Towards the middle of the Bridge, Cosette, whose feet were benumbed, wanted to walk.
He set her on the ground and took her hand again.
The bridge once crossed, he perceived some timber-yards on his right. He directed his course thither.
In order to reach them, it was necessary to risk himself in a tolerably large unsheltered and illuminated space.
He did not hesitate.
Those who were on his track had evidently lost the scent, and Jean Valjean believed himself to be out of danger.
Hunted, yes; followed, no.
A little street, the Rue du Chemin-Vert-Saint-Antoine, opened out between two timber-yards enclosed in walls.
This street was dark and narrow and seemed made expressly for him.
Before entering it he cast a glance behind him,
From the point where he stood he could see the whole extent of the Pont d'Austerlitz.
Four shadows were just entering on the bridge.
These shadows had their backs turned to the Jardin des Plantes and were on their way to the right bank.
These four shadows were the four men.
Jean Valjean shuddered like the wild beast which is recaptured.
One hope remained to him; it was, that the men had not, perhaps, stepped on the bridge, and had not caught sight of him while he was crossing the large illuminated space, holding Cosette by the hand.
In that case, by plunging into the little street before him, he might escape, if he could reach the timber-yards, the marshes, the market-gardens, the uninhabited ground which was not built upon.
It seemed to him that he might commit himself to that silent little street.
He entered it.