Everyone 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 her father was asleep. She must have suffered much, and she must have still been suffering greatly, for she said to herself, that her father had been unkind; but she counted on Marius. The eclipse of such a light was decidedly impossible. Now and then, she heard sharp shocks in the distance, and she said: “It is odd that people should be opening and shutting their carriage gates so early.” They were the reports of the cannon battering the barricade.