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A week passed, and Jean Valjean had not taken a step in his room. He still remained in bed. The portress said to her husband:–”The good man upstairs yonder does not get up, he no longer eats, he will not last long. That man has his sorrows, that he has. You won’t get it out of my head that his daughter has made a bad marriage.”The porter replied, with the tone of marital sovereignty:”If he’s rich, let him have a doctor. If he is not rich, let him go without. If he has no doctor he will die.””And if he has one?””He will die,” said the porter.
