by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER I.
SISTER SIMPLICE.
The incidents we are about to record were only partially known atM----, but the few which were known left such a memory in that town,that it would be a serious gap in this book if we did not tell them intheir smallest details. In these details the reader will notice two orthree improbable circumstances, which we retain through respect fortruth. In the afternoon that followed Javert's visit, M. Madeleine wentto see Fantine as usual; but before going to her, he asked for SisterSimplice. The two nuns who managed the infirmary, who were Lazarets,like all sisters of charity, were known by the names of SistersPerpetua and Simplice. Sister Perpetua was an ordinary village girl, aclumsy sister of charity, who had entered the service of Heaven justas she would have taken a cook's place. This type is not rare, for themonastic orders gladly accept this clumsy peasant clay, which can beeasily fashioned into a Capuchin friar or an Ursuline nun; and theserusticities are employed in the heavy work of devotion. The transitionfrom a drover to a Carmelite is no hard task; the common substratumof village and cloister ignorance is a ready-made preparation, and atonce places the countryman on a level with the monk. Widen the blouse alittle and you have a gown. Sister Perpetua was a strong nun belongingto Marnies near Pantoise, who talked with a country accent, sang psalmsto match, sugared the _tisane_ according to the bigotry or hypocrisy ofthe patient, was rough with the sick, and harsh with the dying, almostthrowing God in their faces, and storming their last moments with angryprayer. Withal she was bold, honest, and red-faced.
Sister Simplice was pale, and looked like a wax taper by the side ofSister Perpetua, who was a tallow candle in comparison. St. Vincent dePaul has divinely described the sister of charity in those admirablewords in which so much liberty is blended with slavery: "They will haveno other convent but the hospital, no other cell but a hired room, nochapel but the parish church, no cloister beyond the streets or thehospital wards, no walls but obedience, no grating but the fear ofGod, and no veil but modesty." Sister Simplice was the living ideal ofthis: no one could have told her age, for she had never been young,and seemed as if she would never grow old. She was a gentle, austere,well-nurtured, cold person--we dare not say a woman--who had never tolda falsehood; she was so gentle that she appeared fragile, but she wasmore solid than granite. She touched the wretched with her delicate andpure fingers. There was, so to speak, silence in her language; she onlysaid what was necessary, and possessed an intonation of voice whichwould at once have edified a confessional and delighted a drawing-room.This delicacy harmonized with the rough gown, for it formed in thisrough contact a continual reminder of heaven. Let us dwell on onedetail; never to have told a falsehood, never to have said, for anyadvantage or even indifferently, a thing which was not the truth, theholy truth, was the characteristic feature of Sister Simplice. She wasalmost celebrated in the congregation for this imperturbable veracity,and the Abb? Suard alludes to Sister Simplice in a letter to the deaf,mute Massieu. However sincere and pure we may be, we have all the brandof a little white lie on our candor, but she had not. Can there besuch a thing as a white lie, an innocent lie? Lying is the absolute ofevil. Lying a little is not possible; the man who lies tells the wholelie; lying is the face of the fiend, and Satan has two names,--he iscalled Satan and Lying. That is what she thought, and she practised asshe thought. The result was the whiteness to which we have alluded, awhiteness which even covered with its radiance her lips and eyes, forher smile was white, her glance was white. There was not a spider's webnor a grain of dust on the window of this conscience; on entering theobedience of St. Vincent de Paul she took the name of Simplice throughspecial choice. Simplice of Sicily, our readers will remember, is thesaint who sooner let her bosom be plucked out than say she was a nativeof Segeste, as she was born at Syracuse, though the falsehood wouldhave saved her. Such a patron saint suited this soul.
Simplice on entering the order had two faults, of which she hadgradually corrected herself; she had a taste for dainties and was fondof receiving letters. Now she never read anything but a Prayer-book inlarge type and in Latin; though she did not understand the language,she understood the book. This pious woman felt an affection forFantine, as she probably noticed the latent virtue in her, and nearlyentirely devoted herself to nursing her. M. Madeleine took SisterSimplice on one side and recommended Fantine to her with a singularaccent, which the sister remembered afterwards. On leaving the sisterhe went to Fantine. The patient daily awaited the appearance of M.Madeleine, as if he brought her warmth and light; she said to thesisters, "I only live when M. le Maire is here." This day she was veryfeverish, and so soon as she saw M. Madeleine she asked him,--
"Where is Cosette?"
He replied with a smile, "She will be here soon."
M. Madeleine behaved to Fantine as usual, except that he remainedwith her an hour instead of half an hour, to her great delight. Hepressed everybody not to allow the patient to want for anything, andit was noticed at one moment that his face became very dark, but thiswas explained when it was learned that the physician had bent downto his ear and said, "She is rapidly sinking." Then he returned tothe Mayoralty, and the office clerk saw him attentively examining aroad-map of France which hung in his room, and write a few figures inpencil on a piece of paper.
