[He looks to where Frederick gestures only briefly, his eyes drawn to the photograph as if by gravity. When he answers, it is as if an afterthought.]
Yes, thank you, monsieur.
[He then reaches to carefully take the stack that the young man had gathered. As the photographs pass hands, Jean Valjean lifts his gaze to him and gives a quiet wistful smile.]
She is my daughter.
[A simple and ordinary statement, but the way he says it seems to carry much weight.]
yes you are val :\
Yes, thank you, monsieur.
[He then reaches to carefully take the stack that the young man had gathered. As the photographs pass hands, Jean Valjean lifts his gaze to him and gives a quiet wistful smile.]
She is my daughter.
[A simple and ordinary statement, but the way he says it seems to carry much weight.]