1.F.6.1. 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 Prefet 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 Thenardiers. 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 Thenardier. "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 Eponine 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 Thenardier wrote, Received on account,
three hundred francs.
M. Madeleine immediately sent three hundred francs more,
and wrote, "Make haste to bring Cosette."
"Christi!" said Thenardier, "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 ambubajae 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 Laennec'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 Thenardiers
mean by keeping my Cosette from me! Oh! she is
coming. At last I behold happiness close beside me!"
In the meantime Thenardier 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 THENARDIER: —
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.