Let us economize all that; the guard is below; march on instantly, or you’ll get the thumb-screws!”
In the corner of the room stood an old iron bedstead, which was in a decidedly decrepit state, and which served the sisters as a camp-bed when they were watching with the sick. Jean Valjean stepped up to this bed, in a twinkling wrenched off the head-piece, which was already in a dilapidated condition, an easy matter to muscles like his, grasped the principal rod like a bludgeon, and glanced at Javert.
Javert retreated towards the door.
Jean Valjean, armed with his bar of iron, walked slowly up to Fantine’s couch.
When he arrived there he turned and said to Javert, in a voice that was barely audible:—
“I advise you not to disturb me at this moment.”
One thing is certain, and that is, that Javert trembled.
It did occur to him to summon the guard, but Jean Valjean might avail himself of that moment to effect his escape; so he remained, grasped his cane by the small end, and leaned against the door-post, without removing his eyes from Jean Valjean.
Jean Valjean rested his elbow on the knob at the head of the bed, and his brow on his hand, and began to contemplate the motionless body of Fantine, which lay extended there.
He remained thus, mute, absorbed, evidently with no further thought of anything connected with this life.
Upon his face and in his attitude there was nothing but inexpressible pity.
After a few moments of this meditation he bent towards Fantine, and spoke to her in a low voice.
What did he say to her?
What could this man, who was reproved, say to that woman, who was dead?
What words were those?
No one on earth heard them.
Did the dead woman hear them?
There are some touching illusions which are, perhaps, sublime realities.
The point as to which there exists no doubt is, that Sister Simplice, the sole witness of the incident, often said that at the moment that Jean Valjean whispered in Fantine’s ear, she distinctly beheld an ineffable smile dawn on those pale lips, and in those dim eyes, filled with the amazement of the tomb.
Jean Valjean took Fantine’s head in both his hands, and arranged it on the pillow as a mother might have done for her child; then he tied the string of her chemise, and smoothed her hair back under her cap.
That done, he closed her eyes.
Fantine’s face seemed strangely illuminated at that moment.
Death, that signifies entrance into the great light.
Fantine’s hand was hanging over the side of the bed.
Jean Valjean knelt down before that hand, lifted it gently, and kissed it.
Then he rose, and turned to Javert.
“Now,” said he, “I am at your disposal.”
CHAPTER V—A SUITABLE TOMB
Javert deposited Jean Valjean in the city prison.
The arrest of M. Madeleine occasioned a sensation, or rather, an extraordinary commotion in M. sur M. We are sorry that we cannot conceal the fact, that at the single word, “He was a convict,” nearly every one deserted him.
In less than two hours all the good that he had done had been forgotten, and he was nothing but a “convict from the galleys.”
It is just to add that the details of what had taken place at Arras were not yet known.
All day long conversations like the following were to be heard in all quarters of the town:—
“You don’t know?
He was a liberated convict!”
“Who?”
“The mayor.”
“Bah!
M. Madeleine?” “Yes.” “Really?” “His name was not Madeleine at all; he had a frightful name, Bejean, Bojean, Boujean.” “Ah! Good God!” “He has been arrested.”
“Arrested!”
“In prison, in the city prison, while waiting to be transferred.”
“Until he is transferred!”
“He is to be transferred!”
“Where is he to be taken?”
“He will be tried at the Assizes for a highway robbery which he committed long ago.”
“Well!
I suspected as much.
That man was too good, too perfect, too affected.
He refused the cross; he bestowed sous on all the little scamps he came across.
I always thought there was some evil history back of all that.”