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<h2> CHAPTER XIII—THE SOLUTION OF SOME QUESTIONS CONNECTED WITH THE </h2>
<p>MUNICIPAL POLICE</p>
<p>Javert thrust aside the spectators, broke the circle, and set out with
long strides towards the police station, which is situated at the
extremity of the square, dragging the wretched woman after him. She
yielded mechanically. Neither he nor she uttered a word. The cloud of
spectators followed, jesting, in a paroxysm of delight. Supreme misery an
occasion for obscenity.</p>
<p>On arriving at the police station, which was a low room, warmed by a
stove, with a glazed and grated door opening on the street, and guarded by
a detachment, Javert opened the door, entered with Fantine, and shut the
door behind him, to the great disappointment of the curious, who raised
themselves on tiptoe, and craned their necks in front of the thick glass
of the station-house, in their effort to see. Curiosity is a sort of
gluttony. To see is to devour.</p>
<p>On entering, Fantine fell down in a corner, motionless and mute, crouching
down like a terrified dog.</p>
<p>The sergeant of the guard brought a lighted candle to the table. Javert
seated himself, drew a sheet of stamped paper from his pocket, and began
to write.</p>
<p>This class of women is consigned by our laws entirely to the discretion of
the police. The latter do what they please, punish them, as seems good to
them, and confiscate at their will those two sorry things which they
entitle their industry and their liberty. Javert was impassive; his grave
face betrayed no emotion whatever. Nevertheless, he was seriously and
deeply preoccupied. It was one of those moments when he was exercising
without control, but subject to all the scruples of a severe conscience,
his redoubtable discretionary power. At that moment he was conscious that
his police agent's stool was a tribunal. He was entering judgment. He
judged and condemned. He summoned all the ideas which could possibly exist
in his mind, around the great thing which he was doing. The more he
examined the deed of this woman, the more shocked he felt. It was evident
that he had just witnessed the commission of a crime. He had just beheld,
yonder, in the street, society, in the person of a freeholder and an
elector, insulted and attacked by a creature who was outside all pales. A
prostitute had made an attempt on the life of a citizen. He had seen that,
he, Javert. He wrote in silence.</p>
<p>When he had finished he signed the paper, folded it, and said to the
sergeant of the guard, as he handed it to him, "Take three men and conduct
this creature to jail."</p>
<p>Then, turning to Fantine, "You are to have six months of it." The unhappy
woman shuddered.</p>
<p>"Six months! six months of prison!" she exclaimed. "Six months in which to
earn seven sous a day! But what will become of Cosette? My daughter! my
daughter! But I still owe the Thenardiers over a hundred francs; do you
know that, Monsieur Inspector?"</p>
<p>She dragged herself across the damp floor, among the muddy boots of all
those men, without rising, with clasped hands, and taking great strides on
her knees.</p>
<p>"Monsieur Javert," said she, "I beseech your mercy. I assure you that I
was not in the wrong. If you had seen the beginning, you would have seen.
I swear to you by the good God that I was not to blame! That gentleman,
the bourgeois, whom I do not know, put snow in my back. Has any one the
right to put snow down our backs when we are walking along peaceably, and
doing no harm to any one? I am rather ill, as you see. And then, he had
been saying impertinent things to me for a long time: 'You are ugly! you
have no teeth!' I know well that I have no longer those teeth. I did
nothing; I said to myself, 'The gentleman is amusing himself.' I was
honest with him; I did not speak to him. It was at that moment that he put
the snow down my back. Monsieur Javert, good Monsieur Inspector! is there
not some person here who saw it and can tell you that this is quite true?
Perhaps I did wrong to get angry. You know that one is not master of one's
self at the first moment. One gives way to vivacity; and then, when some
one puts something cold down your back just when you are not expecting it!
I did wrong to spoil that gentleman's hat. Why did he go away? I would ask
his pardon. Oh, my God! It makes no difference to me whether I ask his
pardon. Do me the favor to-day, for this once, Monsieur Javert. Hold! you
do not know that in prison one can earn only seven sous a day; it is not
the government's fault, but seven sous is one's earnings; and just fancy,
I must pay one hundred francs, or my little girl will be sent to me. Oh,
my God! I cannot have her with me. What I do is so vile! Oh, my Cosette!
Oh, my little angel of the Holy Virgin! what will become of her, poor
creature? I will tell you: it is the Thenardiers, inn-keepers, peasants;
and such people are unreasonable. They want money. Don't put me in prison!
You see, there is a little girl who will be turned out into the street to
get along as best she may, in the very heart of the winter; and you must
have pity on such a being, my good Monsieur Javert. If she were older, she
might earn her living; but it cannot be done at that age. I am not a bad
woman at bottom. It is not cowardliness and gluttony that have made me
what I am. If I have drunk brandy, it was out of misery. I do not love it;
but it benumbs the senses. When I was happy, it was only necessary to
glance into my closets, and it would have been evident that I was not a
coquettish and untidy woman. I had linen, a great deal of linen. Have pity
on me, Monsieur Javert!"</p>
<p>She spoke thus, rent in twain, shaken with sobs, blinded with tears, her
neck bare, wringing her hands, and coughing with a dry, short cough,
stammering softly with a voice of agony. Great sorrow is a divine and
terrible ray, which transfigures the unhappy. At that moment Fantine had
become beautiful once more. From time to time she paused, and tenderly
kissed the police agent's coat. She would have softened a heart of
granite; but a heart of wood cannot be softened.</p>
<p>"Come!" said Javert, "I have heard you out. Have you entirely finished?
You will get six months. Now march! The Eternal Father in person could do
nothing more."</p>
<p>At these solemn words, "the Eternal Father in person could do nothing
more," she understood that her fate was sealed. She sank down, murmuring,
"Mercy!"</p>
<p>Javert turned his back.</p>
<p>The soldiers seized her by the arms.</p>
<p>A few moments earlier a man had entered, but no one had paid any heed to
him. He shut the door, leaned his back against it, and listened to
Fantine's despairing supplications.</p>
<p>At the instant when the soldiers laid their hands upon the unfortunate
woman, who would not rise, he emerged from the shadow, and said:—</p>
<p>"One moment, if you please."</p>
<p>Javert raised his eyes and recognized M. Madeleine. He removed his hat,
and, saluting him with a sort of aggrieved awkwardness:—</p>
<p>"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor—"</p>
<p>The words "Mr. Mayor" produced a curious effect upon Fantine. She rose to
her feet with one bound, like a spectre springing from the earth, thrust
aside the soldiers with both arms, walked straight up to M. Madeleine
before any one could prevent her, and gazing intently at him, with a
bewildered air, she cried:—</p>
<p>"Ah! so it is you who are M. le Maire!"</p>
<p>Then she burst into a laugh, and spit in his face.</p>
<p>M. Madeleine wiped his face, and said:—</p>
<p>"Inspector Javert, set this woman at liberty."</p>
<p>Javert felt that he was on the verge of going mad. He experienced at that
moment, blow upon blow and almost simultaneously, the most violent
emotions which he had ever undergone in all his life. To see a woman of
the town spit in the mayor's face was a thing so monstrous that, in his
most daring flights of fancy, he would have regarded it as a sacrilege to
believe it possible. On the other hand, at the very bottom of his thought,
he made a hideous comparison as to what this woman was, and as to what
this mayor might be; and then he, with horror, caught a glimpse of I know
not what simple explanation of this prodigious attack. But when he beheld
that mayor, that magistrate, calmly wipe his face and say, "Set this woman
at liberty," he underwent a sort of intoxication of amazement; thought and
word failed him equally; the sum total of possible astonishment had been
exceeded in his case. He remained mute.</p>
<p>The words had produced no less strange an effect on Fantine. She raised
her bare arm, and clung to the damper of the stove, like a person who is
reeling. Nevertheless, she glanced about her, and began to speak in a low
voice, as though talking to herself:—</p>
<p>"At liberty! I am to be allowed to go! I am not to go to prison for six
months! Who said that? It is not possible that any one could have said
that. I did not hear aright. It cannot have been that monster of a mayor!
Was it you, my good Monsieur Javert, who said that I was to be set free?
Oh, see here! I will tell you about it, and you will let me go. That
monster of a mayor, that old blackguard of a mayor, is the cause of all.
Just imagine, Monsieur Javert, he turned me out! all because of a pack of
rascally women, who gossip in the workroom. If that is not a horror, what
is? To dismiss a poor girl who is doing her work honestly! Then I could no
longer earn enough, and all this misery followed. In the first place,
there is one improvement which these gentlemen of the police ought to
make, and that is, to prevent prison contractors from wronging poor
people. I will explain it to you, you see: you are earning twelve sous at
shirt-making, the price falls to nine sous; and it is not enough to live
on. Then one has to become whatever one can. As for me, I had my little
Cosette, and I was actually forced to become a bad woman. Now you
understand how it is that that blackguard of a mayor caused all the
mischief. After that I stamped on that gentleman's hat in front of the
officers' cafe; but he had spoiled my whole dress with snow. We women have
but one silk dress for evening wear. You see that I did not do wrong
deliberately—truly, Monsieur Javert; and everywhere I behold women
who are far more wicked than I, and who are much happier. O Monsieur
Javert! it was you who gave orders that I am to be set free, was it not?
Make inquiries, speak to my landlord; I am paying my rent now; they will
tell you that I am perfectly honest. Ah! my God! I beg your pardon; I have
unintentionally touched the damper of the stove, and it has made it
smoke."</p>
<p>M. Madeleine listened to her with profound attention. While she was
speaking, he fumbled in his waistcoat, drew out his purse and opened it.
It was empty. He put it back in his pocket. He said to Fantine, "How much
did you say that you owed?"</p>
<p>Fantine, who was looking at Javert only, turned towards him:—</p>
<p>"Was I speaking to you?"</p>
<p>Then, addressing the soldiers:—</p>
<p>"Say, you fellows, did you see how I spit in his face? Ah! you old wretch
of a mayor, you came here to frighten me, but I'm not afraid of you. I am
afraid of Monsieur Javert. I am afraid of my good Monsieur Javert!"</p>
<p>So saying, she turned to the inspector again:—</p>
<p>"And yet, you see, Mr. Inspector, it is necessary to be just. I understand
that you are just, Mr. Inspector; in fact, it is perfectly simple: a man
amuses himself by putting snow down a woman's back, and that makes the
officers laugh; one must divert themselves in some way; and we—well,
we are here for them to amuse themselves with, of course! And then, you,
you come; you are certainly obliged to preserve order, you lead off the
woman who is in the wrong; but on reflection, since you are a good man,
you say that I am to be set at liberty; it is for the sake of the little
one, for six months in prison would prevent my supporting my child. 'Only,
don't do it again, you hussy!' Oh! I won't do it again, Monsieur Javert!
They may do whatever they please to me now; I will not stir. But to-day,
you see, I cried because it hurt me. I was not expecting that snow from
the gentleman at all; and then as I told you, I am not well; I have a
cough; I seem to have a burning ball in my stomach, and the doctor tells
me, 'Take care of yourself.' Here, feel, give me your hand; don't be
afraid—it is here."</p>
<p>She no longer wept, her voice was caressing; she placed Javert's coarse
hand on her delicate, white throat and looked smilingly at him.</p>
<p>All at once she rapidly adjusted her disordered garments, dropped the
folds of her skirt, which had been pushed up as she dragged herself along,
almost to the height of her knee, and stepped towards the door, saying to
the soldiers in a low voice, and with a friendly nod:—</p>
<p>"Children, Monsieur l'Inspecteur has said that I am to be released, and I
am going."</p>
<p>She laid her hand on the latch of the door. One step more and she would be
in the street.</p>
<p>Javert up to that moment had remained erect, motionless, with his eyes
fixed on the ground, cast athwart this scene like some displaced statue,
which is waiting to be put away somewhere.</p>
<p>The sound of the latch roused him. He raised his head with an expression
of sovereign authority, an expression all the more alarming in proportion
as the authority rests on a low level, ferocious in the wild beast,
atrocious in the man of no estate.</p>
<p>"Sergeant!" he cried, "don't you see that that jade is walking off! Who
bade you let her go?"</p>
<p>"I," said Madeleine.</p>
<p>Fantine trembled at the sound of Javert's voice, and let go of the latch
as a thief relinquishes the article which he has stolen. At the sound of
Madeleine's voice she turned around, and from that moment forth she
uttered no word, nor dared so much as to breathe freely, but her glance
strayed from Madeleine to Javert, and from Javert to Madeleine in turn,
according to which was speaking.</p>
<p>It was evident that Javert must have been exasperated beyond measure
before he would permit himself to apostrophize the sergeant as he had
done, after the mayor's suggestion that Fantine should be set at liberty.
Had he reached the point of forgetting the mayor's presence? Had he
finally declared to himself that it was impossible that any "authority"
should have given such an order, and that the mayor must certainly have
said one thing by mistake for another, without intending it? Or, in view
of the enormities of which he had been a witness for the past two hours,
did he say to himself, that it was necessary to recur to supreme
resolutions, that it was indispensable that the small should be made
great, that the police spy should transform himself into a magistrate,
that the policeman should become a dispenser of justice, and that, in this
prodigious extremity, order, law, morality, government, society in its
entirety, was personified in him, Javert?</p>
<p>However that may be, when M. Madeleine uttered that word, <i>I</i>, as we
have just heard, Police Inspector Javert was seen to turn toward the
mayor, pale, cold, with blue lips, and a look of despair, his whole body
agitated by an imperceptible quiver and an unprecedented occurrence, and
say to him, with downcast eyes but a firm voice:—</p>
<p>"Mr. Mayor, that cannot be."</p>
<p>"Why not?" said M. Madeleine.</p>
<p>"This miserable woman has insulted a citizen."</p>
<p>"Inspector Javert," replied the mayor, in a calm and conciliating tone,
"listen. You are an honest man, and I feel no hesitation in explaining
matters to you. Here is the true state of the case: I was passing through
the square just as you were leading this woman away; there were still
groups of people standing about, and I made inquiries and learned
everything; it was the townsman who was in the wrong and who should have
been arrested by properly conducted police."</p>
<p>Javert retorted:—</p>
<p>"This wretch has just insulted Monsieur le Maire."</p>
<p>"That concerns me," said M. Madeleine. "My own insult belongs to me, I
think. I can do what I please about it."</p>
<p>"I beg Monsieur le Maire's pardon. The insult is not to him but to the
law."</p>
<p>"Inspector Javert," replied M. Madeleine, "the highest law is conscience.
I have heard this woman; I know what I am doing."</p>
<p>"And I, Mr. Mayor, do not know what I see."</p>
<p>"Then content yourself with obeying."</p>
<p>"I am obeying my duty. My duty demands that this woman shall serve six
months in prison."</p>
<p>M. Madeleine replied gently:—</p>
<p>"Heed this well; she will not serve a single day."</p>
<p>At this decisive word, Javert ventured to fix a searching look on the
mayor and to say, but in a tone of voice that was still profoundly
respectful:—</p>
<p>"I am sorry to oppose Monsieur le Maire; it is for the first time in my
life, but he will permit me to remark that I am within the bounds of my
authority. I confine myself, since Monsieur le Maire desires it, to the
question of the gentleman. I was present. This woman flung herself on
Monsieur Bamatabnois, who is an elector and the proprietor of that
handsome house with a balcony, which forms the corner of the esplanade,
three stories high and entirely of cut stone. Such things as there are in
the world! In any case, Monsieur le Maire, this is a question of police
regulations in the streets, and concerns me, and I shall detain this woman
Fantine."</p>
<p>Then M. Madeleine folded his arms, and said in a severe voice which no one
in the town had heard hitherto:—</p>
<p>"The matter to which you refer is one connected with the municipal police.
According to the terms of articles nine, eleven, fifteen, and sixty-six of
the code of criminal examination, I am the judge. I order that this woman
shall be set at liberty."</p>
<p>Javert ventured to make a final effort.</p>
<p>"But, Mr. Mayor—"</p>
<p>"I refer you to article eighty-one of the law of the 13th of December,
1799, in regard to arbitrary detention."</p>
<p>"Monsieur le Maire, permit me—"</p>
<p>"Not another word."</p>
<p>"But—"</p>
<p>"Leave the room," said M. Madeleine.</p>
<p>Javert received the blow erect, full in the face, in his breast, like a
Russian soldier. He bowed to the very earth before the mayor and left the
room.</p>
<p>Fantine stood aside from the door and stared at him in amazement as he
passed.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, she also was the prey to a strange confusion. She had just
seen herself a subject of dispute between two opposing powers. She had
seen two men who held in their hands her liberty, her life, her soul, her
child, in combat before her very eyes; one of these men was drawing her
towards darkness, the other was leading her back towards the light. In
this conflict, viewed through the exaggerations of terror, these two men
had appeared to her like two giants; the one spoke like her demon, the
other like her good angel. The angel had conquered the demon, and, strange
to say, that which made her shudder from head to foot was the fact that
this angel, this liberator, was the very man whom she abhorred, that mayor
whom she had so long regarded as the author of all her woes, that
Madeleine! And at the very moment when she had insulted him in so hideous
a fashion, he had saved her! Had she, then, been mistaken? Must she change
her whole soul? She did not know; she trembled. She listened in
bewilderment, she looked on in affright, and at every word uttered by M.
Madeleine she felt the frightful shades of hatred crumble and melt within
her, and something warm and ineffable, indescribable, which was both joy,
confidence and love, dawn in her heart.</p>
<p>When Javert had taken his departure, M. Madeleine turned to her and said
to her in a deliberate voice, like a serious man who does not wish to weep
and who finds some difficulty in speaking:—</p>
<p>"I have heard you. I knew nothing about what you have mentioned. I believe
that it is true, and I feel that it is true. I was even ignorant of the
fact that you had left my shop. Why did you not apply to me? But here; I
will pay your debts, I will send for your child, or you shall go to her.
You shall live here, in Paris, or where you please. I undertake the care
of your child and yourself. You shall not work any longer if you do not
like. I will give all the money you require. You shall be honest and happy
once more. And listen! I declare to you that if all is as you say,—and
I do not doubt it,—you have never ceased to be virtuous and holy in
the sight of God. Oh! poor woman."</p>
<p>This was more than Fantine could bear. To have Cosette! To leave this life
of infamy. To live free, rich, happy, respectable with Cosette; to see all
these realities of paradise blossom of a sudden in the midst of her
misery. She stared stupidly at this man who was talking to her, and could
only give vent to two or three sobs, "Oh! Oh! Oh!"</p>
<p>Her limbs gave way beneath her, she knelt in front of M. Madeleine, and
before he could prevent her he felt her grasp his hand and press her lips
to it.</p>
<p>Then she fainted.</p>
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