Then he felt of the officer’s fob, discovered a watch there, and took possession of it.
Next he searched his waistcoat, found a purse and pocketed it.
When he had arrived at this stage of succor which he was administering to this dying man, the officer opened his eyes.
“Thanks,” he said feebly.
The abruptness of the movements of the man who was manipulating him, the freshness of the night, the air which he could inhale freely, had roused him from his lethargy.
The prowler made no reply.
He raised his head.
A sound of footsteps was audible in the plain; some patrol was probably approaching.
The officer murmured, for the death agony was still in his voice:— “Who won the battle?”
“The English,” answered the prowler.
The officer went on:—
“Look in my pockets; you will find a watch and a purse.
Take them.”
It was already done.
The prowler executed the required feint, and said:—
“There is nothing there.”
“I have been robbed,” said the officer; “I am sorry for that.
You should have had them.”
The steps of the patrol became more and more distinct.
“Some one is coming,” said the prowler, with the movement of a man who is taking his departure.
The officer raised his arm feebly, and detained him.
“You have saved my life.
Who are you?”
The prowler answered rapidly, and in a low voice:—
“Like yourself, I belonged to the French army.
I must leave you.
If they were to catch me, they would shoot me.
I have saved your life.
Now get out of the scrape yourself.”
“What is your rank?”
“Sergeant.”
“What is your name?”
“Thenardier.”
“I shall not forget that name,” said the officer; “and do you remember mine.
My name is Pontmercy.”
BOOK SECOND.—THE SHIP ORION
CHAPTER I—NUMBER 24,601 BECOMES NUMBER 9,430
Jean Valjean had been recaptured.
The reader will be grateful to us if we pass rapidly over the sad details.
We will confine ourselves to transcribing two paragraphs published by the journals of that day, a few months after the surprising events which had taken place at M. sur M.
These articles are rather summary. It must be remembered, that at that epoch the Gazette des Tribunaux was not yet in existence.
We borrow the first from the Drapeau Blanc.
It bears the date of July 25, 1823.
An arrondissement of the Pas de Calais has just been the theatre of an event quite out of the ordinary course.
A man, who was a stranger in the Department, and who bore the name of M. Madeleine, had, thanks to the new methods, resuscitated some years ago an ancient local industry, the manufacture of jet and of black glass trinkets.
He had made his fortune in the business, and that of the arrondissement as well, we will admit.
He had been appointed mayor, in recognition of his services.
The police discovered that M. Madeleine was no other than an ex-convict who had broken his ban, condemned in 1796 for theft, and named Jean Valjean.
Jean Valjean has been recommitted to prison.
It appears that previous to his arrest he had succeeded in withdrawing from the hands of M. Laffitte, a sum of over half a million which he had lodged there, and which he had, moreover, and by perfectly legitimate means, acquired in his business.