Jean Valjean set his foot upon it.

In the meantime, the child had looked after his coin and had caught
sight of him.

He showed no astonishment, but walked straight up to the man.

The spot was absolutely solitary. As far as the eye could see
there was not a person on the plain or on the path. The only
sound was the tiny, feeble cries of a flock of birds of passage,
which was traversing the heavens at an immense height. The child
was standing with his back to the sun, which cast threads of gold
in his hair and empurpled with its blood-red gleam the savage face
of Jean Valjean.

"Sir," said the little Savoyard, with that childish confidence
which is composed of ignorance and innocence, "my money."

"What is your name?" said Jean Valjean.

"Little Gervais, sir."

"Go away," said Jean Valjean.

"Sir," resumed the child, "give me back my money."

Jean Valjean dropped his head, and made no reply.

The child began again, "My money, sir."