“This is my idea: that it is impossible that God should mean to part us. Wait; expect me the day after tomorrow.”

“What shall I do until then?” said Cosette. “You are outside, you go, and come! How happy men are! I shall remain entirely alone! Oh! How sad I shall be! What is it that you are going to do tomorrow evening? tell me.”

“I am going to try something.”

“Then I will pray to God and I will think of you here, so that you may be successful. I will question you no further, since you do not wish it. You are my master. I shall pass the evening tomorrow in singing that music from Euryanthe that you love, and that you came one evening to listen to, outside my shutters. But day after tomorrow you will come early. I shall expect you at dusk, at nine o’clock precisely, I warn you. Mon Dieu! how sad it is that the days are so long! On the stroke of nine, do you understand, I shall be in the garden.”