He heard Latin words, which he did not understand, pass over him, so slowly that he was able to catch them one by one:—
“Qui dormiunt in terr? pulvere, evigilabunt; alii in vitam ?ternam, et alii in approbrium, ut videant semper.”
A child’s voice said:—
“De profundis.”
The grave voice began again:—
“Requiem ?ternam dona ei, Domine.”
The child’s voice responded:—
“Et lux perpetua luceat ei.”
He heard something like the gentle patter of several drops of rain on the plank which covered him.
It was probably the holy water.
He thought: “This will be over soon now.
Patience for a little while longer.
The priest will take his departure.
Fauchelevent will take Mestienne off to drink.
I shall be left.
Then Fauchelevent will return alone, and I shall get out.
That will be the work of a good hour.”
The grave voice resumed
“Requiescat in pace.”
And the child’s voice said:—
“Amen.”
Jean Valjean strained his ears, and heard something like retreating footsteps.
“There, they are going now,” thought he. “I am alone.”
All at once, he heard over his head a sound which seemed to him to be a clap of thunder.
It was a shovelful of earth falling on the coffin.
A second shovelful fell.
One of the holes through which he breathed had just been stopped up.
A third shovelful of earth fell.
Then a fourth.
There are things which are too strong for the strongest man.
Jean Valjean lost consciousness.
CHAPTER VII—IN WHICH WILL BE FOUND THE ORIGIN OF THE SAYING: DON’T LOSE THE CARD
This is what had taken place above the coffin in which lay Jean Valjean.
When the hearse had driven off, when the priest and the choir boy had entered the carriage again and taken their departure, Fauchelevent, who had not taken his eyes from the grave-digger, saw the latter bend over and grasp his shovel, which was sticking upright in the heap of dirt.
Then Fauchelevent took a supreme resolve.
He placed himself between the grave and the grave-digger, crossed his arms and said:—
“I am the one to pay!”
The grave-digger stared at him in amazement, and replied:—
“What’s that, peasant?”
Fauchelevent repeated:—
“I am the one who pays!”
“What?”
“For the wine.”
“What wine?”
“That Argenteuil wine.”
“Where is the Argenteuil?”
“At the Bon Coing.”
“Go to the devil!” said the grave-digger. And he flung a shovelful of earth on the coffin.
The coffin gave back a hollow sound.
Fauchelevent felt himself stagger and on the point of falling headlong into the grave himself.