Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. Then she cursed herself for his eyes went to the letter and came back to her face. How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever? How long wilt thou hide thy face from me? She came upon the Song of Songs—which had been pasted down in the Enschede Bible—the burning litany of love; and from time to time she intoned some verse of tender lyric beauty. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance.
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