She followed its direction, and saw that it was fixed on a crucifix which was nailed to the wall.
Thenceforth, M. Madeleine was transfigured in Fantine’s eyes.
He seemed to her to be clothed in light.
He was absorbed in a sort of prayer.
She gazed at him for a long time without daring to interrupt him.
At last she said timidly:—
“What are you doing?”
M. Madeleine had been there for an hour.
He had been waiting for Fantine to awake.
He took her hand, felt of her pulse, and replied:—
“How do you feel?”
“Well, I have slept,” she replied; “I think that I am better.
It is nothing.”
He answered, responding to the first question which she had put to him as though he had just heard it:—
“I was praying to the martyr there on high.”
And he added in his own mind,
“For the martyr here below.”
M. Madeleine had passed the night and the morning in making inquiries.
He knew all now.
He knew Fantine’s history in all its heart-rending details.
He went on:—
“You have suffered much, poor mother.
Oh! do not complain; you now have the dowry of the elect.
It is thus that men are transformed into angels.
It is not their fault they do not know how to go to work otherwise.
You see this hell from which you have just emerged is the first form of heaven.
It was necessary to begin there.”
He sighed deeply.
But she smiled on him with that sublime smile in which two teeth were lacking.
That same night, Javert wrote a letter.
The next morning be posted it himself at the office of M. sur M. It was addressed to Paris, and the superscription ran: To Monsieur Chabouillet, Secretary of Monsieur le Prefet of Police.
As the affair in the station-house had been bruited about, the post-mistress and some other persons who saw the letter before it was sent off, and who recognized Javert’s handwriting on the cover, thought that he was sending in his resignation.
M. Madeleine made haste to write to the Thenardiers.
Fantine owed them one hundred and twenty francs.
He sent them three hundred francs, telling them to pay themselves from that sum, and to fetch the child instantly to M. sur M., where her sick mother required her presence.
This dazzled Thenardier.
“The devil!” said the man to his wife; “don’t let’s allow the child to go.
This lark is going to turn into a milch cow.
I see through it.
Some ninny has taken a fancy to the mother.”
He replied with a very well drawn-up bill for five hundred and some odd francs.
In this memorandum two indisputable items figured up over three hundred francs,—one for the doctor, the other for the apothecary who had attended and physicked Eponine and Azelma through two long illnesses.
Cosette, as we have already said, had not been ill.
It was only a question of a trifling substitution of names.
At the foot of the memorandum Thenardier wrote, Received on account, three hundred francs.
M. Madeleine immediately sent three hundred francs more, and wrote,
“Make haste to bring Cosette.”
“Christi!” said Thenardier, “let’s not give up the child.”
In the meantime, Fantine did not recover.
She still remained in the infirmary.