by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER I.
THE COMMENCEMENT OF REPOSE.
M. Madeleine had Fantine conveyed to the infirmary he had establishedin his own house, and intrusted her to the sisters, who put her to bed.A violent fever had broken out; she spent a part of the night in ravingand talking aloud, but at length fell asleep. On the morrow, at aboutmid-day, Fantine woke, and hearing a breathing close to her bed, shedrew the curtain aside, and noticed M. Madeleine gazing at somethingabove her head. His glance was full of pity and agony, and supplicated:she followed its direction, and saw that it was fixed on a crucifixnailed to the wall. M. Madeleine was now transfigured in Fantine'seyes, and seemed to her surrounded by light. He was absorbed in aspecies of prayer, and she looked at him for some time without daringto interrupt him, but at length said, timidly,--
"What are you doing there?"
M. Madeleine had been standing at this spot for an hour, waiting tillFantine should wake. He took her hand, felt her pulse, and answered,--
"How are you?"
"Very comfortable; I have slept, and fancy I am better. It will benothing."
He continued answering the question she had asked him first, and as ifhe had only just heard it,--
"I was praying to the martyr up there;" and he mentally added, "for themartyr down here."
M. Madeleine had spent the night and morning in making inquiries, andhad learned everything; he knew all the poignant details of Fantine'shistory. He continued,--
"You have suffered deeply, poor mother. Oh! do not complain, for youhave at present the dowry of the elect: it is in this way that humanbeings become angels. It is not their fault; they do not know what todo otherwise. The hell you have now left is the ante-room to heaven,and you were obliged to begin with that."
He breathed a deep sigh, but she smiled upon him with the sublime smilein which two teeth were wanting. Javert had written a letter during thepast night, and posted it himself the next morning. It was for Paris,and the address was: "Monsieur Chabouillet, Secretary to the Prefect ofPolice." As a rumor had spread about the affair in the police office,the lady-manager of the post, and some other persons who saw the letterbefore it was sent off and recognized Javert's handwriting, supposedthat he was sending in his resignation. M. Madeleine hastened to writeto the Th?nardiers. Fantine owed them over 120 francs, and he sentthem 300, bidding them pay themselves out of the amount, and bringthe child at once to M----, where a sick mother was awaiting it. Thisdazzled Th?nardier. "Hang it all!" he said to his wife, "we must notlet the brat go, for the lark will become a milch cow for us. I see itall; some fellow has fallen in love with the mother." He replied bysending a bill for 500 and odd francs very well drawn up. In this billtwo undeniable amounts figure, one from a physician, the other froman apothecary, who had attended ?ponine and Azelma in a long illness.Cosette, as we said, had not been ill, and hence it was merely a littlesubstitution of names. At the bottom of the bill Th?nardier gave creditfor 300 francs received on account. M. Madeleine at once sent 300francs more, and wrote, "Make haste and bring Cosette."
"Christi!" said Th?nardier, "we must not let the child go."
In the mean while Fantine did not recover, and still remained in theinfirmary. The sisters had at first received and nursed "this girl"with some repugnance; any one who has seen the bas-relief at Rheimswill remember the pouting lower lip of the wise virgins looking atthe foolish virgins. This ancient contempt of Vestals for Ambuba?? isone of the deepest instincts of the feminine dignity, and the sistershad experienced it, with the increased dislike which religion adds.But in a few days Fantine disarmed them; she had all sorts of humbleand gentle words, and the mother within her was touching. One day thesisters heard her say in the paroxysm of fever, "I have been a sinner,but when I have my child by my side, that will show that God hasforgiven me. While I was living badly, I should not have liked to haveCosette with me, for I could not have endured her sad and astonishedeyes. And yet it was for her sake that I did wrong, and for that reasonGod pardons me. I shall feel the blessing of Heaven when Cosette ishere; I shall look at her, and it will do me good to see the innocentcreature. She knows nothing, as she is an angel. My sisters, at her agethe wings have not yet dropped off."
M. Madeleine went to see her twice a day, and every time she asked him,"Shall I see my Cosette soon?"
He would answer,--
"To-morrow, perhaps; she may arrive at any moment, for I am expectingher."
And the mother's pale face would grow radiant.
"Oh!" she said, "how happy I shall be!"
We have said that she did not improve; on the contrary, her conditionseemed to grow worse week by week. The handful of snow placed betweenher naked shoulder-blades produced a sudden check of perspiration,which caused the illness that had smouldered in her for years suddenlyto break out. Larmier's fine method for studying and healing diseasesof the lungs was just beginning to be employed; the physician placedthe stethoscope to Fantine's chest, and shook his head. M. Madeleinesaid to him,--
"Well?"
"Has she not a child that she wishes to see?" asked the doctor.
"Yes."
"Well, make haste to send for her."
Madeleine gave a start, and Fantine asked him,--
"What did the doctor say to you?"
M. Madeleine forced a smile.
"He said that your child must come at once, for that would cure you."
"Oh," she replied, "he is right; but what do those Th?nardiers mean bykeeping my Cosette? Oh, she will come, and then I shall see happinessclose to me."
Th?nardier, however, would not let the child go, and alleged a hundredpoor excuses. Cosette was ailing, and it would be dangerous for her totravel in winter; and then there were some small debts still to pay,which he was collecting, &c.
"I will send some one to fetch Cosette," said Father Madeleine; "ifnecessary, I will go myself."
He wrote to Fantine's dictation the following letter, which she signed.
"M. TH?NARDIER,--" You will hand over Cosette to the bearer, who willpay up all little matters. "Yours, FANTINE."
About this time a great incident happened. However cleverly we may havecarved the mysterious block of which our life is made, the black veinof destiny ever reappears in it.
