 Book 7, Chapter 9 of Les Miserables, translated by Isabelle F. Hapgood. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Matt Messerschmitt. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. Book 7, The Chant Machin Affair. Chapter 9, a place where convictions are in process of formation. He advanced apace, closed the door mechanically behind him, and remained standing, contemplating what he saw. It was a vast and badly lighted apartment, now full of uproar and now full of silence, where all the apparatus of a criminal case, with its petty and mournful gravity in the midst of the throng, was in process of development. At one end of the hall, the one where he was, were judges with abstracted air and threadbare robes, who were gnawing their nails or closing their eyelids. At the other end, a ragged crowd, lawyers in all sorts of attitudes, soldiers with hard but honest faces, ancient spotted woodwork, a dirty ceiling, tables covered with surge that was yellow rather than green, doors blackened by hand marks, taproom lamps which emitted more smoke than light, suspended from nails in the wane scot. On the tables, candles and brass candlesticks, darkness, ugliness, sadness. And from all this, there was disengaged and austere and august impression, for there one felt that grand human thing which is called the law, and that grand divine thing which is called justice. No one in all that throng paid any attention to him. All glances were directed toward a single point, a wooden bench placed against a small door in the stretch of wall on the president's left. On this bench, illuminated by several candles, sat a man between two gendarmes. This man was the man. He did not seek him, he saw him. His eyes went thither naturally as though they had known beforehand where that figure was. He thought he was looking at himself, grown old, not absolutely the same in face, of course, but exactly similar in attitude and aspect. With his bristling hair, with that wild and uneasy eye, with that blouse just as it was on the day when he entered Dean, full of hatred, concealing his soul in that hideous mass of frightful thoughts, which he had spent nineteen years in collecting on the floor of the prison. He said to himself with a shudder, Good God, shall I become like that again? This creature seemed to be at least sixty. There was something indescribably coarse, stupid, and frightened about him. At the sound made by the opening door, people had drawn aside to make way for him. The president had turned his head, and understanding that the personage who had just entered was the mayor of Montreux-sur-Mer. He had bowed to him, the attorney general, who had seen Monsieur Madeline at Montreux-sur-Mer. Whether the duties of his office had called him more than once, recognized him, and saluted him also. He had hardly perceived it. He was the victim of a sort of hallucination. He was watching. Judges, clerks, gendarmes, a throng of cruelly curious heads. All these he had already once beheld in days gone by. Twenty-seven years before, he had encountered those fatal things once more. There they were, they moved, they existed. It was no longer an effort of his memory, a mirage of his thought. They were real gendarms, and real judges, a real crowd, and real men of flesh and blood. It was all over. He beheld the monstrous aspects of his past reappear, and lived once more around him. With all that there is, formidable in reality, all this was yawning before him. He was horrified by it. He shut his eyes, and exclaimed in the deepest recesses of his soul. Never. And by a tragic play of destiny, which made all his ideas tremble, and rendered him nearly mad, it was another self of his that was there. All called that man who was being tried, Jean Valjean. Under his very eyes, unheard of vision, he had a sort of representation of the most horrible moment of his life, enacted by his specter. Everything was there. The apparatus was the same. The hour of the night. The faces of the judges, of soldiers, and of spectators. All were the same. Only above the president's head there hung the crucifix, something which the courts had lacked at the time of his condemnation. God had been absent when he had been judged. There was a chair behind him. He dropped into it, terrified at the thought that he might be seen. When he was seated, he took advantage of a pile of cardboard boxes which stood on the judge's desk to conceal his face from the whole room. He could now see without being seen. He had fully regained consciousness of the reality of things. Gradually, he recovered. He attained that phase of composure where it is possible to listen. Mejoub Amatois was one of the jurors. He looked for Javer, but did not see him. The seat of the witnesses was hidden from him by the clerk's table. And then, as we have just said, the hall was barely lighted. At the moment of this entrance, the defendant's lawyer had just finished his plea. The attention of all was excited to the highest pitch. The affair had lasted for three hours. For three hours, that crowd had been watching a strange man, a miserable specimen of humanity, either profoundly stupid or profoundly subtle, gradually bending beneath the weight of a terrible likeness. This man, as the reader already knows, was a vagabond who had been found in a field carrying a branch laden with ripe apples, broken in the orchard of a neighbor called the Pierron Orchard. Who was this man? An examination had been made. Witnesses had been heard, and they were unanimous. Light had abounded throughout the whole debate. The accusation said, We have in our grasp not only a marauder, a stealer of fruit, we have here in our hands a bandit, an old offender who has broken his ban, an ex-convict, a miscreant of the most dangerous description, a malefactor named Jean Valjean, whom justice has long been in search of, and who, eight years ago, on emerging from the galleys of Toulon, committed a highway robbery, accompanied by violence, on the person of a child, a savoyard named Little Gervais, a crime provided for by the article 383 of the Penal Code, the right to try him for which we reserve hereafter, when his identity shall have been judicially established. He has just committed a fresh theft. It is a case of a second offense. Condemn him for the fresh deed. Later on he will be judged for the old crime. In the face of this accusation, in the face of the unanimity of the witnesses, the accused appeared to be astonished more than anything else. He made signs and gestures which were meant to convey no, or else he stared at the ceiling. He spoke with difficulty, replied with embarrassment, but his whole person from head to foot was a denial. He was an idiot in the presence of all these minds ranged in order of battle against him, and like a stranger in the midst of the society which was seizing fast upon him. Nevertheless, it was a question of the most menacing future for him. The likeness increased every moment, and the entire crowd surveyed with more anxiety than he did himself, that sentence freighted with calamity, which descended ever closer over his head. There was even a glimpse of a possibility afforded besides the galleys a possible death penalty in case his identity was established, and the affair of Little Gervais was to end thereafter in condemnation. Who was this man? What was the nature of his apathy? Was it imbecility or craft? Did he understand too well, or did he not understand at all? These were questions which divided the crowd and seemed to divide the jury. There was something both terrible and puzzling in this case. The drama was not only melancholy, it was also obscure. The counsel for the defense had spoken tolerably well in that provincial tongue which has long constituted the eloquence of the bar and which was formerly employed by all advocates at Paris as well as at Romero-Antoine and which today, having become classic, is no longer spoken except by the official orators of magistracy to whom it is suited on account of its grave sonorousness and its majestic stride. A tongue in which a husband is called a consort and a woman a spouse. Paris, the center of art and civilization. The king, the monarch. Monsignor the bishop, a saint in Pontiff. The district attorney. The eloquent interpreter of public prosecution. The arguments. The accents which we have just listened to. The age of Louis XIV. The grand age. A theater. The temple of Mel Palmaine. The reigning family. The August blood of our kings. A concert. The musical solemnity. The grand commandant of the province, the illustrious warrior who, etc. The pupils in the seminary. These tender levities. Errors imputed to newspapers. The imposture which distills its venom through the columns of those organs, etc. The lawyer had, accordingly, begun with an explanation as to the theft of the apples. An awkward matter. Couched in fine style. But Benin Boussé himself was obliged to allude to a chicken in the midst of a funeral oration. And he extricated himself from the situation in stately fashion. The lawyer established the fact that the theft of the apples had not been circumstantially proved. His client, whom he, in his character of counsel, persisted in calling Chant Machu, had not been seen scaling that wall nor breaking that branch by anyone. He had been taken with that branch, which the lawyer preferred to call a bow, in his possession. But he said that he had found it broken off and lying on the ground and had picked it up. Where was there any proof to the contrary? No doubt that branch had been broken off and concealed after the scaling of the wall, then thrown away by the alarmed marauder. There was no doubt that there had been a thief in the case. But what proof was there that that thief had been Chant Machu? One thing only. His character as an ex-convict. The lawyer did not deny that that character appeared to be unhappily well attested. The accused had resided at Feverell's. The accused had exercised the scaling of a tree pruner there. The name of Chant Machu might well have had its origin in Chant Machu. All that was true. In short, four witnesses recognized Chant Machu positively and without hesitation as that convict Jean Valjean. To these signs, to this testimony, the counsel could oppose nothing but the denial of his client, the denial of an interested party. But supposing that he was the convict Jean Valjean, did that prove that he was the thief of the apples? That was a presumption at the most, not a proof. The prisoner it was true and his counsel, in good faith, was obliged to admit it, had adopted a bad system of defense. He obstinately denied everything, the theft and his character of convict. An admission upon the last point would certainly have been better and would have won for him the indulgence of his judges. The counsel had advised him to do this but the accused had obstinately refused, thinking, no doubt, that he would save everything by admitting nothing. It was an error but ought not the posity of this intelligence to be taken into consideration. The man was visibly stupid. Long continued wretchedness in the galleys. Long misery outside the galleys had brutalized him, etc. He defended himself badly. Was that a reason for condemning him? As for the affair with Little Gervais, the counsel need not discuss it. It did not enter into the case. The lawyer wound up by beseeching the jury and the court, if the identity of Jean Valjean appeared to them to be evident. To apply to him the police penalties which are provided for a criminal who has broken his ban and not the frightful chastisement which descends upon the convict guilty of a second offense. The district attorney answered the counsel for the defense. He was violent and floored as district attorneys usually are. He congratulated the counsel on his loyalty and skillfully took advantage of this loyalty. He reached the accused through all the concessions made by his lawyer. The advocate had seemed to admit that the prisoner was Jean Valjean. He took note of this. So this man was Jean Valjean. This point had been conceded to the accusation and could no longer be disputed. Here, by means of a clever automasia, which went back to the sources and causes of crime, the district attorney thundered against the immorality of the romantic school, then dawning under the name of the Satanic school, which had been bestowed upon it by the critics of the Côte d'Ienne and the Oriflame. He attributed, not without some probability, to the influence of this perverse literature, the crime of Jean Machu, or rather, to speak more correctly of Jean Valjean. Having exercised these considerations, he passed on to Jean Valjean himself. Who was this Jean Valjean? Description of Jean Valjean. A monster spewed forth, etc. The model for this sort of description is contained in the tale of Tiramat, which is not useful to tragedy, but which every day renders great services to judicial eloquence. The audience and the jury shuddered. The description finished. The district attorney, resumed with an oratorical term calculated to raise the enthusiasm of the Journal of the Prefecture to the highest pitch on the following day. And it is such a man, etc., etc., etc., vagabond, beggar, without means of existence, etc., etc., enured by his past life to culpable deeds, and belittle reformed by his sojourn in the galleys, as was proved by the crime committed against little Gervais, etc., etc. It is such a man, caught against the highway in the very act of theft, a few paces from a wall that had been scaled, still holding in his hand the stolen object who denies the crime, the theft, the climbing the wall, denies everything, denies even his own identity. In addition to a hundred other proofs to which we will not recur, four witnesses recognize him. Javert, the upright inspector of police. Javert and three of his former companions in infamy, the convicts Prevay, Chenildou, and Koshpaillou. What does he offer in opposition to this overwhelming unanimity? His denial. What objuracy? You will do justice, gentlemen of the jury, etc., etc. While the district attorney was speaking, the accused listened to him open-mouth, with a sort of amazement in which some admiration was assuredly blended. He was evidently surprised that a man could talk like that. From time to time, at those energetic moments of the prosecutor's speech, when eloquence, which cannot contain itself, overflows in a flood of withering epithets, and envelopes the accused like a storm, he moved his head slowly from right to left and from left to right in the sort of mutant melancholy protest with the district attorney directed the attention of the jury to this stupid attitude, evidently deliberate, which denoted not in facility, but craft, skill, a habit of deceiving justice, and which set forth in all its nakedness the profound perversity of this man. He ended by making his reserves on the fair of Little Jervais and demanding a severe sentence. At that time, as the reader will remember, it was penal servitude for life. The counsel for the defense rose, began by complimenting Mejir Ladd, Vokat-General, on his admirable speech, then replied as best he could, but he weakened. The ground was evidently slipping away from under his feet. End of Book 7, Chapter 9 Book 7, Chapter 10 of Les Miserables, translated by Isabelle F. Hapgood. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Matt Messerschmitt. Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. Book 7, The Shant Machu Affair. Chapter 10, The System of Denials. The moment for closing the debate had arrived. The president had the accused stand up and addressed to him the customary question. Have you anything to add to your defense? The man did not appear to understand, as he stood there, twisting in his hands a terrible cap which he had. The president repeated the question. This time the man heard it. He seemed to understand. He made a motion like a man who is just waking up, cast his eyes about him, stared at the audience, the gendarmes, his counsel, the jury, the court, laid his monstrous fist on the rim of woodwork in front of his bench, took another look, and all at once, fixing his glance upon the district attorney, he began to speak. It was like an eruption. It seemed, from the manner in which the words escaped from his mouth, incoherent, impetuous, palmel, tumbling over each other, as though they were all pressing forward to issue forth at once. He said, This is what I have to say, that I have been a wheelwright in Paris and that it was with Mejer Balou. It is a hard trade. In the wheelwright's trade, one works always in the open air. In courtyards, under sheds, when the masters are good. Never in closed workshops, because space is required, you see. In winter one gets so cold that one beats one's arms together to warm oneself. But the masters don't like it. They say it wastes time. Handling iron when there is ice between the paving stones is hard work. That wears a man out quickly. One is old when he is still quite young in that trade. At 40, a man is done for. I was 43. I was in a bad state. And then workmen are so mean. When a man is no longer young, they call him nothing but an old bird, old beast. I was not earning more than 30 sews a day. They paid me as little as possible. The masters took advantage of my age. And then I had my daughter, who was a laundress at the river. She earned a little also. It's a feist for us too. She had trouble also. All day long up to her waist in a tub, in rain, in snow. When the wind cuts your face, when it freezes, it is all the same. You must still wash. There are people who have not much linen and wait until late. If you do not wash, you lose your custom. The planks are badly joined. And water drips on you from everywhere. You have your petticoats all damp above and below. That penetrates. She has also worked at the laundry of the Enfant Rouge, where the water comes through the faucets. You are not in the tub there. You wash at the faucet in front of you and rinse in a basin behind you. As it is enclosed, you are not so cold. But there is that hot steam, which is terrible, and which ruins your eyes. She came home at seven o'clock in the evening and went to bed at once. She was so tired. Her husband beat her. She is dead. We have not been very happy. She was a good girl who did not go to the ball and who was very peaceable. I remember one Shrove Tuesday when she went to bed at eight o'clock. There. I am telling you the truth. You have only to ask. Ah, yes. How stupid I am. Paris is a gulf. Who knows, Father Chamochou there? But Mejir Balou does, I tell you. Go see at Mejir Balou's and after all, I don't know what is wanted of me. The man ceased speaking and remained standing. He had said these things in a loud, rapid horse voice with a sort of irritated and savage ingenuousness. Once he paused to salute someone in the crowd. The sort of affirmations which he seemed to fling out before him at random came like hiccups. And to each he added the gesture of a woodcutter who was splitting wood. When he had finished, the audience burst into a laugh. He stared at the public and perceiving that they were laughing and not understanding why. He began to laugh himself. It was inauspicious. The President, an attentive and benevolent man, raised his voice. He reminded the gentlemen of the jury that the jury formerly a master wheelwright, with whom the accused stated that he had served, had been summoned in vain. He had become bankrupt and was not to be found. Then, turning to the accused, he enjoined him to listen to what he was about to say and added, you are in a position where reflection is necessary. The gravest presumptions rest upon you and may induce vainness upon you and may induce vital results. Prisoner, in your own interests, I summon you for the last time to explain yourself clearly on two points. In the first place, did you or did you not climb the wall of the Perron Orchard, break the branch and steal the apples? That is to say, commit the crime of breaking in and theft. In the second place, are you the just-charged convict, Jean Valjean? Yes or no? The prisoner shook his head with a capable air, like a man who has thoroughly understood and who knows what answer he is going to make. He opened his mouth, turned towards the president and said, in the first place, then he stared at his cap, stared at the ceiling and held his peace. Prisoner said the district attorney in a severe voice, pay attention, you are not answering anything that has been asked of you. Your embarrassment condemns you. It is evident that your name is not Jean Machu, that you are the convict, Jean Valjean, concealed first under the name of Jean Machu, which was the name of his mother, who went to Auvergne, that you were born at Favreau-Rolls, where you were a pruner of trees. It is evident that you have been guilty of entering and of the theft of ripe apples from the Perron Orchard. The gentlemen of the jury will form their own opinion. The prisoner had finally resumed his seat. He arose abruptly when the district attorney had finished and exclaimed, you are very wicked that you are. That is what I wanted to say. I could not find words for it at first. I have stolen nothing. I am a man who does not have something to eat every day. I was coming from IE. I was walking through the country after a shower, which had made the whole country yellow. Even the ponds were overflowed. And nothing sprang from the sand anymore but the little blades of grass at the wayside. I found a broken branch with apples on the ground. I picked up the branch without knowing that it would get me into trouble. I have been in prison and they have been dragging me about for the last three months. More than that I cannot say. People talk against me. They tell me, answer, the gendarm, who is a good fellow. Nudges my elbow and says to me in a low voice, come, answer. I don't know how to explain. I have no education. I am a poor man. That is where they wronged me because they do not see this. I have not stolen. I have picked up from the ground things that were lying there. You say, Jean Valjean, Jean Machu. I don't know those persons. They are villagers. I worked for Major Balou, Boulevard de l'Hôpital. You are very clever to tell me where I was born. I don't know myself. It's not everybody who has a house in which to come into the world. That would be too convenient. I think that my father and mother were people who strolled along the highways. I know nothing different. When I was a child they called me young fellow. Now they call me old fellow. Those are my baptismal names. Take that as you like. I have been in Averin. I have been at Favreau's. Pardis. Well, can't a man have been in Averin or at Favreau's without having been in the galleys? I tell you that I have not stolen. And that I am Father Jean Machu. I have been with Major Balou. I have had a settled residence. You worry me with your nonsense there. Why is everybody pursuing me so furiously? The district attorney had remained standing there. He addressed the president. Major Le Président in view of the confused but exceedingly clever denials of the prisoner who would like to pass himself off as an idiot but who will not succeed in so doing we shall attend to that. We demand that it shall please you and that it shall please the court to summon once more into this place the convicts Brevet, Coche Payu, and Channel 2 and Police Inspector Javert and question them for the last time as to the identity of the prisoner with the convict Jean Valjean. I will remind the district attorney said the president that Police Inspector Javert recalled by his duties to the capital of a neighboring arrondissement left the courtroom in the town as soon as he had made his deposition. We have accorded him permission with the consent of the district attorney and of the council for the prisoner. This is true, Mr. President, responded the district attorney. In the absence of sure of Javert I think it my duty to remind the gentlemen of the jury of what he said here a few hours ago. Javert is an estimable man who does honor by his rigorous and strict probity to inferior but important functions. These are the terms of his deposition and the terms of his duties and the terms of his duties these are the terms of his deposition. I do not even stand in need of circumstantial proofs and moral presumptions to give the lie to the prisoner's denial. I recognize him perfectly. The name of this man is not Jean Machu he is an ex convict named Jean Valjean and is very vicious and much to be feared. It is only with extreme regret that he was released at the expiration of his term. He underwent 19 years of penal servitude for theft. He made 5 or 6 attempts to escape. Besides the theft from Little Gervais and from the Pyrrhon Orchard I suspect him of a theft committed in the house of his grace the late Bishop of Deen. I often saw him at the time when I was agitant of the galley guard at the prison of Toulon. I repeat that I recognize him perfectly. This extremely precise statement appeared to produce a vivid impression on the public and on the jury. The district attorney concluded by insisting that in default of Javert the 3 witnesses Brevet, Jean-Odu and Koshpaïl should be heard once more and solemnly interrogated. The president transmitted the order to an usher the door of the witnesses room opened. The usher accompanied by a gendarme ready to lend him armed assistance introduced the convict Brevet. The audience was in suspense and all breasts heaved as though they had contained but one soul. The ex-convict Brevet wore the black and gray waistcoat of the central prisons. Brevet was a person of age who had a sort of businessman's face and the air of a rascal. The two sometimes go together. In prison where their fresh misdeeds had led him he had become something in the nature of a turnkey. He was a man of whom his superior said he tries to make himself of use. The chaplains bore good testimony as to his religious habits. It must not be forgotten that this passed under the restoration. Brevet said the president you have undergone an indominious sentence and you cannot take an oath. Brevet dropped his eyes. Nevertheless continued the president even in the man whom the law has degraded there may remain when the divine mercy permits it a sentiment of honor and of equity. It is to this sentiment that I appeal at this decisive hour if it still exists in you and I hope it does reflect before replying to me consider on the one hand this man whom a word from you may ruin on the other hand justice which a word from you may enlighten the instance is solemn there is still time to retract if you think you have been mistaken rise prisoner Brevet take a good look at the accused recall your souvenirs and tell us on your soul and conscience if you persist in recognizing this man as your former companion in the galleys Jean Valjean Brevet looked at the prisoner and turned towards the court Yes Mr. President I was the first to recognize him and I stick to it that man is Jean Valjean who entered at Toulon in 1796 and left in 1815 I left a year later he has the air of a brute now but it must be because age has brutalized him he was sly at the galleys I recognize him positively take your seat said the president prisoner remain standing chandelier was brought in a prisoner for life as was indicated by his red cossack and his green cap he was serving out his sentence at the galleys of Toulon whence he had been brought for this case he was a small man of about 50 brisk wrinkled frail yellow brazen-faced who had a sort of sickly feebleness about all his limbs and his whole person and an immense force in his glance his companions in the galleys had nicknamed him I Deny God chenidou chenildou the president addressed him in nearly the same words which he had used to Brevet at the moment when he reminded him of his infamy which deprived him of the right to take an oath chenildou raised his head and looked the crowd in the face the president invited him to reflection and asked him as he had asked Brevet if he persisted in recognizing of the prisoner chenildou burst out laughing pardoux as if I didn't recognize him we were attached to the same chain for five years so you're a sulking old fellow go take your seat said the president the usher brought him koche paille he was another convict for life who had come from the galleys and was dressed in red like chenildou was a peasant from lords and a half-bear of the Pyrenees he had guarded the flocks among the mountains and from a shepherd he had slipped into a brigand he had taken the ship and slipped into a brigand koche paille was no less savage and seemed even more stupid than the prisoner he was one of those wretched men whom nature has sketched out for wild beasts and on whom society puts the finishing touches as convicts in the galleys the president tried to touch him with some grave and pathetic words and asked him as he had asked the other two if he persisted without hesitation or trouble in recognizing the man who was standing before him he is Jean Valjean said koche paille he was even called Jean to the screw because he was so strong each of these accusations from these three men evidently sincere and good faith had raised in the audience a murmur of bad augury for the prisoner a murmur which increased and lasted longer each time that a fresh declaration was added to the proceeding the prisoner had listened to them with that astounded face which was according to the accusation his principal means of defense at the first the gendarmes his neighbors had heard him mutter between his teeth ah well he's a nice one after the second he said a little louder with an air that was almost that of satisfaction good and at the third he cried famous the president addressed him have you heard prisoner what have you to say he replied I say famous an uproar broke out among the audience and was communicated to the jury it was evident that the man was lost ushers said the president in forced silence I'm going to sum up the arguments at that moment there was a movement just beside the president a voice was heard crying brevet chanel du kosh pa'il look here all who had heard that voice were chilled so lamentable and terrible was it all eyes were turned to the point once it had proceeded a man placed among the privileged spectators who was seated behind the court had just risen had pushed open the half door which separated the tribunal from the audience and was standing in the middle of the hall the president the attorney majeurema bama tabois twenty persons recognized him and exclaimed in concert majeurema de line end of chapter recorded by matt messerschmitt book seven chapter eleven of les miserables translated by isabel f. hapgood this is a libervox recording all libervox recordings are in the public domain please visit libervox.org it was he in fact the clerk's lamp illumined his countenance he held his hat in his hand there was no disorder in his clothing his coat was carefully buttoned he was very pale he trembled slightly his hair which had still been grey on his rival in aras was now entirely white it had turned white during the hour he had sat there all heads were raised the sensation was indescribable there was a momentary hesitation in the audience the voice had been so heart-rending the man who stood there appeared so calm that they did not understand it first they asked themselves whether he had indeed they could not believe that that tranquil man had been the one to give that terrible outcry this indecision only lasted a few seconds even before the president and the district attorney could utter a word before the ushers and the gendarmes could make a gesture the man whom all still called at that moment, monsieur Marlène had advanced towards the witnesses Koshpail, Brevet and Jean-Ildieu do you not recognize me said he all three remained speechless and indicated by a sign of the head that they did not know him Koshpail, who was intimidated made a military salute monsieur Marlène turned towards the jury and the court and said in a gentle voice gentlemen of the jury order the prisoner to be released Mr. President, have me arrested he is not the man whom you are in search of it is I I am Jean Valjean not a mouth breathed the first commotion of astonishment had been followed by a silence like that of the grave those within the hall experienced that sort of religious terror which seizes the masses when something grand has been done in the meantime the face of the president was stamped with sympathy and sadness he had exchanged a rapid sign with the district attorney and a few low toned words he addressed the public and asked in accents which I understood is there a physician present the district attorney took the word gentlemen of the jury the very strange and unexpected incident which disturbs the audience inspires us like yourselves only with a sentiment which it is unnecessary for us to express you all know by reputation at least the honorable monsieur Marlène mayor of Montréal-sur-Mer if there is a physician in the audience we join the president in requesting him to attend to monsieur Marlène and to conduct him to his home monsieur Marlène did not allow the district attorney to finish he interrupted him in accents full of suavity and authority these are the words which he uttered here they are literally as they were written down immediately after the trial by one of the witnesses to this scene they now ring in the ears of those who heard them nearly forty years ago I thank you, Mr. District Attorney but I am not mad you shall see you were on the point of committing a great error release this man I am fulfilling a duty I am that miserable criminal I am the only one here who sees the matter clearly and I am telling you the truth God who is on high looks down on what I am doing at this moment suffices you can take me for here I am but I have done my best I concealed myself under another name I have become rich I have become a mayor I have tried to re-enter the ranks of the honest it seems that that is not to be done in short there are many things which I cannot tell I will not narrate the story of my life to you you will hear it one of these days I robbed Monseigneur the bishop it is true that I robbed Little Gervais they were right in telling you that Jean Valjean was a very vicious wretch perhaps it was not altogether his fault listen honorable judges a man who has been so greatly humbled as I have has neither any remonstrances to make to providence nor any advice to give to society but you see the infamy from which I have tried to escape is an injurious thing the galleys make the convict what he is upon that if you please before going to the galleys I was a poor peasant with very little intelligence a sort of idiot the galleys wrought a change in me I was stupid I became vicious I was a block of wood I became a firebrand later on indulgence and kindness saved me as severity had ruined me but pardon me you cannot understand what I am saying you will find at my house the ashes in the fireplace the fortissue piece which I stole seven years ago from Little Gervais I have nothing farther to add take me good God the district attorney shakes his head you say Mr. Madeleine has gone mad you do not believe me that is distressing do not at least condemn this man what these men do not recognize me I wish Javert were here he would recognize me one can reproduce the somber and kindly melancholy of tone which accompanied these words he turned to the three convicts and said well I recognize you do you remember Brevet he paused hesitated for an instant and said do you remember the knitted suspenders with a checked pattern which you wore in the galleys Brevet gave a start of surprise and surveyed him from head to foot with a frightened air he continued Jean-Ildieu you who conferred on yourself the name of Jean-Ildieu your whole right shoulder bears a deep burn because you one day laid your shoulder against the chafing dish full of coals in order to efface the three letters TFP which are still visible nevertheless answer is this true it is true said Jean-Ildieu he addressed himself to Kochpile Kochpile you have near the bend in your left arm a date stamped in blue letters with burnt powder the date is that of the landing of the emperor at Cannes March 1, 1815 pull up your sleeve Kochpile pulled up his sleeve all eyes were focused on him and on his bare arm a gendarm held a light close to it there was the date the unhappy man turned to the spectators and the judges with a smile which still rins the hearts of all who saw it whenever they think of it it was a smile of triumph it was also a smile of despair you see plainly he said that I am Jean Valjean in that chamber there were no longer either judges, accusers, nor gendarms there was nothing but staring eyes and sympathizing hearts no one recalled any longer the part that each might be called upon to play the district attorney forgot he was there for the purpose of prosecuting the president that he was there to preside the council for the defense that he was there to defend it was a striking circumstance that no question was put that no authority intervened the peculiarity of sublime spectacles is that they capture all souls and turn witnesses into spectators no one probably could have explained what he felt no one probably said to himself that he was witnessing the splendid outburst of a grand light all felt themselves inwardly dazzled it was evident that they had Jean Valjean before their eyes that was clear the appearance of this man had sufficed to suffuse with light that matter which had been so obscure but a moment previously without any further explanation the whole crowd as by a sort of electric revelation understood instantly and at a single glance the simple and magnificent history of a man who is delivering himself up so that another man might not be condemned in his stead the details, the hesitations little possible oppositions were swallowed up in that vast and luminous fact it was an impression which vanished speedily but which was irresistible at the moment I do not wish to disturb the court further resumed Jean Valjean I will withdraw since you do not arrest me I have many things to do the district attorney knows who I am he knows whether I am going he can have me arrested when he likes he directed his steps towards the door not a voice was raised not an arm extended to hinder him all stood aside at that moment there was about him that divine something which causes multitudes to stand aside and make way for a man he traversed the crowd slowly it was never known who opened the door but it is certain that he found the door open when he reached it on arriving there he turned round and said I am at your command Mr. District Attorney then he addressed the audience all of you all who are present consider me worthy of pity do you not? good God when I think of what I was on the point of doing yes I should have preferred not to have had this occur he withdrew and the door closed behind him as it had opened for those who do certain sovereign things are always sure of being served by someone in the crowd less than an hour after this the verdict of the jury freed the said Jean Matthew from all accusations and Jean Matthew being at once released went off in a state of stupefaction thinking that all men were fools and comprehending nothing of this vision end of book 7 chapter 11 May 2007 the day had begun to dawn Fantine had passed a sleepless and feverish night filled with happy visions at daybreak she fell asleep the sister Simplice who had been watching with her availed herself of this slumber to go and prepare a new potion of shinkona the worthy sister had been in the laboratory of the infirmary but a few moments bending over her drugs and files and scrutinizing things very closely on account of the dimness which the half-light of dawn spreads over all objects suddenly she raised her head and uttered a faint shriek which she had before her he had just entered silently is it you Mr. Mayor she exclaimed he replied in a low voice how was that poor woman not so bad just now but we have been very uneasy she explained to him what had passed that Fantine had been very ill the day before and that she was better now because she thought that the Mayor had gone to Mont-Fermier to get her child she did not question the Mayor but she perceived plainly from his air that he had not come from there all that is good said he you were right not to un-deceive her yes responded the sister but now Mr. Mayor she will see you and will not see her child what shall we say to her he reflected for a moment God will inspire us said he but we cannot tell a lie half allowed it was broad daylight in the room the light fell full on Mr. Madeleine's face the sister chanced to raise her eyes to it good God sir she exclaimed what has happened to you your hair is perfectly white white said he sister Simplice had no mirror she rummaged in a drawer and pulled out the little glass which the doctor of the infirmary used to see whether a patient was dead and whether he no longer breathed Mr. Madeleine took the mirror looked at his hair and said well he uttered the word indifferently and as though his mind were on something else the sister felt chilled by something strange of which she caught a glimpse in all this he inquired can I see her is not Mr. Le Mayor going to have her child brought back to her said the sister hardly venturing of course but it will take two or three days at least if she were not to see Mr. Le Mayor until that time went on the sister timidly she would not know that Mr. Le Mayor had returned and it would be easy to inspire her with patience and when the child arrived she would naturally think Mr. Le Mayor had just come with the child we should not have to enact a lie Mr. Madeleine seemed to reflect for a few moments then he said with his calm gravity no sister I must see her I may perhaps be in haste the nun did not appear to notice this word perhaps which communicated an obscure and singular sense to the words of the mayor's speech she replied lowering her eyes and her voice respectfully in that case she is asleep but Mr. Le Mayor may enter he made some remarks about a door which shut badly and the noise of which might awaken the sick woman then he entered Fantine's chamber approached the bed and drew aside the curtains she was asleep her breath issued from her breast with that tragic sound which is peculiar to those maladies and which breaks the hearts of mothers when they are watching through the night beside their sleeping child who is condemned to death but this painful respiration is an ineffable serenity which overspread her countenance and which transfigured her in her sleep her pallor had become whiteness her cheeks were crimson her long golden lashes the only beauty of her youth and her virginity which remained to her palpitated though they remained closed and drooping her whole person was trembling with an indescribable unfolding of wings all ready to open wide and bear her away as they rustled though they could not be seen to see her thus one would never have dreamed that she was an invalid whose life was almost disbared of she resembled rather something on the point of soaring away than something on the point of dying the branch trembles when a hand approaches it to pluck a flower and seems to both withdraw and to offer itself at one and the same time the human body has something of this tremor and arrives in which the mysterious fingers of death are about to pluck the soul Monsieur Madeleine remained for some time motionless beside that bed gazing in turn upon the sick woman and the crucifix as he had done two months before on the day when he had come for the first time to see her and that asylum they were both still there in the same attitude she sleeping he praying after the lapse of two months her hair was grey and his was white the sister had not entered with him he stood beside the bed with his finger on his lips as though there was someone in the chamber whom he must enjoin to silence she opened her eyes saw him and said quietly with a smile and cosette end of book eight chapter one chapter two of Les Miserables translated by Isabelle F. Hapgood this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Clark Bell Les Miserables by Victor Hugo book eight a counter blow chapter two Fontaine Happy she made no movement of either surprise or joy she was joy itself that simple question and cosette was put with so profound a faith with so much certainty with such a complete absence of disquiet and of doubt that he found not a word of reply she continued I know that you were there I was asleep but I saw you I have seen you for a long, long time I have been following you with my eyes all night long you were in a glory and you had around you all sorts of celestial forms he raised his glance to the crucifix but she resumed tell me where cosette is why did not you place her on my bed against the moment of my waking he made some mechanical reply which he was never afterwards able to recall fortunately the doctor had been warned and he now made his appearance he came to the aid of Monsieur Madeleine calm yourself my child said the doctor your child is here Fontaine's eyes beamed and filled her whole face with light she clasped her hands with an expression which contained all that is possible to prayer in the way of violence and tenderness oh she exclaimed bring her to me touching illusion of a mother cosette was for her still the little child who was carried not yet said the doctor not just now you still have some fever the sight of your child would agitate you do you harm you must be cured first she interrupted him impetuously but I am cured oh I tell you that I am cured what an ass that doctor is the idea I want to see my child you see said the doctor how excited you become so long as you are in this state I shall oppose you having your child it is not enough to see her it is necessary that you should live for her when you are reasonable I will bring her to you myself the poor mother bowed her head I beg your pardon doctor I really beg your pardon formerly I should never have spoken as I have just done so many misfortunes have happened to me that I sometimes do not know what I am saying I understand you I will wait as long as you like but I swear to you that it would not have harmed me to see my daughter I have been seeing her I have not taken my eyes from her since yesterday evening do you know if you were brought to me now I should talk to her very gently that is all is it not quite natural that I should desire to see my daughter who has been brought to me expressly I am not angry I know well that I am about to be happy all night long I have seen white things and persons who smiled at me when Monsieur le doctor pleases he shall bring me cosette I have no longer any fever I am well I am perfectly conscious that there is nothing the matter with me anymore but I am going to behave as though I were ill and not stir to please these ladies here when it is seen that I am very calm they will say she must have her child Monsieur Madeline was sitting on a chair beside the bed she turned toward him she was making a visible effort to be calm and very good as she expressed it in the feebleness of illness which resembles infancy in order that seeing her so peaceable they might make no difficulty about bringing cosette to her but while she controlled herself she could not refrain from questioning Monsieur Madeline did you have a pleasant trip Monsieur Le Mayor oh how good you were to go and get her for me only tell me how she is did she stand the journey well alas she will not recognize me she must have forgotten me by this time poor darling children have no memories they are like birds a child sees one thing today and another thing tomorrow and thinks of nothing any longer and did she have a white linen did those then our days keep her clean how have they fed her oh if you only knew how I have suffered putting such questions as that to myself during all the time of my wretchedness now it is all past happy oh how I should like to see her do you think her pretty Monsieur Le Mayor is not my daughter beautiful you must have been very cold in that diligence could she not be brought for just one little instant she might be taken away directly afterwards tell me you are the master it could be so if you chose he took her hand cosette is beautiful he said cosette is well you shall see her soon but calm yourself you are talking with too much vivacity and you are throwing your arms out from under the clothes and that makes you cough in fact fits of coughing interrupted Fontan at nearly every word Fontan did not murmur she feared that she had injured by her too passionate lamentation the confidence which he was desirous of inspiring and she began to talk of indifferent things Mont-Fermel is quite pretty is it not people go there on pleasure parties in summer Arthur Thénardier is prosperous there are not many travelers in their parts that in of theirs is sort of a cook shop Monsieur Madeleine was still holding her hand and gazing at her with anxiety was evident that he had come to tell her things before which his mind now hesitated the doctor having finished his visit retired sister Sainte-Paris remained alone with them but in the midst of this pause Fontan exclaimed I hear her Mont-Dieu I hear her she stretched out her arm to enjoy silence about her held her breath and began to listen with rapture it was a child playing in the yard the child of the porters or of some work woman it was one of those accidents which are always occurring and which seem to form a part of the mysterious stage setting of mournful scenes the child a little girl was going and coming running to warm herself laughing singing at the top of her voice alas in what are the plays of children not intermingled it was this little girl whom Fontan heard singing oh she resumed it is my cassette I recognize her voice the child retreated as it had come the voice died away Fontan listened for a while longer then her face clouded over and Monsieur Madeleine heard her say in a low voice that doctor is not to allow me to see my daughter that man has an evil countenance that he has but the smiling background of her thoughts came to the front again she continued to talk to herself with her head resting on the pillow how happy we are going to be we shall have a little garden the very first thing Monsieur Madeleine has promised it to me my daughter will play in the garden she must know her letters by this time I will make her spell she will run over the grass after butterflies I will watch her then she will take her first communion ah when will she take her first communion she began to reckon on her fingers 1, 2, 3, 4 she is 7 years old in 5 years she will have a white veil and open work stockings she will look like a little woman oh my good sister you do not know how foolish I become when I think of my daughter's first communion she began to laugh he had released Fontaine's hand he listened to her words as one listens to the sighing of the breeze with his eyes on the ground his mind absorbed in reflection which had no bottom all at once she ceased speaking and this caused him to raise his head mechanically Fontaine had become terrible she no longer spoke she no longer breathed she had raised herself to a sitting posture her thin shoulder emerged from her chemise her face which had been radiant but a moment before was ghastly she had fixed her eyes rendered large with terror on something alarming at the other extremity of the room good god he exclaimed what ails you Fontaine she made no reply she did not remove her eyes from the object which she seemed to see she removed one hand from his arm and with the other made him a sign to look behind him he turned to her and of book eight chapter two recording by Clark Bell Tucson, Arizona book number eight chapter three of Les Miserables translated by Isabel F. Hapgood this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Graham Jolliff Les Miserables by Victor Hugo book number eight that counter blow chapter three Javert satisfied this is what had taken place the half hour after midnight had just struck when Monsieur Madeleine quitted the Hall of the Sizzies in Eras he regained his in just in time to set out again by the mail wagon in which he had engaged his place a little before six o'clock in the morning he had arrived at Montreux-Semaire and his first care had been to post a letter to Monsieur Lafitte then to enter the infirmary and see Fontaine however he had hardly quitted the audience Hall of the Court of the Sizzies when the district attorney recovering from his first shock had taken the word to deplore the mad deed of the Honourable Mayor of Montreux-Semaire to declare that his convictions had not been in the least modified by that curious incident which would be explained thereafter and to demand in the meantime the condemnation of the Jean Mathieu who was evidently the real Jean Verjean the district attorney's persistence was visibly at variance with the sentiments of everyone of the public, of the court and of the jury the council for the defence had some difficulty in refuting this harem and in establishing that in consequence of the revelations of Monsieur Madeleine that is to say of the real Jean Verjean the aspect of the matter had been thoroughly altered and that the jury had before their eyes now only an innocent man thence the lawyer had drawn up some epiphanemas not very fresh unfortunately upon judicial errors etc etc the president in his summing up had joined the council for the defence and in a few minutes the jury had thrown Jean Mathieu out of the case nevertheless the district attorney was bent on having a Jean Verjean and as he had no longer Jean Mathieu he took Madeleine immediately after Jean Mathieu had been set at liberty the district attorney shut himself up with the president and conferred as to the necessity of seizing the person of Monsieur Le Maire of Montréal-sur-Mer this phrase in which there was a great deal of as the district attorneys written with his own hand on the minutes of his report to the attorney general his first emotion having passed off the president did not offer many objections justice must after all take its course and then when all was said although the president was a kindly and a tolerably intelligent man he was at the same time a devoted and almost an ardent royalist and he had been shocked to hear the mayor of Montréal-sur-Mer say the emperor and not burn apart when alluding to the landing at Cairns the order for his arrest was accordingly dispatched the district attorney forwarded it to Montréal-sur-Mer the messenger at full speed and entrusted its execution to police inspector Javert the reader knows that Javert had returned to Montréal-sur-Mer immediately after having given his deposition Javert was just getting out of bed when the messenger handed him the order of arrest and the command to produce the prisoner the messenger himself was a very clever member of the police who in two words Javert of what had taken place at Arras the order of arrest signed by the district attorney was couched in these words inspector Javert will apprehend the body of the S. Madeleine Mayor of Montréal-sur-Mer who in this day's session of the court was recognised as the liberated convict Jean Verjean anyone who did not know Javert and who had chance to see him at the moment when he penetrated the anti-chamber of the infirmary could have divined nothing of what had taken place and would have thought his air the most ordinary in the world he was cool calm, grave his grey hair was perfectly smoothed upon his temples and he had just mounted the stairs with his habitual deliberation anyone who was thoroughly acquainted with him and who had examined him attentively at the moment would have shuddered the buckle of his leather stock was under his left ear instead of at the nape of his neck this portrayed unwanted agitation Javert was a complete character who never had a wrinkle in his duty or in his uniform methodical with malefactors rigid with the buttons of his coat that he should have set the buckle of his stock awry it was indispensable that there should have taken place in him one of those emotions which may be designated as internal earthquakes he had come in a simple way had made a requisition on the neighbouring post for a corporal and for soldiers had left the soldiers in the courtyard had had Fontaine's room pointed out to him by the fortress who was utterly unsuspicious accustomed as she was to seeing armed men inquiring for the men arriving at Fontaine's chamber Javert turned the handle pushed the door open with the gentleness of the sick nurse or a police spy and entered properly speaking he did not enter he stood erect in the half open door his hat on his head and his left hand thrust into his coat which was buttoned up to the chin in the bend of his elbow the leaden hand of his enormous cane which was hidden behind him could be seen thus he remained for nearly a minute without his presence being perceived all at once Fontaine raised her eyes saw him and made Monsieur the Madeline turn around the instant that Madeline's glance encountered Javert's glance Javert without stirring without moving from his post without approaching him became terrible no human sentiment can be as terrible as joy it was the visage of a demon who had just found his damned soul the satisfaction of at last getting hold of Jean Verjean caused all that was in his soul to appear in his countenance the depths having been stirred up mounted to the surface the humiliation of having in some slight degree lost the scent and of having indulged for a few moments in an era with regard to Chant-Mathieu dressed by pride at having so well and accurately divined in the first place and of having for so long cherished a just instinct Javert's content shone forth in his sovereign attitude the deformity of triumph overspread that narrow brow all the demonstrations of horror which a satisfied face can afford were there Javert was in heaven at that moment without putting the thing clearly to himself but with a confused intuition of the necessity of his presence and of his success he Javert personified justice light and truth in their celestial function of crushing out evil behind him and around him at an infinite distance he had authority, reason the case judged the legal conscience the public prosecution all the stars he was protecting order he was causing the law to yield up its thunders he was avenging society he was lending a helping hand to the absolute he was standing erect in the midst of a glory there existed in his victory a remnant of defiance and of combat erect haughty brilliant he flaunted abroad in open day the superhuman bestiality of a ferocious archangel the terrible shadow of the action which he was accomplishing caused the vague flash of the social sword to be visible in his clenched fist happy and indignant he held his heel upon crime, vice, rebellion, perdition, hell he was radiant he exterminated he smiled and there was an incontestable grandeur in this monstrous saint michael Javert though frightful had nothing noble about him probity sincerity candor, conviction the sense of duty are things which may become hideous when wrongly directed but which even when hideous remain grand their majesty, the majesty peculiar to the human conscience clings to them in the midst of horror the issues which have one vice error the honest, pitiless joy of a fanatic in the full flood of his atrocity preserves a certain legubiously venerable radiance without himself suspecting the fact Javert in his formidable happiness was to be pitied as is every ignorant man who triumphs nothing could be so poignant as this face wherein was displayed all that may be designated as the evil of the good End of book number 8 Chapter 3 Recording by Graham Jolliff Koyurgl, Australia Book 8 Chapter 4 of Les Miserables by Victor Hugo Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Graham Jolliff Fontaine had not seen Javert since the day on which the mayor had torn her from the man her ailing brain comprehended nothing but the only thing which she did not doubt was that he had come to get her she could not endure that terrible face she felt her life quitting her she hid her face in both hands and shrieked in her anguish Monsieur Madeleine save me Jean Verjean we shall henceforth not speak of him otherwise had risen he said to Fontaine in the gentlest and calmest of voices Be at ease it is not for you that he has come then he addressed Javert and said I know what you want Javert replied be quick about it there lay in the inflection of voice which accompanied these words something indescribably fierce and frenzied Javert did not say be quick about it he said no orthography can do justice to the accent with which it was uttered was no longer a human word it was a roar he did not proceed according to his custom he did not enter into the matter he exhibited no warrant of arrest in his eyes Jean Valjean was a sort of mysterious combatant who was not to be laid hands upon a wrestler in the dark whom he had had in his grasp for the last five years without being able to throw him this arrest was not a beginning but an end he confined himself to saying be quick about it as he spoke thus he did not advance a single step he hurled Jean Valjean a glance which he threw out like a grappling hook and with which he was accustomed to draw wretches violently to him it was this glance which Fontaine had felt penetrating to the very marrow of her bones two months previously at Javert's exclamation Fontaine opened her eyes once more but the mare was there what had she to fear Javert advanced to the middle of the room and cried see here now art thou coming the unhappy woman glanced about her no one was present accepting the nun and the mare to whom could that abject use of thou be addressed to her only she shuddered then she beheld the most unprecedented thing a thing so unprecedented that nothing equal to it had appeared to her even in the blackest deliriums of fever she beheld Javert the police spy sees the mare by the collar she saw the mare bow his head it seemed to her that the world was coming to an end Javert had in fact grasped Jean Valjean by the collar Monsieur le maire shrieked Fontaine Javert burst out laughing with that frightful laugh which displayed all his gums there is no longer any Monsieur le maire here Jean Valjean made no attempt to disengage the hand which grasped the collar of his coat he said Javert Javert interrupted him call me Mr. Inspector Monsieur C'est Jean Valjean I should like to say a word to you in private a loud say it a loud replied Javert people are in the habit of talking a loud to me Jean Valjean went on in a lower tone I have a request to make of you I tell you to speak loud you alone should hear it what difference does that make to me I shall not listen Jean Valjean turned towards him and said very rapidly and in a very low voice grant me three days grace three days in which to go and fetch the child of this unhappy woman I will pay whatever is necessary you shall accompany me if you choose you are making sport of me come now I did not think you such a fool you ask me to give you three days in which to run away you say that it is for the purpose of fetching that creature's child that's good that's really capital Quentin was seized with a fit of trembling my child she cried go and fetch my child she is not here then answer me sister where is Cosette I want my child Monsieur Madeleine Monsieur La Mer Javert stamped his foot and now there's the other one will you hold your tongue you hussy it's a pretty sort of place where convicts and magistrates and where women of the town are cared for like countesses ah but we are going to change all that it is high time he stared intently at Quentin and added once more taking into his grasp Jean Valjean's cravat shirt and collar I tell you that there is no Monsieur Madeleine and that there is no Monsieur La Mer there is a thief a brigand a convict named Jean Valjean and I have him in my grasp that's what there is Quentin raised herself in her bed with a bound supporting herself on her stiffened arms and on both hands she gazed at Jean Valjean she gazed at Javert she gazed at the nun she opened her mouth as though to speak a rattle proceeded from the depths of her throat her teeth chattered she stretched out her arms in her agony opening her hands convulsively and fumbling about her like a drowning person suddenly fell back on her pillow her head struck the headboard of the bed and fell forwards on her breast with gaping mouth and staring sightless eyes she was dead Jean Valjean laid his hand upon the detaining hand of Javert and opened it as he would have opened the hand of a baby and then he said to Javert you have murdered that woman let's have an end of this shout of Javert in a fury I am not here to listen to argument let us economise 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 the twinkling wrenched off the headpiece 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 Fontaine'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 the 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 doorpost 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 Fontaine 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 Fontaine 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 pointers to which there exists no doubt is that sister simplicity the sole witness of the incident often said that at the moment that Jean Valjean whispered in Fontaine'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 Fontaine'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 Fontaine's face seems strangely illuminated at that moment death that signifies entrance into the great light Fontaine'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 End of Book 8, Chapter 4 Recording by Graham Jolliff Coyogle, Australia Book 8, Chapter 5 of Les Miserables Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Joel Poringa Les Miserables by Victor Hugo Book 8, The Counter Blow Chapter 5 A Suitable Tomb Javert deposited Jean Valjean in the city prison The arrest of Monsieur Madeleine occasioned a sensation, or rather an extraordinary commotion in Montréal-sur-Mer We are sorry that we cannot conceal the fact that at the single word he was a convict nearly everyone 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 the quarters of the town You don't know he was a liberated convict Who? The mayor Bah! Monsieur Madeleine? Yes, really His name was not Madeleine at all He had a frightful name Béjan Bougain Ah, good God! He has been 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 the man was too good too perfect, too affected He refused the cross He bestowed sews on all the little scamps he came across I always thought there was some evil history back of all that The drawing-rooms particularly abounded in remarks of this nature One old lady a subscriber to the drapeau blanc made the following remark the depth of which it is impossible to fathom I am not sorry it would be a lesson to the Bonapartists It was thus that the phantom which had been called Mr. Madeleine vanished from Montrées-sur-Mer Only three or four persons in all the town remained faithful to his memory The old fortress who had served him was among the number On the evening of that day the worthy old woman was sitting in her lodge still in a thorough fright and absorbed in sad reflections The factory had been closed all day The carriage-gate was bolted the street was deserted There was no one in the house but the two nuns Sister Perpétrué and Sister Simples who were watching beside the body of Fantine Towards the hour when Mr. Madeleine was accustomed to return home the good fortress rose mechanically took from a drawer the key of Mr. Madeleine's chamber and the flat candlestick on the evening to go up to his quarters Then she hung the key on the nail once he was accustomed to take it and set the candlestick on one side as though she was expecting him Then she sat down again on her chair and became absorbed in thought once more The poor good old woman had done all this without being conscious of it It was only at the expiration of two hours that she roused herself from her reverie and exclaimed hold my good Jesus and I hung his key on the nail At that moment the small window in the lodge opened a hand passed through seized the key and the candlestick and lighted the taper at the candle which was burning there The fortress raised her eyes and stood there with gaping mouth and a shriek which she confined to her throat She knew that hand, that arm the sleeve of that coat It was Monsieur Madeleine It was several seconds before she could speak She had a seizure as she said herself when she related the adventure afterwards Good God, Monsieur Le Maire She cried at last I thought you were She stopped The conclusion of her sentence would have been lacking in respect towards the beginning Jean Valjean was still Monsieur Le Maire to her He finished her thought In prison said he I was there I broke a bar of one of the windows I let myself drop from the top of a roof and here I am I am going up to my room Go and find Sister Semplesse for me She is with that poor woman, no doubt The old woman obeyed and all haste He gave her no orders He was quite sure that she would guard him better than he should guard himself He found out how he had managed to get into the courtyard without opening the big gates He had and always carried about him a pass key which opened a little side door but he must have been searched and his latch key must have been taken from him This point was never explained He ascended the staircase leading to his chamber On arriving at the top he left his candle on the top step of his stairs opened his door with very little noise went and closed his window and his shutters by feeling then returned for his candle and re-entered his room It was a useful precaution it will be recollected that his window could be seen from the street He cast a glance about him at his table, at his chair at his bed which had not been disturbed for three days No trace of the disorder of the night before last remained The fortress had done up his room only she had picked out of the ashes and placed neatly on the table the two iron ends of the cudgel and the forty-sue piece which had been blackened by the fire He took a sheet of paper on which he wrote These are the two tips of my iron shod cudgel and the forty-sue piece stolen from Little Gervais which I mentioned at the court of ass sizes and he arranged this piece of paper the bits of iron and the coin in such a way that they were the first things to be seen on entering the room He remembered he pulled out one of his old shirts which he tore in pieces In the strips of linen, thus prepared he wrapped the two silver candlesticks He betrayed neither haste nor agitation and while he was wrapping up the bishop's candlesticks he nibbled at a piece of black bread it was probably the prison bread which he had carried with him in his flight This was proved by the crumbs which were found on the floor of the room when the authorities made an examination later on There came two taps at the door Come in, said he It was, Sister Samples She was pale her eyes were red the candle which she carried trembled in her hand The peculiar feature of the violence of destiny is that however polished or cool we may be they ring human nature from our very bowels and force it to reappear on the surface The emotions of that day had turned the nun into a woman once more She had wept and she was trembling Jean Valjean had just finished writing a few lines on a paper which he handed to the nun, saying Sister, you will give this to Monsieur Le Curé The paper was not folded She cast a glance upon it You can read it Said he She read I beg Monsieur Le Curé to keep an eye on all that I leave behind me He will be so good as to pay out of it the expenses of my trial and of the funeral of the woman who died yesterday The rest is for the poor The sister tried to speak but she only managed to stammer a few inarticulate sounds She succeeded in saying however Does not Monsieur Le Maire desire to take a last look at that poor unhappy woman Said he I am pursued It would only end in their arresting me in that room and that would disturb her He had hardly finished when a loud noise became audible on the staircase They heard a tumult of ascending footsteps and the old fortress saying in her loudest and most piercing tones My good sir I swear to you by the good God that not a soul has entered this house all day nor all the evening and that I have not even left the door A man responded but there is light in that room nevertheless They recognized Javert's voice The chamber was so arranged that the door in opening masked the corner of the wall on the right Jean Valjean blew out the light and placed himself in this angle Sister Samples fell on her knees near the table The door opened Javert entered The whispers of many men and the protestations of the fortress were inevitable in the corridor The nun did not raise her eyes She was praying The candle was on the chimney piece but gave very little light Javert caught sight of the nun and halted in amazement It will be remembered that the fundamental point in Javert, his element the very air he breathed was veneration for all authority This was impregnable and admitted of neither objection nor restriction In his eyes of course the ecclesiastical authority was the chief of all He was religious superficial and correct on this point as on all others In his eyes a priest was a mind who never makes a mistake A nun was a creature who never sins They were souls walled in from this world with a single door which never opened except to allow the truth to pass through On perceiving the sister his first movement was to retire but there was also another duty which bound him and impelled him imperiously in the opposite direction His second movement was to remain and to venture on at least one question This was sister Simples who had never told a lie in her life Javert knew it and held her in special veneration in consequence Sister said he in this room a terrible moment ensued during which the poor fortress felt as though she should faint the sister raised her eyes and answered yes then, resumed Javert you will excuse me if I persist it is my duty you have not seen a certain person a man this evening he has escaped, we are in search of him that is Jean Vengeant you have not seen him she lied no she lied she had lied twice in succession one after the other without hesitation promptly as a person does when sacrificing herself pardon me said Javert and he retired with a deep bow oh sainted maid you left this world many years ago you have rejoined your sisters the virgins and your brothers may this lie be counted to your credit in paradise the sisters affirmation was for Javert so decisive a thing that he did not even observe the singularity of that candle which had but just been extinguished and which was still smoking on the table an hour later a man marching amid trees and mists was rapidly departing from Montrées-sur-Mer in the direction of Paris that man was Jean Vengeant it has been established by the testimony of two or three carters who met him that he was carrying a bundle that he was dressed in a blouse where had he obtained that blouse no one ever found out but an aged workman had died in the infirmary of the factory a few days before leaving behind him nothing but his blouse perhaps that was the one one last word about Fontaine we all have a mother the earth Fontaine was given back to that mother the cuiré thought that he was doing right and perhaps he really was in reserving as much money as possible from what Jean Vengeant had left for the poor who was concerned after all a convict and a woman of the town that is why he had a very simple funeral for Fontaine and reduced it to that strictly necessary form known as the popper's grave so Fontaine was buried in the free corner of the cemetery which belongs to anybody and everybody and where the poor are lost fortunately God knows where to find the soul again Fontaine was laid in the shade among the first bones that came to hand she was subjected to the promiscuousness of ashes she was thrown into the public grave her grave resembled her bed end of volume one end of book eight and end of chapter five