"What! so it is you, Father Madeleine!" said the man.
That name, thus pronounced, at that obscure hour, in that unknown spot, by that strange man, made Jean Valjean start back.
He had expected anything but that.
The person who thus addressed him was a bent and lame old man, dressed almost like a peasant, who wore on his left knee a leather knee-cap, whence hung a moderately large bell.
His face, which was in the shadow, was not distinguishable.
However, the goodman had removed his cap, and exclaimed, trembling all over:--
"Ah, good God!
How come you here, Father Madeleine?
Where did you enter?
Dieu-Jesus! Did you fall from heaven?
There is no trouble about that:
if ever you do fall, it will be from there. And what a state you are in!
You have no cravat; you have no hat; you have no coat!
Do you know, you would have frightened any one who did not know you?
No coat!
Lord God!
Are the saints going mad nowadays?
But how did you get in here?"
His words tumbled over each other.
The goodman talked with a rustic volubility, in which there was nothing alarming.