Every time he said this word monsieur, with his gently solemn, and heartily hospitable voice, the man’s countenance lighted up. Monsieur to a convict, is a glass of water to a man dying of thirst at sea. Ignominy thirsts for respect.
“The lamp,” said the bishop. “gives a very poor light.”
Madame Magloire understood him, and going to his bedchamber, took from the mantel the two silver candlesticks, lighted the candles, and placed them on the table.
“Monsieur Cure,” said the man, “you are good; you don’t despise me. You take me into your house: you light your candles for me, and I haven’t hid from you where I come from, and how miserable I am.”
The bishop, who was sitting near him, touched his hand gently and said: “You need not tell me who you are. This is not my house; it is the house of Christ. It does not ask any comer whether he has a name, but whether he has an affliction. You are suffering; you are hungry and thirsty; be welcome. And do not thank me; do not tell me that I take you into my house. This is the home of no man, except him who needs an asylum. I tell you, who are a traveller, that you are more at home here than I; whatever is here is yours. What need, have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me, I knew it.’
The man opened his eyes in astonishment:
“Really? You knew my name?”
“Yes,” answered the bishop: “your name is my brother.”
––Victor Hugo, Les Misérables, translated by Charles E. Wilbour
