Moreover, from the mere inspection of Cosette’s toilet, a woman would have recognized the fact that she had no mother. Certain little proprieties, certain special conventionalities, were not observed by Cosette. A mother, for instance, would have told her that a young girl does not dress in damask.
The first day that Cosette went out in her black damask gown and mantle, and her white crape bonnet, she took Jean Valjean’s arm, gay, radiant, rosy, proud, dazzling. “Father,” she said, “how do you like me in this guise?” Jean Valjean replied in a voice which resembled the bitter voice of an envious man: “Charming!” He was the same as usual during their walk. On their return home, he asked Cosette:—
“Won’t you put on that other gown and bonnet again—you know the ones I mean?”
This took place in Cosette’s chamber. Cosette turned towards the wardrobe where her cast-off schoolgirl’s clothes were hanging.
“That disguise!” said she. “Father, what do you want me to do with it? Oh no, the idea! I shall never put on those horrors again. With that machine on my head, I have the air of Madame Mad-dog.”
Jean Valjean heaved a deep sigh.
From that moment forth, he noticed that Cosette, who had always heretofore asked to remain at home, saying: “Father, I enjoy myself more here with you,” now was always asking to go out. In fact, what is the use of having a handsome face and a delicious costume if one does not display them?
He also noticed that Cosette had no longer the same taste for the back garden. Now she preferred the garden, and did not dislike to promenade back and forth in front of the railed fence. Jean Valjean, who was shy, never set foot in the garden. He kept to his back yard, like a dog.