The young man sometimes thought of her forlornness; he reflected that the poor old woman lived but a few steps from the children who strove to forget her, as though she were dead; and this made him love her all the more, for himself and for the others.
When he at times entertained a vague idea that aunt Dide might be expiating some former transgressions, he would say to himself: "I was born to pardon her." A nature such as Silvere's, ardent yet self-restrained, naturally cherished the most exalted republican ideas.

At night, in his little hovel, Silvere would again and again read a work of Rousseau's which he had picked up at the neighbouring dealer's among a number of old locks.
The reading of this book kept him awake till daylight.

Amidst his dream of universal happiness so dear to the poor, the words liberty, equality, fraternity, rang in his ears like those sonorous sacred calls of the bells, at the sound of which the faithful fall upon their knees.

When, therefore, he learnt that the Republic had just been proclaimed in France he fancied that the whole world would enjoy a life of celestial beatitude.

His knowledge, though imperfect, made him see farther than other workmen; his aspirations did not stop at daily bread; but his extreme ingenuousness, his complete ignorance of mankind, kept him in the dreamland of theory, a Garden of Eden where universal justice reigned.