Les Miserables (Movie Tie-in) (9781101612774)

by Hugo, Victor; Donougher, Christine (TRN)

  ‘He’s neither one nor the other,’ said Thénardier. ‘He’s a murderer and a thief.’ And he added in the tone of a man who begins to feel that he has the upper hand, ‘Let us keep quite calm.’

  The words murderer and thief, which Marius had thought disposed of, came like a cold douche.

  ‘You mean there’s more?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Thénardier, ‘there is more. Valjean did not rob Madeleine, but he is nonetheless a thief, and although he did not kill Javert he is nonetheless a murderer.’

  ‘Are you talking about the wretched little crime he committed forty years ago, which, as your newspaper shows, has been fully expiated?’ asked Marius.

  ‘I’m talking about murder and theft, Monsieur le Baron, and I’m talking about facts. What I have now to tell you is something unpublished and quite unknown which may account for the fortune so cleverly bestowed on Madame la Baronne by Jean Valjean. I call it clever because it enabled him to buy his way into a respectable family, create a home for himself and obliterate his crime.’

  ‘I might interrupt you at this point,’ said Marius. ‘But go on.’

  ‘I shall tell you everything, Monsieur le Baron, and trust to your generosity for my reward. This secret is worth a large sum. You may ask why I have not gone to Valjean. The reason is very simple. There is nothing to be got out of him. He has handed all his money over to you, and since I need money for my voyage to La Joya, you are the person to whom I must apply. I am a little fatigued. Will you permit me to sit down?’

  Marius nodded and sat down himself.

  Thénardier seated himself in an upholstered armchair and replaced his papers in the envelope, remarking, as he re-folded the Drapeau Blanc, ‘I had a job to get hold of this one.’ He then sat back with his legs crossed, in the manner of a man sure of his facts, and embarked solemnly upon his narrative.

  ‘On the sixth of June last year, Monsieur le Baron – that is to say, on the day of the uprising – a man was hiding in the Paris main sewer at the point between the Pont des Invalides and the Pont d’Iéna where it runs into the Seine.’

  At this Marius drew his chair closer, and Thénardier proceeded with the assurance of an orator who feels that he has a firm hold on his audience.

  ‘This man, who had a key to the sewer, had been obliged to go into hiding for reasons unconnected with politics. It was, I repeat, the day of the insurrection, and the time was about eight o’clock in the evening. Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, the man took cover. Another man was in the sewer. This happened not far from the entrance, and there was sufficient light for the first man to recognize the second, who was walking bent double with a heavy burden on his back. The man was an ex-convict and his burden was a dead body. Clear proof of murder if ever there was one, and as for theft – well, one doesn’t kill a man for nothing. He was going to drop the body in the river. A thing worth mentioning is that before reaching the sewer entrance he had to go through an appalling trough where he might have dumped the body; but if he had done so it would have been found by the sewage workers next day and that didn’t suit him. He preferred to struggle through the pit with his burden, and it must have cost him an enormous effort. The risk he took was horrible and I am surprised that he came out of it alive.’

  Marius’s chair had drawn even closer. Thénardier paused for breath and went on:

  ‘No need to tell you, Monsieur le Baron, that a sewer is not as wide as the Champs-Élysées. Two men occupying the same part of it are bound to meet. That is precisely what happened, and this second man said to the first: “You see what I’m carrying on my back? I’ve got to get out of here. You have a key. Hand it over.” This ex-convict was a man of enormous strength. It was useless to refuse. Nevertheless the first man bargained, simply to gain time. He could see nothing of the dead man except that he was young and well-dressed, seemingly rich, and that his face was covered with blood. While they were talking the first contrived, without the murderer noticing, to rip off a small piece of the murdered man’s coat. As evidence you understand, so as to be able to bring the crime home to the criminal. He then opened the sewer gate and let the man out with his burden on his back. After which he made himself scarce, not wanting to get mixed up in the affair, and in particular not wanting to be there when the murderer dropped his victim in the river. And now I think you will understand. The man carrying the corpse was Jean Valjean, and the man with the key was the person addressing you. As for the scrap of cloth –’

  Thénardier concluded the sentence by pulling a muddy fragment from his pocket and holding it out, grasped between his two thumbs and forefingers.

  Marius had risen to his feet, pale and scarcely able to breathe. He was staring at the scrap of cloth, and without taking his eyes off it he backed towards the wall and fumbled for the key in the door of a wardrobe. He opened the wardrobe and thrust in his arm without looking, still with his eyes fixed on the scrap of cloth which Thénardier was holding out.

  ‘I have every reason to believe, Monsieur le Baron,’ said Thénardier, ‘that the murdered man was a wealthy foreigner who had fallen into a trap set by Valjean when he had an enormous sum of money on his person.’

  ‘I was the man,’ cried Marius, ‘and here is the coat I was wearing!’ And he flung the bloodstained garment on the floor. Then, snatching the fragment of cloth from Thénardier, he bent over the coat and found the place from which it had been torn. It fitted exactly. Thénardier stood petrified, thinking, ‘I’m done for!’

  Marius rose up, trembling but radiant. He put a hand in his pocket and going furiously to Thénardier thrust a fist into his face, clutching a bundle of five-hundred and thousand-franc notes.

  ‘You are an abominable liar and a scoundrel! You came here to accuse this man and you have cleared him; you wanted to destroy him and you have done the opposite. It’s you who are the thief and the murderer! I saw you, Thénardier-Jondrette, in that foul garret in the Boulevard de l’Hôpital. I know enough about you to have you sent to gaol and further, if I wanted to. Here’s a thousand francs for you, villain that you are!’ He threw a thousand-franc note at him. ‘And here’s another five hundred, and now get out of here! What happened at Waterloo protects you.’

  ‘Waterloo?’ grunted Thénardier, pocketing the notes.

  ‘Yes, you devil. You saved a colonel’s life.’

  ‘He was a general,’ said Thénardier, looking up.

  ‘He was a colonel. I wouldn’t give a halfpenny for any general. And now get out and thank your lucky stars that I want to see no more of you. Here you are, here’s another three thousand francs. Take them and go to America with your daughter, because your wife’s dead, you lying rogue. What’s more, I’ll see to it that you get there, and when you do I’ll see to it that you’re credited with twenty thousand francs. Go and get yourself hanged somewhere else!’

  ‘Monsieur le Baron,’ said Thénardier, bowing to the ground, ‘I am eternally grateful.’

  And he left, having understood nothing, amazed and delighted by this manna from Heaven. We may briefly relate the end of his story. Two days after the scene we have described he set off for America under another name with his daughter Azelma and a letter of credit for twenty thousand francs to be drawn upon in New York. But Thénardier was incurable. He used the money to go into the slave-trade.

  Directly he had left the house Marius ran into the garden, where Cosette was still strolling.

  ‘Cosette!’ he cried. ‘Hurry! We must go at once. Basque, fetch a fiacre! Oh, God, he was the man who saved my life! We mustn’t waste a minute. Put on your shawl.’

  Cosette thought he had gone mad, and obeyed.

  Marius could scarcely breathe. He pressed a hand to his heart to calm its beating. He strode up and down. He embraced Cosette. ‘I’m such a fool!’ he said. He was beside himself, seeing in Jean Valjean a figure of indescribable stature, supremely great and gently humble in his immensity, the convict transformed into Christ. Marius was so dazed that he
could not tell exactly what he saw, only that it was great.

  The fiacre arrived. He followed Cosette into it and ordered the driver to go to Number Seven, Rue de l’Homme-Armé.

  ‘Oh, what happiness!’ cried Cosette. ‘I have been afraid to speak to you of the Rue de l’Homme-Armé. We’re going to see Monsieur Jean.’

  ‘Your father, Cosette. More than ever your father. Cosette, I have guessed something. You told me that you never received the letter I sent you by Gavroche. I know what happened. It was delivered to him, your father, and he came to the barricade to save me. It’s his nature to save people. He spared Javert. He rescued me from that inferno and carried me on his back through the sewers, to bring me to you. Oh, I have been a monster of ingratitude! There was a deep trough, Cosette, where we might both have been drowned, and he carried me through it. I was unconscious, you see, and I didn’t know what was happening. We’re going to take him back with us, whether he likes it or not, and we’ll never let him go again. Provided he’s at home! Provided we can find him! I’ll spend the rest of my life honouring him. It must have happened like that – Gavroche gave the letter to him instead of to you. And that explains everything. You do understand, don’t you?’

  Cosette did not understand a word.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she said.

  The fiacre continued on its way.

  V

  Night with day to follow

  Jean Valjean looked round on hearing the knock on his door and feebly called ‘Come in!’

  The door opened and Cosette and Marius appeared. Cosette rushed into the room while Marius stood in the doorway.

  ‘Cosette!’ said Jean Valjean and sat upright in his chair, his face white and haggard, his arms extended and a glow of immense happiness in his eyes. Cosette fell into his arms. ‘Father!’ she cried.

  Valjean was stammering broken words of welcome. Then he said, ‘So you have forgiven me?’ and, turning to Marius, who was screwing up his eyes to prevent the tears from falling, he said: ‘And you too, you forgive me?’

  Marius could not speak. ‘Thank you,’ said Valjean.

  Cosette tossed her hat and shawl on to the bed, and seating herself on the old man’s knees, she tenderly parted the locks of hair and kissed him on the forehead. Valjean was in a state of great bewilderment. Cosette, who had only a confused notion of what it was all about, embraced him again. Valjean stammered:

  ‘One can be so stupid! I thought I should never see her again. Do you know, Monsieur Pontmercy, that at the moment when you entered the room I was saying to myself, “It’s all over”. There’s the little dress she wore, there on the bed. I was the most miserable of men. That’s what I was saying to myself at the very moment when you came upstairs – “I shall never see her again!” How idiotic it was! One forgets to trust in God. But I was so unhappy.’

  For a moment he was unable to speak, but then he went on:

  ‘I really did need to see Cosette for a little while every now and then. The heart must have something to live on. But I felt that I was not wanted, and I said to myself, “They don’t need you, so stay in your own place. No one has the right to inflict themselves on other people.” And now I’m seeing her again! Cosette, this is a very pretty dress you’re wearing. Did your husband choose it? You don’t mind, do you, Monsieur Pontmercy, if I address her as tu. It won’t be for long.’

  ‘Such a cruel father!’ said Cosette. ‘Where have you been? Why were you away so long? The other times it was only three or four days. I sent Nicolette, but they always told her you were away. When did you get back, and why didn’t you let us know? Do you know, you’ve changed a great deal. How wicked of you! You’ve been ill and you never told us. Marius, take his hand and feel how cold it is.’

  ‘Monsieur Pontmercy,’ said Jean Valjean, ‘have you really forgiven me?’

  At the repetition of the words Marius broke down.

  ‘Cosette, did you hear what he said? He asked me to forgive him! And do you know what he did? He saved my life and, even more, he gave me you! And then he sacrificed himself by withdrawing from our lives. He ran hideous risks for us and now he asks me to forgive him, graceless, pitiless clod that I have been! His courage, his saintliness, his selflessness are beyond all bounds. There is no price too high to pay for him.’

  ‘You have no need to say all this,’ murmured Jean Valjean.

  ‘Why didn’t you say it yourself?’ demanded Marius, in a voice in which reproach was mingled with veneration.‘ It’s partly your fault. You save a man’s life and then you don’t tell him. Even worse, you pretended to confess to me and in doing so you defamed yourself.’

  ‘I told you the truth,’ said Valjean.

  ‘No. The truth means the whole truth, not just part of it. Why didn’t you tell me that you were Monsieur Madeleine and that you had spared Javert? Why didn’t you tell me that I owed you my life?’

  ‘Because I thought as you did. I thought you were right. It was better for me to break away. If you had known about the business of the sewer you might have made me stay with you. It would have upset everything.’

  ‘What or whom would it have upset?’ demanded Marius. ‘Do you think we’re going to allow you to stay here? We’re going to take you with us. Good God, when I think that I only learnt all this by pure chance! You’re coming with us. You’re part of us. You’re Cosette’s father and mine. I won’t allow you to spend another day in this horrible place.’

  ‘Certainly I shan’t be here tomorrow,’ said Jean Valjean.

  ‘And what does that mean? We shan’t allow you to go on any more journeys. You aren’t going to leave us again. You belong to us. We shan’t let you go.’

  ‘This time it’s final,’ said Cosette. ‘We have a cab down below. I’m kidnapping you – if necessary, by force.’

  Laughing, she went through the motions of picking up the old man in her arms.

  ‘We’ve still kept your room for you. You can’t think how pretty the garden is just now. The azaleas are coming on wonderfully, the paths are sanded with real sea sand, and there are little blue shells. You’ll be able to eat my strawberries, I’m the one who waters them. And there won’t be any more of this “Madame – Monsieur Jean” nonsense, we’re a republic and we call each other tu, don’t we, Marius? Everything will be different now. And oh, father, a most dreaful thing happened. There was a redbreast that had built its nest in a hole in the wall, and a horrid cat went and ate it. My darling redbreast, that used to look in at my window! It made me cry. I could have killed that cat. But now nobody’s going to cry any more. We’re all going to be happy. Grandfather will be so delighted when we bring you back with us. You shall have your own corner of the garden where you can grow anything you like and we shall see if your strawberries are as good as mine. And I’ll do everything you say, and of course you’ll have to obey me as well’

  Jean Valjean had listened without hearing. He had listened to the music of her voice rather than to the words, and one of those great tears which are the deep pearls of the soul brimmed in his eye. He murmured:

  ‘This is the proof that God is good.’

  ‘Dear father!’ said Cosette.

  ‘It is true,’ said Jean Valjean, ‘that it would be delightful for us all to live together. Those trees are filled with birds. I would stroll with Cosette. To be one of the living, people who greet each other in the morning and call to each other in the garden, that is a great happiness. We should see each other every day and would each cultivate our own corner, and she would give me her strawberries to eat and I would cut my roses for her. Yes, it would be delightful, only –’ he broke off and said softly, ‘well, it’s a shame.’

  The tear did not fall but lingered in his eye and he replaced it with a smile. Cosette took his two hands in hers.

  ‘Your hands are so cold,’ she said. ‘Are you ill? Are you in pain?’

  ‘No,’ said Valjean. ‘I’m not in pain. Only – ’ he broke off again.

  ‘Onl
y what?’

  ‘I’m going to the in a little while.’

  Cosette and Marius shuddered.

  ‘To die!’ exclaimed Marius.

  ‘Yes, but that is not important,’ said Jean Valjean. He drew breath, smiled and said: ‘Cosette, go on talking. Your redbreast died. Go on talking about it. I want to hear your voice.’

  Marius was gazing at him in stupefaction and Cosette uttered a piercing cry.

  ‘Father! Father! You’re going to live! You must live! I want you to live, do you understand?’

  Jean Valjean looked up at her with adoring eyes.

  ‘Very well, forbid me to die. Who knows, perhaps I shall obey. I was in the act of dying when you arrived. That stopped me. It was as though I were being reborn.’

  ‘You’re full of strength and life,’ cried Marius. ‘Do you think people the just like that? You have suffered greatly, but now your sufferings are over. I am the one to ask your forgiveness, and I do so on my knees. You must live, and you must live with us, and you must live for a long, long time. We’re taking you back. Henceforth our every thought will be for your happiness.’

  ‘You see?’ said Cosette, in tears. ‘Marius says you aren’t to die.’

  Jean Valjean continued to smile.

  ‘If you take me back, Monsieur Pontmercy, will that make me any different from the man I am? No. God thinks as you and I do, and he has not changed his mind. It is better for me to go. Death is a very sensible arrangement. God knows better than we do what is good for us. That you should be happy, Marius Pontmercy and Cosette, that youth should marry with the morning, that you two children should have lilac and nightingales around you, that your life should be like a lawn bathed in sunshine and glowing with enchantment; and that I, who am no longer good for anything, should now the, that is surely right. We must be reasonable. There is nothing more left for me. I am well persuaded that my life is over. I had a fainting fit not long ago, and last night I drank all the water in the jug. Your husband is so good, Cosette. It is far better for you to be with him than with me.’