The bar caught Valjean as he walked onto the street, Baron Pontmercy's last words ringing in his ears. You shall come every evening. The man is kind, kind indeed. Too kind, but this is a boon he cannot bring himself to refuse. Indeed, he had no choice but to ask for it.
The bar is too loud, and people too much after the last few days. He heads for the church immediately, before remembering that he should not go inside. He starts to walk instead, round and around the building, lost in thought. He has no idea how bad he looks; how tired and drawn; he knows only that he feels he has been scoured from the inside out; hollow, as though he will never be able to feel anything again.