3.V.3.11. CONCUSSION IN THE ABSOLUTE
THEY did not open their lips again during the whole space
of their ride.
What did Jean Valjean want? To finish what he had
begun; to warn Cosette, to tell her where Marius was, to give
her, possibly, some other useful information, to take, if he
could, certain final measures. As for himself, so far as he was
personally concerned, all was over; he had been seized by
Javert and had not resisted; any other man than himself in
like situation would, perhaps, have had some vague thoughts
connected with the rope which Thenardier had given him,
and of the bars of the first cell that he should enter; but,
let us impress it upon the reader, after the Bishop, there had
existed in Jean Valjean a profound hesitation in the presence
of any violence, even when directed against himself.
Suicide, that mysterious act of violence against the
unknown
which may contain, in a measure, the death of the
soul, was impossible to Jean Valjean.
At the entrance to the Rue de l'Homme Arme, the carriage
halted, the way being too narrow to admit of the entrance
of vehicles. Javert and Jean Valjean alighted.
The coachman humbly represented to "monsieur
l'Inspecteur,"
that the Utrecht velvet of his carriage was all spotted
with the blood of the assassinated man, and with mire from the
assassin. That is the way he understood it. He added that
an indemnity was due him. At the same time, drawing his
certificate book from his pocket, he begged the inspector to
have the goodness to write him "a bit of an attestation."
Javert thrust aside the book which the coachman held out
to him, and said:
"How much do you want, including your time of waiting
and the drive?"
"It comes to seven hours and a quarter," replied the man,
"and my velvet was perfectly new. Eighty francs, Mr.
Inspector."
Javert drew four napoleons from his pocket and dismissed
the carriage.
Jean Valjean fancied that it was Javert's intention to
conduct him on foot to the post of the Blancs-Manteaux
or to the post of the Archives, both of which are close at
hand.
They entered the street. It was deserted as usual.
Javert
followed Jean Valjean. They reached No. 7. Jean Valjean
knocked. The door opened.
"It is well," said Javert. "Go up stairs."
He added with a strange expression, and as though he
were exerting an effort in speaking in this manner:
"I will wait for you here."
Jean Valjean looked at Javert. This mode of procedure
was but little in accord with Javert's habits. However, he
could not be greatly surprised that Javert should now have a
sort of haughty confidence in him, the confidence of the cat
which grants the mouse liberty to the length of its claws,
seeing that Jean Valjean had made up his mind to surrender
himself and to make an end of it. He pushed open the door,
entered the house, called to the porter who was in bed and
who had pulled the cord from his couch: "It is I!" and
ascended the stairs.
On arriving at the first floor, he paused. All sorrowful
roads have their stations. The window on the landing-place,
which was a sash-window, was open. As in many ancient
houses, the staircase got its light from without and had a
view on the street. The street-lantern, situated directly
opposite, cast some light on the stairs, and thus effected some
economy in illumination.
Jean Valjean, either for the sake of getting the air, or
mechanically, thrust his head out of this window. He leaned
out over the street. It is short, and the lantern lighted it
from
end to end. Jean Valjean was overwhelmed with amazement;
there was no longer any one there.
Javert had taken his departure.