At that moment a heavy and measured sound began to be audible at some distance. Jean Valjean risked a glance round the corner of the street. Seven or eight soldiers， drawn up in a platoon， had just debouched into the Rue Polonceau. He saw the gleam of their bayonets. They were advancing towards him; these soldiers， at whose head he distinguished Javert's tall figure， advanced slowly and cautiously. They halted frequently; it was plain that they were searching all the nooks of the walls and all the embrasures of the doors and alleys.
This was some patrol that Javert had encountered--there could be no mistake as to this surmise--and whose aid he had demanded.
Javert's two acolytes were marching in their ranks.
At the rate at which they were marching， and in consideration of the halts which they were making， it would take them about a quarter of an hour to reach the spot where Jean Valjean stood. It was a frightful moment. A few minutes only separated Jean Valjean from that terrible precipice which yawned before him for the third time. And the galleys now meant not only the galleys， but Cosette lost to him forever; that is to say， a life resembling the interior of a tomb.
There was but one thing which was possible.
Jean Valjean had this peculiarity， that he carried， as one might say， two beggar's pouches: in one he kept under his feet and elbows. Half a minute had not elapsed when he was resting on his knees on the wall.
Cosette gazed at him in stupid amazement， without uttering a word. Jean Valjean's injunction， and the name of Madame Thenardier， had chilled her blood.
All at once she heard Jean Valjean's voice crying to her， though in a very low tone:--
"滜鞙郺ning on the nape of his neck， his shoulders， his hips， and his knees， by helping himself on the rare projections of the stone， in the right angle of a wall， as high as the sixth story， if need be; an art which has rendered so celebrated and so alarming that corner of the wall of the Conciergerie of Paris by which Battemolle， condemned to death， made his escape twenty years ago.
Jean Valjean measured with his eyes the wall above which he espied the linden; it was about eighteen feet in height. The angle which it formed with the gable of the large building was filled， at its lower extremity， by a mass of masonry of a triangular shape， probably intended to preserve that too convenient corner from the rubbish of those dirty creatures called the passers-by. This practice of filling up corners of the wall is much in use in Paris.
This mass was about five feet in height; the space above the summit of this mass which it was necessary to climb was not more than fourteen feet.
The wall was surmounted by a flat stone without a coping.
Cosette was the difficulty， for she did not know how to climb a wall. Should he abandon her? Jean Valjean did not once think of that. It was impossible to carry her. A man's whole strength is required to successfully carry out these singular ascents. The least burden would disturb his centre of gravity and pull him downwards.
A rope would have been required; Jean Valjean had none. Where was he to get a rope at midnight， in the Rue Polonceau? Certainly， if Jean Valjean had had a kingdom， he would have given it for a rope at that moment.
All extreme situations have their lightning flashes which sometimes dazzle， sometimes illuminate us.
Jean Valjean's despairing glance fell on the street lantern-post of the blind alley Genrot.
At that epoch there were no gas-jets in the streets of Paris. At nightfall lanterns placed at regular distances were lighted; they were ascended and descended by means of a rope， which traversed the street from side to side， and was adjusted in a groove of the post. The pulley over which this rope ran was fastened underneath the lantern in a little iron box， the key to which was kept by the lamp-lighter， and the rope itself was protected by a metal case.
Jean Valjean， with the energy of a supreme struggle， crossed the street at one bound， entered the blind alley， broke the latch of the little box with the point of his knife， and an instant later he was beside Cosette once more. He had a rope. These gloomy inventors of expedients work rapidly when they are fighting against fatality.
We have already explained that the lanterns had not been lighted that night. The lantern in the Cul-de-Sac Genrot was thus naturally extinct， like the rest; and one could pass directly under it without even noticing that it was no longer in its place.
Nevertheless， the hour， the place， the darkness， Jean Valjean's absorption， his singular gestures， his goings and comings， all had begun to render Cosette uneasy. Any other child than she would have given vent to loud shrieks long before. She contented herself with plucking Jean Valjean by the skirt of his coat. They could hear the sound of the patrol's approach ever more and more distinctly.
"Father，" said she， in a very low voice， "I am afraid. Who is coming yonder?"
"Hush!" replied the unhappy man; "it is Madame Thenardier."
Cosette shuddered. He added:--
"Say nothing. Don't interfere with me. If you cry out， if you weep， the Thenardier is lying in wait for you. She is coming to take you back."
Then， without haste， but without making a useless movement， with firm and curt precision， the more remarkable at a moment when the patrol and Javert might come upon him at any moment， he undid his cravat， passed it round Cosette's body under the armpits， taking care that it should not hurt the child， fastened this cravat to one end of the rope， by means of that knot which seafaring men call a "swallow knot，" took the other end of the rope in his teeth， pulled off his shoes and stockings， which he threw over the wall， stepped upon the mass of masonry， and began to raise himself in the angle of the wall and the gable with as much solidity and certainty as though he had the rounds of a ladder under his feet and elbows. Half a minute had not elapsed when he was resting on his knees on the wall.
Cosette gazed at him in stupid amazement， without uttering a word. Jean Valjean's injunction， and the name of Madame Thenardier， had chilled her blood.
All at once she heard Jean Valjean's voice crying to her， though in a very low tone:--
"Put your back against the wall."
She obeyed.
"Don't say a word， and don't be alarmed，" went on Jean Valjean.
And she felt herself lifted from the ground.
Before she had time to recover herself， she was on the top of the wall.
Jean Valjean grasped her， put her on his back， took her two tiny hands in his large left hand， lay down flat on his stomach and crawled along on top of the wall as far as the cant. As he had guessed， there stood a building whose roof started from the top of the wooden barricade and descended to within a very short distance of the ground， with a gentle slope which grazed the linden-tree. A lucky circumstance， for the wall was much higher on this side than on the street side. Jean Valjean could only see the ground at a great depth below him.
He had just reached the slope of the roof， and had not yet left the crest of the wall， when a violent uproar announced the arrival of the patrol. The thundering voice of Javert was audible:--
"Search the blind alley! The Rue Droit-Mur is guarded! so is the Rue Petit-Picpus. I'll answer for it that he is in the blind alley."
The soldiers rushed into the Genrot alley.
Jean Valjean allowed himself to slide down the roof， still holding fast to Cosette， reached the linden-tree， and leaped to the ground. Whether from terror or courage， Cosette had not breathed a sound， though her hands were a little abraded.
这时，从远处开始传出一种低沉而有节奏的声音。冉阿让冒险从墙角探出头来望了一眼。七八个大兵，排着队，正走进波隆梭街口。他能望见枪刺闪光，他们正朝着他这方面走来。
他望见沙威的高大个子走在前面，领着那队兵慢慢地审慎地前进。他们时常停下来。很明显，他们是在搜查每一个墙角，每一个门洞和每一条小道。
毫无疑问，那是沙威在路上碰到临时调来的一个巡逻队。
沙威的两个助手也夹在他们的队伍中一道走。
从他们的行进速度和一路上的停留计算起来，还得一刻来钟才能到达冉阿让所在的地方。这是一发千钧之际，冉阿让身临绝地，他生平这是第三次，不出几分钟他又得完了，并且这不只是苦役牢的问题，珂赛特也将从此被断送，这就是说她今后将和孤魂野鬼一样漂泊无依了。
这时只有一件事是可行的。
冉阿让有这样一个特点，我们可以说他身上有个褡裢，一头装着圣人的思想，一头装着囚犯的技巧。他可以斟酌情形，两头选择。
他从前在土伦的苦役牢里多次越狱的岁月中，除了其他一些本领以外还学会了一种绝技，他而且还是这绝技中首屈一指的能手，我们记得，他能不用梯子，不用踏脚，全凭自己肌肉的力量，用后颈、肩头、臀、膝在石块上偶有的一些棱角上稍稍撑持一下，便可在必要时，从两堵墙连接处的直角里，一直升上六层楼。二十来年前，囚犯巴特莫尔便是用这种巧技从巴黎刑部监狱的院角上逃走的，至今人们望着那墙角也还要捏一把汗，院子的那个角落也因而出了名。
冉阿让用眼睛估量了那边墙的高度，并看见有棵菩提树从墙头上伸出来。那墙约莫有十八尺高。它和大楼的山尖相接，形成一个凹角，角下的墙根部分砌了一个三角形的砖石堆，大致是因为这种墙角对于过路的人们太方便了，于是砌上一个斜堆，好让他们“自重远行”。这种防护墙角的填高工事在巴黎是相当普遍的。
那砖石堆有五尺来高。从堆顶到墙头的距离至多不过十四尺。
墙头上铺了平石板，不带椽条。
伤脑筋的是珂赛特。珂赛特，她，不知道爬墙。丢了她吗？冉阿让决不作此想。背着她上去却又不可能。他得使出全身力气才能巧妙地自个儿直升上去。哪怕是一点点累赘，也会使他失去重心栽下来。
非得有一根绳子不可，冉阿让却没有带。在这波隆梭街，半夜里，到哪儿去找绳子呢？的确，在这关头，冉阿让假使有一个王国，他也会拿来换一根绳子的。
任何紧急关头都有它的闪光，有时叫我们眼瞎，有时又叫我们眼明。
冉阿让正在仓皇四顾时，忽然瞥见了让洛死胡同里那根路灯柱子。
当时巴黎的街道上一盏煤气灯也还没有。街上每隔一定距离只装上一盏回光灯，天快黑时便点上。那种路灯的上下是用一根绳子来牵引的，绳子由街这一面横到那一面，并且是安在柱子的槽里的。绕绳子的转盘关在灯下面的一只小铁盒里，钥匙由点灯工人保管，绳子在一定的高度内有一根金属管子保护着。
冉阿让拿出毅力来作生死搏斗，他一个箭步便窜过了街，进了死胡同，用刀尖撬开了小铁盒的锁键，一会儿又回到了珂赛特的身边。他有了一根绳子。偷生人间的急中生智的人到了生死关头，总是眼明手快的。
我们已经说过，当天晚上，没有点路灯。让洛死胡同里的灯自然也和别处一样，是黑着的，甚至有人走过也不会注意到它已不在原来的位置上了。
当时那种时辰，那种地方，那种黑暗，冉阿让的那种神色，他的那些怪举动，忽去忽来，这一切已叫珂赛特安静不下来了。要是别一个孩子早已大喊大叫起来。而她呢，只轻轻扯着冉阿让的大衣边。他们一直都越来越清楚地听着那巡逻队向他们走来的声音。
“爹，”她用极低的声音说，“我怕。是谁来了？”
“不要响！”那伤心人回答说，“是德纳第大娘。”
珂赛特吓了一跳。他又说道：
“不要说话。让我来。要是你叫，要是你哭，德纳第大娘会找来把你抓回去的。”
接着冉阿让，不慌不忙，有条有理。以简捷稳健准确的动作棗尤其是在巡逻队和沙威随时都可以突然出现时，更不容许他一回事情两回做棗解下自己的领带，绕过孩子的胳肢窝，松松结在她身上，留了意，不让她觉得太紧，又把领带结在绳子的一端，打了一个海员们所谓的燕子结，咬着绳子的另一头，脱下鞋袜，丢过墙头，跳上土堆，开始从两墙相会的角上往高处升，动作稳健踏实，好象他脚跟和肘弯都有一定的步法似的。不到半分钟，他已经跪在墙头上了。
珂赛特直望着他发呆，一声不响。冉阿让的叮嘱和德纳第这名字早已使她麻木了。
她忽然听到冉阿让的声音向她轻轻喊道：
“把背靠在墙上。”
她背墙站好。
“不要响，不要怕。”冉阿让又说。
她觉得自己离了地，往上升。
她还来不及弄清楚是怎么回事，便已到了墙头上了。
冉阿让把她抱起，驮在背上，用左手握住她的两只小手，平伏在墙头上，一径爬到那斜壁上面。正如他所猜测的一样，这里有一栋小屋，屋脊和那板墙相连，屋檐离地面颇近，屋顶的斜度相当平和，也接近菩提树。
这情况很有利，因为墙里的一面比临街的一面要高许多。
冉阿让朝下望去，只见地面离他还很深。
他刚刚接触到屋顶的斜面，手还不曾离开墙脊，便听见一阵嘈杂的人声，巡逻队已经来到了。又听见沙威的嗓子，雷霆似的吼道：
“搜这死胡同！直壁街已经有人把守住了，比克布斯小街也把守住了。我准保他在这死胡同里。”
大兵们一齐冲进了让洛死胡同。
冉阿让扶着珂赛特，顺着屋顶滑下去，滑到那菩提树，又跳在地面上。也许是由于恐怖，也许是由于胆大，珂赛特一声也没出。她手上擦去了点皮。
