sufficient and that Marius would come. No objection was valid. All this was certain. It was monstrous enoughalready to have suffered for three days. Marius absent three days,this was horrible on the part of the good God. Now, this cruelteasing from on high had been gone through with. Marius was aboutto arrive, and he would bring good news. Youth is made thus;it quickly dries its eyes; it finds sorrow useless and does notaccept it. Youth is the smile of the future in the presence of anunknown quantity, which is itself. It is natural to it to be happy. It seems as though its respiration were made of hope.
Moreover, Cosette could not remember what Marius had said to heron the subject of this absence which was to last only one day,and what explanation of it he had given her. Every one has noticedwith what nimbleness a coin which one has dropped on the ground rollsaway and hides, and with what art it renders itself undiscoverable. There are thoughts which play us the same trick; they nestle awayin a corner of our brain; that is the end of them; they are lost;it is impossible to lay the memory on them. Cosette was somewhat vexedat the useless little effort made by her memory. She told herself,that it was very naughty and very wicked of her, to have forgottenthe words uttered by Marius.
She sprang out of bed and accomplished the two ablutions of souland body, her prayers and her toilet.
One may, in a case of exigency, introduce the reader intoa nuptial chamber, not into a virginal chamber.Verse wouldhardly venture it, prose must not.
It is the interior of a flower that is not yet unfolded, it iswhiteness in the dark, it is the private cell of a closed lily,which must not be gazed upon by man so long as the sun has notgazed upon it. Woman in the bud is sacred. That innocent budwhich opens, that adorable half-nudity which is afraid of itself,that white foot which takes refuge in a slipper, DG Mens Shoesthat throatwhich veils itself before a mirror as though a mirror were an eye,that chemise which makes haste to rise up and conceal the shoulderfor a creaking bit of furniture or a passing vehicle, those cords tied,those clasps fastened, those laces drawn, those tremors, those shiversof cold and modesty, that exquisite affright in every movement,that almost winged uneasiness where there is no cause for alarm,the successive phases of dressing, as charming as the clouds of dawn,--it is not fitting that all this should be narrated, and it is too muchto have even called attention to it.
The eye of man must be more religious in the presence of the risingof a young girl than in the presence of the rising of a star. The possibility of hurting should inspire an augmentation of respect. The down on the peach, the bloom on the plum, the radiated crystal ofthe snow, the wing of the butterfly powdered with feathers, are coarsecompared to that chastity which does not even know that it is chaste. The young girl is only the flash of a dream, and is not yet a statue. Her bed-chamber is hidden in the sombre part of the ideal. The indiscreet touch of a glance brutalizes this vague penumbra. Here, contemplation is profanation.
We shall, therefore, show nothing of that sweet little flutterof Cosette's rising.
An oriental tale relates how the rose was made white by God,but that Adam looked upon her when she was unfolding, and shewas ashamed and turned crimson. We are of the number who fallspeechless in the presence of young girls and flowers, since wethink them worthy of veneration.
Cosette dressed herself very hastily, combed and dressed her hair,which was a very simple matter in those days, when women did notswell out their curls and bands with cushions and puffs, and didnot put crinoline in their locks. Then she opened the windowand cast her eyes around her in every direction, hoping to descrysome bit of the street, an angle of the house, an edge of pavement,so that she might be able to watch for Marius there. But no viewof the outside was to be had. The back court was surrounded bytolerably high walls, and the outlook was only on several gardens. Cosette pronounced these gardens hideous: for the first timein her life, she found flowers ugly. The smallest scrap of thegutter of the street would have met her wishes better. She decidedto gaze at the sky, as though she thought that Marius might comefrom that quarter.
All at once, she burst into tears. Not that this was ficklenessof soul; but hopes cut in twain by dejection--that was her case. She had a confused consciousness of something horrible. Thoughts wererife in the air, in fact. She told herself that she was not sureof anything, that to withdraw herself from sight was to be lost;and the idea that Marius could return to her from heaven appearedto her no longer charming but mournful.
Then, as is the nature of these clouds, calm returned to her,and hope and a sort of unconscious smile, which yet indicated trustin God.
Every one in the house was still asleep. A country-like silence reigned. Not a shutter had been opened. The porter's lodge was closed. Toussaint had not risen, and Cosette, naturally, thought that herfather was asleep. She must have suffered much,Herve Leger Dresses and she must havestill been suffering greatly, for she said to herself, that herfather had been unkind; but she counted on Marius. The eclipseof such a light was decidedly impossible. Now and then, she heardsharp shocks in the distance, and she said: "It is odd that peopleshould be opening and shutting their carriage gates so early." They were the reports of the cannon battering the barricade.
A few feet below Cosette's window, in the ancient and perfectlyblack cornice of the wall, there was a martin's nest; the curveof this nest formed a little projection beyond the cornice,so that from above it was possible to look into this little paradise. The mother was there, spreading her wings like a fan over her brood;the father fluttered about, flew away, then came back, bearing inhis beak food and kisses. The dawning day gilded this happy thing,the great law, "Multiply," lay there smiling and august, and that sweetmystery unfolded in the glory of the morning. Cosette, with her hairin the sunlight, her soul absorbed in chimeras, illuminated by lovewithin and by the dawn without,MiuMiu Handbags   bent over mechanically, and almostwithout daring to avow to herself that she was thinking at the sametime of Marius, began to gaze at these birds, at this family,at that male and female, that mother and her little ones,with the profound trouble which a nest produces on a virgin.