Bab Bab 334 · THE FONTIS

Jean Valjean found himself in the presence of a fontis.

This sort of quagmire was common at that period in the subsoil of the

Champs-Élysées, difficult to handle in the hydraulic works and a bad

preservative of the subterranean constructions, on account of its

excessive fluidity. This fluidity exceeds even the inconsistency of the

sands of the Quartier Saint-Georges, which could only be conquered by a

stone construction on a concrete foundation, and the clayey strata,

infected with gas, of the Quartier des Martyrs, which are so liquid

that the only way in which a passage was effected under the gallery des

Martyrs was by means of a cast-iron pipe. When, in 1836, the old stone

sewer beneath the Faubourg Saint-Honoré, in which we now see Jean

Valjean, was demolished for the purpose of reconstructing it, the

quicksand, which forms the subsoil of the Champs-Élysées as far as the

Seine, presented such an obstacle, that the operation lasted nearly six

months, to the great clamor of the dwellers on the riverside,

particularly those who had hotels and carriages. The work was more than

unhealthy; it was dangerous. It is true that they had four months and a

half of rain, and three floods of the Seine.

The fontis which Jean Valjean had encountered was caused by the

downpour of the preceding day. The pavement, badly sustained by the

subjacent sand, had given way and had produced a stoppage of the water.

Infiltration had taken place, a slip had followed. The dislocated

bottom had sunk into the ooze. To what extent? Impossible to say. The

obscurity was more dense there than elsewhere. It was a pit of mire in

a cavern of night.

Jean Valjean felt the pavement vanishing beneath his feet. He entered

this slime. There was water on the surface, slime at the bottom. He

must pass it. To retrace his steps was impossible. Marius was dying,

and Jean Valjean exhausted. Besides, where was he to go? Jean Valjean

advanced. Moreover, the pit seemed, for the first few steps, not to be

very deep. But in proportion as he advanced, his feet plunged deeper.

Soon he had the slime up to his calves and water above his knees. He

walked on, raising Marius in his arms, as far above the water as he

could. The mire now reached to his knees, and the water to his waist.

He could no longer retreat. This mud, dense enough for one man, could

not, obviously, uphold two. Marius and Jean Valjean would have stood a

chance of extricating themselves singly. Jean Valjean continued to

advance, supporting the dying man, who was, perhaps, a corpse.

The water came up to his arm-pits; he felt that he was sinking; it was

only with difficulty that he could move in the depth of ooze which he

had now reached. The density, which was his support, was also an

obstacle. He still held Marius on high, and with an unheard-of

expenditure of force, he advanced still; but he was sinking. He had

only his head above the water now and his two arms holding up Marius.

In the old paintings of the deluge there is a mother holding her child

thus.

He sank still deeper, he turned his face to the rear, to escape the

water, and in order that he might be able to breathe; anyone who had

seen him in that gloom would have thought that what he beheld was a

mask floating on the shadows; he caught a faint glimpse above him of

the drooping head and livid face of Marius; he made a desperate effort

and launched his foot forward; his foot struck something solid; a point

of support. It was high time.

He straightened himself up, and rooted himself upon that point of

support with a sort of fury. This produced upon him the effect of the

first step in a staircase leading back to life.

The point of support, thus encountered in the mire at the supreme

moment, was the beginning of the other watershed of the pavement, which

had bent but had not given way, and which had curved under the water

like a plank and in a single piece. Well built pavements form a vault

and possess this sort of firmness. This fragment of the vaulting,

partly submerged, but solid, was a veritable inclined plane, and, once

on this plane, he was safe. Jean Valjean mounted this inclined plane

and reached the other side of the quagmire.

As he emerged from the water, he came in contact with a stone and fell

upon his knees. He reflected that this was but just, and he remained

there for some time, with his soul absorbed in words addressed to God.

He rose to his feet, shivering, chilled, foul-smelling, bowed beneath

the dying man whom he was dragging after him, all dripping with slime,

and his soul filled with a strange light.