Des pots a fleurs，des tuyaux，de la brique.
A tout venant le Coeur vend des Carreaux.
[14]
This is the factory of Goblet Junior：
Come choose your jugs and crocks，
Flower-pots，pipes，bricks.
The Heart sells Diamonds to every comer.He left behind him the Rue de la Clef，then the Fountain Saint-Victor，skirted the Jardin des Plantes by the lower streets，and reached the quay.
There he turned round.
The quay was deserted.
The streets were deserted.
There was no one behind him.
He drew a long breath.
He gained the Pont d'Austerlitz.
Tolls were still collected there at that epoch.
He presented himself at the toll office and handed over a sou.
'It is two sous，'said the old soldier in charge of the bridge.'You are carrying a child who can walk.
Pay for two.'
He paid，vexed that his passage should have aroused remark.Every flight should be an imperceptible slipping away.
A heavy cart was crossing the Seine at the same time as himself，and on its way，like him，to the right bank.
This was of use to him.He could traverse the bridge in the shadow of the cart.
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.
BOOK FIFTH.——FOR A BLACK HUNT，A MUTE PACK
Ⅲ TO WIT，THE PLAN OF PARIS IN 1727
Three hundred paces further on，he arrived at a point where the street forked.
It separated into two streets，which ran in a slanting line，one to the right，and the other to the left.
Jean Valjean had before him what resembled the two branches of a Y.Which should he choose？
He did not hesitate，but took the one on the right.
Why？
Because that to the left ran towards a suburb，that is to say，towards inhabited regions，and the right branch towards the open country，that is to say，towards deserted regions.
However，they no longer walked very fast.
Cosette's pace retarded Jean Valjean's.
He took her up and carried her again.
Cosette laid her head on the shoulder of the good man and said not a word.
He turned round from time to time and looked behind him.He took care to keep always on the dark side of the street.The street was straight in his rear.
The first two or three times that he turned round he saw nothing；the silence was profound，and he continued his march somewhat reassured.
All at once，on turning round，he thought he perceived in the portion of the street which he had just passed through，far off in the obscurity，something which was moving.
He rushed forward precipitately rather than walked，hoping to find some side-street，to make his escape through it，and thus to break his scent once more.
He arrived at a wall.
This wall，however，did not absolutely prevent further progress；it was a wall which bordered a transverse street，in which the one he had taken ended.
Here again，he was obliged to come to a decision；should he go to the right or to the left.
He glanced to the right.
The fragmentary lane was prolonged between buildings which were either sheds or barns，then ended at a blind alley.
The extremity of the cul-de-sac was distinctly visible，——a lofty white wall.
He glanced to the left.
On that side the lane was open，and about two hundred paces further on，ran into a street of which it was the affluent.
On that side lay safety.
At the moment when Jean Valjean was meditating a turn to the left，in an effort to reach the street which he saw at the end of the lane，he perceived a sort of motionless，black statue at the corner of the lane and the street towards which he was on the point of directing his steps.
It was some one，a man，who had evidently just been posted there，and who was barring the passage and waiting.
Jean Valjean recoiled.
The point of Paris where Jean Valjean found himself，situated between the Faubourg Saint-Antoine and la Rapee，is one of those which recent improvements have transformed from top to bottom，——resulting in disfigurement according to some，and in a transfiguration according to others.
The market-gardens，the timber-yards，and the old buildings have been effaced.
To-day，there are brand-new，wide streets，arenas，circuses，hippodromes，railway stations，and a prison，Mazas，there；progress，as the reader sees，with its antidote.