Valjean dropped his head, and made no reply.
The child began again, “My money, sir.”
Jean Valjean’s eyes remained fixed on the earth.
“My piece of money!” cried the child, “my white piece! my silver!”
It seemed as though Jean Valjean did not hear him. The child grasped him by the collar of his blouse and shook him. At the same time he made an effort to displace the big iron-shod shoe which rested on his treasure.
“I want my piece of money! My piece of forty sous!”
The child wept. Jean Valjean raised his head. He still remained seated. His eyes were troubled. He gazed at the child, in a sort of amazement, then he stretched out his hand towards his cudgel and cried in a terrible voice, “Who’s there?”