On reflection, I think I understand what was going on in my brother’s mind. He undoubtedly thought that this man, who was called Jean Valjean, had his misery all too constantly in his mind, that it was better to make him think of other things, and have him believe, if only for a moment, that he was a person like anyone else, by treating him in this normal way. Isn’t this a true understanding of charity?
I’m finally reading this book. Not sure how I avoided it for so long. The unabridged version is as big as a brick, and I’m only 150 pages in. Perhaps I’ll finish it before the end of the summer?