It seemed as though he dared not kneel directly before God.
Everything around him, this quiet garden, these balmy flowers, these children, shouting with joy, these meek and simple women, this silent cloister, gradually entered into all his being, and, little by little, his soul subsided into silence like this cloister, into fragrance like these flowers, into peace like this garden, into simplicity like these women, into joy like these children. And then he reflected that two houses of God had received him in succession at the two critical moments of his life, the first when every door was closed and human society repelled him; the second, when human society again howled upon his track, and the galleys once more gaped for him; and that, had it not been for the first, he should have fallen thick into crime, and had it not been for the second, into punishment.
His whole heart melted in gratitude, and he loved more and more. Several years passed thus. Cosette was growing.
–Victor Hugo, Les Misérables, translated by Charles E. Wilbour
