JEAN (whispering).  Two hundred francs—­double what I have earned in nineteen years!

[He puts it in his knapsack; takes up the other candlestick; shudders, and sets it down again.]

No, no, he is good—­he called me “sir”—­

[He stands still, staring before him, his hand still gripping the candlestick.  Suddenly he straightens up; speaks bitterly.]

Why not?  ’Tis easy to give a bed and food!  Why doesn’t he keep men from the galleys?  Nineteen years for a loaf of bread!

[Pauses a moment, then resolutely puts both candlesticks into his bag; steps to the cupboard and takes out the silver plates and the ladle, and slips them into the bag.]

All solid—­I should gain at least one thousand francs.  ’Tis due me—­due me for all these years!

[Closes the bag.  Pause.]

No, not the candles—­I owe him that much—­

[He puts the candlesticks on mantel; takes up cudgel, knapsack, and shoes; jumps out window and disappears.  Pause.]

[Enter MADAME. She shivers; discovers the open window.]

MADAME.  Why is that window open?  I closed it last night myself.  Oh!  Could it be possible?

[Crosses and looks at open cupboard.]

It is gone!

[Enter the BISHOP from his room.]

BISHOP.  Good morning, Madame!

MADAME.  Your Reverence!  The silver is gone!  Where is that man?

BISHOP.  In the alcove sleeping, I suppose.

[Madame runs to curtains of alcove and looks in.  Enter MADEMOISELLE. Madame turns.]

He is gone!

MLLE. Gone?

MADAME.  Aye, gone—­gone!  He has stolen our silver, the
beautiful plates and the ladle!  I’ll inform the police at once!

[Starts off.  The Bishop stops her.]

BISHOP.  Wait!—­Let me ask you this—­was that silver ours?

MADAME.  Why—­why not?

BISHOP.  Because it has always belonged to the poor.  I have withheld it wrongfully.

MLLE. Its loss makes no difference to Madame or me.

MADAME.  Oh, no!  But what is your Reverence to eat from now?

BISHOP.  Are there no pewter plates?

MADAME.  Pewter has an odor.

BISHOP.  Iron ones, then.

MADAME.  Iron has a taste.

BISHOP.  Well, then, wooden plates.

[A knock is heard at street door.]

Come in.

[Enter an OFFICER and two SOLDIERS, dragging in JEAN VALJEAN.]

OFFICER.  Your Reverence, we found your silver on this man.

BISHOP.  Why not?  I gave it to him.  I am glad to see you again,
Jean.  Why did you not take the candlesticks, too?

JEAN (trembling).  Your Reverence—­

BISHOP.  I told you everything in this house was yours, my
brother.