บทที่ บทที่ 330 · EXPLANATION

On the day of the sixth of June, a battue of the sewers had been

ordered. It was feared that the vanquished might have taken to them for

refuge, and Prefect Gisquet was to search occult Paris while General

Bugeaud swept public Paris; a double and connected operation which

exacted a double strategy on the part of the public force, represented

above by the army and below by the police. Three squads of agents and

sewermen explored the subterranean drain of Paris, the first on the

right bank, the second on the left bank, the third in the city. The

agents of police were armed with carabines, with bludgeons, swords and

poignards.

That which was directed at Jean Valjean at that moment, was the lantern

of the patrol of the right bank.

This patrol had just visited the curving gallery and the three blind

alleys which lie beneath the Rue du Cadran. While they were passing

their lantern through the depths of these blind alleys, Jean Valjean

had encountered on his path the entrance to the gallery, had perceived

that it was narrower than the principal passage and had not penetrated

thither. He had passed on. The police, on emerging from the gallery du

Cadran, had fancied that they heard the sound of footsteps in the

direction of the belt sewer. They were, in fact, the steps of Jean

Valjean. The sergeant in command of the patrol had raised his lantern,

and the squad had begun to gaze into the mist in the direction whence

the sound proceeded.

This was an indescribable moment for Jean Valjean.

Happily, if he saw the lantern well, the lantern saw him but ill. It

was light and he was shadow. He was very far off, and mingled with the

darkness of the place. He hugged the wall and halted. Moreover, he did

not understand what it was that was moving behind him. The lack of

sleep and food, and his emotions had caused him also to pass into the

state of a visionary. He beheld a gleam, and around that gleam, forms.

What was it? He did not comprehend.

Jean Valjean having paused, the sound ceased.

The men of the patrol listened, and heard nothing, they looked and saw

nothing. They held a consultation.

There existed at that epoch at this point of the Montmartre sewer a

sort of crossroads called _de service_, which was afterwards

suppressed, on account of the little interior lake which formed there,

swallowing up the torrent of rain in heavy storms. The patrol could

form a cluster in this open space. Jean Valjean saw these spectres form

a sort of circle. These bull-dogs’ heads approached each other closely

and whispered together.

The result of this council held by the watch dogs was, that they had

been mistaken, that there had been no noise, that it was useless to get

entangled in the belt sewer, that it would only be a waste of time, but

that they ought to hasten towards Saint-Merry; that if there was

anything to do, and any “bousingot” to track out, it was in that

quarter.

From time to time, parties re-sole their old insults. In 1832, the word

bousingot formed the interim between the word jacobin, which had become

obsolete, and the word demagogue which has since rendered such

excellent service.

The sergeant gave orders to turn to the left, towards the watershed of

the Seine.

If it had occurred to them to separate into two squads, and to go in

both directions, Jean Valjean would have been captured. All hung on

that thread. It is probable that the instructions of the prefecture,

foreseeing a possibility of combat and insurgents in force, had

forbidden the patrol to part company. The patrol resumed its march,

leaving Jean Valjean behind it. Of all this movement, Jean Valjean

perceived nothing, except the eclipse of the lantern which suddenly

wheeled round.

Before taking his departure, the sergeant, in order to acquit his

policeman’s conscience, discharged his gun in the direction of Jean

Valjean. The detonation rolled from echo to echo in the crypt, like the

rumbling of that titanic entrail. A bit of plaster which fell into the

stream and splashed up the water a few paces away from Jean Valjean,

warned him that the ball had struck the arch over his head.

Slow and measured steps resounded for some time on the timber work,

gradually dying away as they retreated to a greater distance; the group

of black forms vanished, a glimmer of light oscillated and floated,

communicating to the vault a reddish glow which grew fainter, then

disappeared; the silence became profound once more, the obscurity

became complete, blindness and deafness resumed possession of the

shadows; and Jean Valjean, not daring to stir as yet, remained for a

long time leaning with his back against the wall, with straining ears,

and dilated pupils, watching the disappearance of that phantom patrol.