Chương Chương 54 · THE BEGINNING OF REPOSE

M. Madeleine had Fantine removed to that infirmary which he had

established in his own house. He confided her to the sisters, who put

her to bed. A burning fever had come on. She passed a part of the night

in delirium and raving. At length, however, she fell asleep.

On the morrow, towards midday, Fantine awoke. She heard some one

breathing close to her bed; she drew aside the curtain and saw M.

Madeleine standing there and looking at something over her head. His

gaze was full of pity, anguish, and supplication. She followed its

direction, and saw that it was fixed on a crucifix which was nailed to

the wall.

Thenceforth, M. Madeleine was transfigured in Fantine’s eyes. He seemed

to her to be clothed in light. He was absorbed in a sort of prayer. She

gazed at him for a long time without daring to interrupt him. At last

she said timidly:—

“What are you doing?”

M. Madeleine had been there for an hour. He had been waiting for

Fantine to awake. He took her hand, felt of her pulse, and replied:—

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I have slept,” she replied; “I think that I am better. It is

nothing.”

He answered, responding to the first question which she had put to him

as though he had just heard it:—

“I was praying to the martyr there on high.”

And he added in his own mind, “For the martyr here below.”

M. Madeleine had passed the night and the morning in making inquiries.

He knew all now. He knew Fantine’s history in all its heart-rending

details. He went on:—

“You have suffered much, poor mother. Oh! do not complain; you now have

the dowry of the elect. It is thus that men are transformed into

angels. It is not their fault they do not know how to go to work

otherwise. You see this hell from which you have just emerged is the

first form of heaven. It was necessary to begin there.”

He sighed deeply. But she smiled on him with that sublime smile in

which two teeth were lacking.

That same night, Javert wrote a letter. The next morning be posted it

himself at the office of M. sur M. It was addressed to Paris, and the

superscription ran: _To Monsieur Chabouillet, Secretary of Monsieur le

Préfet of Police_. As the affair in the station-house had been bruited

about, the post-mistress and some other persons who saw the letter

before it was sent off, and who recognized Javert’s handwriting on the

cover, thought that he was sending in his resignation.

M. Madeleine made haste to write to the Thénardiers. Fantine owed them

one hundred and twenty francs. He sent them three hundred francs,

telling them to pay themselves from that sum, and to fetch the child

instantly to M. sur M., where her sick mother required her presence.

This dazzled Thénardier. “The devil!” said the man to his wife; “don’t

let’s allow the child to go. This lark is going to turn into a milch

cow. I see through it. Some ninny has taken a fancy to the mother.”

He replied with a very well drawn-up bill for five hundred and some odd

francs. In this memorandum two indisputable items figured up over three

hundred francs,—one for the doctor, the other for the apothecary who

had attended and physicked Éponine and Azelma through two long

illnesses. Cosette, as we have already said, had not been ill. It was

only a question of a trifling substitution of names. At the foot of the

memorandum Thénardier wrote, _Received on account, three hundred

francs_.

M. Madeleine immediately sent three hundred francs more, and wrote,

“Make haste to bring Cosette.”

“Christi!” said Thénardier, “let’s not give up the child.”

In the meantime, Fantine did not recover. She still remained in the

infirmary.

The sisters had at first only received and nursed “that woman” with

repugnance. Those who have seen the bas-reliefs of Rheims will recall

the inflation of the lower lip of the wise virgins as they survey the

foolish virgins. The ancient scorn of the vestals for the ambubajæ is

one of the most profound instincts of feminine dignity; the sisters

felt it with the double force contributed by religion. But in a few

days Fantine disarmed them. She said all kinds of humble and gentle

things, and the mother in her provoked tenderness. One day the sisters

heard her say amid her fever: “I have been a sinner; but when I have my

child beside me, it will be a sign that God has pardoned me. While I

was leading a bad life, I should not have liked to have my Cosette with

me; I could not have borne her sad, astonished eyes. It was for her

sake that I did evil, and that is why God pardons me. I shall feel the

benediction of the good God when Cosette is here. I shall gaze at her;

it will do me good to see that innocent creature. She knows nothing at

all. She is an angel, you see, my sisters. At that age the wings have

not fallen off.”

M. Madeleine went to see her twice a day, and each time she asked him:—

“Shall I see my Cosette soon?”

He answered:—

“To-morrow, perhaps. She may arrive at any moment. I am expecting her.”

And the mother’s pale face grew radiant.

“Oh!” she said, “how happy I am going to be!”

We have just said that she did not recover her health. On the contrary,

her condition seemed to become more grave from week to week. That

handful of snow applied to her bare skin between her shoulder-blades

had brought about a sudden suppression of perspiration, as a

consequence of which the malady which had been smouldering within her

for many years was violently developed at last. At that time people

were beginning to follow the fine Laënnec’s fine suggestions in the

study and treatment of chest maladies. The doctor sounded Fantine’s

chest and shook his head.

M. Madeleine said to the doctor:—

“Well?”

“Has she not a child which she desires to see?” said the doctor.

“Yes.”

“Well! Make haste and get it here!”

M. Madeleine shuddered.

Fantine inquired:—

“What did the doctor say?”

M. Madeleine forced himself to smile.

“He said that your child was to be brought speedily. That that would

restore your health.”

“Oh!” she rejoined, “he is right! But what do those Thénardiers mean by

keeping my Cosette from me! Oh! she is coming. At last I behold

happiness close beside me!”

In the meantime Thénardier did not “let go of the child,” and gave a

hundred insufficient reasons for it. Cosette was not quite well enough

to take a journey in the winter. And then, there still remained some

petty but pressing debts in the neighborhood, and they were collecting

the bills for them, etc., etc.

“I shall send some one to fetch Cosette!” said Father Madeleine. “If

necessary, I will go myself.”

He wrote the following letter to Fantine’s dictation, and made her sign

it:—

“MONSIEUR THÉNARDIER:—

You will deliver Cosette to this person.

You will be paid for all the little things.

I have the honor to salute you with respect.

“FANTINE.”

In the meantime a serious incident occurred. Carve as we will the

mysterious block of which our life is made, the black vein of destiny

constantly reappears in it.