BISHOP. This house does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer--you are hungry--you are welcome. JEAN. I cannot understand it-- BISHOP. This house is home to the man who needs a refuge. So, sir, this is your house now more than it is mine. Whatever is here is yours. What need have I to know your name? Besides, before you told me, I knew it. JEAN. What! You knew my name! BISHOP. Yes, your name is--Brother. JEAN. Stop! I cannot bear it--you are so good-- [_He buries his face in his hands._] [_Enter_ MADAME _with dishes for the table; she continues passing in and out, preparing supper._] BISHOP. You have suffered much, sir-- JEAN (_nodding_). The red shirt, the ball on the ankle, a plank to sleep on, heat, cold, toil, the whip, the double chain for nothing, the cell for one word--even when sick in bed, still the chain! Dogs, dogs are happier! Nineteen years! and now the yellow passport! BISHOP. Yes, you have suffered. JEAN (_with violence_). I hate this world of laws and courts! I hate the men who rule it! For nineteen years my soul has had only thoughts of hate. For nineteen years I've planned revenge. Do you hear? Revenge--revenge! BISHOP. It is not strange that you should feel so. And if you continue to harbor those thoughts, you are only deserving of pity. But listen, my brother; if, in spite of all you have passed through, your thoughts could be of peace and love, you would be better than any one of us. [_Pause. Jean reflects._] JEAN (_speaking violently_). No, no! I do not belong to your world of men. I am apart--a different creature from you all. The galleys made me different. I'll have nothing to do with any of you! MADAME. The supper, your Reverence. [_The Bishop glances at the table_.] BISHOP. It strikes me there is something missing from this table. [_Madame hesitates._] MLLE. Madame, do you not understand? [_Madame steps to a cupboard, gets the remaining silver plates, and places them on the table._] BISHOP (_gayly, turning to Jean_). To table then, my friend! To table! [_Jean remains for a moment, standing doggedly apart; then he steps over to the chair awaiting him, jerks it back, and sinks into it, without looking up._] SCENE III TIME: _Daybreak the next morning._ PLACE: _The Bishop's dining room._ * * * * * [_The room is dark, except for a faint light that comes in through window curtains._ JEAN VALJEAN _creeps in from the alcove. He carries his knapsack and cudgel in one hand; in the other, his shoes. He opens the window overlooking the garden; the room becomes lighter. Jean steps to the mantel and lifts a silver candlestick._] JEAN (_whispering_). Two hundred francs--double what I have earned in nineteen years! [_He puts it in his knapsack; takes up the other candlestick; shudders, and sets it down again._] No, no, he is good--he called me "sir"--