This certainly does not belong to me. Everything © Victor Hugo.
I fear this reads merely like a summary of two canonical events, but this is my first posting, so kindly bear with me.
It was when the fourth shovelful of dirt fell upon the coffin that Jean Valjean found himself quite faint. He had never known himself to quiver in the least, or even to feel this species of ineffable fright; he had considered himself a good deal more resolute than most men. (Still, it must be noted that most men did not spend a considerable length of time buried alive.) The confines of the box were closing in on all sides, creating a kind of terrible claustrophobic atmosphere. Jean Valjean moreover experienced a certain strange chill. Finally, the dull thuds ceased, and he was glad, for it had made him feel quite ill. As it was, he was in some danger of drifting off, or even fainting. His eyelids fluttered, and he felt himself in a surreal situation. He began to perceive a most peculiar setting.
His gaze was fixated upon an old man – a very old man, indeed, whom Jean Valjean fancied resembled himself in a manner. However, this poor man was clearly on the verge of expiring; his breathing was sporadic, his limbs seemed paralyzed, and his eyes seldom opened. His trembling hands were upon the heads of two young people, a man and a woman, whose tears threatened to engulf them entirely. The wizened old man was speaking to them, but Jean Valjean could not make out the words. All at once, his speech ceased, and he fell back onto the bed – he was unmistakably dead.
Who was that man? Jean Valjean inquired of himself. Could it have been himself, some gaunt figure of the future marked by death? And as for the two children – who were they? Perhaps the young lady was a grown Cosette, he mused. And of that man? Her husband… Jean Valjean refused to believe it, dismissing the notion entirely. He was certain that Cosette would never be so insidious as to wed some vapid little schoolboy.
However, in a way he did not fully comprehend, this reverie unnerved Jean Valjean.
Then, he perceived the coffin lid being raised up haltingly by Father Fauchelevent, who was babbling some hysterical nonsense. Jean Valjean said, "I was beginning to fall asleep," and thought no more of it.