And in the meantime, what had become of that mother who according to the people at Montfermeil, seemed to have abandoned her child? Where was she?What was she doing?
     After leaving her little Cosette with the Thenardiers, she had continued her journey, and had reached M. sur M.
     This, it will be remembered, was in 1818.

     Fantine had quitted her province ten years before.M. sur M. had changed its aspect.While Fantine had been slowly descending from wretchedness to wretchedness, her native town had prospered.

     About two years previously one of those industrial facts which are the grand events of small districts had taken place.
     This detail is important, and we regard it as useful to develop it at length; we should almost say, to underline it.

     From time immemorial, M. sur M. had had for its special industry the imitation of English jet and the black glass trinkets of Germany. This industry had always vegetated, on account of the high price of the raw material, which reacted on the manufacture. At the moment when Fantine returned to M. sur M., an unheard-of transformation had taken place in the production of "black goods." Towards the close of 1815 a man, a stranger, had established himself in the town, and had been inspired with the idea of substituting, in this manufacture, gum-lac for resin, and, for bracelets in particular, slides of sheet-iron simply laid together, for slides of soldered sheet-iron.

     This very small change had effected a revolution.

     This very small change had, in fact, prodigiously reduced the cost of the raw material, which had rendered it possible in the first place, to raise the price of manufacture, a benefit to the country; in the second place, to improve the workmanship, an advantage to the consumer; in the third place, to sell at a lower price, while trebling the profit, which was a benefit to the manufacturer.

     Thus three results ensued from one idea.

     In less than three years the inventor of this process had become rich, which is good, and had made every one about him rich, which is better.He was a stranger in the Department.Of his origin, nothing was known; of the beginning of his career, very little. It was rumored that he had come to town with very little money, a few hundred francs at the most.

     It was from this slender capital, enlisted in the service of an ingenious idea, developed by method and thought, that he had drawn his own fortune, and the fortune of the whole countryside.
     On his arrival at M. sur M. he had only the garments, the appearance, and the language of a workingman.

     It appears that on the very day when he made his obscure entry into the little town of M. sur M., just at nightfall, on a December evening, knapsack on back and thorn club in hand, a large fire had broken out in the town-hall. This man had rushed into the flames and saved, at the risk of his own life, two children who belonged to the captain of the gendarmerie; this is why they had forgotten to ask him for his passport.Afterwards they had learned his name. He was called Father Madeleine.

①这是一种以玻璃原料制造假玉、假钻石、假珍珠等其他女用饰品的工作。

     孟费郿一带居民认为已抛弃了孩子的那位母亲，现在变成什么样了？她在哪里？做着什么事呢？
    把她的小珂赛特交给德纳第夫妇之后，她便继续赶路，到了滨海蒙特勒伊。

    我们记得，那是一八一八年。芳汀离开她的故乡已有十年左右。滨海蒙特勒伊的面貌早已改变了。正当芳汀从一次苦难陷入另一次苦难时，她的故乡却兴旺了起来。两年以来，一种轻工业在那儿发展起来了，那可是一个小地方的大事情。
    这些细节关系很大，我们认为值得一叙。我们几乎要说，该把它当作重点叙述出来。

    从一个不可考的时代起，滨海蒙特勒伊就有一种仿造英国黑玉和德国烧料的特殊工业。那种工业素来不发达，因为原料贵，影响到工资。正当芳汀回到滨海蒙特勒伊之际，那种“烧料细工品”的生产已经进行了一种空前的改革。一八一五年年底有一个人，一个大家不认识的人，来住在这城里，他想到在制造过程中用漆胶代替松胶，特别是在造手镯上，他在做底圈时，采用只把两头靠拢的方法来代替那种两头连接焊死的方法。这一点极小的改革就产生了很大的作用。

    那一点极小的改革确实大大降低了原料成本，因此，首先可以提高工资，一乡都因之而得到了实惠；第二，制造有了改进，消费者得了好处；第三，售价可以降低，利润却增加了三倍，厂主也得到利润。
    因此，一个办法便得出了三种结果。

    不到三年功夫，发明这方法的人成了大富翁，那当然很好，更大的好处是他四周的人也发了财。他并非本省人。关于他的籍贯，大众全然不知，他的经历，知道的人也不多。

    据说他来到这城里时只有很少的钱，最多不过几百法郎。他利用这一点微薄的资本，来实现他精心研究出来的那种巧妙方法，他自己获得了实惠，全乡也获得了实惠。他初到滨海蒙特勒伊时，他的服装、举动和谈吐都象一个工人。

    大概是在十二月的一个黄昏，他背上背个口装，手里拿根带刺的棍，摸进这滨海蒙特勒伊小城时，正遇到区公所失火。他曾跳到火里，冒着生命危险，救出了两个小孩，那两个小孩恰好是警察队长的儿子，因此大家都没有想到要验他的护照。从那一天起，大家都知道了他的名字，他叫马德兰伯伯。
    

     He was a man about fifty years of age, who had a preoccupied air, and who was good.That was all that could be said about him.

     Thanks to the rapid progress of the industry which he had so admirably re-constructed, M. sur M. had become a rather important centre of trade.Spain, which consumes a good deal of black jet, made enormous purchases there each year.M. sur M. almost rivalled London and Berlin in this branch of commerce.Father Madeleine's profits were such, that at the end of the second year he was able to erect a large factory, in which there were two vast workrooms, one for the men, and the other for women.Any one who was hungry could present himself there, and was sure of finding employment and bread.Father Madeleine required of the men good will, of the women pure morals, and of all, probity.He had separated the work-rooms in order to separate the sexes, and so that the women and girls might remain discreet.On this point he was inflexible. It was the only thing in which he was in a manner intolerant. He was all the more firmly set on this severity, since M. sur M., being a garrison town, opportunities for corruption abounded. However, his coming had been a boon, and his presence was a godsend. Before Father Madeleine's arrival, everything had languished in the country; now everything lived with a healthy life of toil. A strong circulation warmed everything and penetrated everywhere. Slack seasons and wretchedness were unknown.There was no pocket so obscure that it had not a little money in it; no dwelling so lowly that there was not some little joy within it.

     Father Madeleine gave employment to every one.He exacted but one thing:Be an honest man.Be an honest woman.

     As we have said, in the midst of this activity of which he was the cause and the pivot, Father Madeleine made his fortune; but a singular thing in a simple man of business, it did not seem as though that were his chief care.He appeared to be thinking much of others, and little of himself.In 1820 he was known to have a sum of six hundred and thirty thousand francs lodged in his name with Laffitte; but before reserving these six hundred and thirty thousand francs, he had spent more than a million for the town and its poor.

     The hospital was badly endowed; he founded six beds there.M. sur M. is divided into the upper and the lower town.The lower town, in which he lived, had but one school, a miserable hovel, which was falling to ruin:he constructed two, one for girls, the other for boys. He allotted a salary from his own funds to the two instructors, a salary twice as large as their meagre official salary, and one day he said to some one who expressed surprise, "The two prime functionaries of the state are the nurse and the schoolmaster." He created at his own expense an infant school, a thing then almost unknown in France, and a fund for aiding old and infirm workmen. As his factory was a centre, a new quarter, in which there were a good many indigent families, rose rapidly around him; he established there a free dispensary.

     At first, when they watched his beginnings, the good souls said, "He's a jolly fellow who means to get rich."When they saw him enriching the country before he enriched himself, the good souls said, "He is an ambitious man."This seemed all the more probable since the man was religious, and even practised his religion to a certain degree, a thing which was very favorably viewed at that epoch.He went regularly to low mass every Sunday. The local deputy, who nosed out all rivalry everywhere, soon began to grow uneasy over this religion.This deputy had been a member of the legislative body of the Empire, and shared the religious ideas of a father of the Oratoire, known under the name of Fouche, Duc d'Otrante, whose creature and friend he had been.He indulged in gentle raillery at God with closed doors.But when he beheld the wealthy manufacturer Madeleine going to low mass at seven o'clock, he perceived in him a possible candidate, and resolved to outdo him; he took a Jesuit confessor, and went to high mass and to vespers. Ambition was at that time, in the direct acceptation of the word, a race to the steeple.The poor profited by this terror as well as the good God, for the honorable deputy also founded two beds in the hospital, which made twelve.

     Nevertheless, in 1819 a rumor one morning circulated through the town to the effect that, on the representations of the prefect and in consideration of the services rendered by him to the country, Father Madeleine was to be appointed by the King, mayor of M. sur M. Those who had pronounced this new-comer to be "an ambitious fellow," seized with delight on this opportunity which all men desire, to exclaim, "There! what did we say!"All M. sur M. was in an uproar. The rumor was well founded.Several days later the appointment appeared in the Moniteur.On the following day Father Madeleine refused.

     In this same year of 1819 the products of the new process invented by Madeleine figured in the industrial exhibition; when the jury made their report, the King appointed the inventor a chevalier of the Legion of Honor.A fresh excitement in the little town. Well, so it was the cross that he wanted!Father Madeleine refused the cross.

     Decidedly this man was an enigma.The good souls got out of their predicament by saying, "After all, he is some sort of an adventurer."

     We have seen that the country owed much to him; the poor owed him everything; he was so useful and he was so gentle that people had been obliged to honor and respect him.His workmen, in particular, adored him, and he endured this adoration with a sort of melancholy gravity. When he was known to be rich, "people in society" bowed to him, and he received invitations in the town; he was called, in town, Monsieur Madeleine; his workmen and the children continued to call him Father Madeleine, and that was what was most adapted to make him smile. In proportion as he mounted, throve, invitations rained down upon him. "Society" claimed him for its own.The prim little drawing-rooms on M. sur M., which, of course, had at first been closed to the artisan, opened both leaves of their folding-doors to the millionnaire. They made a thousand advances to him.He refused.

     This time the good gossips had no trouble."He is an ignorant man, of no education.No one knows where he came from.He would not know how to behave in society.It has not been absolutely proved that he knows how to read."

     When they saw him making money, they said, "He is a man of business." When they saw him scattering his money about, they said, "He is an ambitious man."When he was seen to decline honors, they said, "He is an adventurer."When they saw him repulse society, they said, "He is a brute."

     In 1820, five years after his arrival in M. sur M., the services which he had rendered to the district were so dazzling, the opinion of the whole country round about was so unanimous, that the King again appointed him mayor of the town.He again declined; but the prefect resisted his refusal, all the notabilities of the place came to implore him, the people in the street besought him; the urging was so vigorous that he ended by accepting. It was noticed that the thing which seemed chiefly to bring him to a decision was the almost irritated apostrophe addressed to him by an old woman of the people, who called to him from her threshold, in an angry way:"A good mayor is a useful thing.Is he drawing back before the good which he can do?"

     This was the third phase of his ascent.Father Madeleine had become Monsieur Madeleine.Monsieur Madeleine became Monsieur le Maire.

     他年约五十，神色忧郁而性情温和。我们能说的只是这一点。由于那种工业经过他的巧妙改革，获得了迅猛的发展，滨海蒙特勒伊便成了一个重要的企业中心。可销售大量烧料细工品的西班牙每年都要到这里来定购大宗产品。滨海蒙特勒伊在这种贸易上几乎与伦敦、柏林处于竞争地位。马德兰伯伯获得了大宗利润，因而能在第二年建造一幢高大的厂房，厂里分两个大车间，一个男车间，一个女车间。任何一个无衣食的人都可以到那里去报名，准会得到工作和面包。马德兰伯伯要求男工要有毅力，女工要有好的作风，无论男女都应当贞洁。他把男女工人分在两个车间，目的是要让姑娘们和妇女们都能安心工作。在这一点上他的态度是绝不动摇的。这是他唯一不能通融之处。正因为滨海蒙特勒伊是一个驻扎军队的城市，腐化堕落的机会多，他有足够的理由作出这种要求。况且他的来到是件好事，他的出现也是种天意。在马德兰伯伯来到这里以前，地方上的各行各业都是萧条的，现在呢，大家都靠健康的劳动生活。欣欣向荣的气象遍及全乡，渗透一切。失业和苦难都已消灭。在这一乡已没有一个穷到一文钱也没有的衣袋，也没有一个苦到一点欢乐也没有的人家。

    马德兰伯伯雇用所有的人，他只坚持一点：做诚实的男子！做诚实的姑娘！我们已经说过，马德兰伯伯是这种行业的动力和中枢，他在这一行业中获得他的财富，但是，这好象不是他的主要目的，一个简单的商人能这样，是件相当奇特的事。仿佛他为别人想的地方多，为自己想的地方少。一八二○年，大家知道他有一笔六十三万法郎的款子用他个人的名字存放在拉菲特①银行里；但是在他为自己留下这六十三万法郎之前，他已为这座城市和穷人用去了一百多万。
①拉菲特（Laffitte，1767—1844），法国大银行家和政治活动家，奥尔良党人，金融资产阶级代表，政府首脑（1830—1831）。他所开设的银行叫拉菲特银行。

    医院的经费原是不足的，他在那里设了十个床位。滨海蒙特勒伊分上下两城，他住的下城只有一个小学校，校舍已经破败，他造起了两幢，一幢为男孩，一幢为女孩。他拿出自己的钱，发津贴给两个教员，这项津贴竟比他们微薄的薪金高出两倍；一天，他对一个对此事表示惊讶的人说：“政府最重要的两种公务员，便是乳母和小学教师。”他又用自己的钱创设了一所贫儿院，这种措施当时在法国还几乎是创举，他又为年老和残废的工人创办了救济金。他的工厂成了一个中心，在厂址附近原有许多一贫如洗的人家，到后来，在那一带却出现了一个全新的区域。他还在那里开设了一所免费药房。

    最初，他开始那样做时，有些头脑单纯的人都说：“这是个财迷。”过后，别人看见他在替自己找钱以前却先让地方繁荣，那几个头脑单纯的人又说：“这是个野心家。”那种看法好象很正确，因为他信宗教，并且在一定程度上还遵守教规，这在当时是很受人尊敬的。每逢礼拜日，他必然会按时去参加一次普通弥撒。当地的那位议员，平日一向密切留意是否有人和他竞争，因而他立刻对那种宗教信仰起了戒心。那议员在帝国时代当过立法院的成员，他的宗教思想，和一个叫富歇①的经堂神甫（奥特朗托公爵）的思想是相同的。他是那神甫提拔的人，也是他的朋友。他常在人后偷偷嘲笑上帝。但是当他看见这位有钱的工厂主马德兰去做七点钟的普通弥撒时，就仿佛见了一个可能做议员候选人的人，便下定决心要超过他，于是他就供奉了一个耶稣会教士做他的忏悔教士，还去做大弥撒和晚祷。野心在当时完全是一种钟楼赛跑②。穷人和慈悲的上帝都受到他们那种恐慌的实惠，因为那位光荣的议员也设了两个床位，一共成了十二个。
①富歇（Fouche，1759—1820），国民公会代表，曾参与颠覆罗伯斯庇尔，继又帮助拿破仑政变，任帝国政府的警务大臣，受封为公爵。拿破仑失败后，归顺复辟王朝。
②钟楼赛跑是一种以钟楼为目标的越野赛跑。

    但是一八一九年的一天早晨，城里忽然有人说马德兰伯伯由于省长先生的保荐和他在地方上所起的促进作用，不久就会由国王任命为滨海蒙特勒伊市长了。从前说过这新来的人是“野心家”的那些人，听到这个符合大家愿望的消息时，也抓住机会，洋洋自得地喊道：“是吧！我们曾说过什么的吧？”整个滨海蒙特勒伊都轰动了。原来这消息是真的。几天过后，委任令在《通报》上刊出来了。第二天，马德兰伯伯推辞不受。

    还是在这一八一九年，用马德兰发明的方法制造出来的产品在工业展览会里陈列出来了，通过评奖委员的报告，国王以荣誉勋章授予这位发明家。在那小城里又有过一番新的轰动。“呵！他要的原来是十字勋章！”马德兰伯伯又推辞了十字勋章。

    这人真是个谜。头脑单纯的人无可奈何，只得说：“总而言之，这是个想往上爬的家伙。”我们把这人看清楚了，地方受到他很多好处，穷人更是完全依赖他；他是一个作用那样大的人，结果是大家非尊敬他不可；他又是一个那样和蔼可亲的人，结果是大家非爱他不可；尤其是他的那些工人特别爱他，他却用一种郁郁寡欢的庄重态度接受那种敬爱。当他被证实是富翁时，一般“社会贤达”都向他致敬，在城里，大家还是称他为马德兰先生，他的那些工人和一般的孩子却仍叫他马德兰伯伯，那是一件让他最高兴的事。他的地位越来越高，请柬也就雨一般地落在他的头上了。“社会”需要他。滨海蒙特勒伊的那些装腔作势的小客厅的门，在他当初还是个手艺工人时，当然是对他关着的，现在对这位百万富翁，却大开特开了。他们千方百计地笼络他。而他却不为所动。

    但这样仍塞不了那些头脑单纯的人的口。“那是个无知识的人，一个没受过高尚教育的人。大家都还不知道他是从什么地方冒出来的呢。他不知道在交际场中应当怎么办。他究竟识字不识字，也还没有证明。”当初别人看见他赚了钱，就说他是“商人”；看见他施舍他的钱，又说他是“野心家”；看见他推谢荣誉，说他是个“投机的家伙”；现在，他谢绝社交，大家便说：“那是个莽汉。”一八二○年，是他到滨海蒙特勒伊的第五年，他在该地所起的促进作用是那样显著，当地人民的期望又是那样一致，以致国王再次委派他做那地方的市长。他仍旧推辞，但是省长不允许他推辞，所有的重要人物也都来劝驾，人民群集街头向他请愿，敦促的情况太热烈了，他只得接受。有人注意到当时使他作出决定的最大力量，是人民中一个老妇人所说的一句气愤话。她当时立在他门口，几乎怒不可遏，对他喊道：“一 个好市长，就是一个有用的人。在能办好事时难道可以退却吗？”

    这是他上升的第三阶段。马德兰伯伯早已变成马德兰先生。马德兰先生现在又成为市长先生了。

     On the other hand, he remained as simple as on the first day. He had gray hair, a serious eye, the sunburned complexion of a laborer, the thoughtful visage of a philosopher.He habitually wore a hat with a wide brim, and a long coat of coarse cloth, buttoned to the chin. He fulfilled his duties as mayor; but, with that exception, he lived in solitude.He spoke to but few people.He avoided polite attentions; he escaped quickly; he smiled to relieve himself of the necessity of talking; he gave, in order to get rid of the necessity for smiling, The women said of him, "What a good-natured bear!"His pleasure consisted in strolling in the fields.

     He always took his meals alone, with an open book before him, which he read.He had a well-selected little library.He loved books; books are cold but safe friends.In proportion as leisure came to him with fortune, he seemed to take advantage of it to cultivate his mind.It had been observed that, ever since his arrival at M. sur M.. his language had grown more polished, more choice, and more gentle with every passing year.He liked to carry a gun with him on his strolls, but he rarely made use of it. When he did happen to do so, his shooting was something so infallible as to inspire terror.He never killed an inoffensive animal. He never shot at a little bird.

     Although he was no longer young, it was thought that he was still prodigiously strong.He offered his assistance to any one who was in need of it, lifted a horse, released a wheel clogged in the mud, or stopped a runaway bull by the horns.He always had his pockets full of money when he went out; but they were empty on his return. When he passed through a village, the ragged brats ran joyously after him, and surrounded him like a swarm of gnats.

     It was thought that he must, in the past, have lived a country life, since he knew all sorts of useful secrets, which he taught to the peasants.He taught them how to destroy scurf on wheat, by sprinkling it and the granary and inundating the cracks in the floor with a solution of common salt; and how to chase away weevils by hanging up orviot in bloom everywhere, on the walls and the ceilings, among the grass and in the houses.

     He had "recipes" for exterminating from a field, blight, tares, foxtail, and all parasitic growths which destroy the wheat. He defended a rabbit warren against rats, simply by the odor of a guinea-pig which he placed in it.

     One day he saw some country people busily engaged in pulling up nettles; he examined the plants, which were uprooted and already dried, and said:"They are dead.Nevertheless, it would be a good thing to know how to make use of them.When the nettle is young, the leaf makes an excellent vegetable; when it is older, it has filaments and fibres like hemp and flax.Nettle cloth is as good as linen cloth. Chopped up, nettles are good for poultry; pounded, they are good for horned cattle.The seed of the nettle, mixed with fodder, gives gloss to the hair of animals; the root, mixed with salt, produces a beautiful yellow coloring-matter. Moreover, it is an excellent hay, which can be cut twice.And what is required for the nettle?A little soil, no care, no culture.Only the seed falls as it is ripe, and it is difficult to collect it.That is all. With the exercise of a little care, the nettle could be made useful; it is neglected and it becomes hurtful.It is exterminated.How many men resemble the nettle!"He added, after a pause:"Remember this, my friends:there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators."

     The children loved him because he knew how to make charming little trifles of straw and cocoanuts.

     When he saw the door of a church hung in black, he entered: he sought out funerals as other men seek christenings.Widowhood and the grief of others attracted him, because of his great gentleness; he mingled with the friends clad in mourning, with families dressed in black, with the priests groaning around a coffin. He seemed to like to give to his thoughts for text these funereal psalmodies filled with the vision of the other world.With his eyes fixed on heaven, he listened with a sort of aspiration towards all the mysteries of the infinite, those sad voices which sing on the verge of the obscure abyss of death.

     He performed a multitude of good actions, concealing his agency in them as a man conceals himself because of evil actions.He penetrated houses privately, at night; he ascended staircases furtively. A poor wretch on returning to his attic would find that his door had been opened, sometimes even forced, during his absence. The poor man made a clamor over it:some malefactor had been there! He entered, and the first thing he beheld was a piece of gold lying forgotten on some piece of furniture.The "malefactor" who had been there was Father Madeleine.

     He was affable and sad.The people said:"There is a rich man who has not a haughty air.There is a happy man who has not a contented air."

     Some people maintained that he was a mysterious person, and that no one ever entered his chamber, which was a regular anchorite's cell, furnished with winged hour-glasses and enlivened by cross-bones and skulls of dead men!This was much talked of, so that one of the elegant and malicious young women of M. sur M. came to him one day, and asked:"Monsieur le Maire, pray show us your chamber. It is said to be a grotto."He smiled, and introduced them instantly into this "grotto."They were well punished for their curiosity. The room was very simply furnished in mahogany, which was rather ugly, like all furniture of that sort, and hung with paper worth twelve sous. They could see nothing remarkable about it, except two candlesticks of antique pattern which stood on the chimney-piece and appeared to be silver, "for they were hall-marked," an observation full of the type of wit of petty towns.

     Nevertheless, people continued to say that no one ever got into the room, and that it was a hermit's cave, a mysterious retreat, a hole, a tomb.

     It was also whispered about that he had "immense" sums deposited with Laffitte, with this peculiar feature, that they were always at his immediate disposal, so that, it was added, M. Madeleine could make his appearance at Laffitte's any morning, sign a receipt, and carry off his two or three millions in ten minutes.In reality, "these two or three millions" were reducible, as we have said, to six hundred and thirty or forty thousand francs.

     但他的生活仍和当初一样朴素。他有着灰白的头发，严肃的目光，面色焦黑，象个工人，精神沉郁，象个哲学家。他经常戴一顶宽边帽，穿一身粗呢长礼服，一直扣到颌下。他履行他的市长职责，下班以后便闭门深居。他经常只和少数几个人谈话，他逃避寒暄，遇见人，从侧面行个礼便连忙趋避；他用微笑来避开交谈，用布施来避免微笑。妇人们都说他是“一只多么乖的熊①！”他的消遣方法便是到田野里去散步。
①法国人说“熊”，是指性情孤僻的人。

    他老是一个人吃饭，面前摊开一本书，从事阅读。他有一个精致的小书柜。他爱书籍，书籍是一种冷静可靠的朋友。他有了钱，空闲时间也随之增多了，他好象是利用这些时间来提高自己的修养。打他来到滨海蒙特勒伊之后，大家觉得他的谈吐一年比一年来得更谦恭、更考究、更文雅了。
    他散步时喜欢带一枝长熗，但不常用。偶开一熗，却从无虚发，使人惊叹。他从不打死一只无害的野兽，他从不射击一只小鸟。

    他虽已上了年纪，不过据说体力仍然不可思议。他常在必要时助人一臂之力，扶起一匹马，推动一个陷在泥坑里的车轮，握着两只角去拦阻一头逃窜的牡牛。出门时，他的衣袋中总是装满了钱，到回来，又都空了。他从一个村庄经过时，那些衣服破烂的孩子们都欢天喜地跑到他身边，就象一群小飞虫似的围着他。

    大家猜想他从前大概度过田野生活，因为他有各种有用的秘诀教给那些农民。他告诉他们用普通盐水喷洒仓屋并冲洗地板缝，就可以消灭蛀麦子的飞蛾，在墙上、屋顶上、合壁里、屋子里，处处挂上开着花的奥维奥草，就可以驱除米蛀虫。他有许多方法清除所有寄生在田里，伤害麦子的草，如野鸠豆草、黑穗草、鸠豆草、山涧草、狐尾草等。他在兔子窝里放一只巴巴利①小猪，它的臭味就能使耗子不敢来伤害兔子。
①巴巴利（Baibarie），非洲北部一带的统称。

    一天，他看见村里有许多人正忙着拔除荨麻。他望着一堆已经拔出并且枯萎了的荨麻说道：“死了。假使我们知道利用它，这却是一种好东西。荨麻在嫩时，叶子是一种非常好吃的蔬菜。老荨麻也有一种和亚麻或苎麻一样的纤维和经络。荨麻布并不比苎麻布差些。荨麻斩碎了可以喂鸡鸭。磨烂了也可以喂牛羊。荨麻子拌在刍秣里能使动物的毛光润，根拌在盐里可制成一种悦目的黄色颜料。不管怎样，这总是一种可以收割两次的草料。并且荨林需要什么呢？一点点土，不需要照顾，不需要培养。不过它的籽，一面熟，一面落，不容易收获罢了。我们只须费一 点点力，荨麻就成了有用的东西，我们不去利用它，它就成了有害的东西了。于是我们铲除它。世上有多少人就和荨麻大同小异。”他沉默了一会，又接下去说：‘我的朋友们，记牢这一点，世界上没有坏草，也没有坏人，只有坏的庄稼人。”

    孩子们爱他，也还因为他知道用麦秸和椰子壳做成各种有趣的小玩意儿。

    他一看见天主堂门口布置成黑色，总要走进去。他探访丧礼，正如别人探访洗礼一样。由于他的性格非常温和，别人丧偶和其他不幸的事都是他所关心的。他常和居丧的朋友、守制的家庭、在柩旁叹息的神甫们打成一堆。他仿佛乐于把自己的思想沉浸在那种满含乐土景色的悼歌里。眼睛仰望天空，仿佛在对无极界中那些神秘发出心愿，他静听在死亡的深渊边缘唱出的那种酸楚的歌声。

    正如别人秘密地干着坏事一样，他秘密地做了许多善事。晚上，他常乘人不备，去到别人家里，偷偷摸摸地爬上楼梯。一个穷鬼回到他破屋子，发现他的房门已被人趁他不在时开过了，有时甚至是撬开的。那穷人连声喊道：“有个小偷来过了！”他走进去，发现的第一件东西，便是丢在家具上的一枚金币。来过的那个“小偷”正是马德兰伯伯。

    他为人和蔼而忧郁。一般平民常说：“这才是一个有钱而不骄狂的人，这才是一个幸福而不自满的人。”

    有些人还认为他是一个神秘的人，他们硬说别人从未进过他的房间，因为他那房间是一间真正的隐修士的密室，里面放着一个有翅膀的沙漏，还装饰着两根交叉放着的死人的股骨和几个骷髅头。这种话传得很广，所以有一天，滨海蒙特勒伊的几个调皮的时髦青年女子来到他家，向他提出要求：“市长先生，请您把您的房间给我们看看。人家说它是个石洞。”他微微笑了一下，立刻引她们到“石洞”去。她们大失所望。那仅仅是一间陈设着相当难看的桃花心木家具的房间，那种家具总是难看的，墙上裱糊着值十二个苏一张的纸。除开壁炉上两个旧烛台外，其余的东西都是不值她们一看的，那两个烛台好象是银的，“因为上面有官府的戳记。”这是那种小城市风味十足的见识。

    往后，大家仍旧照样传说从没人到过他那屋子，说那是一个隐士居住的岩穴，一个梦游的地方，一个土洞，一座坟。大家还七嘴八舌地说他有“大宗”款子存在拉菲特银行，并且还有这样一个特点，就是他随时都可以立刻提取那些存款，他们还补充说，马德兰先生可能会在一个早晨跑到拉菲特银行，签上一张收据，十分钟之内提走他的两三百万法郎。而实际上，我们已经说过，那“两三百万”已经慢慢减到六十三四万了。

     At the beginning of 1820 the newspapers announced the death of M. Myriel, Bishop of D----, surnamed "Monseigneur Bienvenu," who had died in the odor of sanctity at the age of eighty-two.

     The Bishop of D---- --to supply here a detail which the papers omitted-- had been blind for many years before his death, and content to be blind, as his sister was beside him.

     Let us remark by the way, that to be blind and to be loved, is, in fact, one of the most strangely exquisite forms of happiness upon this earth, where nothing is complete.To have continually at one's side a woman, a daughter, a sister, a charming being, who is there because you need her and because she cannot do without you; to know that we are indispensable to a person who is necessary to us; to be able to incessantly measure one's affection by the amount of her presence which she bestows on us, and to say to ourselves, "Since she consecrates the whole of her time to me, it is because I possess the whole of her heart"; to behold her thought in lieu of her face; to be able to verify the fidelity of one being amid the eclipse of the world; to regard the rustle of a gown as the sound of wings; to hear her come and go, retire, speak, return, sing, and to think that one is the centre of these steps, of this speech; to manifest at each instant one's personal attraction; to feel one's self all the more powerful because of one's infirmity; to become in one's obscurity, and through one's obscurity, the star around which this angel gravitates,--few felicities equal this. The supreme happiness of life consists in the conviction that one is loved; loved for one's own sake--let us say rather, loved in spite of one's self; this conviction the blind man possesses. To be served in distress is to be caressed.Does he lack anything? No. One does not lose the sight when one has love.And what love! A love wholly constituted of virtue!There is no blindness where there is certainty.Soul seeks soul, gropingly, and finds it. And this soul, found and tested, is a woman.A hand sustains you; it is hers:a mouth lightly touches your brow; it is her mouth: you hear a breath very near you; it is hers.To have everything of her, from her worship to her pity, never to be left, to have that sweet weakness aiding you, to lean upon that immovable reed, to touch providence with one's hands, and to be able to take it in one's arms,--God made tangible,--what bliss!The heart, that obscure, celestial flower, undergoes a mysterious blossoming. One would not exchange that shadow for all brightness! The angel soul is there, uninterruptedly there; if she departs, it is but to return again; she vanishes like a dream, and reappears like reality.One feels warmth approaching, and behold! she is there. One overflows with serenity, with gayety, with ecstasy; one is a radiance amid the night.And there are a thousand little cares. Nothings, which are enormous in that void.The most ineffable accents of the feminine voice employed to lull you, and supplying the vanished universe to you.One is caressed with the soul. One sees nothing, but one feels that one is adored.It is a paradise of shadows.

     It was from this paradise that Monseigneur Welcome had passed to the other.
     The announcement of his death was reprinted by the local journal of M. sur M. On the following day, M. Madeleine appeared clad wholly in black, and with crape on his hat.

     This mourning was noticed in the town, and commented on.It seemed to throw a light on M. Madeleine's origin.It was concluded that some relationship existed between him and the venerable Bishop."He has gone into mourning for the Bishop of D----" said the drawing-rooms; this raised M. Madeleine's credit greatly, and procured for him, instantly and at one blow, a certain consideration in the noble world of M. sur M. The microscopic Faubourg Saint-Germain of the place meditated raising the quarantine against M. Madeleine, the probable relative of a bishop.M. Madeleine perceived the advancement which he had obtained, by the more numerous courtesies of the old women and the more plentiful smiles of the young ones. One evening, a ruler in that petty great world, who was curious by right of seniority, ventured to ask him, "M. le Maire is doubtless a cousin of the late Bishop of D----?"

     He said, "No, Madame."
     "But," resumed the dowager, "you are wearing mourning for him."
     He replied, "It is because I was a servant in his family in my youth."

     Another thing which was remarked, was, that every time that he encountered in the town a young Savoyard who was roaming about the country and seeking chimneys to sweep, the mayor had him summoned, inquired his name, and gave him money.The little Savoyards told each other about it:a great many of them passed that way.

     一八二一年初，各地报纸都刊出了迪涅主教，“别号卞福汝大人”的米里哀先生逝世的消息。他是在八十二岁的高龄入圣的。
    我们在此地补充各地报纸略去的一点。迪涅主教在去世以前几年已经双目失明，但是他以失明为乐，因为他有妹妹在他身旁。

    让我们顺便提一句，双目失明，并且为人所爱，在这事事都不圆满的世界上，那可算是一种甘美得出奇的人生幸福。在你的身旁，经常有个和你相依为命的妇人、姑娘、姊妹、可爱的人儿，知道自己对她是决不可少的，而她对自己也是非有不可的，能经常在她和你相处时间的长短上去推断她的情感，并且能向自己说：“她既然把她的全部时间用在我身上，就足以说明我占用了她整个的心”；无法看见她的面目，但能了解她的思想；在与世隔绝的生活中，体会到一个人的忠实；感到衣裙的摇曳，如同小鸟振翅之声；听她来往、进出、说话、歌唱，并且想到自己是这种足音、这些话、这支歌的中心；不时表示自己的愉快，觉得自己越残缺，便越强大；在那种黑暗中，并正因为那种黑暗，自己成了这安琪儿归宿的星球；人生的乐事很少能与之相比。人生至高的幸福，便是感到自己有人爱；有人为你是这个样子而爱你，更进一步说，有人不问你是什么样子而仍旧一心爱你，那种感觉，盲人才有。在那种痛苦中，有人服侍，便是有人抚爱。他还缺少什么呢？什么都不缺少。有了爱便说不上失明。并且这是何等的爱！完全是高尚品质构成的爱。有平安的地方便没有瞽矇。一颗心摸索着在寻求另一颗心，并且得到了它。况且那颗得到了也证实了心，还是一个妇人的心。一只手扶着你，那是她的手；一只嘴拂着你的额头，那是她的嘴；在紧靠着你身旁的地方，你听到一种呼吸的声音，那声音也是她。得到她的一切，从她的信仰直到她的同情，从不和她分离，得到那种柔弱力量的援助，倚仗那根不屈不挠的芦草，亲手触摸到神明，并且可以把神明抱在怀里，有血有肉的上帝，那是何等的幸福！这野心，这朵奥妙的仙花，那么神秘地开放了。即令以重见光明作代价，我们也不肯牺牲这朵花的影子。那天使的灵魂便在身旁，时时在身旁；假使她走开，也是为了再转回来而走开的；她和梦一样地消失，又和实际一样地重新出现；我们觉得一阵暖气逼近身旁，这就是她来了。我们有说不尽的谧静、愉快和叹赏，我们自己便是黑暗中的光辉。还有万千种无微不至的照顾，许多小事在空虚中便具有重大意义。那种不可磨灭的女性的语声，既可以催你入眠，又可以为你替代那失去了的宇宙。你受到了灵魂的爱抚。你什么也瞧不见，但是你感到了她的爱抚。这是黑暗中的天堂。

    卞福汝主教便是从这个天堂渡到那个天堂去的。他的噩耗被滨海蒙特勒伊的地方报纸转载出来了。第二天，马德兰先生穿了一身全黑的衣服，帽子上戴了黑纱。城里的人都注意到他的丧服，议论纷纷。这仿佛多少可以暗示出一点关于马德兰先生的来历。大家得出结论，认为他和这位年高德劭的主教肯定有些瓜葛。那些客厅里的人都说“他为迪涅的主教穿孝”，这就大大提高了马德兰先生的身份，他一举而立即获得滨海蒙特勒伊上流社会的某种器重。那地方的一个小型的圣日耳曼郊区①想取消从前对马德兰先生的歧视，因为他很可能是那主教的亲戚。从此年老的妇人都对他行更多的屈膝大礼，年少的女子也对他露出更多的笑容，马德兰先生也看出了自己在这些方面的优越地位。一天晚上，那个小小的大交际社会中的一个老妇人，自以为资格老，就有管闲事的权利，不揣冒昧，向他问道：“市长先生一定是那位去世不久的迪涅主教的表亲吧？”
①黎附近的圣日耳曼郊区是贵族居住的地方。

    他说：“不是的，夫人。”
    “但是您不是在为他穿丧服吗？”那老寡妇又说。他回答说：“那是因为我幼年时曾在他家里当过仆人。”还有一件大家知道的事。每次有通烟囱的流浪少年从那城里经过时，市长先生总要派人叫他来，问他姓名，给他钱。这一情况在那些通烟囱的孩子们里一经传开以后，许多通烟囱的孩子便都要从那地方走过。

     Little by little, and in the course of time, all this opposition subsided.There had at first been exercised against M. Madeleine, in virtue of a sort of law which all those who rise must submit to, blackening and calumnies; then they grew to be nothing more than ill-nature, then merely malicious remarks, then even this entirely disappeared; respect became complete, unanimous, cordial, and towards 1821 the moment arrived when the word "Monsieur le Maire" was pronounced at M. sur M. with almost the same accent as "Monseigneur the Bishop" had been pronounced in D---- in 1815.people came from a distance of ten leagues around to consult M. Madeleine.He put an end to differences, he prevented lawsuits, he reconciled enemies. Every one took him for the judge, and with good reason. It seemed as though he had for a soul the book of the natural law. It was like an epidemic of veneration, which in the course of six or seven years gradually took possession of the whole district.

     One single man in the town, in the arrondissement, absolutely escaped this contagion, and, whatever Father Madeleine did, remained his opponent as though a sort of incorruptible and imperturbable instinct kept him on the alert and uneasy.It seems, in fact, as though there existed in certain men a veritable bestial instinct, though pure and upright, like all instincts, which creates antipathies and sympathies, which fatally separates one nature from another nature, which does not hesitate, which feels no disquiet, which does not hold its peace, and which never belies itself, clear in its obscurity, infallible, imperious, intractable, stubborn to all counsels of the intelligence and to all the dissolvents of reason, and which, in whatever manner destinies are arranged, secretly warns the man-dog of the presence of the man-cat, and the man-fox of the presence of the man-lion.

     It frequently happened that when M. Madeleine was passing along a street, calm, affectionate, surrounded by the blessings of all, a man of lofty stature, clad in an iron-gray frock-coat, armed with a heavy cane, and wearing a battered hat, turned round abruptly behind him, and followed him with his eyes until he disappeared, with folded arms and a slow shake of the head, and his upper lip raised in company with his lower to his nose, a sort of significant grimace which might be translated by:"What is that man, after all? I certainly have seen him somewhere.In any case, I am not his dupe."

     This person, grave with a gravity which was almost menacing, was one of those men who, even when only seen by a rapid glimpse, arrest the spectator's attention.
     His name was Javert, and he belonged to the police.

     At M. sur M. he exercised the unpleasant but useful functions of an inspector.He had not seen Madeleine's beginnings.Javert owed the post which he occupied to the protection of M. Chabouillet, the secretary of the Minister of State, Comte Angeles, then prefect of police at paris.When Javert arrived at M. sur M. the fortune of the great manufacturer was already made, and Father Madeleine had become Monsieur Madeleine.
Certain police officers have a peculiar physiognomy, which is complicated with an air of baseness mingled with an air of authority. Javert possessed this physiognomy minus the baseness.

     It is our conviction that if souls were visible to the eyes, we should be able to see distinctly that strange thing that each one individual of the human race corresponds to some one of the species of the animal creation; and we could easily recognize this truth, hardly perceived by the thinker, that from the oyster to the eagle, from the pig to the tiger, all animals exist in man, and that each one of them is in a man.Sometimes even several of them at a time.

     Animals are nothing else than the figures of our virtues and our vices, straying before our eyes, the visible phantoms of our souls. God shows them to us in order to induce us to reflect.Only since animals are mere shadows, God has not made them capable of education in the full sense of the word; what is the use?On the contrary, our souls being realities and having a goal which is appropriate to them, God has bestowed on them intelligence; that is to say, the possibility of education.Social education, when well done, can always draw from a soul, of whatever sort it may be, the utility which it contains.

     This, be it said, is of course from the restricted point of view of the terrestrial life which is apparent, and without prejudging the profound question of the anterior or ulterior personality of the beings which are not man.The visible _I_ in nowise authorizes the thinker to deny the latent _I_.Having made this reservation, let us pass on.

     Now, if the reader will admit, for a moment, with us, that in every man there is one of the animal species of creation, it will be easy for us to say what there was in police Officer Javert.
     The peasants of Asturias are convinced that in every litter of wolves there is one dog, which is killed by the mother because, otherwise, as he grew up, he would devour the other little ones.

     Give to this dog-son of a wolf a human face, and the result will be Javert.

     Javert had been born in prison, of a fortune-teller, whose husband was in the galleys.As he grew up, he thought that he was outside the pale of society, and he despaired of ever re-entering it. He observed that society unpardoningly excludes two classes of men,-- those who attack it and those who guard it; he had no choice except between these two classes; at the same time, he was conscious of an indescribable foundation of rigidity, regularity, and probity, complicated with an inexpressible hatred for the race of bohemians whence he was sprung.He entered the police; he succeeded there. At forty years of age he was an inspector.

     During his youth he had been employed in the convict establishments of the South.
     Before proceeding further, let us come to an understanding as to the words, "human face," which we have just applied to Javert.

     The human face of Javert consisted of a flat nose, with two deep nostrils, towards which enormous whiskers ascended on his cheeks. One felt ill at ease when he saw these two forests and these two caverns for the first time.When Javert laughed,--and his laugh was rare and terrible,--his thin lips parted and revealed to view not only his teeth, but his gums, and around his nose there formed a flattened and savage fold, as on the muzzle of a wild beast. Javert, serious, was a watchdog; when he laughed, he was a tiger. As for the rest, he had very little skull and a great deal of jaw; his hair concealed his forehead and fell over his eyebrows; between his eyes there was a permanent, central frown, like an imprint of wrath; his gaze was obscure; his mouth pursed up and terrible; his air that of ferocious command.

     This man was composed of two very simple and two very good sentiments, comparatively; but he rendered them almost bad, by dint of exaggerating them,--respect for authority, hatred of rebellion; and in his eyes, murder, robbery, all crimes, are only forms of rebellion.He enveloped in a blind and profound faith every one who had a function in the state, from the prime minister to the rural policeman.He covered with scorn, aversion, and disgust every one who had once crossed the legal threshold of evil. He was absolute, and admitted no exceptions.On the one hand, he said, "The functionary can make no mistake; the magistrate is never the wrong."On the other hand, he said, "These men are irremediably lost.Nothing good can come from them."He fully shared the opinion of those extreme minds which attribute to human law I know not what power of making, or, if the reader will have it so, of authenticating, demons, and who place a Styx at the base of society.He was stoical, serious, austere; a melancholy dreamer, humble and haughty, like fanatics.His glance was like a gimlet, cold and piercing.His whole life hung on these two words: watchfulness and supervision.He had introduced a straight line into what is the most crooked thing in the world; he possessed the conscience of his usefulness, the religion of his functions, and he was a spy as other men are priests.Woe to the man who fell into his hands!He would have arrested his own father, if the latter had escaped from the galleys, and would have denounced his mother, if she had broken her ban.And he would have done it with that sort of inward satisfaction which is conferred by virtue.And, withal, a life of privation, isolation, abnegation, chastity, with never a diversion.It was implacable duty; the police understood, as the Spartans understood Sparta, a pitiless lying in wait, a ferocious honesty, a marble informer, Brutus in Vidocq.

     Javert's whole person was expressive of the man who spies and who withdraws himself from observation.The mystical school of Joseph de Maistre, which at that epoch seasoned with lofty cosmogony those things which were called the ultra newspapers, would not have failed to declare that Javert was a symbol. His brow was not visible; it disappeared beneath his hat: his eyes were not visible, since they were lost under his eyebrows: his chin was not visible, for it was plunged in his cravat: his hands were not visible; they were drawn up in his sleeves: and his cane was not visible; he carried it under his coat. But when the occasion presented itself, there was suddenly seen to emerge from all this shadow, as from an ambuscade, a narrow and angular forehead, a baleful glance, a threatening chin, enormous hands, and a monstrous cudgel.

     In his leisure moments, which were far from frequent, he read, although he hated books; this caused him to be not wholly illiterate. This could be recognized by some emphasis in his speech.

     As we have said, he had no vices.When he was pleased with himself, he permitted himself a pinch of snuff.Therein lay his connection with humanity.

     The reader will have no difficulty in understanding that Javert was the terror of that whole class which the annual statistics of the Ministry of Justice designates under the rubric, Vagrants. The name of Javert routed them by its mere utterance; the face of Javert petrified them at sight.
Such was this formidable man.

     Javert was like an eye constantly fixed on M. Madeleine.An eye full of suspicion and conjecture.M. Madeleine had finally perceived the fact; but it seemed to be of no importance to him.He did not even put a question to Javert; he neither sought nor avoided him; he bore that embarrassing and almost oppressive gaze without appearing to notice it.He treated Javert with ease and courtesy, as he did all the rest of the world.
It was divined, from some words which escaped Javert, that he had secretly investigated, with that curiosity which belongs to the race, and into which there enters as much instinct as will, all the anterior traces which Father Madeleine might have left elsewhere. He seemed to know, and he sometimes said in covert words, that some one had gleaned certain information in a certain district about a family which had disappeared.Once he chanced to say, as he was talking to himself, "I think I have him!" Then he remained pensive for three days, and uttered not a word. It seemed that the thread which he thought he held had broken.

     Moreover, and this furnishes the necessary corrective for the too absolute sense which certain words might present, there can be nothing really infallible in a human creature, and the peculiarity of instinct is that it can become confused, thrown off the track, and defeated.Otherwise, it would be superior to intelligence, and the beast would be found to be provided with a better light than man.

     Javert was evidently somewhat disconcerted by the perfect naturalness and tranquillity of M. Madeleine.
     One day, nevertheless, his strange manner appeared to produce an impression on M. Madeleine.It was on the following occasion.

     渐渐地，各种敌意都和岁月一同消逝了。起初有一种势力和马德兰先生对抗，那种势力，所有地位日益增高的人都是会遇到的，那便是人心的险恶和谣言的中伤；过后，就只有一些恶意了；再过后，又不过是一些戏弄了；到后来，全都消除了；恭敬的心才转为完整、一致和真挚了；有一个时期，一八二一年前后，滨海蒙特勒伊人民口中的“市长先生”这几个字，几乎与一八一五年迪涅人民口中的“主教先生”那几个字是同一声调了。周围十法里以内的人都来向马德兰先生求教。他排解纠纷，阻止诉讼，和解敌对双方，每个人都视他为自己正当权利的仲裁人。仿佛他在灵魂方面有一部自然的法典。那好象是一种传染性的尊崇，经过六七年的时间，已经波及全乡了。

    在那个城和那个县里，只有一个人完全不受感染，无论马德兰伯伯做什么，他总是桀骜不驯的，好象有一种无可软化、无可撼动的本能让他警惕，让他不安一样。在某些人心里，好象确有一种和其他本能同样纯洁贤贞的、真正的兽性本能，具有这种本能的人会制造同情和恶感，会离间人与人的关系，使他们永难复合；他不迟疑，不慌乱，有言必发，永不认过；他卖弄糊涂聪明，他坚定、果敢，他对智慧的一切箴言和理智的一切批准全都顽强抗拒，并且无论命运怎样安排，他的那种兽性本能发作时，总要向狗密告猫的来到，向狐狸密告狮子的来到。

    常常，马德兰先生恬静和蔼地在街上走过，在受到大家赞叹时，就有一个身材高大，穿一件铁灰色礼服，拿条粗棍，戴顶平边帽的人迎面走来，到了他背后，又忽然转回头，用眼睛盯着他，直到看不见为止；这人还交叉着两条胳膊，缓缓地摇着头，用下嘴唇把上嘴唇直送到鼻端，做出一种别有用意的丑态，意思就是说：“这个人究竟是什么东西呢？??我一定在什么地方见过他。??总而言之，我还没有上他的当。”

    这个神色严厉到几乎令人恐怖的人物，便是那一种使人一见心悸的人物。他叫沙威，是个警方的人员。

    他在滨海蒙特勒伊担任那些困难而有意义的侦察职务。他不了解马德兰开始阶段的情形。沙威得到这个职位是夏布耶先生保荐的，夏布耶先生是昂格勒斯伯爵任内阁大臣期间的秘书，当时任巴黎警署署长。沙威来到滨海蒙特勒伊是在那位大厂主发财之后，即马德兰伯伯已经变成马德兰先生之后。

    某些警官有一种与众不同的面目，一种由卑鄙的神情和权威的神情组合起来的面目，沙威便有那样一副面孔，但是那种卑鄙的神情却没有。在我们的信念里，假使认为灵魂是肉眼可看见的东西，那么，我们便可以清晰地看见一种怪现象，那就是人类中的每个人，都和禽兽中的某一种很相类似；我们还很容易发现那种不曾被思想家完全弄清楚的真理，那就是从牡蛎到鹰隼，从猪到虎，一切禽兽的性格也在人的性格里都具备，并且每个人都具有某种动物的性格。有时一个人还可以具有几种动物的性格。禽兽并非别的东西，只不过是我们的好品质和坏品质的形象化而已，它们在我们眼前游荡，有如我们灵魂所显出的鬼影。上帝把它们指出来给我们看，要我们自己反剩不过，既然禽兽只是一种暗示，上帝就没有要改造它们的意思；再说，改造禽兽又有什么用呢？我们的灵魂，恰恰相反，那是实际，并且每个灵魂都有它自己的目的，因此上帝才赋予智慧，这就是说，赋予可教育性。社会的良好教育可以从任何类型的灵魂中发展它固有的优点。

    这当然只是从狭义的角度、只是就我们这尘世间的现象来谈的，不该牵涉到那些前生和来生的灵性问题。那些深奥问题不属于人的范畴。有形的我绝不允许思想家否认无形的我。保留了这一点，我们再来谈别的。

    现在，如果大家都和我们一样，暂时承认在任何人身上都有一种禽或兽的本性，我们就易于说明那个警务人员沙威究竟是什么东西了。
    阿斯图里亚斯①地方的农民都深信在每一胎狼崽里必定有一只狗，可是那只狗一定被母狼害死，否则它长大以后会吃掉其它的狼崽。
①阿斯图里亚斯（Asturias），西班牙古行剩。

    你把一副人脸加在那狼生的狗头上，那便是沙威。沙威是在监狱里出世的，他的母亲是一个抽纸牌算命的人，他的父亲是个苦役犯。他长成之后，自认为是社会以外的人，永远没有进入社会的希望。他看见社会毫不留情地把两种人摆在社会之外：攻击社会的人和保卫社会的人。他只能在这两种人中选择一种，同时他觉得自己有一种不可解的刚毅、规矩、严谨的本质，而对他自身所属的游民阶层，却杂有一种说不出的仇恨。他便当了警察。

    他一帆风顺，四十岁上当上了侦察员。
    在他青年时代，他在南方的监狱里服务过。在谈下去之前，让我们先弄清楚刚才我们加在沙威身上的“人脸”这个词。

    沙威的人脸上有一个塌鼻子、两个深鼻孔，两大片络腮胡子一直生到鼻孔边，初次看见那两片森林和那两个深窟的人都会感到不舒服。沙威不常笑，但笑时的样子是狰狞可怕的，两片薄嘴唇张开，不但露出他的牙，还露出他的牙床肉，在他鼻子四周也会卷起一种象猛兽的嘴一样的扁圆粗野的皱纹。郑重的沙威是猎犬，笑时的沙威是老虎。此外他的头盖骨小，牙床大，头发遮着前额，垂到眉边，两眼间有一条固定的中央皱痕，好象一颗怒星，目光深沉，嘴唇紧合，令人生畏，总之，一副凶恶的凌人气概。

    这个人是由两种感情构成的：尊敬官府，仇视反叛。这两种感情本来很简单，也可以说还非常的好，但他执行过度时便难免作恶。在他看来，偷盗、杀人，一切罪行都是反叛的不同形式。凡是在政府有一官半职的人，上自内阁大臣，下至乡村民警，对这些人他都有一种盲目的深厚信仰。对曾经一度触犯法律的人，他一概加以鄙视、疾恨和厌恶。他是走极端的，不承认有例外，一方面他常说：“公务人员不会错，官员永远不会有过失。”另一方面他又说：“这些人都是不可救药的。他们决做不出什么好事来。”有些人思想过激，他们认为人的法律有权随意指定某人为罪犯，在必要时也有权确定某人的罪状，并且不容社会下层的人申辩，沙威完全同意这种见解。他是坚决、严肃、铁面无私的，他是沉郁的梦想者，他能屈能伸，有如盲从的信徒。他的目光是一把钢锥，寒光刺人心脾。他一生只在“警惕”“侦察”方面下功夫。他用直线式的眼光去理解人世间最曲折的事物；他深信自己的作用，热爱自己的职务；他做暗探，如同别人做神甫一样。落在他手中的人必无幸免！自己的父亲越狱，他也会逮捕；自己的母亲潜逃，他也会告发。他那样做了，还会自鸣得意，如同做了善事一般。同时，他一生刻苦、独居、克己、制欲，从来不曾娱乐过。他对职务是绝对公而忘私的，他理解警察，正如斯巴达人理解斯巴达一样；他是一个无情的侦察者，一个凶顽的诚实人，一个铁石心肠的侦探，一个具有布鲁图斯①性格的维多克。②沙威的全部气质说明他是一个藏头露尾、贼眼觑人的人。当时以高深的宇宙演化论，点缀各种所谓极端报刊的梅斯特尔玄学派，一定会说沙威是一个象征性的人物。别人看不见他那埋在帽子下的额头，别人看不见他那压在眉毛下的眼睛，别人看不见他那沉在领带里的下颌，别人看不见他那缩在衣袖里的手，别人看不见他那藏在礼服里的拐杖。但在时机到了的时候，他那筋骨暴露的扁额，阴气扑人的眼睛，骇人的下巴，粗大的手，怪模怪样的短棍，都突然从黑影里象伏兵那样全部突现了。
①布鲁图斯（Brutus），公元前六世纪罗马帝国执政官，是个大公忘私的人物。
②维多克（Vidocq），当时法国的一个著名侦探。

    他尽管厌恶书籍，但在偶然得到一点空闲时也常读书，因此他并非全然不通文墨，这可以从他谈话中喜欢咬文嚼字这一点上看出来。我们已经说过，他一点也没有不良的嗜好。得意的时候也只闻一点鼻烟。在这一点上，他还带点人性。

    有一个阶级，在司法部的统计年报表上是被称为“游民”的，我们不难理解为什么沙威是那个阶级的阎王。一提沙威的名字就会让他们退避三舍，沙威一露面，就会让他们惊愕失色。以上就是这个恶魔的形象。沙威好象是一只永远盯在马德兰先生身上的眼睛，一只充满疑惑和猜忌的眼睛。到后来，马德兰先生也看出来了，不过对他来说，这仿佛是件无足轻重的事。他一句话也没有问过沙威，他既不找他，也不避他，他泰然自若地承受那种恼人的、几乎是逼人的目光。他对待沙威，正如对待旁人一样轻松和蔼。

    从沙威的口气，我们可以猜出他已暗中调查过马德兰伯伯以前可能在别处留下的一些踪迹。那种好奇心原本是他那种族的特性，一半由于本能，一半由于志愿。他仿佛已经知道底蕴，有时他还支支吾吾地说，已有人在某地调查过某个消失了的人家的某些情况。一次，他在和自己说话时说过一句这样的话：“我相信，我已经抓着他的把柄了。”那次以后，他一连想了三天，不曾说一句话。好象他觉得自己握着的那根线索又中断了。
    并且，下面的这点修正也是必要的，因为某些词句的含义往往显得过于绝对，其实人类的想象，也不能真的一无差错，并且本能的特性也正在于它有时也会被外界所扰乱、困惑和击退。否则本能将比智慧优越，禽兽也比人类聪明了。

    沙威明显有点被马德兰先生的那种恬静、安闲、行若无事的态度窘困住了。可是有一天，他那种奇特的行为好象刺激了马德兰先生。事情的经过是这样的。

One morning M. Madeleine was passing through an unpaved alley of M. sur M.; he heard a noise, and saw a group some distance away. He approached.An old man named Father Fauchelevent had just fallen beneath his cart, his horse having tumbled down.

This Fauchelevent was one of the few enemies whom M. Madeleine had at that time.When Madeleine arrived in the neighborhood, Fauchelevent, an ex-notary and a peasant who was almost educated, had a business which was beginning to be in a bad way.Fauchelevent had seen this simple workman grow rich, while he, a lawyer, was being ruined. This had filled him with jealousy, and he had done all he could, on every occasion, to injure Madeleine.Then bankruptcy had come; and as the old man had nothing left but a cart and a horse, and neither family nor children, he had turned carter.

The horse had two broken legs and could not rise.The old man was caught in the wheels.The fall had been so unlucky that the whole weight of the vehicle rested on his breast.The cart was quite heavily laden.Father Fauchelevent was rattling in the throat in the most lamentable manner.They had tried, but in vain, to drag him out.An unmethodical effort, aid awkwardly given, a wrong shake, might kill him.It was impossible to disengage him otherwise than by lifting the vehicle off of him.Javert, who had come up at the moment of the accident, had sent for a jack-screw.

M. Madeleine arrived.people stood aside respectfully.
"Help!" cried old Fauchelevent."Who will be good and save the old man?"
M.Madeleine turned towards those present:--
"Is there a jack-screw to be had?"
"One has been sent for," answered the peasant.
"How long will it take to get it?"

"They have gone for the nearest, to Flachot's place, where there is a farrier; but it makes no difference; it will take a good quarter of an hour."
"A quarter of an hour!" exclaimed Madeleine.
It had rained on the preceding night; the soil was soaked.

The cart was sinking deeper into the earth every moment, and crushing the old carter's breast more and more. It was evident that his ribs would be broken in five minutes more.
"It is impossible to wait another quarter of an hour," said Madeleine to the peasants, who were staring at him.

"We must!"
"But it will be too late then!Don't you see that the cart is sinking?"
"Well!"

"Listen," resumed Madeleine; "there is still room enough under the cart to allow a man to crawl beneath it and raise it with his back. Only half a minute, and the poor man can be taken out.Is there any one here who has stout loins and heart?There are five louis d'or to be earned!"
Not a man in the group stirred.
"Ten louis," said Madeleine.

The persons present dropped their eyes.One of them muttered: "A man would need to be devilish strong.And then he runs the risk of getting crushed!"
"Come," began Madeleine again, "twenty louis."
The same silence.
"It is not the will which is lacking," said a voice.

M. Madeleine turned round, and recognized Javert.He had not noticed him on his arrival.
Javert went on:--
"It is strength.One would have to be a terrible man to do such a thing as lift a cart like that on his back."

Then, gazing fixedly at M. Madeleine, he went on, emphasizing every word that he uttered:--
"Monsieur Madeleine, I have never known but one man capable of doing what you ask."
Madeleine shuddered.

Javert added, with an air of indifference, but without removing his eyes from Madeleine:--
"He was a convict."
"Ah!" said Madeleine.
"In the galleys at Toulon."
Madeleine turned pale.

Meanwhile, the cart continued to sink slowly.Father Fauchelevent rattled in the throat, and shrieked:--
"I am strangling!My ribs are breaking! a screw! something!Ah!"
Madeleine glanced about him.

"Is there, then, no one who wishes to earn twenty louis and save the life of this poor old man?"
No one stirred.Javert resumed:--
"I have never known but one man who could take the place of a screw, and he was that convict."
"Ah!It is crushing me!" cried the old man.

Madeleine raised his head, met Javert's falcon eye still fixed upon him, looked at the motionless peasants, and smiled sadly. Then, without saying a word, he fell on his knees, and before the crowd had even had time to utter a cry, he was underneath the vehicle.
A terrible moment of expectation and silence ensued.

They beheld Madeleine, almost flat on his stomach beneath that terrible weight, make two vain efforts to bring his knees and his elbows together.They shouted to him, "Father Madeleine, come out!" Old Fauchelevent himself said to him, "Monsieur Madeleine, go away! You see that I am fated to die!Leave me!You will get yourself crushed also!"Madeleine made no reply.

All the spectators were panting.The wheels had continued to sink, and it had become almost impossible for Madeleine to make his way from under the vehicle.

Suddenly the enormous mass was seen to quiver, the cart rose slowly, the wheels half emerged from the ruts.They heard a stifled voice crying, "Make haste!Help!"It was Madeleine, who had just made a final effort.

They rushed forwards.The devotion of a single man had given force and courage to all.The cart was raised by twenty arms. Old Fauchelevent was saved.

Madeleine rose.He was pale, though dripping with perspiration. His clothes were torn and covered with mud.All wept.The old man kissed his knees and called him the good God.As for him, he bore upon his countenance an indescribable expression of happy and celestial suffering, and he fixed his tranquil eye on Javert, who was still staring at him.

     有一天早晨，马德兰先生路过滨海蒙特勒伊的一条没有铺石块的小街。他听到一阵嘈杂的声音，还远远看见一堆人。他赶到那里。一个叫割风伯伯的老年人，刚摔在了他的车子下面，因为那拉车的马滑了一跤。这位割风伯伯是当时一贯歧视马德兰先生的少数几个冤家对头之一。割风从前当过乡吏，是一个粗通文墨的农民，马德兰刚到那里时，他的生意正开始走下坡路。割风眼见这个普通工人日益富裕，而他自己，一个大老板却渐渐衰败下来，他满腔嫉妒，一遇机会，便竭力暗算马德兰。后来他破了产，年纪老了，又只有一辆小车和一匹马，并且也没有家室儿女，为了生计，只好驾车。那匹马的两条后腿跌伤了，爬不起来，老头子陷在车轮中间。那一跤摔得很不巧，整个车子的重量都压在他的胸口上。车上的东西很沉重。割风伯伯急得惨叫。别人试着拖他出来，但是没用。如果乱来，救助不得法，一阵摇动还可以送了他的命。除非把车子从下面撑起来，就没其它办法能把他救出来。沙威在出事时赶来了，他派了人去找一个千斤顶。马德兰先生也来了。大家都恭恭敬敬地让出一条路。“救命呀！”

    割风老头喊着说，“谁是好孩子？救救老人吧。”马德兰先生转身向着观众说：“你们有千斤顶吗？”
    “已经有人去找了。”一个农民回答说。
    “要多长时间才找得来？”
    “是到最近的地方去找的，到福拉肖，那里有个钉马蹄铁的工人，但是无论如何，总得整整一刻钟。”
    “一刻钟！”马德兰大声说。

    前一晚下了雨，地浸湿了，那车子正在往地下陷，把那老车夫的胸口越压越紧了。不到五分钟他的肋骨一定就会折断。“等一刻钟，那不行！”马德兰向在场的那些农民说。“只有等！”
    “不过肯定来不及了！你们没看见那车子正在往下陷吗？”“圣母！”

    “听我讲，”马德兰又说，“那车子下面还有地方，可以让一个人爬进去，用背把车子顶起来。只要半分钟就可以把这个可怜的人救出来。这儿有一个有腰劲和良心的人吗？有五个金路易①好赚！”
①路易，金币名，每枚合二十法郎。

    在那堆人里谁都没动。
    “十个路易。”马德兰说。在场的人都把眼睛垂了下去，其中有一 个低声说：“那非得是有神力的人不可。并且弄得不好，连自己也会压死。”
    “来吧！”马德兰又说，“二十路易！”仍旧没有动静。
    “他们并不是没有心肝。”一个人的声音说。马德兰先生转过身，认出了沙威。他来时没看见他。沙威继续说：“他们缺少的是力气。把这样一辆车子扛在背上，非有一个特别厉害的人不可。”
    
    随后，他眼睛盯住马德兰先生，一字一字加重语气说下去：“马德兰先生，我有生以来只认得一个人有能力照您的话去做。”
    马德兰吃了一惊。沙威用一副不在意的神气接着说下去，但是眼睛不离开马德兰。
    “那个人从前是个苦役犯。”
    “呀！”马德兰说。
    “土伦监牢里的苦役犯。”马德兰面无人色。

    此时，那辆车继续慢慢地往下陷。割风伯伯喘着气，吼着说：“我吐不出气！我的肋骨要断了！弄个千斤顶来！或者别的东西！哎哟！”
    马德兰往四面看。
    “竟没有一个人要赚那二十路易，来救这可怜的老人一命吗？”在场没有一个人动。沙威又说：“我从来只认得一个能替代千斤顶的人，就是那个苦役犯。”“呀！我被压死了！”那老人喊着说。

    马德兰抬起头来，正遇上沙威那双始终盯在他脸上的鹰眼，马德兰望着那些不动的农民，苦笑了一下。随后，他一言不发，双膝跪下，观众还没来得及叫，他已到了车子下面了。
    有过一阵惊心动魄的静候辰光。

    大家看见马德兰几乎平伏在那一堆吓人的东西下面，两次想使肘弯接近膝头，都没成功。大家向他喊着说：“马德兰伯伯快出来！”那年老的割风本人也对他说：“马德兰先生！请快走开！我命里该死呢，你瞧！让我去吧！您也会压死在这里！”马德兰不回答。

    观众惊惶气塞。车轮又陷下去了一些，马德兰已经没有多大机会从车底出来了。忽然，大家看见那一大堆东西动摇起来了，车子慢慢上升了，轮子已从泥坑里起来了一半。一种几乎气绝的声音叫道：“赶快！帮忙！”

    叫的正是马德兰，他刚用尽了他最后一点气力。大家涌上去。一个人的努力带动了所有的人的力气和勇敢。那辆车子竟被二十条胳膊抬了起来。割风老头幸免于难。

马德兰站起来，尽管满头大汗，脸色却是青的。他的衣服撕破了，满身污泥。大家都哭了。那个老头子吻着他的膝头，称他为慈悲的上帝。而他，他脸上露出了一种说不出的至高无上、快乐无比的惨痛，他把恬静自如的目光注射在沙威的面上，沙威也始终望着他。

Fauchelevent had dislocated his kneepan in his fall.Father Madeleine had him conveyed to an infirmary which he had established for his workmen in the factory building itself, and which was served by two sisters of charity.On the following morning the old man found a thousand-franc bank-note on his night-stand, with these words in Father Madeleine's writing:"I purchase your horse and cart." The cart was broken, and the horse was dead.Fauchelevent recovered, but his knee remained stiff.M. Madeleine, on the recommendation of the sisters of charity and of his priest, got the good man a place as gardener in a female convent in the Rue Saint-Antoine in paris.

Some time afterwards, M. Madeleine was appointed mayor.The first time that Javert beheld M. Madeleine clothed in the scarf which gave him authority over the town, he felt the sort of shudder which a watch-dog might experience on smelling a wolf in his master's clothes. From that time forth he avoided him as much as he possibly could. When the requirements of the service imperatively demanded it, and he could not do otherwise than meet the mayor, he addressed him with profound respect.

This prosperity created at M. sur M. by Father Madeleine had, besides the visible signs which we have mentioned, another symptom which was none the less significant for not being visible. This never deceives.When the population suffers, when work is lacking, when there is no commerce, the tax-payer resists imposts through penury, he exhausts and oversteps his respite, and the state expends a great deal of money in the charges for compelling and collection.When work is abundant, when the country is rich and happy, the taxes are paid easily and cost the state nothing. It may be said, that there is one infallible thermometer of the public misery and riches,--the cost of collecting the taxes. In the course of seven years the expense of collecting the taxes had diminished three-fourths in the arrondissement of M. sur M., and this led to this arrondissement being frequently cited from all the rest by M. de Villele, then Minister of Finance.

Such was the condition of the country when Fantine returned thither. No one remembered her.Fortunately, the door of M. Madeleine's factory was like the face of a friend.She presented herself there, and was admitted to the women's workroom.The trade was entirely new to Fantine; she could not be very skilful at it, and she therefore earned but little by her day's work; but it was sufficient; the problem was solved; she was earning her living.

     割风的膝盖骨跌脱了。马德兰伯伯叫人把他抬进疗养室，这疗养室是他为他的工人准备的，就在他的工厂的大楼里，有两个修女在里面服务。第二天早晨，那老头子在床头小桌上发现一张一千法郎的票据和马德兰伯伯亲笔写的一句话：“我买您的车和马。”车子早已碎了，马也早已死了。割风的伤医好以后，膝头却是僵直的。马德兰先生通过那些修女和本堂神甫的介绍，把那老头安插在巴黎圣安东尼区的一个女修道院里做园叮过了些日子，马德兰先生被任命为市长。沙威第一次看见马德兰先生披上那条表示掌握全城大权的绶带时，不禁感到浑身哆嗦，正如一只狗在它主人衣服底下嗅到了狼味。从那天起，他尽量躲避他。如果公务迫切需要非和市长见面不可，他便恭恭敬敬地和他谈话。

    马德兰伯伯在滨海蒙特勒伊所造成的那种繁荣，除了我们已指出的那些明摆着的事实以外，还有另外一种影响，那种影响，表面上虽然看不出，也还是同等重要的。这是一点也不会错的，当人民窘困、工作缺乏、商业萧条时，纳税人由于手头拮据，一定会拖欠税款，超过限期，政府也一定得耗费许多催缴追收的费用的。在工作很多、地方富裕、人民欢乐时，税收也就会顺利，政府也就会节省开支了。我们可以说收税费用的大小，是衡量人民贫富的一种百无一失的晴雨表。七年来，滨海蒙特勒伊一县的收税费用已经减了四分之三，因而当时的财政总长维莱尔①先生曾多次提到该县的情况来和其他县份相比较。
①维莱尔（Villele，1773—1854），伯爵，法国复辟时期的正统主义者，极端保王派，曾一八二二年至一八二八任首相。

    芳汀回乡时，那地方的情形便是如此。家乡已没有人记得她了。幸而马德兰先生工厂的大门还象个朋友的面孔。她到那里去找工作，被安插在女车间，那种技术对芳汀来说完全是陌生的，她不可能做得很熟练，因此她从一天工作中得到的报酬很有限，仅够她的生活费，但问题总算是解决了。
    

When Fantine saw that she was making her living, she felt joyful for a moment.To live honestly by her own labor, what mercy from heaven!The taste for work had really returned to her. She bought a looking-glass, took pleasure in surveying in it her youth, her beautiful hair, her fine teeth; she forgot many things; she thought only of Cosette and of the possible future, and was almost happy. She hired a little room and furnished on credit on the strength of her future work--a lingering trace of her improvident ways. As she was not able to say that she was married she took good care, as we have seen, not to mention her little girl.

At first, as the reader has seen, she paid the Thenardiers promptly. As she only knew how to sign her name, she was obliged to write through a public letter-writer.

She wrote often, and this was noticed.It began to be said in an undertone, in the women's workroom, that Fantine "wrote letters" and that "she had ways about her."

There is no one for spying on people's actions like those who are not concerned in them.Why does that gentleman never come except at nightfall?Why does Mr. So-and-So never hang his key on its nail on Tuesday?Why does he always take the narrow streets? Why does Madame always descend from her hackney-coach before reaching her house?Why does she send out to purchase six sheets of note paper, when she has a "whole stationer's shop full of it?" etc.There exist beings who, for the sake of obtaining the key to these enigmas, which are, moreover, of no consequence whatever to them, spend more money, waste more time, take more trouble, than would be required for ten good actions, and that gratuitously, for their own pleasure, without receiving any other payment for their curiosity than curiosity.They will follow up such and such a man or woman for whole days; they will do sentry duty for hours at a time on the corners of the streets, under alley-way doors at night, in cold and rain; they will bribe errand-porters, they will make the drivers of hackney-coaches and lackeys tipsy, buy a waiting-maid, suborn a porter.Why?For no reason. A pure passion for seeing, knowing, and penetrating into things. A pure itch for talking.And often these secrets once known, these mysteries made public, these enigmas illuminated by the light of day, bring on catastrophies, duels, failures, the ruin of families, and broken lives, to the great joy of those who have "found out everything," without any interest in the matter, and by pure instinct.A sad thing.

Certain persons are malicious solely through a necessity for talking. Their conversation, the chat of the drawing-room, gossip of the anteroom, is like those chimneys which consume wood rapidly; they need a great amount of combustibles; and their combustibles are furnished by their neighbors.

So Fantine was watched.
In addition, many a one was jealous of her golden hair and of her white teeth.

It was remarked that in the workroom she often turned aside, in the midst of the rest, to wipe away a tear.These were the moments when she was thinking of her child; perhaps, also, of the man whom she had loved.
Breaking the gloomy bonds of the past is a mournful task.

It was observed that she wrote twice a month at least, and that she paid the carriage on the letter.They managed to obtain the address: Monsieur, Monsieur Thenardier, inn-keeper at Montfermeil. The public writer, a good old man who could not fill his stomach with red wine without emptying his pocket of secrets, was made to talk in the wine-shop. In short, it was discovered that Fantine had a child. "She must be a pretty sort of a woman."An old gossip was found, who made the trip to Montfermeil, talked to the Thenardiers, and said on her return:"For my five and thirty francs I have freed my mind. I have seen the child."

The gossip who did this thing was a gorgon named Madame Victurnien, the guardian and door-keeper of every one's virtue. Madame Victurnien was fifty-six, and re-enforced the mask of ugliness with the mask of age.A quavering voice, a whimsical mind. This old dame had once been young--astonishing fact!In her youth, in '93, she had married a monk who had fled from his cloister in a red cap, and passed from the Bernardines to the Jacobins. She was dry, rough, peevish, sharp, captious, almost venomous; all this in memory of her monk, whose widow she was, and who had ruled over her masterfully and bent her to his will. She was a nettle in which the rustle of the cassock was visible. At the Restoration she had turned bigot, and that with so much energy that the priests had forgiven her her monk.She had a small property, which she bequeathed with much ostentation to a religious community. She was in high favor at the episcopal palace of Arras.So this Madame Victurnien went to Montfermeil, and returned with the remark, "I have seen the child."

All this took time.Fantine had been at the factory for more than a year, when, one morning, the superintendent of the workroom handed her fifty francs from the mayor, told her that she was no longer employed in the shop, and requested her, in the mayor's name, to leave the neighborhood.

This was the very month when the Thenardiers, after having demanded twelve francs instead of six, had just exacted fifteen francs instead of twelve.

Fantine was overwhelmed.She could not leave the neighborhood; she was in debt for her rent and furniture.Fifty francs was not sufficient to cancel this debt.She stammered a few supplicating words. The superintendent ordered her to leave the shop on the instant. Besides, Fantine was only a moderately good workwoman. Overcome with shame, even more than with despair, she quitted the shop, and returned to her room.So her fault was now known to every one.

She no longer felt strong enough to say a word.She was advised to see the mayor; she did not dare.The mayor had given her fifty francs because he was good, and had dismissed her because he was just. She bowed before the decision.

     芳汀看到自己能够生活下去，也就有了暂时的快乐。能够老老实实地自食其力，那真是天幸！她确实又有了爱好劳动的心情。她买了一面镜子，欣赏自己的青春、美丽的头发和美丽的牙齿，忘了很多事，只惦念她的珂赛特和可能有的前途，她几乎成了快乐的人了。她租了一间小屋子，又用将来的工资作担保，买了些家具，这是她那种轻浮习气的残余。

    她不能对人说她结过婚，因此她避免谈到她的小女儿，这是我们已经约略提到过的。
    起初，我们已经看到，她总按时付款给德纳第家。因为她只会签名，就不得不找一个代写书信的人写信给他们。
    她经常寄信。这就引起了别人的注意。在女车间里，大家开始叽叽喳喳议论起来了，说芳桶天天寄信”，说她有一些“奇怪举动。”

    天地间的怪事莫过于窥探别人的一些和自己毫不相干的事了。“为什么那位先生老去找那个棕发姑娘呢？”“为什么某先生到了星期四总不把他的钥匙挂在钉子上呢？”“他为什么总走小街呢？”“为什么那位太太总在到家以前就下马车呢？”“她的信笺匣盛满了信笺，为什么还要派人去买一扎呢？”诸如此类的话。世间有很多人为了揭开谜底，尽管和他们毫不相干，却肯花费比做十桩善事还要多的金钱、时光和心血。并且，做那种事，不取报酬，只图一时快意，仅仅为好奇而好奇。他们可以从早到晚，一连几天地尾随这个男人或那个女人，在街角上、胡同里的门洞下面，在黑夜里冒着寒气顶着雨，窥伺上几个钟头，买通眼线，灌醉马车夫和仆役，收买女仆，串通看门人。究竟是为了什么目的？毫无目的，纯粹是一种要看见、要知道、要洞悉隐情的欲望，纯粹是由于要卖弄一下自己那颗消息灵通的心。一旦隐情识破，秘密公开，疑团揭穿，跟着就发生许多祸害、决斗、破产、倾家、生路断绝，而其实这些事对他们来说毫无利害关系，纯粹出自本能，他们只为“发觉了一切”而感到莫大的快慰。这是多么痛心的事。

    某些人仅仅为了饶舌的需要就不惜刻薄待人。他们的对话，客厅里的促膝谈心，候见室里的飞短流长都好象是那种费柴的壁炉，需要许多燃料，那燃料，便是他们周围的人。
    大家对芳汀注意起来了。

    此外，许多妇女还嫉妒她的金发和洁白的牙齿。确实有人看见她在车间里和大家一道时，常常转过头去揩眼泪。那正是她惦念她孩子的时候，也许也同时想到了她曾爱过的那个人。摆脱旧恨的萦绕确实是一个痛苦的过程。确实有人发现她每月至少要写两封信，并且老是同一个地址，写了还要贴邮票，有人把那地扯找来了：“孟费郿客店主人德纳第先生”。那个替她写字的先生是一个不吐尽心中秘密便不能把红酒灌满肚肠的老头儿，他们把他邀到酒店里来闲谈。简单地说，他们知道芳汀有个孩子。

    “她一定是那种女人了。”恰巧有个长舌妇到孟费郿去走了一趟，和德纳第夫妇谈了话，回来时她说：“花了我三十五法郎，我心里畅快了。我看见了那孩子。”

    做这件事的长舌妇是个叫维克杜尼昂夫人的母夜叉，她是所有一切贞操的守卫和司阍。维克杜尼昂夫人五十六岁，不但老，而且丑。嗓子颤抖，心思诡戾。那老婆子也有过青春，这真是怪事。在她的妙龄时期，正当九三年，她嫁给一个从隐修院里逃出来的修士，这修士戴上红帽子，从圣伯尔纳的信徒一变而为雅各宾派①。他让她受了不少折磨，她守寡以来，虽然想念亡夫，为人却是无情、粗野、泼辣、锋利、多刺而且差不多算得上有毒。她是一棵受过僧衣挨蹭的荨麻。到复辟时代，她变得很虔诚，由于她信仰上帝的心非常热烈，神甫们也就不再追究她的那位修士而原谅了她。她有一份小小的财产，已经大吹大擂地捐给一个宗教团体了。她在阿拉斯主教教区里很受人尊敬。那位维克杜尼昂夫人到孟费郿去了一趟，回来时说：“我看见了那孩子。”
①雅各宾（Jacobin），法国资产阶级革命时期最能团结革命群众、保卫劳动人民利益并和国王及大资本家进行坚决斗争的一派。

    这种种经过费了些时日。芳汀在那厂里已经一年多了。一天早晨，车间女管理员交给她五十法郎，说是市长先生交来的，还向她说，她已不再是那车间里的人了，并且奉市长先生之命，要她离开孟费郿。

    恰巧这又是德纳第妈妈在要求她从六法郎加到十二法郎以后，又强迫她从十二法郎加到十五法郎的那一个月。

    芳汀窘极了。她不能离开那地方，她还欠了房租和家具费。五十法郎还不够了清债务。她吞吞吐吐说了一些求情的话。那女管理员却叫她立刻离开车间。芳汀究竟还只是一个手艺平凡的工人。她受不了那种侮辱，失业还在其次，她只得离开车间，回到自己的住处。她的过失，到现在已是尽人皆知的了。

    她觉得自己连说一个字的勇气都没有。有人劝她去见市长先生，她不敢。市长先生给了她五十法郎，是因为他为人厚道，撵她走是因为他正直。她在这项决定下屈从了。

So the monk's widow was good for something.
But M. Madeleine had heard nothing of all this.Life is full of just such combinations of events.M. Madeleine was in the habit of almost never entering the women's workroom.

At the head of this room he had placed an elderly spinster, whom the priest had provided for him, and he had full confidence in this superintendent,--a truly respectable person, firm, equitable, upright, full of the charity which consists in giving, but not having in the same degree that charity which consists in understanding and in forgiving.M. Madeleine relied wholly on her.The best men are often obliged to delegate their authority.It was with this full power, and the conviction that she was doing right, that the superintendent had instituted the suit, judged, condemned, and executed Fantine.

As regards the fifty francs, she had given them from a fund which M. Madeleine had intrusted to her for charitable purposes, and for giving assistance to the workwomen, and of which she rendered no account.

Fantine tried to obtain a situation as a servant in the neighborhood; she went from house to house.No one would have her.She could not leave town.The second-hand dealer, to whom she was in debt for her furniture--and what furniture!--said to her, "If you leave, I will have you arrested as a thief."The householder, whom she owed for her rent, said to her, "You are young and pretty; you can pay."She divided the fifty francs between the landlord and the furniture-dealer, returned to the latter three-quarters of his goods, kept only necessaries, and found herself without work, without a trade, with nothing but her bed, and still about fifty francs in debt.

She began to make coarse shirts for soldiers of the garrison, and earned twelve sous a day.Her daughter cost her ten.It was at this point that she began to pay the Thenardiers irregularly.

However, the old woman who lighted her candle for her when she returned at night, taught her the art of living in misery. Back of living on little, there is the living on nothing. These are the two chambers; the first is dark, the second is black.

Fantine learned how to live without fire entirely in the winter; how to give up a bird which eats a half a farthing's worth of millet every two days; how to make a coverlet of one's petticoat, and a petticoat of one's coverlet; how to save one's candle, by taking one's meals by the light of the opposite window. No one knows all that certain feeble creatures, who have grown old in privation and honesty, can get out of a sou.It ends by being a talent.Fantine acquired this sublime talent, and regained a little courage.

At this epoch she said to a neighbor, "Bah!I say to myself, by only sleeping five hours, and working all the rest of the time at my sewing, I shall always manage to nearly earn my bread.And, then, when one is sad, one eats less.Well, sufferings, uneasiness, a little bread on one hand, trouble on the other,--all this will support me."

It would have been a great happiness to have her little girl with her in this distress.She thought of having her come.But what then! Make her share her own destitution!And then, she was in debt to the Thenardiers!How could she pay them?And the journey! How pay for that?

The old woman who had given her lessons in what may be called the life of indigence, was a sainted spinster named Marguerite, who was pious with a true piety, poor and charitable towards the poor, and even towards the rich, knowing how to write just sufficiently to sign herself Marguerite, and believing in God, which is science.

There are many such virtuous people in this lower world; some day they will be in the world above.This life has a morrow.
At first, Fantine had been so ashamed that she had not dared to go out.

When she was in the street, she divined that people turned round behind her, and pointed at her; every one stared at her and no one greeted her; the cold and bitter scorn of the passers-by penetrated her very flesh and soul like a north wind.

It seems as though an unfortunate woman were utterly bare beneath the sarcasm and the curiosity of all in small towns.In paris, at least, no one knows you, and this obscurity is a garment. Oh! how she would have liked to betake herself to paris!Impossible!

She was obliged to accustom herself to disrepute, as she had accustomed herself to indigence.Gradually she decided on her course. At the expiration of two or three months she shook off her shame, and began to go about as though there were nothing the matter. "It is all the same to me," she said.

She went and came, bearing her head well up, with a bitter smile, and was conscious that she was becoming brazen-faced.

Madame Victurnien sometimes saw her passing, from her window, noticed the distress of "that creature" who, "thanks to her," had been "put back in her proper place," and congratulated herself. The happiness of the evil-minded is black.

Excess of toil wore out Fantine, and the little dry cough which troubled her increased.She sometimes said to her neighbor, Marguerite, "Just feel how hot my hands are!"

Nevertheless, when she combed her beautiful hair in the morning with an old broken comb, and it flowed about her like floss silk, she experienced a moment of happy coquetry.

     看来那修士的未亡人是起了积极作用的。但马德兰先生完全不知道此事的经过。这不过是遍布人间的那种瞒上欺下的手法而已。按照马德兰先生的习惯，他几乎从来不去女车间。他委托一个老姑娘全面照顾车间，那老姑娘是由本堂神甫介绍给他的，他对那女管理员完全信任，她为人也确实可敬，稳重、公平、廉洁、满腔慈悲，但是她的慈悲只限于施舍方面，至于了解人和容忍人的慈悲就比较差些了。马德兰先生把一切事都委托给她。世间最善良的人也常有不得不把自己的权力托付给别人的时候。那女管理员便用了那种全权委托和她自以为是的见解，提出了那件案子，加以判断，并作出决定，定了芳汀的罪。

    至于那五十法郎，她是从马德兰先生托她在救助工人时不必报销的一笔款项中挪用的。

    芳汀便在那地方挨家挨户找人雇她当仆人。没人要她。她也无法离开那座城。向她收家具（什么家具！）费的那个旧货贩子向她说：“如果您走，我就叫人把您当作贼逮捕。”向她要房租的房主人向她说：“您又年轻又漂亮。您总该有法子付钱。”她把那五十法郎分给房主人和旧货贩子，把她家具的四分之三退还给那商人，只留下非要不可的一些，无工作，无地位，除卧榻之外一无所有，还欠着一百法郎左右的债。

    她去替兵营里的士兵们缝粗布衬衫，每天可以赚十二个苏。在这十二个苏中，得替她女儿花十个。只是从那时起，她才没有按时如数付钱给德纳第夫妇。

    这时，有个老妇人，那个平常在芳汀夜晚回家时替她点上蜡烛的老妇人，把过苦日子的艺术教给她，在贫苦的生活后面，还有一种一无所有的生活。那好象是两间屋子，第一间是暗的，第二间是黑的。

    芳汀学会了怎样在冬天完全不烤火，怎样不理睬一只每两天来吃一文钱粟米的小鸟，怎样拿裙子做被子，拿被子做裙子，怎样在从对面窗子射来的光线里吃饭，以求节省蜡烛。我们不能一一了解某些终身潦倒的弱者，一贫如洗而又洁身自好，怎样从一个苏里想办法。久而久之，那种方法便成为一种技能。芳汀得了那种高妙的技能，胆子便也壮了一 些。

    当时，她对一个邻妇说：“怕什么！我常对自己说，只睡五个钟头，其余的时间我全拿来做缝纫，我总可以凑凑合合吃一口饭。而且人在发愁时吃得也要少些。再说，有痛苦，有忧愁，一方面有点面包，一方面有些烦恼，这一切已足够养活我了。”如果她能在这样的苦境里得到她的小女儿，那自然是一种莫大的幸福。她想把她弄来。但是怎么办！害她一同吃苦吗？况且她还欠了德纳第夫妇的钱！怎么还清呢？还有旅费！拿什么付呢？把这种可以称之为贫居方法的课程教给她的那个老妇人，是一个叫做玛格丽特的圣女，她矢志为善，穷而待穷人以善，甚至待富人也一样，在写字方面，她勉强能签“玛格丽特”，并且信仰上帝，她的知识，也就只有信仰上帝。

    世间有许多如此的善人，她们暂时居人之下，有一天他们将居人之上。这种人是有前程的。

    起初，芳汀羞愧得不敢出门。当她走在街上时，她猜想得到，别人一定在她背后用手向她指指点点；大家都看着她，却没有一个人招呼她；路上那些人的那种冷酷的侮蔑态度，象一阵寒风似的，直刺进她的灵和肉。在小城里，一个不幸的妇人，处在众人的嘲笑和好奇心下，就仿佛是赤裸裸无遮掩似的。在巴黎，至少还没人认得你，彼此不相识，倒好象有了件蔽体的衣服。唉！她多么想去巴黎！不可能了。

    她已经受惯贫苦的滋味，她还得受惯遭人轻蔑的滋味。她慢慢打定了主意。两三个月之后，她克服了羞耻心理，若无其事地出门上街了。
    “这和我一点不相干。”她说。她昂着头，带点苦笑，在街上往来，她感到自己已变成不懂廉耻的人了。

维克杜尼昂夫人有时看见她从她窗子下面走过，看出了“那家伙”的苦难，又想到幸亏因为自己，“那家伙”才回到了“她应有的地位”，她心里好一阵高兴。黑心人自有黑幸福。过度的操劳使芳汀累坏了，她原有的那种干咳病开始恶化。她有时对她的邻居玛格丽特说：“您摸摸看，我的手多么热。”但在早晨，每当她拿着一把断了的旧梳子去梳她那一头光泽照人，细软如丝的头发的一瞬间，她还能得到一种顾影自怜的自豪感。

She had been dismissed towards the end of the winter; the summer passed, but winter came again.Short days, less work.Winter:no warmth, no light, no noonday, the evening joining on to the morning, fogs, twilight; the window is gray; it is impossible to see clearly at it.The sky is but a vent-hole. The whole day is a cavern.The sun has the air of a beggar.A frightful season! Winter changes the water of heaven and the heart of man into a stone. Her creditors harrassed her.

Fantine earned too little.Her debts had increased.The Thenardiers, who were not promptly paid, wrote to her constantly letters whose contents drove her to despair, and whose carriage ruined her. One day they wrote to her that her little Cosette was entirely naked in that cold weather, that she needed a woollen skirt, and that her mother must send at least ten francs for this. She received the letter, and crushed it in her hands all day long. That evening she went into a barber's shop at the corner of the street, and pulled out her comb.Her admirable golden hair fell to her knees.

"What splendid hair!" exclaimed the barber.
"How much will you give me for it?" said she.
"Ten francs."
"Cut it off."

She purchased a knitted petticoat and sent it to the Thenardiers. This petticoat made the Thenardiers furious.It was the money that they wanted.They gave the petticoat to Eponine.The poor Lark continued to shiver.

Fantine thought:"My child is no longer cold.I have clothed her with my hair."She put on little round caps which concealed her shorn head, and in which she was still pretty.
Dark thoughts held possession of Fantine's heart.

When she saw that she could no longer dress her hair, she began to hate every one about her.She had long shared the universal veneration for Father Madeleine; yet, by dint of repeating to herself that it was he who had discharged her, that he was the cause of her unhappiness, she came to hate him also, and most of all. When she passed the factory in working hours, when the workpeople were at the door, she affected to laugh and sing.

An old workwoman who once saw her laughing and singing in this fashion said, "There's a girl who will come to a bad end.

She took a lover, the first who offered, a man whom she did not love, out of bravado and with rage in her heart.He was a miserable scamp, a sort of mendicant musician, a lazy beggar, who beat her, and who abandoned her as she had taken him, in disgust.

She adored her child.
The lower she descended, the darker everything grew about her, the more radiant shone that little angel at the bottom of her heart. She said, "When I get rich, I will have my Cosette with me;" and she laughed.Her cough did not leave her, and she had sweats on her back.

One day she received from the Thenardiers a letter couched in the following terms:"Cosette is ill with a malady which is going the rounds of the neighborhood.A miliary fever, they call it. Expensive drugs are required.This is ruining us, and we can no longer pay for them.If you do not send us forty francs before the week is out, the little one will be dead."

She burst out laughing, and said to her old neighbor:"Ah! they are good!Forty francs! the idea!That makes two napoleons! Where do they think I am to get them?These peasants are stupid, truly."

Nevertheless she went to a dormer window in the staircase and read the letter once more.Then she descended the stairs and emerged, running and leaping and still laughing.

Some one met her and said to her, "What makes you so gay?"
She replied:"A fine piece of stupidity that some country people have written to me.They demand forty francs of me.So much for you, you peasants!"

As she crossed the square, she saw a great many people collected around a carriage of eccentric shape, upon the top of which stood a man dressed in red, who was holding forth.He was a quack dentist on his rounds, who was offering to the public full sets of teeth, opiates, powders and elixirs.

Fantine mingled in the group, and began to laugh with the rest at the harangue, which contained slang for the populace and jargon for respectable people.The tooth-puller espied the lovely, laughing girl, and suddenly exclaimed:"You have beautiful teeth, you girl there, who are laughing; if you want to sell me your palettes, I will give you a gold napoleon apiece for them."

"What are my palettes?" asked Fantine.
"The palettes," replied the dental professor, "are the front teeth, the two upper ones."
"How horrible!" exclaimed Fantine.
"Two napoleons!" grumbled a toothless old woman who was present. "Here's a lucky girl!"

Fantine fled and stopped her ears that she might not hear the hoarse voice of the man shouting to her:"Reflect, my beauty! two napoleons; they may prove of service.If your heart bids you, come this evening to the inn of the Tillac d'Argent; you will find me there."

Fantine returned home.She was furious, and related the occurrence to her good neighbor Marguerite:"Can you understand such a thing? Is he not an abominable man?How can they allow such people to go about the country!pull out my two front teeth!Why, I should be horrible! My hair will grow again, but my teeth!Ah! what a monster of a man! I should prefer to throw myself head first on the pavement from the fifth story!He told me that he should be at the Tillac d'Argent this evening."

"And what did he offer?" asked Marguerite.
"Two napoleons."
"That makes forty francs."
"Yes," said Fantine; "that makes forty francs."

She remained thoughtful, and began her work.At the expiration of a quarter of an hour she left her sewing and went to read the Thenardiers' letter once more on the staircase.

On her return, she said to Marguerite, who was at work beside her:--
"What is a miliary fever?Do you know?"
"Yes," answered the old spinster; "it is a disease."
"Does it require many drugs?"
"Oh! terrible drugs."

"How does one get it?"
"It is a malady that one gets without knowing how."
"Then it attacks children?"
"Children in particular."
"Do people die of it?"
"They may," said Marguerite.

Fantine left the room and went to read her letter once more on the staircase.
That evening she went out, and was seen to turn her steps in the direction of the Rue de paris, where the inns are situated.

The next morning, when Marguerite entered Fantine's room before daylight,--for they always worked together, and in this manner used only one candle for the two,--she found Fantine seated on her bed, pale and frozen.She had not lain down. Her cap had fallen on her knees.Her candle had burned all night, and was almost entirely consumed.Marguerite halted on the threshold, petrified at this tremendous wastefulness, and exclaimed:--

"Lord! the candle is all burned out!Something has happened."
Then she looked at Fantine, who turned toward her her head bereft of its hair.
Fantine had grown ten years older since the preceding night.
"Jesus!" said Marguerite, "what is the matter with you, Fantine?"

"Nothing," replied Fantine."Quite the contrary.My child will not die of that frightful malady, for lack of succor.I am content."
So saying, she pointed out to the spinster two napoleons which were glittering on the table.
"Ah!Jesus God!" cried Marguerite."Why, it is a fortune! Where did you get those louis d'or?"

"I got them," replied Fantine.
At the same time she smiled.The candle illuminated her countenance. It was a bloody smile.A reddish saliva soiled the corners of her lips, and she had a black hole in her mouth.
The two teeth had been extracted.
She sent the forty francs to Montfermeil.
After all it was a ruse of the Thenardiers to obtain money. Cosette was not ill.

Fantine threw her mirror out of the window.She had long since quitted her cell on the second floor for an attic with only a latch to fasten it, next the roof; one of those attics whose extremity forms an angle with the floor, and knocks you on the head every instant. The poor occupant can reach the end of his chamber as he can the end of his destiny, only by bending over more and more.

She had no longer a bed; a rag which she called her coverlet, a mattress on the floor, and a seatless chair still remained. A little rosebush which she had, had dried up, forgotten, in one corner. In the other corner was a butter-pot to hold water, which froze in winter, and in which the various levels of the water remained long marked by these circles of ice.She had lost her shame; she lost her coquetry.A final sign.She went out, with dirty caps. Whether from lack of time or from indifference, she no longer mended her linen.As the heels wore out, she dragged her stockings down into her shoes.This was evident from the perpendicular wrinkles. She patched her bodice, which was old and worn out, with scraps of calico which tore at the slightest movement.The people to whom she was indebted made "scenes" and gave her no peace. She found them in the street, she found them again on her staircase. She passed many a night weeping and thinking.Her eyes were very bright, and she felt a steady pain in her shoulder towards the top of the left shoulder-blade. She coughed a great deal. She deeply hated Father Madeleine, but made no complaint.She sewed seventeen hours a day; but a contractor for the work of prisons, who made the prisoners work at a discount, suddenly made prices fall, which reduced the daily earnings of working-women to nine sous. Seventeen hours of toil, and nine sous a day!Her creditors were more pitiless than ever.The second-hand dealer, who had taken back nearly all his furniture, said to her incessantly, "When will you pay me, you hussy?"What did they want of her, good God!She felt that she was being hunted, and something of the wild beast developed in her. About the same time, Thenardier wrote to her that he had waited with decidedly too much amiability and that he must have a hundred francs at once; otherwise he would turn little Cosette out of doors, convalescent as she was from her heavy illness, into the cold and the streets, and that she might do what she liked with herself, and die if she chose."A hundred francs," thought Fantine. "But in what trade can one earn a hundred sous a day?"
"Come!" said she, "let us sell what is left."

The unfortunate girl became a woman of the town.

     她是在冬季将尽时被撵走的。夏季过了，冬季又来。日子短，工作也少些。冬季完全没有热，完全没有光，完全没有中午，紧接着早晨的是夜晚、迷雾、黄昏，窗棂冥黯，什物难辨。天好象是暗室中的透光眼，整日如坐地窖中。太阳也好象是个穷人。愁惨的季节！冬季把天上的水和人的心都变成了冰。她的债主们在紧紧催逼她。

    芳汀所赚的钱太少了。她的债越背越重。德纳第夫妇没有按时收着钱，便时常写信给她，信的内容使她悲哀，信的要求使她破产。有一天，他们写了一封信给她，说她的小珂赛特在那样冷的天气，还没有一点衣服，她需要一条羊毛裙，母亲应当寄去十个法郎，才能买得到。她收到那封信，捏在手里搓了一整天。到了晚上，她走到街角上的一个理发店，取下她的梳子。她那一头令人叹赏的金丝发一直垂到她的腰际。

    “好漂亮的头发！”那理发师喊着说。
    “您肯出多少钱呢？”她说。
    “十法郎。”
    “剪吧。”她买一条绒线编织的裙，寄给了德纳第。

    那条裙子把德纳第夫妇搞得怒火冲天。他们要的本来是钱。他们便把裙子给爱潘妮穿。可怜的百灵鸟仍旧临风战栗。芳汀想道：“我的孩子不会再冷了，我已拿我的头发做她的衣裳。”她自己戴一顶小扁帽，遮住她的光头，她还是美丽的。芳汀的心里起了一种黯淡的心思。当她看见自己已不能再梳头时，她开始怨恨四周的一切。她素来是和别人一 样，尊敬马德兰伯伯的，但是，屡次想到撵她走的就是他，使她受尽痛苦的也是他，她便连他也恨起来了。并且特别恨他。当工人们立在工厂门口而她从那儿经过时，便故意喜欢嬉皮笑脸地唱起来。有个年老的女工，一次看见她那样边唱边笑，说道：“这姑娘不会有好结果的。”

    她姘识了一个汉子，一个本不相干、她也不爱的人，那完全是出自心中的愤懑和存心要胡作非为。那人是一个穷汉，一个流浪音乐师，一 个好吃懒做的无赖，他打她，春宵既度，便起了厌恶之心，把她给甩了。
    她一心钟爱她的孩子。

    她越堕落，她四周的一切便越黑暗，那甜美的安琪儿在她心灵深处也就越显得可爱。她常说：“等我发了财，我就可以有我的珂赛特在我身边了。”接着又一阵笑。她的咳嗽病没有好，并且她还出盗汗。

    一天，她又接到德纳第夫妇写来的一封信，信里说：“珂赛特害了一种地方病，叫做猩红热。非有昂贵的药不可。这场病把我们的钱都花光了，我们再没有能力付药费了。假使您不在这八天内寄四十法郎来，孩子可就完了。”

    她放声大笑，向着她的老邻妇说：
    “哈！他们真是好人！四十法郎！只要四十法郎！就是两个拿破仑！他们要我到哪里去找呢？这些乡下人多么蠢！”但当她走到楼梯上时，又拿出那封信，凑近天窗，重念了一遍。

    随后，她从楼梯上走下来，向大门外跑，一面跑，一面跳，笑个不停。
    有个人碰见她，问她说：
    “您有什么事快乐到这种样子？”她回答说：“两个乡下佬刚写了一封信给我，和我开玩笑，他们问我要四十法郎。这些乡下佬真行！”

    她走过广场，看见许多人围着一辆怪车，车顶上立着一个穿红衣服的人，张牙舞爪，正对着观众们演说。那人是一个兜卖整套牙齿、牙膏、牙药和药酒的走江湖的牙科医生。

    芳汀挤到那堆人里去听演讲，也随着其余的人发笑，他说的话里有江湖话，是说给那些流氓听的，也有俗话，是说给正经人听的。那拔牙的走方郎中见了这个美丽的姑娘张着嘴笑，突然叫起来：“喂，那位笑嘻嘻的姑娘，您的牙齿真漂亮呀！假使您肯把您的瓷牌卖给我，我每一个出价一个金拿破仑。”
    “我的瓷牌？瓷牌是什么？”芳汀问。

    “瓷牌，”那位牙科医生回答说，“就是门牙，上排的两个门牙。”
    “好吓人！”芳汀大声说。
    “两个拿破仑！”旁边的一个没有牙齿的老婆子瘪着嘴说：“这娘子多大的福气呀！”

    芳汀逃走了，捂着自己的耳朵，免得听见那个人的哑嗓子，但是那人仍喊道：“您想想吧，美人！两个拿破仑用处大着呢。假如您愿意，今天晚上，你到银甲板客栈里来，您可以在那里找到我。”芳汀回到家里，怒不可遏，把经过说给她那好邻居玛格丽特听：“您懂得这种道理吗？那不是个糟糕透顶的人吗？怎么可以让那种人到处走呢？拔掉我的两个门牙！我将变成什么怪样子！头发可以生出来，但是牙齿，呀，那个人妖！我宁肯从六层楼上倒栽葱跳下来！他告诉我说今天晚上，他在银甲板客栈等我。”“她出什么价？”玛格丽特问。

    “两个拿破仑。”
    “就是四十法郎呵。”
    “是呀，”芳汀说，“就是四十法郎。”她出了一会神，跑去工作去了。一刻钟之后，她丢下她的工作，跑到楼梯上又去读德纳第夫妇的那封信。
    她转来，对在她身旁工作的玛格丽特说：“猩红热是什么东西？您知道吗？”

    “我知道，”那个老姑娘回答说，“那是一种玻”“难道那种病需要很多药吗？”
    “呵！需要许多古怪的药。”
    “怎么会害那种病的？”
    “就这样害的，那种玻”
    “孩子也会害那种病吗？”
    “孩子最容易害。”

    “害了这种病会死吗？”
    “很容易。”玛格丽特说。芳汀走出去，又回到楼梯上，把那封信再重念了一遍。到晚上，她下了楼，有人看见她朝着巴黎街走去，那正是有许多客栈的地方。第二天早晨，天还没亮，玛格丽特走进芳汀的房间（她们每天都这样一同工作，两个人共点一支烛，她看见芳汀坐在床头，面色惨白，冻僵了似的。她还没有睡。她的小圆帽落在膝头上。那支烛点了整夜，几乎点完了。玛格丽特停在门边。她见了那种乱七八糟的样子，大惊失色，喊道：“救主！这支烛点完了！一定出了大事情！”随后她看见芳汀把她的光头转过来朝向她。芳汀一夜工夫苍老了许多。

    “耶稣啊！您出了什么事，芳汀？”玛格丽特说。
    “没有什么，”芳汀回答说。“这样正好。我的孩子不会死了，那种病，把我吓坏了，现在她有救了。让我放心。”她一面说，一面指着桌子，把那两个发亮的拿破仑指给那老姑娘看。
    “呀，耶稣上帝！”玛格丽特说，“这是一笔横财呵！您从什么地方找到这些金路易的？”

    “我弄到手了。”芳汀回答。同时她微笑着。那支烛正照耀着她的面孔。那是一种血迹模糊的笑容。一条红口涎挂在她的嘴角上，嘴里一个黑窟窿。那两颗牙被拔掉了。她把那四十法郎寄到孟费郿去了。但那却是德纳第夫妇谋财的骗局，珂赛特并未生玻芳汀把她的镜子扔到了窗子外面。她早已放弃了二楼上的那间小屋子，搬到房顶下的一间用木闩拴着的破楼里去了；有许多房顶下的屋子，顶和地板相交成斜角，并且时时会撞你的头，她的房间便是那样的一间。贫苦人要走到他屋子的尽头，正如他要走到生命的尽头，都非慢慢弯腰不可。她没有床了，只留下一块破布，那便是她的被子，地上一条草荐，一把破麦秸椅。她从前养的那棵小玫瑰花，已在屋角里枯萎了，没人再想到它。在另一屋角里，有个用来盛水的奶油钵，冬天水结了冰，层层冰圈标志着水面的高低，放在那里已经很久了。她早已不怕人耻笑，现在连修饰的心思也没有了。最后的一点表现，便是她常戴着肮脏的小帽上街。也许是没有时间，也许是不经意，她不再缝补她的衣衫了。袜跟破了便拉到鞋子里去，越破便越拉。这可以从那些垂直的折皱上看出来。她用很多一碰就开裂的零碎竹布拼在她那件破旧的汗衫上。她的债主们和她吵闹不休，使她没有片刻的安宁。她在街上时常碰见他们，在她的楼梯上又会时常碰见他们。她常常整夜哭，整夜想，她的眼睛亮得出奇。并且觉得在左肩胛骨上方的肩膀时常作痛。她时时咳嗽。她恨透了马德兰伯伯，但是并不出怨言。她每天缝十七个钟头，但是一个以贱价包揽女囚工作的包工，忽然压低了工资，于是工作不固定女工的每日工资也减到了九个苏。十七个钟头的工作每天九个苏！她的债主们的狠心更是变本加厉。那个几乎把全部家具拿走了的旧货商人不停地向她说：“几时付我钱，贱货？”人家究竟要她怎么样，慈悲的上帝？她觉得自己无路可走，于是在她心里便起了一种困兽的心情。正当这时，德纳第又有信给她，说他等了许久，又是仁至义尽了，他立刻要一百法郎，否则他就把那小珂赛特撵出去，她大病以后，刚刚复原，他们管不了天有多冷，路有多远，也只好让她去，假使她愿意，死在路边就是了。“一百法郎！”芳汀想道，“但是哪儿去找每天赚五个法郎的机会呢？”

“管他妈的！”她说，“全卖了吧。”那苦命人作了公娼。

What is this history of Fantine?It is society purchasing a slave.
From whom?From misery.

From hunger, cold, isolation, destitution.A dolorous bargain. A soul for a morsel of bread.Misery offers; society accepts.

The sacred law of Jesus Christ governs our civilization, but it does not, as yet, permeate it; it is said that slavery has disappeared from European civilization.This is a mistake.It still exists; but it weighs only upon the woman, and it is called prostitution.

It weighs upon the woman, that is to say, upon grace, weakness, beauty, maternity.This is not one of the least of man's disgraces.
At the point in this melancholy drama which we have now reached, nothing is left to Fantine of that which she had formerly been.

She has become marble in becoming mire.Whoever touches her feels cold. She passes; she endures you; she ignores you; she is the severe and dishonored figure.Life and the social order have said their last word for her.All has happened to her that will happen to her. She has felt everything, borne everything, experienced everything, suffered everything, lost everything, mourned everything. She is resigned, with that resignation which resembles indifference, as death resembles sleep.She no longer avoids anything. Let all the clouds fall upon her, and all the ocean sweep over her! What matters it to her?She is a sponge that is soaked.

At least, she believes it to be so; but it is an error to imagine that fate can be exhausted, and that one has reached the bottom of anything whatever.

Alas!What are all these fates, driven on pell-mell? Whither are they going?Why are they thus?
He who knows that sees the whole of the shadow.
He is alone.His name is God.

     芳汀的故事说明什么呢？说明社会收买了一个奴隶。向谁收买？向贫困收买。
    向饥寒、孤独、遗弃、贫困收买。令人痛心的买卖。一个人的灵魂交换一块面包。贫困卖出，社会买进。

    耶稣基督的神圣法则统治着我们的文明，但是却没有渗透到文明中去。一般人认为在欧洲的文明里已没有奴隶制度。这是一种误解。奴隶制度始终存在，不过只压迫妇女罢了，那便是娼妓制度。

    它压迫妇女，就是说压迫柔情，压迫弱质，压迫美貌，压迫母性。这在男子方面绝非什么微不足道的耻辱。

    当这惨剧发展到了现阶段，芳汀已完全不是从前那个人了。她在变成污泥的同时，变成了木石。接触到她的人都感觉得到一股冷气。她以身事人，任你摆布，不问你是什么人，她满脸屈辱和怨愤。生活和社会秩序已经对她下了结论。她已经受尽了她能受到的一切。她已经感受了一切，容忍了一切，体会了一切，放弃了一切，失去了一切，痛哭过一 切。她忍让，她那种忍让之类似冷漠，正如死亡之类似睡眠。她不再逃避什么，也不再怕什么。即使满天的雨水都落在她头上，整个海洋都倾泻在她身上，对她也没有什么关系！她已是一块浸满了水的海绵。

    至少她是那么想的，但如果自以为已经受尽了命中的折磨，自以为已经走到了什么东西的尽头，那可就想错了。唉！那种凌乱杂沓、横遭蹂躏的生灵算什么呢？他们的归宿在哪里？为什么会那样。能够回答这些问题的，他就会看透人间的黑暗。

    他是唯一的。他叫做上帝。

There is in all small towns, and there was at M. sur M. in particular, a class of young men who nibble away an income of fifteen hundred francs with the same air with which their prototypes devour two hundred thousand francs a year in paris.These are beings of the great neuter species:impotent men, parasites, cyphers, who have a little land, a little folly, a little wit; who would be rustics in a drawing-room, and who think themselves gentlemen in the dram-shop; who say, "My fields, my peasants, my woods"; who hiss actresses at the theatre to prove that they are persons of taste; quarrel with the officers of the garrison to prove that they are men of war; hunt, smoke, yawn, drink, smell of tobacco, play billiards, stare at travellers as they descend from the diligence, live at the cafe, dine at the inn, have a dog which eats the bones under the table, and a mistress who eats the dishes on the table; who stick at a sou, exaggerate the fashions, admire tragedy, despise women, wear out their old boots, copy London through paris, and paris through the medium of pont-A-Mousson, grow old as dullards, never work, serve no use, and do no great harm.
M. Felix Tholomyes, had he remained in his own province and never beheld paris, would have been one of these men.

If they were richer, one would say, "They are dandies;" if they were poorer, one would say, "They are idlers."They are simply men without employment.Among these unemployed there are bores, the bored, dreamers, and some knaves.

At that period a dandy was composed of a tall collar, a big cravat, a watch with trinkets, three vests of different colors, worn one on top of the other--the red and blue inside; of a short-waisted olive coat, with a codfish tail, a double row of silver buttons set close to each other and running up to the shoulder; and a pair of trousers of a lighter shade of olive, ornamented on the two seams with an indefinite, but always uneven, number of lines, varying from one to eleven--a limit which was never exceeded. Add to this, high shoes with little irons on the heels, a tall hat with a narrow brim, hair worn in a tuft, an enormous cane, and conversation set off by puns of potier.Over all, spurs and a mustache.At that epoch mustaches indicated the bourgeois, and spurs the pedestrian.

The provincial dandy wore the longest of spurs and the fiercest of mustaches.
It was the period of the conflict of the republics of South America with the King of Spain, of Bolivar against Morillo. Narrow-brimmed hats were royalist, and were called morillos; liberals wore hats with wide brims, which were called bolivars.

Eight or ten months, then, after that which is related in the preceding pages, towards the first of January, 1823, on a snowy evening, one of these dandies, one of these unemployed, a "right thinker," for he wore a morillo, and was, moreover, warmly enveloped in one of those large cloaks which completed the fashionable costume in cold weather, was amusing himself by tormenting a creature who was prowling about in a ball-dress, with neck uncovered and flowers in her hair, in front of the officers' cafe.This dandy was smoking, for he was decidedly fashionable.

Each time that the woman passed in front of him, he bestowed on her, together with a puff from his cigar, some apostrophe which he considered witty and mirthful, such as, "How ugly you are!-- Will you get out of my sight?--You have no teeth!" etc., etc. This gentleman was known as M. Bamatabois.The woman, a melancholy, decorated spectre which went and came through the snow, made him no reply, did not even glance at him, and nevertheless continued her promenade in silence, and with a sombre regularity, which brought her every five minutes within reach of this sarcasm, like the condemned soldier who returns under the rods.The small effect which he produced no doubt piqued the lounger; and taking advantage of a moment when her back was turned, he crept up behind her with the gait of a wolf, and stifling his laugh, bent down, picked up a handful of snow from the pavement, and thrust it abruptly into her back, between her bare shoulders.The woman uttered a roar, whirled round, gave a leap like a panther, and hurled herself upon the man, burying her nails in his face, with the most frightful words which could fall from the guard-room into the gutter.These insults, poured forth in a voice roughened by brandy, did, indeed, proceed in hideous wise from a mouth which lacked its two front teeth. It was Fantine.

At the noise thus produced, the officers ran out in throngs from the cafe, passers-by collected, and a large and merry circle, hooting and applauding, was formed around this whirlwind composed of two beings, whom there was some difficulty in recognizing as a man and a woman:the man struggling, his hat on the ground; the woman striking out with feet and fists, bareheaded, howling, minus hair and teeth, livid with wrath, horrible.
Suddenly a man of lofty stature emerged vivaciously from the crowd, seized the woman by her satin bodice, which was covered with mud, and said to her, "Follow me!"

The woman raised her head; her furious voice suddenly died away. Her eyes were glassy; she turned pale instead of livid, and she trembled with a quiver of terror.She had recognized Javert.
The dandy took advantage of the incident to make his escape.

     在所有的小城里，特别是在滨海蒙特勒伊，有一种青年人，在外省每年吞食一千五百利弗的年金，正和他们的同类在巴黎每年鲸吞二十万法郎情形相象。他们全是那一大堆无用人群的组成部分；不事生产，食人之力，一无所长，有一点地产，一点戆气，一点小聪明，在客厅里是乡巴佬，到了茶楼酒馆又以贵人自居，他们的常用语是“我的草场，我的树林，我的佃户”，在剧场里喝女演员们的倒彩，以便证明自己也是有修养的人，和兵营中的官长争辩，以便显示自己也深通韬略。打猎，吸烟，打呵欠，酗酒，闻鼻烟，打弹子，看旅客们下公共马车，坐咖啡馆，上饭店，有一只在桌子下面啃骨头的狗和一个在桌子上面张罗的情妇，一毛不拔，奇装异服，幸灾乐祸，侮蔑妇女，使自己的旧靴子更破，在巴黎模仿伦敦的时装，又在木松桥模仿巴黎的时装，顽冥到老，游手好闲，毫无益处，但也无碍大事。

    菲利克斯?多罗米埃先生，如果他一直住在外省，不曾见过巴黎的话，便也只是这样的一个人。
    如果他们更有钱一些，人家会说：“这些都是佳公子”；如果他们更穷一些，人家也会说“这些都是二流子”。这种人干脆就是些游民。在这些游民中，有恼人的，也有被人恼的，有神志昏沉的，也有丑态百出的。

    在那个时代，一个佳公子的组合成分是一条高领、一个大领结、一只珠饰累累的表、一叠三件蓝红在里的颜色不同的背心、一件橄榄色的短燕尾服、两行密密相连一直排列到肩头的银钮扣、一条浅橄榄色裤子，在两旁的线缝上，装饰着或多或少的丝边，丝边数目不等，但总是奇数，从一条到十一条，十一是从来未曾超越的限度。此外还有一双后跟上钉了小铁片的短统鞋，一顶高顶窄边帽、蓬松的头发、一根粗手杖，谈吐之中，杂以博基埃式的隐语。最出色的，是鞋跟上的刺马距和嘴皮上的髭须。在那时代，髭须代表有产阶级，刺马距代表无产阶级。

    外省佳公子的刺马距比较长，髭须也比较粗野些。
    那正是南美洲的一些共和国和西班牙国王斗争的时期，也就是玻利瓦尔①和莫里耳奥②斗争的时期，窄边帽是保皇党的标志，那种帽子就叫做莫里耳奥，自由党人戴的阔边帽子就叫做玻利瓦尔。
①玻利瓦尔（Bolivar，1783—1830），领导南美洲人民摆脱西班牙王朝统治的军事政治家。
②莫里耳奥（Morillo，1778—1837），西班牙将军，一八一五年至一八二○年为镇压南美西班牙殖民地民族解放运动的西班牙总司令。

    上面几页谈过的那些事发生之后又过了八个月至十个月，在一八二三年一月的上旬，一个雪后的晚上，一个那样的佳公子，一个那种游民，一个“很有思想的人”，因为他戴了一顶莫里耳奥，此外还暖暖地加上一件当时用来补充时髦服装的大氅，正在调戏一个穿着舞衣、敞着胸肩、头上戴着花、在军官咖啡馆的玻璃窗前来往徘徊着的人儿。那个佳公子还吸着烟，因为那肯定也是时髦的风尚。

    那妇人每次从他面前走过，他总吸上一口雪茄，用烟喷她，并向她说些自以为诙谐有趣的怪话，如“你多么丑！”“还不躲起来！”“你没有牙齿！”之类的话。那位先生叫做巴马达波先生。那个愁眉苦脸、打扮成妖精似的妇人，并不回嘴，连望也不望他一眼，她照旧一声不响，拖着那均匀沉重的步伐，在雪地上踱来踱去，她每隔五分钟来受一次辱骂，正如一个受处分的士兵按时来挨鞭子一样。她那种反应一定刺激了这位吃闲饭的人，他乘她转过背去时，蹑着足，跟在她后面，忍住笑，弯下腰，在地上捏了一把雪，一下塞到她的背心里，那两个赤裸裸的肩膀中间。那妓女狂叫一声，回转身来，豹子似的跳上去，一把揪住那个人，把指甲掐进他的面皮，骂了一些不堪入耳的话。那种恶骂从中了酒精之毒的哑嗓子里喊出来，的确很丑，那张嘴也确实缺少两颗门牙。她便是芳停军官们听了那种声音，全从咖啡馆里涌出来了，过路的人也聚拢来，围成一个大圈子，有笑的，叫的，鼓掌的，那两个人在人圈子中扭打得团团转，旁人几乎看不清是一个男人和一个女人；男人竭力抵御，帽子落在地上，女人拳打脚踢，帽子也丢了，乱嚷着，她既无牙齿，又无头发，怒得面孔发青，好不吓人。

    忽然，一个身材魁梧的人从人堆里冲出来，抓住妇人的泥污狼藉的缎衫，对她说：“跟我来。”
    妇人抬头一望，她那咆哮如雷的嗓子突然沉寂下去了。她目光颓丧，面色由青转成死灰，浑身吓得发抖。他认出那人是沙威。佳公子乘机溜走了。

Javert thrust aside the spectators, broke the circle, and set out with long strides towards the police station, which is situated at the extremity of the square, dragging the wretched woman after him. She yielded mechanically.Neither he nor she uttered a word. The cloud of spectators followed, jesting, in a paroxysm of delight. Supreme misery an occasion for obscenity.

On arriving at the police station, which was a low room, warmed by a stove, with a glazed and grated door opening on the street, and guarded by a detachment, Javert opened the door, entered with Fantine, and shut the door behind him, to the great disappointment of the curious, who raised themselves on tiptoe, and craned their necks in front of the thick glass of the station-house, in their effort to see. Curiosity is a sort of gluttony.To see is to devour.

On entering, Fantine fell down in a corner, motionless and mute, crouching down like a terrified dog.
The sergeant of the guard brought a lighted candle to the table. Javert seated himself, drew a sheet of stamped paper from his pocket, and began to write.

This class of women is consigned by our laws entirely to the discretion of the police.The latter do what they please, punish them, as seems good to them, and confiscate at their will those two sorry things which they entitle their industry and their liberty. Javert was impassive; his grave face betrayed no emotion whatever. Nevertheless, he was seriously and deeply preoccupied.It was one of those moments when he was exercising without control, but subject to all the scruples of a severe conscience, his redoubtable discretionary power.At that moment he was conscious that his police agent's stool was a tribunal.He was entering judgment. He judged and condemned.He summoned all the ideas which could possibly exist in his mind, around the great thing which he was doing. The more he examined the deed of this woman, the more shocked he felt. It was evident that he had just witnessed the commission of a crime. He had just beheld, yonder, in the street, society, in the person of a freeholder and an elector, insulted and attacked by a creature who was outside all pales.A prostitute had made an attempt on the life of a citizen.He had seen that, he, Javert.He wrote in silence.

When he had finished he signed the paper, folded it, and said to the sergeant of the guard, as he handed it to him, "Take three men and conduct this creature to jail."
Then, turning to Fantine, "You are to have six months of it." The unhappy woman shuddered.

"Six months! six months of prison!" she exclaimed."Six months in which to earn seven sous a day!But what will become of Cosette? My daughter! my daughter!But I still owe the Thenardiers over a hundred francs; do you know that, Monsieur Inspector?"

She dragged herself across the damp floor, among the muddy boots of all those men, without rising, with clasped hands, and taking great strides on her knees.

"Monsieur Javert," said she, "I beseech your mercy.I assure you that I was not in the wrong.If you had seen the beginning, you would have seen.I swear to you by the good God that I was not to blame!That gentleman, the bourgeois, whom I do not know, put snow in my back.Has any one the right to put snow down our backs when we are walking along peaceably, and doing no harm to any one? I am rather ill, as you see.And then, he had been saying impertinent things to me for a long time:`You are ugly! you have no teeth!' I know well that I have no longer those teeth.I did nothing; I said to myself, `The gentleman is amusing himself.'I was honest with him; I did not speak to him.It was at that moment that he put the snow down my back.Monsieur Javert, good Monsieur Inspector! is there not some person here who saw it and can tell you that this is quite true?perhaps I did wrong to get angry. You know that one is not master of one's self at the first moment. One gives way to vivacity; and then, when some one puts something cold down your back just when you are not expecting it!I did wrong to spoil that gentleman's hat.Why did he go away?I would ask his pardon.Oh, my God!It makes no difference to me whether I ask his pardon.Do me the favor to-day, for this once, Monsieur Javert. Hold! you do not know that in prison one can earn only seven sous a day; it is not the government's fault, but seven sous is one's earnings; and just fancy, I must pay one hundred francs, or my little girl will be sent to me.Oh, my God!I cannot have her with me. What I do is so vile!Oh, my Cosette!Oh, my little angel of the Holy Virgin! what will become of her, poor creature?I will tell you: it is the Thenardiers, inn-keepers, peasants; and such people are unreasonable.They want money.Don't put me in prison! You see, there is a little girl who will be turned out into the street to get along as best she may, in the very heart of the winter; and you must have pity on such a being, my good Monsieur Javert. If she were older, she might earn her living; but it cannot be done at that age.I am not a bad woman at bottom.It is not cowardliness and gluttony that have made me what I am.If I have drunk brandy, it was out of misery.I do not love it; but it benumbs the senses. When I was happy, it was only necessary to glance into my closets, and it would have been evident that I was not a coquettish and untidy woman.I had linen, a great deal of linen.Have pity on me, Monsieur Javert!"

She spoke thus, rent in twain, shaken with sobs, blinded with tears, her neck bare, wringing her hands, and coughing with a dry, short cough, stammering softly with a voice of agony.Great sorrow is a divine and terrible ray, which transfigures the unhappy. At that moment Fantine had become beautiful once more.From time to time she paused, and tenderly kissed the police agent's coat. She would have softened a heart of granite; but a heart of wood cannot be softened.

"Come!" said Javert, "I have heard you out.Have you entirely finished? You will get six months.Now march!The Eternal Father in person could do nothing more."

At these solemn words, "the Eternal Father in person could do nothing more," she understood that her fate was sealed. She sank down, murmuring, "Mercy!"

Javert turned his back.
The soldiers seized her by the arms.

A few moments earlier a man had entered, but no one had paid any heed to him.He shut the door, leaned his back against it, and listened to Fantine's despairing supplications.

At the instant when the soldiers laid their hands upon the unfortunate woman, who would not rise, he emerged from the shadow, and said:--
"One moment, if you please."

Javert raised his eyes and recognized M. Madeleine.He removed his hat, and, saluting him with a sort of aggrieved awkwardness:--
"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor--"

The words "Mr. Mayor" produced a curious effect upon Fantine. She rose to her feet with one bound, like a spectre springing from the earth, thrust aside the soldiers with both arms, walked straight up to M. Madeleine before any one could prevent her, and gazing intently at him, with a bewildered air, she cried:--

"Ah! so it is you who are M. le Maire!"
Then she burst into a laugh, and spit in his face.
M. Madeleine wiped his face, and said:--
"Inspector Javert, set this woman at liberty."

Javert felt that he was on the verge of going mad.He experienced at that moment, blow upon blow and almost simultaneously, the most violent emotions which he had ever undergone in all his life. To see a woman of the town spit in the mayor's face was a thing so monstrous that, in his most daring flights of fancy, he would have regarded it as a sacrilege to believe it possible. On the other hand, at the very bottom of his thought, he made a hideous comparison as to what this woman was, and as to what this mayor might be; and then he, with horror, caught a glimpse of I know not what simple explanation of this prodigious attack. But when he beheld that mayor, that magistrate, calmly wipe his face and say, "Set this woman at liberty," he underwent a sort of intoxication of amazement; thought and word failed him equally; the sum total of possible astonishment had been exceeded in his case. He remained mute.

The words had produced no less strange an effect on Fantine. She raised her bare arm, and clung to the damper of the stove, like a person who is reeling.Nevertheless, she glanced about her, and began to speak in a low voice, as though talking to herself:--

"At liberty!I am to be allowed to go!I am not to go to prison for six months!Who said that?It is not possible that any one could have said that.I did not hear aright.It cannot have been that monster of a mayor!Was it you, my good Monsieur Javert, who said that I was to be set free?Oh, see here!I will tell you about it, and you will let me go.That monster of a mayor, that old blackguard of a mayor, is the cause of all.Just imagine, Monsieur Javert, he turned me out! all because of a pack of rascally women, who gossip in the workroom.If that is not a horror, what is?To dismiss a poor girl who is doing her work honestly! Then I could no longer earn enough, and all this misery followed. In the first place, there is one improvement which these gentlemen of the police ought to make, and that is, to prevent prison contractors from wronging poor people.I will explain it to you, you see:you are earning twelve sous at shirt-making, the price falls to nine sous; and it is not enough to live on. Then one has to become whatever one can.As for me, I had my little Cosette, and I was actually forced to become a bad woman. Now you understand how it is that that blackguard of a mayor caused all the mischief.After that I stamped on that gentleman's hat in front of the officers' cafe; but he had spoiled my whole dress with snow.We women have but one silk dress for evening wear. You see that I did not do wrong deliberately--truly, Monsieur Javert; and everywhere I behold women who are far more wicked than I, and who are much happier.O Monsieur Javert! it was you who gave orders that I am to be set free, was it not?Make inquiries, speak to my landlord; I am paying my rent now; they will tell you that I am perfectly honest.Ah! my God!I beg your pardon; I have unintentionally touched the damper of the stove, and it has made it smoke."

M. Madeleine listened to her with profound attention.While she was speaking, he fumbled in his waistcoat, drew out his purse and opened it.It was empty.He put it back in his pocket. He said to Fantine, "How much did you say that you owed?"

Fantine, who was looking at Javert only, turned towards him:--
"Was I speaking to you?"
Then, addressing the soldiers:--

"Say, you fellows, did you see how I spit in his face? Ah! you old wretch of a mayor, you came here to frighten me, but I'm not afraid of you.I am afraid of Monsieur Javert. I am afraid of my good Monsieur Javert!"

So saying, she turned to the inspector again:--

"And yet, you see, Mr. Inspector, it is necessary to be just. I understand that you are just, Mr. Inspector; in fact, it is perfectly simple:a man amuses himself by putting snow down a woman's back, and that makes the officers laugh; one must divert themselves in some way; and we--well, we are here for them to amuse themselves with, of course!And then, you, you come; you are certainly obliged to preserve order, you lead off the woman who is in the wrong; but on reflection, since you are a good man, you say that I am to be set at liberty; it is for the sake of the little one, for six months in prison would prevent my supporting my child. `Only, don't do it again, you hussy!'Oh!I won't do it again, Monsieur Javert!They may do whatever they please to me now; I will not stir.But to-day, you see, I cried because it hurt me. I was not expecting that snow from the gentleman at all; and then as I told you, I am not well; I have a cough; I seem to have a burning ball in my stomach, and the doctor tells me, `Take care of yourself.'Here, feel, give me your hand; don't be afraid-- it is here."

She no longer wept, her voice was caressing; she placed Javert's coarse hand on her delicate, white throat and looked smilingly at him.

All at once she rapidly adjusted her disordered garments, dropped the folds of her skirt, which had been pushed up as she dragged herself along, almost to the height of her knee, and stepped towards the door, saying to the soldiers in a low voice, and with a friendly nod:--

"Children, Monsieur l'Inspecteur has said that I am to be released, and I am going."
She laid her hand on the latch of the door.One step more and she would be in the street.

Javert up to that moment had remained erect, motionless, with his eyes fixed on the ground, cast athwart this scene like some displaced statue, which is waiting to be put away somewhere.

The sound of the latch roused him.He raised his head with an expression of sovereign authority, an expression all the more alarming in proportion as the authority rests on a low level, ferocious in the wild beast, atrocious in the man of no estate.

"Sergeant!" he cried, "don't you see that that jade is walking off! Who bade you let her go?"
"I," said Madeleine.

Fantine trembled at the sound of Javert's voice, and let go of the latch as a thief relinquishes the article which he has stolen. At the sound of Madeleine's voice she turned around, and from that moment forth she uttered no word, nor dared so much as to breathe freely, but her glance strayed from Madeleine to Javert, and from Javert to Madeleine in turn, according to which was speaking.

It was evident that Javert must have been exasperated beyond measure before he would permit himself to apostrophize the sergeant as he had done, after the mayor's suggestion that Fantine should be set at liberty.Had he reached the point of forgetting the mayor's presence?Had he finally declared to himself that it was impossible that any "authority" should have given such an order, and that the mayor must certainly have said one thing by mistake for another, without intending it?Or, in view of the enormities of which he had been a witness for the past two hours, did he say to himself, that it was necessary to recur to supreme resolutions, that it was indispensable that the small should be made great, that the police spy should transform himself into a magistrate, that the policeman should become a dispenser of justice, and that, in this prodigious extremity, order, law, morality, government, society in its entirety, was personified in him, Javert?

However that may be, when M. Madeleine uttered that word, _I_, as we have just heard, police Inspector Javert was seen to turn toward the mayor, pale, cold, with blue lips, and a look of despair, his whole body agitated by an imperceptible quiver and an unprecedented occurrence, and say to him, with downcast eyes but a firm voice:--

"Mr. Mayor, that cannot be."
"Why not?" said M. Madeleine.
"This miserable woman has insulted a citizen."

"Inspector Javert," replied the mayor, in a calm and conciliating tone, "listen.You are an honest man, and I feel no hesitation in explaining matters to you.Here is the true state of the case: I was passing through the square just as you were leading this woman away; there were still groups of people standing about, and I made inquiries and learned everything; it was the townsman who was in the wrong and who should have been arrested by properly conducted police."

Javert retorted:--
"This wretch has just insulted Monsieur le Maire."
"That concerns me," said M. Madeleine."My own insult belongs to me, I think.I can do what I please about it."

"I beg Monsieur le Maire's pardon.The insult is not to him but to the law."
"Inspector Javert," replied M. Madeleine, "the highest law is conscience.I have heard this woman; I know what I am doing."

"And I, Mr. Mayor, do not know what I see."
"Then content yourself with obeying."
"I am obeying my duty.My duty demands that this woman shall serve six months in prison."

M. Madeleine replied gently:--
"Heed this well; she will not serve a single day."

At this decisive word, Javert ventured to fix a searching look on the mayor and to say, but in a tone of voice that was still profoundly respectful:--
"I am sorry to oppose Monsieur le Maire; it is for the first time in my life, but he will permit me to remark that I am within the bounds of my authority.I confine myself, since Monsieur le Maire desires it, to the question of the gentleman.I was present. This woman flung herself on Monsieur Bamatabnois, who is an elector and the proprietor of that handsome house with a balcony, which forms the corner of the esplanade, three stories high and entirely of cut stone.Such things as there are in the world! In any case, Monsieur le Maire, this is a question of police regulations in the streets, and concerns me, and I shall detain this woman Fantine."

Then M. Madeleine folded his arms, and said in a severe voice which no one in the town had heard hitherto:--

"The matter to which you refer is one connected with the municipal police.According to the terms of articles nine, eleven, fifteen, and sixty-six of the code of criminal examination, I am the judge.I order that this woman shall be set at liberty."

Javert ventured to make a final effort.
"But, Mr. Mayor--"
"I refer you to article eighty-one of the law of the 13th of December, 1799, in regard to arbitrary detention."

"Monsieur le Maire, permit me--"
"Not another word."
"But--"
"Leave the room," said M. Madeleine.

Javert received the blow erect, full in the face, in his breast, like a Russian soldier.He bowed to the very earth before the mayor and left the room.
Fantine stood aside from the door and stared at him in amazement as he passed.

Nevertheless, she also was the prey to a strange confusion.She had just seen herself a subject of dispute between two opposing powers. She had seen two men who held in their hands her liberty, her life, her soul, her child, in combat before her very eyes; one of these men was drawing her towards darkness, the other was leading her back towards the light.In this conflict, viewed through the exaggerations of terror, these two men had appeared to her like two giants; the one spoke like her demon, the other like her good angel. The angel had conquered the demon, and, strange to say, that which made her shudder from head to foot was the fact that this angel, this liberator, was the very man whom she abhorred, that mayor whom she had so long regarded as the author of all her woes, that Madeleine! And at the very moment when she had insulted him in so hideous a fashion, he had saved her!Had she, then, been mistaken? Must she change her whole soul?She did not know; she trembled. She listened in bewilderment, she looked on in affright, and at every word uttered by M. Madeleine she felt the frightful shades of hatred crumble and melt within her, and something warm and ineffable, indescribable, which was both joy, confidence and love, dawn in her heart.

When Javert had taken his departure, M. Madeleine turned to her and said to her in a deliberate voice, like a serious man who does not wish to weep and who finds some difficulty in speaking:--

"I have heard you.I knew nothing about what you have mentioned. I believe that it is true, and I feel that it is true.I was even ignorant of the fact that you had left my shop.Why did you not apply to me?But here; I will pay your debts, I will send for your child, or you shall go to her.You shall live here, in paris, or where you please.I undertake the care of your child and yourself.You shall not work any longer if you do not like.I will give all the money you require.You shall be honest and happy once more.And listen! I declare to you that if all is as you say,--and I do not doubt it,-- you have never ceased to be virtuous and holy in the sight of God. Oh! poor woman."

This was more than Fantine could bear.To have Cosette!To leave this life of infamy.To live free, rich, happy, respectable with Cosette; to see all these realities of paradise blossom of a sudden in the midst of her misery.She stared stupidly at this man who was talking to her, and could only give vent to two or three sobs, "Oh!Oh!Oh!"

Her limbs gave way beneath her, she knelt in front of M. Madeleine, and before he could prevent her he felt her grasp his hand and press her lips to it.

Then she fainted.

     沙威分开观众，突出人墙，拖着他后面的那个苦命人，大踏步走向广场那边的警署。她呆滞地任人处置。他和她都没说一句话。一大群观众，乐得发狂，嘴里胡言乱语，都跟随而去。最大的不幸，是她听到了一大堆的肮脏话。

    警署的办公室是一间矮厅，里面有一炉火，有个岗警在看守，还有一扇临街的铁栏玻璃门，沙威走到那里，开了门，和芳汀一道走进去，随后把门关上，令那些好奇的人们大失所望，他们仍旧拥在警署门口那块因保安警察挡着而看不清的玻璃前面，翘足引颈，想看个究竟。好奇是一种食欲，看，便是吞吃。

    芳汀进门以后，走去坐在墙角里，不动也不说话，缩成一团，好象一条胆怯的母狗。
    那警署里的中士拿来一支燃着的蜡烛放在桌上。沙威坐下，从衣袋里抽出一张公文纸，开始写起来。

    这样的妇女已由我们的法律交给警察全权处理了。警察对于这类妇女可以任意处罚，为所欲为，并且可以随意剥夺她们所谓的职业和自由这两件不幸的东西。沙威是铁面无情的，他严厉的面容，绝不显露一丝慌张的颜色。他只是在深沉地运用心机。这正是他独当一面、执行他那种吓人的专断大权的时候，他总用那种硬心肠的苛刻态度来处理一切。这时他觉得，他的那张警察专用的小凳就是公堂。他斟酌了又斟酌，然后下判语。他尽其所能，围绕着他所办的那件大事，搜索他脑子里所有的一切思想。他越考虑那个妓女所作的事就越感到自己怒不可遏。他刚才看见的明明是桩大罪。他刚才看见，那儿，在街上，一个有财产和选举权的公民所代表的社会，被一个什么也不容的畜生所侮辱、所冒犯了。一个娼妓竟敢冒犯一个绅士。他，沙威，他目睹了那样一件事，他一声不吭，只管写。

    他写完时签上了名，把那张纸折起来，交给那中士，向他说：“带三个人，把这婊子押到牢里去。”随又转向芳汀说：“判你六个月的监禁。”
    那愁恼的妇人大吃一惊。

    “六个月！六个月的监牢！”她号着说。“六个月，每天赚七个苏！那，珂赛特将怎么办？我的娃娃！我的娃娃！并且我还欠德纳第家一百多法郎，侦察员先生，您知道这个吗？”
    她跪在石板上，在众人的靴子所留下的泥浆中，双手合拢，用膝头大步往前拖。

    “沙威先生！”她说，“我求您开恩。我担保，我确实没有错处。假使您一开头就看见这件事，您就明白了。我在慈悲的上帝面前发誓，我没有犯错误。是那位老板先生，我又不认识他，他把雪塞在我的背上。难道我们那样好好地走着，一点也没有惹别人，别人倒有把雪塞在我们背上的道理吗？我吓了一跳。我原有一点病，您知道吗？并且他向我罗嗦了好些时候。‘你丑！’‘你没有牙齿！’我早知道我没有牙齿。我并没有做什么。我心里想：‘这位先生寻开心。’我对他规规矩矩，我没有和他说话。他在那样一刹那间把雪塞在了我的背上。沙威先生，我的好侦察员先生！难道这儿就没有一个人看见过当时的经过来向您说这是真话吗？我生了气，那也许不应当。您知道在开始做这种生意时是不容易控制自己的。我太冒失了。并且，一把那样冷的东西，乘你不备，塞在你的背上！我不应当弄坏那位先生的帽子。他为什么走了呢？他如果在这里，我会求他饶恕的。唉！我的上帝，求他饶恕，我毫不在乎。今天这一次请您开了恩吧，沙威先生。呵，您不知道这个，在监牢里，每天只能赚七个苏，那不是政府的错处，但是每天只有七个苏，并且请您想想，我有一百法郎要付，不付的话，人家就会把我的小女儿送回来。唉！我的上帝，我不能带她在身边，我做的事多么可耻呵！我的珂赛特，呵，我的慈悲圣母的小天使，她怎么办呢？可怜的小宝贝！我要和您说，德纳第那种开客店的，那种乡下人，是没有道理可讲的。他们非要钱不可。请别把我关在牢里！请您想想，那是一个小娃娃，他们会在这种最冷的冬天把她丢在大路上，随她去；我的好沙威先生，您对这种事应当可怜可怜呀。假使她大一点，她也能谋生，可是在她现在那种年纪，她做不到。老实说，我并不是个坏女人。并不是好吃懒做使我到了这种地步。我喝了酒，那是因为我心里难受。我并不贪杯，但是酒会把人弄糊涂的。从前当我还比较快乐时，别人只消看看我的衣柜，一眼就会明白我并不是个污七八糟爱俏的女人。我从前有过换洗衣裳，许多换洗衣裳。可怜可怜我吧，沙威先生！”

    她那样弯着身子述说苦情，泪眼昏花，敞着胸，绞着手，干促地咳嗽，低声下气，形同垂死之人。深沉的痛苦是转变穷苦人容貌的一种威猛的神光。当时芳汀忽然变美了。有那么一会儿，她停下来，轻轻地吻着那探子礼服的下摆。一颗石心也会被她说软的，但一颗木头的心是软化不了的。
    “好！”沙威说，“你说的我已经听见了。你说完了没有？走吧，现在。你有你的六个月，永生的天父亲自到来也没有办法。”听见了那种威严的话“永生的天父亲自到来也没有办法”时，她知道这次的判决是无可更改的了。她垂头丧气、声嘶喉哽地说：“开恩呀！”

    沙威把背对着她。
    兵士们抓住了她的胳膊。几分钟之前，已有一个人在众人没留意之间进来了，他关好门，靠在门上，听到了芳汀的哀求。
    正当兵士们把手放在那不肯起立的倒霉妇人身上，他上前一步，从黑影里钻出来说：“请你们等一会！”

    沙威抬起眼睛，看见了马德兰先生。他脱下帽子，带着一种不自在的怒容向他致敬：“失礼了，市长先生??”市长先生这几个字给了芳汀一种奇特的感觉。她好象从地里跳起的僵尸一样，猛然一下直立起来，张开两臂，将那些士兵推向两旁，他们还没来得及阻拦她，她已径直向马德兰先生走去，疯子一样，盯住他喊道：“哈！市长先生，原来就是你这小子！”随后，她放声大笑，一口唾沫吐在他脸上。马德兰先揩揩脸，说道：“侦察员沙威，释放这个妇人。”沙威这时觉得自己要疯了。他在这一刹那间，接二连三，并且几乎是接连不断地感受到他生平从未有过的强烈冲动。看见一个公娼唾市长的面，这种事在他的想象中确实已经荒谬到了无法想象的地步，即使只偶起一念，认为那是可能发生的事，那已可以算作是犯了大不敬的罪。另一方面，在他思想深处，他已把那妇人的身份和那市长的人格连系起来，产生了一种可怕的胡思乱想，因而那种怪诞罪行的根源，在他看来，又是十分简单的，他想到此地，无比憎恨。同时他看见那位市长，那位长官，平心静气地揩着脸，还说“释放这个妇人”，他简直吓得有点头昏眼花；他脑子不能再想，嘴也不能再动了，那种惊骇已超出他可能接受的限度，他一言不发地立着。

    芳汀听了那句话也同样惊骇。她举起她赤裸的胳膊，握紧了那火炉的钮门，好象一个要昏倒的人。同时，她四面望望，又低声地仿佛自言自语地说起话来。

    “释放！让我走！我不去坐六个月的牢！这是谁说出来的？说出这样的话是不可能的。我听错了。一定不会是那鬼市长说的！是您吧，我的好沙威先生，是您要把我放走吧！呵！您瞧，让我告诉您，您就会让我走的。这个鬼市长，这个老流氓市长是一切的祸根。您想想吧，沙威先生，他听了那厂里一些胡说八道的娼妇的话，就把我撵了出来。那还不算混蛋！把一个做工做得好好的穷女人撵出去！从那以后，我赚的钱就不够了，一切苦恼也都来了。警署里的先生们本有一件理应改良的事，就是应当禁止监牢里的那些包工来害穷人吃苦。我来向您把这件事说清楚。您听吧。您本来做衬衫，每天赚十二苏，忽然减到了九个，再也没有办法活下去了。我们总得找出路，我有我的小珂赛特，我是被逼得太凶了才当娼妓的。您现在懂得害人的就是那个害人的王八市长。我还要说，我在军官咖啡馆的前面踏坏了那位先生的帽子。不过他呢，他拿着雪把我一身衣服全弄坏了。我们这种人，只有一件绸子衣服，特地在晚上穿的。您瞧，我从没有故意害过人，确实是这样，沙威先生，并且我处处都看见许多女人，她们都比我坏，却又都比我快乐。呵，沙威先生，是您说了把我放出去，不是吗？您去查吧，您去问我的房东吧，现在我已按期付房租了，他们自然会告诉您我是老实人。呀！我的上帝。请您原谅，我不小心碰了火炉的钮门，弄得冒烟了。”

    马德兰先生全神贯注地听着她的话，正当她说时，他搜了一下背心，掏出他的钱袋，打开来看。它是空的，他又把它插进衣袋，向芳汀说：“您说您欠人多少钱呀？”芳汀原只望着沙威，她回转头向着他：“我是在和你说话吗？”随后，她又向那些警察说：“喂，你们这些人看见我怎样把口水吐在他脸上吗？嘿！老奸贼市长，你到这里来吓我，但是我不怕你。我只怕沙威先生。我只怕我的好沙威先生！”

    这样说着，她又转过去朝着那位侦察员。

    “既是这样，您瞧，侦察员先生，就应当公平，我知道您是公平的，侦察员先生。老实说，事情是极简单的，一个人闹着玩儿，把一点点雪放到一个女人的背上，这样可以逗那些军官们笑笑，人总应当寻点东西开开心，我们这些东西本来就是给人开心的，有什么稀奇！随后，您，您来了，您自然应当维持秩序，您把那个犯错误的妇人带走，但是，仔细想来，您多么好，您说释放我，那一定是为了那小女孩，因为六个月的监牢，我就不能养活我的孩子了。不过，不好再闹事了呀，贱婆！呵！我不会再闹事了，沙威先生！从今以后，人家可以随便作弄我，我再不会乱动了。只是今天，您知道，我叫了一声，因为那东西叫我太受不了，我一点没有防备那位先生的雪，并且，我已向您说过，我的身体不大好，我咳嗽，我的胃里好象有块滚烫的东西，医生咐咐过‘好好保养。’瞧，您摸摸，把您的手伸出来，不用害怕，就是这儿。”她已不哭了，她的声音是娓娓动人的，她把沙威那只大而粗的手压在她那白嫩的胸脯上，笑眯眯地望着他。

    忽然，她慌忙整理她身上零乱的衣服，把弄皱了的地方扯平，因为那衣服，当她在地上跪着走时，几乎被拉到膝头上来了。她朝着大门走去，向那些士兵和颜悦色地点着头，柔声说道：“孩子们，侦察员说过了，放我走，我走了。”

    她把手放在门闩上。再走一步，她便到了街上。沙威一直立着没有动，眼睛看着地面，他在这一场合处于一种极不相适的地位，好似一座曾被人移动、正待安置的塑像一样。门闩的声音把他惊醒了。他抬起头，露出一副凛然不可侵犯的表情，那种表情越是出自职位卑下的人就越显得可怕，在猛兽的脸上显得凶恶，在下流人的脸上就显得残暴。

    “中士”，他吼道，“你没看见那骚货要走！谁叫你让她走？”“我。”

    马德兰说。芳汀听了沙威的声音，发起抖来了，赶紧丢了门闩，好象一个被擒的小偷丢下赃物那样。听了马德兰的声音，她转过来，从这时起，她一字不吐，连呼吸也不敢放肆，目光轮流地从马德兰望到沙威，又从沙威望到马德兰，谁说话，她便望着谁。当然，沙威必须是象我们常说的那样，到了“怒气冲天”的时候才敢在市长有了释放芳汀的指示后，还象刚才那样冲撞那中士。难道他竟忘了市长在场吗？难道他在思考之后认为一个“领导”不可能作出那样一种指示吗？难道他认为市长先生之所以支持那个女人，是一种言不由衷的表现吗？或者在这两个钟头里他亲自遇见的这件大事面前，他认为必须抱定最后决心，使小人物变成大人物，使士兵变成长官，使警察变成法官，并在这种非常急迫的场面上，所有秩序、法律、道德、政权、整个社会，都必须由他沙威一个人来体现吗？

    总而言之，当马德兰先生说了刚才大家听到的那个“我”字以后，侦察员沙威便转身朝向市长先生，面色发青，嘴唇发紫，形容冷峻，目光凶顽，浑身有着一种难以察觉的战栗，并且说也奇怪，他眼睛朝下，但是语气坚决：“市长先生，那不行。”

    “怎么？”马德兰先生说。
    “这背时女人侮辱了一位绅士。”

    “侦察员沙威，”马德兰先生用一种委婉平和的口气回答说，“听我说。您是个诚实人，不难向您解释清楚。实际情况是这样的。刚才您把这妇人带走时，我正走过那广场，当时也还有成群的人在场，我进行了调查，我全了解清楚了，错的是那位绅士，应当抓他，才合乎警察公正的精神。”

    沙威回答说：
    “这贱人刚才侮辱了市长先生。”
    “那是我的事，”马德兰先生说，“我想我受的侮辱应当是属于我的，我可以按照自己的意见处理。”

    “我请市长先生原谅。他受的侮辱并不是属于他的，而是属于法律的。”
    “侦察员沙威，”马德兰先生回答说，“最高的法律是良心。我听了这妇人的谈话。我清楚我做的事。”
    “但是我，市长先生，我不清楚我见到的事。”
    “那么，您服从就是。”

    “我服从我的职责。我的职责要求这个妇人坐六个月的监。”马德兰先生和颜悦色地回答说：“请听清楚这一点。她一天也不会坐。”沙威听了那句坚决的话，竟敢定睛注视市长，并且和他争辩，但他说话的声音始终是极其恭敬的：“我和市长先生争执，衷心感到痛苦，这是我生平第一次，但是我请求他准许我提出这一点意见：我是在我的职责范围以内。市长先生既然愿意，我再来谈那位绅士的事。当时我在场，是这个婊子先跳上去打巴马达波先生的，巴马达波先生是选民，并且是公园角上那座石条砌的有阳台的三层漂亮公馆的主人。在这世界上，有些事终究还是该注意的！总而言之，市长先生，这件事和我有关，牵涉到一个街道警察的职责问题，我决定要收押芳汀这个女人。”

    马德兰先生叉起两条胳膊，用一种严厉的、在这城里尚未有人听见过的声音说道：“您提的这个问题是个市政警察问题。根据刑法第九、第十一、第十五和第六十六条，我是这个问题的审判人。我命令释放这个妇人。”

    沙威还要作最后的努力：
    “但是，市长先生??”
    “我请您注意一七九九年十二月十三日的法律，关于擅行拘捕问题的第八十一条。”

    “市长先生，请允许我??”
    “一个字也不必再说。”
    “可是??”

    “出去！”马德兰先生说。沙威正面直立，好象一个俄罗斯士兵，服从了这个硬钉子。他向市长先生深深地鞠躬，一直弯到了地面，出去了。芳汀赶忙让路，望着他从她面前走过，吓得魂不附体。同时她也被一种奇怪的、撩乱了的心情控制住了。她刚才见到她自己成了两种对立力量的争夺对象。她见到两个掌握她的自由、生命、灵魂、孩子的人在她眼前斗争，那两个人中的一个把她拖向黑暗，一个把她拖向光明，在这场斗争里，她从扩大了的恐怖中看去，仿佛觉得他们是两个巨人，一个说话，好象是她的恶魔，一个说话，好象是她的吉祥天使。天使战胜了恶魔。不过使她从头到脚战栗的也就是那个天使，那个救星，却又恰巧是她所深恶痛绝、素来认为是她一切痛苦的罪魁的那个市长，那个马德兰！正当她狠狠侮辱了他一番之后，他却搭救了她！难道她弄错了？难道她该完全改变她的想法？??她莫名其妙，她发抖，她望着，听着，头昏目眩，马德兰先生每说一句话，她都觉得当初的那种仇恨的幢幢黑影在她心里消隐、坍塌，代之以融融的不可言喻的欢乐、信心和爱。

    沙威出去以后，马德兰先生转身向她，好象一个吞声忍泪的长者，向她慢慢说：“我听到了您的话，您所说的我以前完全不知道。我相信那是真的，我也觉得那是真的。连您离开我车间的事我也不知道。您当初为什么不来找我呢？现在这样吧：我代您还债，我把您的孩子接来，或者您去找她。您以后住在此地，或是巴黎，都听您的便。您的孩子和您都归我负责。您可以不必再工作，如果您愿意。您需要多少钱，我都照给。将来您生活愉快，同时也做个诚实的人。并且，听清楚，我现在就向您说，如果您刚才说的话全是真的（我也并不怀疑），您的一生，在上帝面前，也始终是善良贞洁的。呵！可怜的妇人！”

    这已不是那可怜的芳汀能承受得了的。得到珂赛特！脱离这种下贱的生活！自由自在地、富裕快乐诚实地和珂赛特一道过活！她在颠沛困苦当中忽然看到这种现实的天堂生活显现在她眼前，她将信将疑地望着那个和她谈话的人，她只能在痛哭中发出了两三次“呵！呵！呵！”的声音，她的膝头往下沉，跪在马德兰先生跟前，他还没有来得及提防，已经觉得她拿住了他的手，并且把嘴唇压上去了。
她随即晕了过去。

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.

     马德兰先生雇人把芳汀抬到他自己厂房里的疗养室。他把她交给姆姆们照料，姆姆们把她安顿到床上。她忽然又发了高烧。在昏迷中她大声叫喊，胡言乱语，闹了大半夜，到后来却睡着了。将近第二天中午，芳汀醒来了，她听见在她床边有人呼吸，她拉起床帷，看见马德兰先生站在那里，望着她头边的一件东西。他的目光充满着怜悯沉痛的神情，他正在一心一意祈祷着。她顺着他的视线望去，看见他正对着挂在墙上的一个耶稣受难像祈祷。从此后马德兰先生在芳汀的心目中完全是另外一个人了。她觉得他浑身周围有层光。他当时完全沉浸在祈祷里。她望了他许久，不敢惊动他。到后来，她才细声向他问道：“您在那儿做什么？”马德兰先生立在那儿已一个钟头了。他在等芳汀醒来。他握着她的手，试了试她的脉博，说道：“您觉得怎样？”

    “我很好，我睡了好一阵，”她说，“我觉得我好些了，不久就会没事的。”

    他回答她先头的问题，好象他还听见她在问似的：“我为天上的那位殉难者祈祷。”在他心里，他还加了一句：“也为地下的这位殉难者。”马德兰先生一夜又一个早晨都在调查。现在他完全明白了。他了解了芳汀身世中一切痛心的细情。他接着说：“您受了很多痛苦，可怜的慈母。呵！您不用叫苦，现在您已获得做永生极乐之神的资格。这便是人成天使的道路。这并不是人的错处，人不知道有别的办法。您懂吗？您脱离的那个地狱正是天堂的第一种形式。应当从那地方开始。”

    他深深地叹了一口气。而她，她带着那种缺了两个牙的绝美笑容向他微笑。沙威在当天晚上写了一封信。第二天早晨，他亲自把那封信送到滨海蒙特勒伊邮局。那封信寄往巴黎，上面写着这样的字：“呈警署署长先生的秘书夏布耶先生”。因为警署里的那件事已经传扬出去了，邮局的女局长和其他几个人在寄出以前看见了那封信，并从地址上认出了沙威的笔迹，都以为他寄出的是辞职书。马德兰先生立即写了一封信给德纳第夫妇。芳汀欠他们一百二十法郎。他寄给他们三百法郎，叫他们在那数目里扣还，并且马上把那孩子送到滨海蒙特勒伊来，因为她的母亲得了病，要看她。

    德纳第喜出望外。“撞到了鬼！”他向他的婆娘说，“我们别放走这孩子。这个小百灵鸟快要变成有奶的牛了。我猜到了。一定有一个冤大头爱上了她的妈。”

    他寄回一张造得很精密的五百零几个法郎的帐单。帐单里还附了两张毫无疑问的收据，一共三百多法郎，一张是医生开的，一张是药剂师开的，他们诊治过爱潘妮和阿兹玛的两场长玻珂赛特，我们说了，没有病过。那不过是一件小小的冒名顶替的事罢了。德纳第在帐单下面写道：“内收三百法郎。”

    马德兰先生立刻又寄了三百法郎去，并且写道：“快把珂赛特送来。”

    “还了得！”德纳第说，“我们别放走这孩子。”但是芳汀的病一 点也不见起色。她一直待在那间养病室里。那些姆姆当初接收并照顾“这姑娘”，心里还颇为反感。凡是见过兰斯①地方那些浮雕的人，都记得那些贞女怎样鼓着下嘴唇去看那些疯处女的神情。贞女对荡妇的那种古已有之的蔑视，是妇德中一种最悠久的本能；那些姆姆们心中的蔑视，更因宗教的关系而越加浓厚了。但是，不到几天，芳汀便把她们降服了。她有多种多样的谦恭和蔼的语言，她那慈母心肠更是足以让人心软。一 天，姆姆们听见她在发烧时说：“我做了个犯罪的人，但等我有了自己的孩子在身边，那就可以证明上帝已经赦免我的罪了，我在罪恶中生活时，我不愿让珂赛特和我在一起，我会受不了她那双惊奇忧愁的眼睛。不过我是为了她才作坏事的，这一点让我得到上帝的赦免吧。珂赛特到了这儿时，我就会感到上帝的保佑。那孩子是无罪的，我看着她，我就得到了安慰。她什么都不知道。她是一个安琪儿，你们看吧，我的姆姆们，在她那样小小的年纪，翅膀是不会掉的。”
①兰斯（Reims），法国东北部城市，有一个著名的大天主堂。

    马德兰先生每天去看她两次，每次她都要问他说：“我不久就可以看见我的珂赛特了吧？”他老回答她说：“也许就在明天早晨。她随时都可以到，我正等着她呢。”于是那母亲的惨白面容也开朗了。

    “呵！”她说，“那我可就快乐了。”我们刚才说过，她的病没有起色，而且她的状况仿佛一星期比一星期更沉重了。那一把雪是贴肉塞在她两块肩胛骨中间的，那种突然的惊冷，立刻让她发汗的机能停止了，因此几年以来潜伏在她体中的病，终于急剧恶化了。当时大家正开始执行劳安内克①杰出的指示，对肺病进行研究和治疗。医生听过芳汀的肺部以后，摇了摇头。
①劳安内克（Laennec，1781—1826），法国医生，听诊方法的发明人。

    马德兰先生问那医生：
    “怎样？”
    “她不是有个孩子要想看看吗？”医生说。
    “是的。”
    “那么赶快接她来吧。”马德兰先生吃了一惊。芳汀问他说：“医生说了什么话？”马德兰先生勉强微笑着。

    “他说快把您的的孩子接来，您的身体就会好了。”“呵！”她回 答说，“他说得对！但是那德纳第家有什么事要留住我的珂赛特呢？呵！她就会来的。现在我总算看见幸福的日子就在我眼前了。”    
    
    但是德纳第不肯“放走那孩子”，并且找了各种不成理由的理由。珂赛特有点不舒服，冬季也不宜上路，并且在那地方还有一些零用债务急待了清，他正在收取发票等等。

    “我可以派个人去接珂赛特，”马德兰伯伯说。“在必要时，我还可以亲自去。”
    按芳汀的口述，他写了这样一封信，又叫她签了名：德纳第先生：请将珂赛特交来人。一切零星债款，我负责偿还。顺颂大安。
    芳汀

    正在这要紧关头，却发生了一件大事。我们枉费心思，想凿通人生旅途中的阻碍，可命中的厄运始终是不可避免的。

One morning M. Madeleine was in his study, occupied in arranging in advance some pressing matters connected with the mayor's office, in case he should decide to take the trip to Montfermeil, when he was informed that police Inspector Javert was desirous of speaking with him.Madeleine could not refrain from a disagreeable impression on hearing this name.Javert had avoided him more than ever since the affair of the police-station, and M. Madeleine had not seen him.

"Admit him," he said.
Javert entered.

M. Madeleine had retained his seat near the fire, pen in hand, his eyes fixed on the docket which he was turning over and annotating, and which contained the trials of the commission on highways for the infraction of police regulations.He did not disturb himself on Javert's account.He could not help thinking of poor Fantine, and it suited him to be glacial in his manner.

Javert bestowed a respectful salute on the mayor, whose back was turned to him.The mayor did not look at him, but went on annotating this docket.

Javert advanced two or three paces into the study, and halted, without breaking the silence.

If any physiognomist who had been familiar with Javert, and who had made a lengthy study of this savage in the service of civilization, this singular composite of the Roman, the Spartan, the monk, and the corporal, this spy who was incapable of a lie, this unspotted police agent--if any physiognomist had known his secret and long-cherished aversion for M. Madeleine, his conflict with the mayor on the subject of Fantine, and had examined Javert at that moment, he would have said to himself, "What has taken place?" It was evident to any one acquainted with that clear, upright, sincere, honest, austere, and ferocious conscience, that Javert had but just gone through some great interior struggle.Javert had nothing in his soul which he had not also in his countenance.Like violent people in general, he was subject to abrupt changes of opinion. His physiognomy had never been more peculiar and startling. On entering he bowed to M. Madeleine with a look in which there was neither rancor, anger, nor distrust; he halted a few paces in the rear of the mayor's arm-chair, and there he stood, perfectly erect, in an attitude almost of discipline, with the cold, ingenuous roughness of a man who has never been gentle and who has always been patient; he waited without uttering a word, without making a movement, in genuine humility and tranquil resignation, calm, serious, hat in hand, with eyes cast down, and an expression which was half-way between that of a soldier in the presence of his officer and a criminal in the presence of his judge, until it should please the mayor to turn round.All the sentiments as well as all the memories which one might have attributed to him had disappeared.That face, as impenetrable and simple as granite, no longer bore any trace of anything but a melancholy depression.His whole person breathed lowliness and firmness and an indescribable courageous despondency.

At last the mayor laid down his pen and turned half round.
"Well!What is it?What is the matter, Javert?"

Javert remained silent for an instant as though collecting his ideas, then raised his voice with a sort of sad solemnity, which did not, however, preclude simplicity.
"This is the matter, Mr. Mayor; a culpable act has been committed."

"What act?"
"An inferior agent of the authorities has failed in respect, and in the gravest manner, towards a magistrate.I have come to bring the fact to your knowledge, as it is my duty to do."

"Who is the agent?" asked M. Madeleine.
"I," said Javert.
"You?"
"I."

"And who is the magistrate who has reason to complain of the agent?"
"You, Mr. Mayor."
M. Madeleine sat erect in his arm-chair. Javert went on, with a severe air and his eyes still cast down.

"Mr. Mayor, I have come to request you to instigate the authorities to dismiss me."
M. Madeleine opened his mouth in amazement.Javert interrupted him:--

"You will say that I might have handed in my resignation, but that does not suffice.Handing in one's resignation is honorable. I have failed in my duty; I ought to be punished; I must be turned out."

And after a pause he added:--
"Mr. Mayor, you were severe with me the other day, and unjustly. Be so to-day, with justice."

"Come, now!Why?" exclaimed M. Madeleine."What nonsense is this? What is the meaning of this?What culpable act have you been guilty of towards me?What have you done to me?What are your wrongs with regard to me?You accuse yourself; you wish to be superseded--"

"Turned out," said Javert.
"Turned out; so it be, then.That is well.I do not understand."

"You shall understand, Mr. Mayor."
Javert sighed from the very bottom of his chest, and resumed, still coldly and sadly:--

"Mr. Mayor, six weeks ago, in consequence of the scene over that woman, I was furious, and I informed against you."
"Informed against me!"
"At the prefecture of police in paris."

M. Madeleine, who was not in the habit of laughing much oftener than Javert himself, burst out laughing now:--
"As a mayor who had encroached on the province of the police?"

"As an ex-convict."
The mayor turned livid.
Javert, who had not raised his eyes, went on:--

"I thought it was so.I had had an idea for a long time; a resemblance; inquiries which you had caused to be made at Faverolles; the strength of your loins; the adventure with old Fauchelevant; your skill in marksmanship; your leg, which you drag a little;-- I hardly know what all,--absurdities!But, at all events, I took you for a certain Jean Valjean."

"A certain--What did you say the name was?"

"Jean Valjean.He was a convict whom I was in the habit of seeing twenty years ago, when I was adjutant-guard of convicts at Toulon. On leaving the galleys, this Jean Valjean, as it appears, robbed a bishop; then he committed another theft, accompanied with violence, on a public highway on the person of a little Savoyard.He disappeared eight years ago, no one knows how, and he has been sought, I fancied. In short, I did this thing!Wrath impelled me; I denounced you at the prefecture!"

M. Madeleine, who had taken up the docket again several moments before this, resumed with an air of perfect indifference:--
"And what reply did you receive?"

"That I was mad."
"Well?"
"Well, they were right."
"It is lucky that you recognize the fact."

"I am forced to do so, since the real Jean Valjean has been found."
The sheet of paper which M. Madeleine was holding dropped from his hand; he raised his head, gazed fixedly at Javert, and said with his indescribable accent:--

"Ah!"
Javert continued:--

"This is the way it is, Mr. Mayor.It seems that there was in the neighborhood near Ailly-le-Haut-Clocher an old fellow who was called Father Champmathieu.He was a very wretched creature. No one paid any attention to him.No one knows what such people subsist on.Lately, last autumn, Father Champmathieu was arrested for the theft of some cider apples from--Well, no matter, a theft had been committed, a wall scaled, branches of trees broken. My Champmathieu was arrested.He still had the branch of apple-tree in his hand.The scamp is locked up.Up to this point it was merely an affair of a misdemeanor.But here is where providence intervened.

"The jail being in a bad condition, the examining magistrate finds it convenient to transfer Champmathieu to Arras, where the departmental prison is situated.In this prison at Arras there is an ex-convict named Brevet, who is detained for I know not what, and who has been appointed turnkey of the house, because of good behavior. Mr. Mayor, no sooner had Champmathieu arrived than Brevet exclaims: `Eh! Why, I know that man!He is a fagot!(4) Take a good look at me, my good man!You are Jean Valjean!'`Jean Valjean! who's Jean Valjean?' Champmathieu feigns astonishment.`Don't play the innocent dodge,' says Brevet.`You are Jean Valjean!You have been in the galleys of Toulon; it was twenty years ago; we were there together.' Champmathieu denies it.parbleu!You understand.The case is investigated.The thing was well ventilated for me.This is what they discovered:This Champmathieu had been, thirty years ago, a pruner of trees in various localities, notably at Faverolles. There all trace of him was lost.A long time afterwards he was seen again in Auvergne; then in paris, where he is said to have been a wheelwright, and to have had a daughter, who was a laundress; but that has not been proved.Now, before going to the galleys for theft, what was Jean Valjean?A pruner of trees.Where?At Faverolles. Another fact.This Valjean's Christian name was Jean, and his mother's surname was Mathieu.What more natural to suppose than that, on emerging from the galleys, he should have taken his mother's name for the purpose of concealing himself, and have called himself Jean Mathieu?He goes to Auvergne.The local pronunciation turns Jean into Chan--he is called Chan Mathieu.Our man offers no opposition, and behold him transformed into Champmathieu.You follow me, do you not?Inquiries were made at Faverolles.The family of Jean Valjean is no longer there.It is not known where they have gone. You know that among those classes a family often disappears. Search was made, and nothing was found.When such people are not mud, they are dust.And then, as the beginning of the story dates thirty years back, there is no longer any one at Faverolles who knew Jean Valjean.Inquiries were made at Toulon.Besides Brevet, there are only two convicts in existence who have seen Jean Valjean; they are Cochepaille and Chenildieu, and are sentenced for life. They are taken from the galleys and confronted with the pretended Champmathieu.They do not hesitate; he is Jean Valjean for them as well as for Brevet.The same age,--he is fifty-four,-- the same height, the same air, the same man; in short, it is he. It was precisely at this moment that I forwarded my denunciation to the prefecture in paris.I was told that I had lost my reason, and that Jean Valjean is at Arras, in the power of the authorities. You can imagine whether this surprised me, when I thought that I had that same Jean Valjean here.I write to the examining judge; he sends for me; Champmathieu is conducted to me--"
(4) An ex-convict.

"Well?" interposed M. Madeleine.
Javert replied, his face incorruptible, and as melancholy as ever:--
"Mr. Mayor, the truth is the truth.I am sorry; but that man is Jean Valjean.I recognized him also."

M. Madeleine resumed in, a very low voice:--
"You are sure?"
Javert began to laugh, with that mournful laugh which comes from profound conviction.

"O!Sure!"
He stood there thoughtfully for a moment, mechanically taking pinches of powdered wood for blotting ink from the wooden bowl which stood on the table, and he added:--

"And even now that I have seen the real Jean Valjean, I do not see how I could have thought otherwise.I beg your pardon, Mr. Mayor."

Javert, as he addressed these grave and supplicating words to the man, who six weeks before had humiliated him in the presence of the whole station-house, and bade him "leave the room,"--Javert, that haughty man, was unconsciously full of simplicity and dignity,--M. Madeleine made no other reply to his prayer than the abrupt question:--

"And what does this man say?"

"Ah!Indeed, Mr. Mayor, it's a bad business.If he is Jean Valjean, he has his previous conviction against him.To climb a wall, to break a branch, to purloin apples, is a mischievous trick in a child; for a man it is a misdemeanor; for a convict it is a crime. Robbing and housebreaking--it is all there.It is no longer a question of correctional police; it is a matter for the Court of Assizes. It is no longer a matter of a few days in prison; it is the galleys for life.And then, there is the affair with the little Savoyard, who will return, I hope.The deuce! there is plenty to dispute in the matter, is there not?Yes, for any one but Jean Valjean. But Jean Valjean is a sly dog.That is the way I recognized him. Any other man would have felt that things were getting hot for him; he would struggle, he would cry out--the kettle sings before the fire; he would not be Jean Valjean, et cetera.But he has not the appearance of understanding; he says, `I am Champmathieu, and I won't depart from that!'He has an astonished air, he pretends to be stupid; it is far better.Oh! the rogue is clever!But it makes no difference. The proofs are there.He has been recognized by four persons; the old scamp will be condemned.The case has been taken to the Assizes at Arras.I shall go there to give my testimony.I have been summoned."

M. Madeleine had turned to his desk again, and taken up his docket, and was turning over the leaves tranquilly, reading and writing by turns, like a busy man.He turned to Javert:--

"That will do, Javert.In truth, all these details interest me but little.We are wasting our time, and we have pressing business on hand.Javert, you will betake yourself at once to the house of the woman Buseaupied, who sells herbs at the corner of the Rue Saint-Saulve. You will tell her that she must enter her complaint against carter pierre Chesnelong.The man is a brute, who came near crushing this woman and her child.He must be punished.You will then go to M. Charcellay, Rue Montre-de-Champigny. He complained that there is a gutter on the adjoining house which discharges rain-water on his premises, and is undermining the foundations of his house. After that, you will verify the infractions of police regulations which have been reported to me in the Rue Guibourg, at Widow Doris's, and Rue du Garraud-Blanc, at Madame Renee le Bosse's, and you will prepare documents.But I am giving you a great deal of work. Are you not to be absent?Did you not tell me that you were going to Arras on that matter in a week or ten days?"

"Sooner than that, Mr. Mayor."
"On what day, then?"

"Why, I thought that I had said to Monsieur le Maire that the case was to be tried to-morrow, and that I am to set out by diligence to-night."
M. Madeleine made an imperceptible movement.

"And how long will the case last?"
"One day, at the most.The judgment will be pronounced to-morrow evening at latest.But I shall not wait for the sentence, which is certain; I shall return here as soon as my deposition has been taken."

"That is well," said M. Madeleine.
And he dismissed Javert with a wave of the hand.

Javert did not withdraw.
"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor," said he.
"What is it now?" demanded M. Madeleine.
"Mr. Mayor, there is still something of which I must remind you."

"What is it?"
"That I must be dismissed."
M. Madeleine rose.

"Javert, you are a man of honor, and I esteem you.You exaggerate your fault.Moreover, this is an offence which concerns me. Javert, you deserve promotion instead of degradation.I wish you to retain your post."

Javert gazed at M. Madeleine with his candid eyes, in whose depths his not very enlightened but pure and rigid conscience seemed visible, and said in a tranquil voice:--
"Mr. Mayor, I cannot grant you that."

"I repeat," replied M. Madeleine, "that the matter concerns me."
But Javert, heeding his own thought only, continued:--

"So far as exaggeration is concerned, I am not exaggerating.This is the way I reason:I have suspected you unjustly.That is nothing. It is our right to cherish suspicion, although suspicion directed above ourselves is an abuse.But without proofs, in a fit of rage, with the object of wreaking my vengeance, I have denounced you as a convict, you, a respectable man, a mayor, a magistrate! That is serious, very serious.I have insulted authority in your person, I, an agent of the authorities!If one of my subordinates had done what I have done, I should have declared him unworthy of the service, and have expelled him.Well?Stop, Mr. Mayor; one word more. I have often been severe in the course of my life towards others. That is just.I have done well.Now, if I were not severe towards myself, all the justice that I have done would become injustice. Ought I to spare myself more than others?No!What!I should be good for nothing but to chastise others, and not myself!Why, I should be a blackguard!Those who say, `That blackguard of a Javert!' would be in the right.Mr. Mayor, I do not desire that you should treat me kindly; your kindness roused sufficient bad blood in me when it was directed to others.I want none of it for myself. The kindness which consists in upholding a woman of the town against a citizen, the police agent against the mayor, the man who is down against the man who is up in the world, is what I call false kindness. That is the sort of kindness which disorganizes society.Good God! it is very easy to be kind; the difficulty lies in being just. Come! if you had been what I thought you, I should not have been kind to you, not I!You would have seen!Mr. Mayor, I must treat myself as I would treat any other man.When I have subdued malefactors, when I have proceeded with vigor against rascals, I have often said to myself, `If you flinch, if I ever catch you in fault, you may rest at your ease!'I have flinched, I have caught myself in a fault. So much the worse!Come, discharged, cashiered, expelled!That is well. I have arms.I will till the soil; it makes no difference to me. Mr. Mayor, the good of the service demands an example.I simply require the discharge of Inspector Javert."

All this was uttered in a proud, humble, despairing, yet convinced tone, which lent indescribable grandeur to this singular, honest man.
"We shall see," said M. Madeleine.
And he offered him his hand.
Javert recoiled, and said in a wild voice:--

"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, but this must not be.A mayor does not offer his hand to a police spy."
He added between his teeth:--
"A police spy, yes; from the moment when I have misused the police. I am no more than a police spy."

Then he bowed profoundly, and directed his steps towards the door.
There he wheeled round, and with eyes still downcast:--
"Mr. Mayor," he said, "I shall continue to serve until I am superseded."

He withdrew.M. Madeleine remained thoughtfully listening to the firm, sure step, which died away on the pavement of the corridor.

     一天早晨，马德兰先生正在他的办公室里提前处理市府的几件紧急公事，好随时能去孟费郿。这时有人来传报，说侦察员沙威请见。马德兰先生听到那名字，不能不泛起一种不舒服的感觉，自从发生警署里那件事后，沙威对他躲避得更加厉害，马德兰也再没有和他会面。

    “请他进来。”他说。沙威进来了。
    马德兰先生正靠近壁炉坐着，手里拿着一支笔，眼睛望着一个卷宗，那里是一叠有关公路警察方面几件违警事件的案卷，他一面翻阅，一面作批示。他完全不理睬沙威。他无法克制自己不去想那可怜的芳汀，因此觉得对他不妨冷淡。

    沙威向那背着他的市长，恭恭敬敬地行了一个礼。市长先生不望他，仍旧批他的公文。

    沙威在办公室里走了两三步，又停下来，不敢打破此时的寂静。如果有个相士，熟悉沙威的性格，长期关注过这个为文明服务的野蛮人，这个由罗马人、斯巴达人、寺僧和小军官合成的怪物，这个言必有据的暗探，这个坚韧不拔的包打听，如果有个相士，知道沙威对马德兰先生所怀的夙仇，知道他为了芳汀的事和市长发生过的争执，这时又来观察沙威，他心里一定要问：“发生了什么事？”凡是认识这个心地正直、爽朗、诚挚、耿介、严肃、凶猛的人的，都能一眼看出沙威刚从一场激烈的思想斗争里走出来。沙威绝不能有点事藏在心里而不露在脸上。他正象那种粗暴的人，会突然改变主张。他的神情从未比当时那样子更奇特的了。他走进门时，向马德兰先生鞠了个躬，目光里既没有夙仇，也没有怒容，也没有戒心，他在市长圈椅后面几步的地方停下来；现在他笔挺地站着，几乎是一种立正的姿势，态度粗野、单纯、冷淡，真是一个从不肯和颜悦色而始终能忍耐到底的人；他不说话也不动，在一种真诚的谦卑和安定的忍让里，静候市长先生愿意转过身来的时刻。他这时保持一种平和、庄重的样子，帽子拿在手里，眼睛望着地下，脸上的表情，有点象在长官面前的士兵，又有点象在法官面前的罪犯。别人以为他可能有的那些情感和故态全不见了。在他那副坚硬质朴如花岗石的面孔上，只有一种沉郁的愁容。他整个的人所显现的是一种驯服、坚定、无可言喻的勇于受戮的神情。

    后来，市长先生把笔放下，身体转过了一半：“说吧！有什么事，沙威？”沙威没有立即回答，好象得先集中思想。随后他放开嗓子，用一种忧郁而仍不失为淳朴的声音说：“是的，市长先生，有一桩犯罪的事。”

    “经过怎样？”
    “一个下级警官，对于长官有了很严重的失敬行为。我特来把这事向您说明，因为这是我的责任。”
    “那警官是谁？”马德兰先生问。
    “是我。”沙威说。
    “您？”
    “我。”
    “谁又是那个要控告警官的长官呢？”

    “您，市长先生。”马德兰先生在他的圈椅上挺直了身体。沙威说下去，态度严肃，眼睛始终朝下：“市长先生，我来请求您向上级申请，把我的职免了。”马德兰先生张开嘴，非常惊讶。沙威连忙抢着说：“您也许会说，我尽可以辞职，但那样还是不够的。辞职是件有面子的事。我失职了，我应当受处罚。我应当被革职。”停了一会，他又接着说：“市长先生，那一天您对我是严厉的，但不公道，今天，您应当公公道道地对我严厉一番。”

    “呀！为什么呢？”马德兰先生大声说，“这个哑谜从何说起呢？这是什么意思？您在哪里犯有对我失敬的错误？您对我做了什么事？您对我有什么不对的地方？您来自首，您要辞职??”“革职。”沙威说。
    “革职。就算革职。很好，但是我不懂。”

    “您马上就会懂的，市长先生。”沙威从他胸底叹了一口气，但又始终冷静而忧郁地说：“市长先生，六个星期以前，那姑娘的事发生之后，我很气愤，于是揭发了您。”
    “揭发！”
    “向巴黎警署揭发的。”马德兰先生素来不比沙威更爱笑，这次却也笑起来了。“揭发我以市长干涉警务吗？”

    “揭发您曾是苦役犯。”市长面色发青了。沙威并没有抬起眼睛，他继续说：“我当初是那样想的。我心里早已疑惑了。模样儿相象，您又派人到法维洛勒去打听过消息，您的那种腰劲，割风伯伯的那件事，您熗法的准确，您那条有点拖沓的腿，我也不知道还有些什么，真是傻！总而言之，我把你认作是一个叫冉阿让的人了。”“叫什么？您说的是个什么名字？”“冉阿让。那是二十年前我在土伦做副监狱官时见过的一个苦役犯。那冉阿让从监狱里释放出来时，仿佛在一个主教家里偷过东西，随后又在一条公路上，手里拿着凶器，抢劫过一个通烟囱的孩子。八年以来，不知是怎么回事，他影踪全无，可是政府仍在缉拿他。我，当初以为??我终于做了那件事！一时的气愤使我下了决心，我便在警署揭发了您。”

    马德兰先生早已拿起了他的卷宗，他用一种毫不关心的口气说：“那么，别人怎样回答您呢？”
    “他们说我疯了。”
    “那么，怎样呢？”
    “那么，他们说对了。”
    “幸而您肯承认。”

    “我只得承认，因为真正的冉阿让已经被捕了。”马德兰先生拿在手里的文件落了下来，他抬起头来，眼睛盯着沙威，用一种无法形容的口气说着“啊！”沙威往下说：“就是这么回事，市长先生。据说，靠近埃里高钟楼那边的一个地方，有个汉子，叫做商马第伯伯。是一个穷到极点的家伙。大家都没有注意。那种人究竟靠什么维持生活，谁也不知道。最近，就在今年秋天，那个商马第伯伯在一个人的家里，谁的家？我忘了，这没有关系！商马第伯伯在那人家偷了制酒的苹果，被捕了。那是一桩窃案，跳了墙，并且还折断了树枝。他们把我说的这个商马第逮住了。他当时手里还拿着苹果枝。他们把这个坏蛋关起来。直到那时，那还只是件普通的刑事案件。以下的事才真是苍天有眼呢。那里的监牢，太差劲，地方裁判官先生想得对，他把商马第押送到阿拉斯，因为阿拉斯有省级监狱。在阿拉斯的监狱里，有个叫布莱卫的老苦役犯，他为什么坐牢，我不知道，因为他的表现好，便派了他做那间狱室的看守。市长先生，商马第刚到狱里，布莱卫便叫道：‘怪事！我认识这个人。他是根“干柴”①。喂，您望着我。你是冉阿让。’‘冉阿让！谁呀，谁叫冉阿让？’商马第假装糊涂。‘不用装腔，’布莱卫说，‘你是冉阿让，你在土伦监狱里呆过。到现在已经二十年了。那时我们在一块儿的。’商马第不承认。天老爷！您懂吧。大家深入了解。一定要追究这件怪事。得到的资料是：商马第，大约在三十年前，在几个地方，特别是在法维洛勒，当过修树枝工人。从那以后，线索断了。过了许多年，有人在奥弗涅遇见过他，嗣后，在巴黎又有人遇见过这人，据说他在巴黎做造车工人，并且有过一个洗衣姑娘，但那些经过是未被证实的；最后，到了本地。所以，在犯特种窃案入狱之前，冉阿让是做什么事的人呢？修树技工人。什么地方？法维洛勒。另外一件事，这个冉阿让当初用他的洗礼名‘让’做自己的名字，而他的母亲姓马第。出狱以后，他用母亲的姓做自己的姓，以图掩饰，并且自称为让马第，世上还有比这更自然的事吗？他到了奥弗涅。那地方，‘让’读作‘商’。大家叫他作商马第。我们的这个人顺其自然，于是变成商马第了。您听得懂，是吗？有人到法维洛勒去调查过。冉阿让的家已不在那里了。没有人知道那家人在哪里。您知道，在那种阶级里，常有这样全家灭绝的情况。白费了一番调查，没有下落。那种人，如果不是烂泥，便是灰尘。并且这些经过是在三十年前发生的，在法维洛勒，从前认识冉阿让的人已经没有了。于是到土伦去调查。除布莱卫以外，还有两个看见过冉阿让的苦役犯。两个受终身监禁的囚犯，一个叫戈什巴依，一个叫舍尼杰。他们把那两个犯人从牢里提出，送到那里去。叫他们去和那个冒名商马第的人对证。他们毫不迟疑。他们和布莱卫一样，说他是冉阿让。年龄相同，他有五十六岁，身材相同，神气相同，就是那个人了，就是他。我正是在那时，把揭发您的公事寄到了巴黎的警署。他们回复我，说我神志不清，说冉阿让好好被关押在阿拉斯。您可以想象这件事使我很惊奇，我还以为在此地拿住了冉阿让本人呢，我写了信给那位裁判官。他叫我去，他们把商马第带给我看??”“怎样呢？”马德兰先生打断他说。沙威摆着他那副坚定而忧郁的面孔答道：
①干柴，旧苦役犯。——原注。

    “市长先生，真理总是真理。我失望之极。叫冉阿让的确实是那人。我也认出了他。”
    马德兰先生以一种很低的声音接着说：
    “您以为可靠吗？”沙威笑了出来，那是人在深信不疑之际流露出来的那种淡淡的笑容。
    “呵，可靠之至！”他停了停，若有所思，机械地在桌子上的木杯里，捏着一小撮吸墨水的木屑，随后又接下去说：“现在我已看见了那个真冉阿让，不过我还是无法解释：从前我怎么会那么想的。我请您原谅，市长先生。”

    六个星期之前，马德兰先生在警署里当着众人侮辱过他，并且向他说过“出去！”而他现在居然能向他说出这样一句沉痛央求的话，沙威，这个倨傲的人，他自己不知道他确是一个十分淳朴、具有高贵品质的人。马德兰先生只用了这样一个突如其来的问题回答他的请求：“那个人怎么说呢？”

    “呀！圣母，市长先生，事情不妙呵。如果那真是冉阿让，那里就有重犯罪。爬过一道墙，折断一根树枝，摸走几个苹果，这对小孩只是种顽皮的行动，对一个成人只是种小过失；对一个苦役犯却是种罪了。私入住宅和行窃的罪都有了，那已不是违警问题，而是高等法院的问题了。那不是几天的拘留问题，而是终身苦役的问题了。并且还有那通烟囱孩子的事，我希望将来也能提出来。见鬼！有得闹呢，不是吗？当然，假使不是冉阿让而是另外一个人。但是冉阿让是个鬼头鬼脑的东西。我也是从那一点看出他来的。如果是另外一个人的话，他一定会觉得这件事很冤枉，一定会急躁，一定会大吵大闹，热锅上的蚂蚁哪得安顿，他决不愿做冉阿让，必然要东拉西扯。可是他，好象什么也不懂，他说：‘我是商马第，我坚持我是商马第！’他的神气好象很惊讶，他装傻，那样自然妥当些。呵！那坏蛋真乖巧。不过不相干，各种证据都在。他已被四个人证实了，那老滑头总得受处分。他已被押到阿拉斯高等法院。我要去作证。我已被指定了。”马德兰先生早已回到他的办公桌上，重新拿着他的卷宗，斯斯文文地翻着，边念边写，好象一个忙人，他转身向着沙威：“够了，沙威，我对这些琐事不大感兴趣。我们浪费了我们的时间，我们还有许多要紧公事。沙威，您立刻到圣索夫街去一趟，在那转角地方有一个卖草的好大娘，叫毕索比。您到她家去，告诉她要来她来控告那个马车夫皮埃尔?什纳龙，那人是个蛮汉，他几乎压死了那大娘和她的孩子。他理应受罚。您再到孟脱德尚比尼街，夏色雷先生家去一趟。他上诉说他邻家的檐沟把雨水灌到他家，冲坏了他家的墙脚。过后，您去吉布街多利士寡妇家和加洛一白朗街勒波塞夫人家，去把别人向我检举的一些违警事件了解一下，写好报告送来。不过我给您办的事太多了。您不是要离开此地吗？您不是向我说过在八天或十天之内，您将为那件事去阿拉斯一趟吗？??”“还得早一点走，市长先生。”

    “那么，哪天走？”
    “我好象已向市长先生说过，那件案子明天开审，我今晚就得搭公共马车走。”马德兰先生极其轻微的动弹了一下，别人几乎无法察觉。“这件案子得多少时间才能结束？”
    “至多一天。判决书至迟在明天晚上便会公布。但是我不打算等到公布判决书，那是毫无问题的。我完成了证人的任务，便马上回到这里来。”

    “那最好。”马德兰先生说。他做了一个手势，叫沙威退出。沙威不走。
    “请原谅，市长先生。”他说。
    “市长先生，还剩下一件事，得重新提醒您。”
    “哪件事？”
    “就是我应当革职。”马德兰立起身来。

    “沙威，您是一个值得尊敬的人，我钦佩您。你过分强调您的过失了。况且那种冒犯，也还是属于我个人的。沙威，您应当晋级，不应当降级。我的意见是您还该守住您的岗位。”沙威望着马德兰先生，在他那对天真的眸子里，我们仿佛可以看见那种刚强、纯洁、却又不堪了了的神情。他用一种平静的声音说：“市长先生，我不能同意。”

    “我再向您说一遍，”马德兰先生反驳，“这是我的事。”但是沙威只注意他个人意见，继续说道：“至于说到过分强调，我一点也没有过分强调。我是这样理解的。

    我毫无根据地怀疑过您。这还不要紧。我们这些人本来有权怀疑别人，虽然怀疑到上级是越权行为。但是不根据事实，而出于一时的气愤，存心报复，我便把您这样一个可敬的人，一个市长，一个长官，当作苦役犯告发了！这是严重的。非常严重的。我，一个法权机构中的警务人员，侮辱了您就是侮辱了法权。假使我的下属做了我所做的这种事，我就会宣布他不称职，并且要革他的职。不对吗？??哦，市长先生，还有一 句话。我平生对人要求严格。对别人要求严格，那是合理的。我做得对。现在，假使我对自己要求不严格，那么，我以前所做的合理的事全变为不合理的了。难道我应该例外吗？不应该，肯定不应该！我岂不成了只惩罚别人，而不惩罚自己的人了！那样我未免太可怜了！那些说‘沙威这流氓’的人就会振振有词了。市长先生，我不希望您以好心待我，当您把您的那种好心对待别人时，我已经够苦的了。我不喜欢那一套。放纵一个冒犯士绅的公娼，放纵一个冒犯市长的警务人员、一个冒犯上级的低级人员的这种好心，在我眼里，只是恶劣的好心。社会腐败，正是由那种好心造成的。我的上帝！做好人容易，做正直的人才难呢。哼！假使您是我从前猜想的那个人，我决不会以好心待您！会够您受的！市长先生，我应当以待人之道待己。当我镇压破坏分子，当我严惩匪徒，我常对自己说：‘你，假使你出了岔子，万一我逮住了你的错处，你就得小心！’现在我出了岔子，我逮住了自己的过错，活该！来吧，开除，斥退，革职！都好。我有两条胳膊，我可以种地，我无所谓。市长先生，为了整饬纪律，应当作个榜样。我要求干脆革了侦察员沙威的职。”那些话全都是用一种谦卑、颓丧、自负、自信的口吻而说出来的，这却给了那个诚实的怪人一种说不出的奇特、伟大的气概。“我们将来再谈吧。”马德兰先生说。

    他把手伸给他。沙威退缩，并用一种粗野的声音说：“请您原谅，市长先生，这使不得。一个市长不该和奸细握手。”他从牙齿缝中发出声来说：“奸细，是呀，我滥用警权，我已只能算是个奸细了。”于是他深深行了个礼，向着门走去。

    走到门口，他又转过来，两眼始终朝下：“市长先生，”他说，“在别人来接替我之前，我还是会负责的。”他出去了。听着他那种稳重坚定的步伐走在长廊的石板上，越去越远，马德兰先生心动不已。

The incidents the reader is about to peruse were not all known at M. sur M. But the small portion of them which became known left such a memory in that town that a serious gap would exist in this book if we did not narrate them in their most minute details. Among these details the reader will encounter two or three improbable circumstances, which we preserve out of respect for the truth.

On the afternoon following the visit of Javert, M. Madeleine went to see Fantine according to his wont.
Before entering Fantine's room, he had Sister Simplice summoned.

The two nuns who performed the services of nurse in the infirmary, Lazariste ladies, like all sisters of charity, bore the names of Sister perpetue and Sister Simplice.

Sister perpetue was an ordinary villager, a sister of charity in a coarse style, who had entered the service of God as one enters any other service.She was a nun as other women are cooks. This type is not so very rare.The monastic orders gladly accept this heavy peasant earthenware, which is easily fashioned into a Capuchin or an Ursuline.These rustics are utilized for the rough work of devotion.The transition from a drover to a Carmelite is not in the least violent; the one turns into the other without much effort; the fund of ignorance common to the village and the cloister is a preparation ready at hand, and places the boor at once on the same footing as the monk:a little more amplitude in the smock, and it becomes a frock.Sister perpetue was a robust nun from Marines near pontoise, who chattered her patois, droned, grumbled, sugared the potion according to the bigotry or the hypocrisy of the invalid, treated her patients abruptly, roughly, was crabbed with the dying, almost flung God in their faces, stoned their death agony with prayers mumbled in a rage; was bold, honest, and ruddy.

Sister Simplice was white, with a waxen pallor.Beside Sister perpetue, she was the taper beside the candle.Vincent de paul has divinely traced the features of the Sister of Charity in these admirable words, in which he mingles as much freedom as servitude:"They shall have for their convent only the house of the sick; for cell only a hired room; for chapel only their parish church; for cloister only the streets of the town and the wards of the hospitals; for enclosure only obedience; for gratings only the fear of God; for veil only modesty."This ideal was realized in the living person of Sister Simplice:she had never been young, and it seemed as though she would never grow old. No one could have told Sister Simplice's age.She was a person-- we dare not say a woman--who was gentle, austere, well-bred, cold, and who had never lied.She was so gentle that she appeared fragile; but she was more solid than granite.She touched the unhappy with fingers that were charmingly pure and fine.There was, so to speak, silence in her speech; she said just what was necessary, and she possessed a tone of voice which would have equally edified a confessional or enchanted a drawing-room. This delicacy accommodated itself to the serge gown, finding in this harsh contact a continual reminder of heaven and of God.Let us emphasize one detail. Never to have lied, never to have said, for any interest whatever, even in indifference, any single thing which was not the truth, the sacred truth, was Sister Simplice's distinctive trait; it was the accent of her virtue.She was almost renowned in the congregation for this imperturbable veracity.The Abbe Sicard speaks of Sister Simplice in a letter to the deaf-mute Massieu. However pure and sincere we may be, we all bear upon our candor the crack of the little, innocent lie.She did not.Little lie, innocent lie--does such a thing exist?To lie is the absolute form of evil.To lie a little is not possible:he who lies, lies the whole lie.To lie is the very face of the demon.Satan has two names; he is called Satan and Lying.That is what she thought; and as she thought, so she did.The result was the whiteness which we have mentioned--a whiteness which covered even her lips and her eyes with radiance.Her smile was white, her glance was white. There was not a single spider's web, not a grain of dust, on the glass window of that conscience.On entering the order of Saint Vincent de paul, she had taken the name of Simplice by special choice. Simplice of Sicily, as we know, is the saint who preferred to allow both her breasts to be torn off rather than to say that she had been born at Segesta when she had been born at Syracuse-- a lie which would have saved her.This patron saint suited this soul.

Sister Simplice, on her entrance into the order, had had two faults which she had gradually corrected:she had a taste for dainties, and she liked to receive letters.She never read anything but a book of prayers printed in Latin, in coarse type. She did not understand Latin, but she understood the book.

This pious woman had conceived an affection for Fantine, probably feeling a latent virtue there, and she had devoted herself almost exclusively to her care.

M. Madeleine took Sister Simplice apart and recommended Fantine to her in a singular tone, which the sister recalled later on.
On leaving the sister, he approached Fantine.

Fantine awaited M. Madeleine's appearance every day as one awaits a ray of warmth and joy.She said to the sisters, "I only live when Monsieur le Maire is here."
She had a great deal of fever that day.As soon as she saw M. Madeleine she asked him:--

"And Cosette?"
He replied with a smile:--
"Soon."

M. Madeleine was the same as usual with Fantine.Only he remained an hour instead of half an hour, to Fantine's great delight. He urged every one repeatedly not to allow the invalid to want for anything.It was noticed that there was a moment when his countenance became very sombre.But this was explained when it became known that the doctor had bent down to his ear and said to him, "She is losing ground fast."

Then he returned to the town-hall, and the clerk observed him attentively examining a road map of France which hung in his study. He wrote a few figures on a bit of paper with a pencil.

     我们将要读到的那些事，在滨海蒙特勒伊并未被人完全知晓，但已经流传开了的那一点，却在那城里留下了深刻的印象；如果我们不详详细细地把它记述下来，就会成为本书的一大漏洞。在那些细微的情节里，读者将看到两三处似乎不大可能确有其事的经过出现，但是我们为了尊重事实，仍旧保存下来。在沙威走访的那个下午，马德兰先生照常去看芳停他在进入芳汀的病房之前，已叫人去请散普丽斯姆姆了。在疗养室服务的两个修女叫佩尔佩迪姆姆和散普丽斯姆姆，她们和所有其他做慈善事业的姆姆们一样，都是属于遣使会的修女。

    佩尔佩迪姆姆是个很普通的农村姑娘，为慈善服务，颇显粗俗，皈依上帝，也不过等于是就了业。她做教徒，正如别人当厨娘一样。那种人绝不稀罕。各种教会的修道院都乐于收容那种粗笨的乡间土货，一举手便成为嘉布遣会的修士或圣于尔絮勒会的修女。那样的乡村气质正可以替宗教做些粗重的工作。从一个牧童变成一个圣衣会修士，毫无不适之处；从这一个变成那一个，也不会有太大困难，乡村和寺院同样是蒙昧无知的，它们的共同基础是早已存在的，因此乡民一下就可以和寺僧平起平坐。罩衫放宽一点，便成了僧衣。那佩尔佩迪姆姆是个体粗力壮的修女，生在蓬图瓦兹附近的马灵城，一口土音，喜欢多话，唠叨不休，依照病人信神或假冒为善的程度，来考虑汤药中的白糖分量，时常冲撞病人，和临终的人闹闲气，几乎把上帝摔在他们的脸上，气冲冲地对着垂死的人乱念祈祷文，鲁莽、诚实、朱砂脸。

    散普丽斯姆姆却白如白蜡一般。她在佩尔佩迪姆姆身旁，就好象牛脂烛旁的细蜡烛。味增爵在下面这几句金言里已经神妙地把一些作慈善事业的姆姆的面目刻画出来了，并且把她们的自由和劳役融成了一片：“她们的修道院只是病院，静修室只是一间租来的屋子，圣殿只是她们那教区的礼拜堂，回廊只是城里的街道和医院里的病房，围墙只是服从，铁栅栏只是对上帝的畏惧，面幕只是和颜悦色。”散普丽斯姆姆完全体现了那种理想。谁也看不出散普丽斯姆姆的年纪，她从不曾有过青春，似乎也永远不会老。那是个安静、严肃、友好、冷淡，从来不曾说过谎的人，我们不敢说她是个妇人。她和蔼得近于脆弱，坚强得好比花岗石。她用她那纤细白皙的手指接触病人。在她的言语中，我们可以说，存有寂静，她只说必要的话，并且她嗓子的声音可以建起一个忏悔座，同时又可以美化一个客厅。那种细腻和她的粗呢裙袍有相得益彰的妙用，它给人的粗野的感觉，倒让人时时想到天国和上帝。还有件小事应当着重指出。她从不曾说谎，从不曾为任何目的、或无目的地说过一句不实在的、不是真正实在的话，这一点便是散普丽斯姆姆突出的性格，也是她美德中的特点。她因那种无可动摇的诚信，在教会里几乎是有口皆碑的。西伽尔教士在给聋哑的马西欧的一封信里谈到过散普丽斯姆姆。无论我们是怎样诚挚、忠实、纯洁，在我们的良心上，大家总有一些小小的、不足为害的谎话的裂痕。而她呢，完全没有。小小的谎话，不足为害的谎话，那种事存在吗？说谎是绝对的恶。说一点点谎都是不行的；说一句谎话等于说全部谎话；说谎就是魔鬼的真面目；撒旦有两个名字，他叫撒旦，又叫慌话。这就是她所想的。并且她怎样想，就怎样做。因此她有我们说过的那种白色，那白色的光辉把她的嘴唇和眼睛笼罩起来了。她的笑容是白的，她的目光是白的。在那颗良心的水晶体上纤尘不染。她在皈依味增爵时，便特地选了散普丽斯做名字。我们知道西西里的散普丽斯是个圣女，她是生在锡腊库扎的，如果她愿意说谎，说她是生在塞吉斯特的，就可以救自己一命，但是她宁愿让人割去她的双乳，也不愿说谎。这位圣女正和散普丽斯姆姆的心灵一模一样。

    散普丽斯姆姆在加入教会时，本来有两个弱点，现在她已慢慢克服了；她从前爱吃甜食，喜欢别人寄信给她。她素来只读一本拉丁文的大字祈祷书。她不懂拉丁文，但是懂那本书。那位虔诚的贞女和芳汀性情相投了，她也许感到了那种内心的美德，因此她几乎是全心全意地照顾芳停马德兰先生把散普丽斯姆姆引到一边，用一种奇特的声音嘱咐她照顾芳汀，那位姆姆直到后来才忆起那种声音的奇特。他离开了那位姆姆，又走到芳汀的身边。
    芳汀每天等待马德兰先生的出现，好象等待一种暖和欢乐的光。她常向那些姆姆说：“市长先生不来，我真活不下去。”
    那天她的体温很高。她刚看见马德兰先生，便问他：“珂赛特呢？”他带着笑容回答：“快来了。”

    马德兰先生对芳汀仍和平时一样。不过平时他只待半个钟头，这一 天，却待了一个钟头，芳汀非常高兴。他再三嘱咐大家，不要让病人缺少任何东西。大家注意到他的神色在某个时刻显得非常沉郁。后来大家知道那医生曾附在他耳边说过“她的体力大减”，也就明白了他神色沉郁的原因。
随后，他回到市政府，办公室的侍者看见他正细心研究挂在他办公室里的一张法国公路图。他还用铅笔在一张纸上记了几个数字。

From the town-hall he betook himself to the extremity of the town, to a Fleming named Master Scaufflaer, French Scaufflaire, who let out "horses and cabriolets as desired."

In order to reach this Scaufflaire, the shortest way was to take the little-frequented street in which was situated the parsonage of the parish in which M. Madeleine resided.The cure was, it was said, a worthy, respectable, and sensible man.At the moment when M. Madeleine arrived in front of the parsonage there was but one passer-by in the street, and this person noticed this:After the mayor had passed the priest's house he halted, stood motionless, then turned about, and retraced his steps to the door of the parsonage, which had an iron knocker.He laid his hand quickly on the knocker and lifted it; then he paused again and stopped short, as though in thought, and after the lapse of a few seconds, instead of allowing the knocker to fall abruptly, he placed it gently, and resumed his way with a sort of haste which had not been apparent previously.

M. Madeleine found Master Scaufflaire at home, engaged in stitching a harness over.
"Master Scaufflaire," he inquired, "have you a good horse?"
"Mr. Mayor," said the Fleming, "all my horses are good.What do you mean by a good horse?"

"I mean a horse which can travel twenty leagues in a day."
"The deuce!" said the Fleming."Twenty leagues!"
"Yes."
"Hitched to a cabriolet?"

"Yes."
"And how long can he rest at the end of his journey?"
"He must be able to set out again on the next day if necessary."

"To traverse the same road?"
"Yes."
"The deuce! the deuce!And it is twenty leagues?"

M. Madeleine drew from his pocket the paper on which he had pencilled some figures.He showed it to the Fleming.The figures were 5, 6, 8 1/2.
"You see," he said, "total, nineteen and a half; as well say twenty leagues."

"Mr. Mayor," returned the Fleming, "I have just what you want. My little white horse--you may have seen him pass occasionally; he is a small beast from Lower Boulonnais.He is full of fire. They wanted to make a saddle-horse of him at first.Bah!He reared, he kicked, he laid everybody flat on the ground.He was thought to be vicious, and no one knew what to do with him.I bought him. I harnessed him to a carriage.That is what he wanted, sir; he is as gentle as a girl; he goes like the wind.Ah! indeed he must not be mounted.It does not suit his ideas to be a saddle-horse. Every one has his ambition.`Draw? Yes.Carry?No.' We must suppose that is what he said to himself."

"And he will accomplish the trip?"
"Your twenty leagues all at a full trot, and in less than eight hours. But here are the conditions."

"State them."
"In the first place.you will give him half an hour's breathing spell midway of the road; he will eat; and some one must be by while he is eating to prevent the stable boy of the inn from stealing his oats; for I have noticed that in inns the oats are more often drunk by the stable men than eaten by the horses."

"Some one will be by."
"In the second place--is the cabriolet for Monsieur le Maire?"
"Yes."

"Does Monsieur le Maire know how to drive?"
"Yes."
"Well, Monsieur le Maire will travel alone and without baggage, in order not to overload the horse?"

"Agreed."
"But as Monsieur le Maire will have no one with him, he will be obliged to take the trouble himself of seeing that the oats are not stolen."

"That is understood."
"I am to have thirty francs a day.The days of rest to be paid for also--not a farthing less; and the beast's food to be at Monsieur le Maire's expense."

M. Madeleine drew three napoleons from his purse and laid them on the table.
"Here is the pay for two days in advance."

"Fourthly, for such a journey a cabriolet would be too heavy, and would fatigue the horse.Monsieur le Maire must consent to travel in a little tilbury that I own."
"I consent to that."
"It is light, but it has no cover."
"That makes no difference to me."

"Has Monsieur le Maire reflected that we are in the middle of winter?"
M. Madeleine did not reply.The Fleming resumed:--

"That it is very cold?"
M. Madeleine preserved silence.
Master Scaufflaire continued:--
"That it may rain?"
M. Madeleine raised his head and said:--

"The tilbury and the horse will be in front of my door to-morrow morning at half-past four o'clock."

"Of course, Monsieur le Maire," replied Scaufflaire; then, scratching a speck in the wood of the table with his thumb-nail, he resumed with that careless air which the Flemings understand so well how to mingle with their shrewdness:--

"But this is what I am thinking of now:Monsieur le Maire has not told me where he is going.Where is Monsieur le Maire going?"

He had been thinking of nothing else since the beginning of the conversation, but he did not know why he had not dared to put the question.
"Are your horse's forelegs good?" said M. Madeleine.

"Yes, Monsieur le Maire.You must hold him in a little when going down hill.Are there many descends between here and the place whither you are going?"

"Do not forget to be at my door at precisely half-past four o'clock to-morrow morning," replied M. Madeleine; and he took his departure.
The Fleming remained "utterly stupid," as he himself said some time afterwards.

The mayor had been gone two or three minutes when the door opened again; it was the mayor once more.
He still wore the same impassive and preoccupied air.

"Monsieur Scaufflaire," said he, "at what sum do you estimate the value of the horse and tilbury which you are to let to me,-- the one bearing the other?"

"The one dragging the other, Monsieur le Maire," said the Fleming, with a broad smile.
"So be it.Well?"
"Does Monsieur le Maire wish to purchase them or me?"

"No; but I wish to guarantee you in any case.You shall give me back the sum at my return.At what value do you estimate your horse and cabriolet?"

"Five hundred francs, Monsieur le Maire."
"Here it is."
M. Madeleine laid a bank-bill on the table, then left the room; and this time he did not return.

Master Scaufflaire experienced a frightful regret that he had not said a thousand francs.Besides the horse and tilbury together were worth but a hundred crowns.

The Fleming called his wife, and related the affair to her. "Where the devil could Monsieur le Maire be going?"They held counsel together."He is going to paris," said the wife."I don't believe it," said the husband.

M. Madeleine had forgotten the paper with the figures on it, and it lay on the chimney-piece. The Fleming picked it up and studied it. "Five, six, eight and a half?That must designate the posting relays." He turned to his wife:--

"I have found out."
"What?"

"It is five leagues from here to Hesdin, six from Hesdin to Saint-pol, eight and a half from Saint-pol to Arras.He is going to Arras."

Meanwhile, M. Madeleine had returned home.He had taken the longest way to return from Master Scaufflaire's, as though the parsonage door had been a temptation for him, and he had wished to avoid it.He ascended to his room, and there he shut himself up, which was a very simple act, since he liked to go to bed early.Nevertheless, the portress of the factory, who was, at the same time, M. Madeleine's only servant, noticed that the latter's light was extinguished at half-past eight, and she mentioned it to the cashier when he came home, adding:--

"Is Monsieur le Maire ill?I thought he had a rather singular air."

This cashier occupied a room situated directly under M. Madeleine's chamber.He paid no heed to the portress's words, but went to bed and to sleep.Towards midnight he woke up with a start; in his sleep he had heard a noise above his head.He listened; it was a footstep pacing back and forth, as though some one were walking in the room above him.He listened more attentively, and recognized M. Madeleine's step.This struck him as strange; usually, there was no noise in M. Madeleine's chamber until he rose in the morning.A moment later the cashier heard a noise which resembled that of a cupboard being opened, and then shut again; then a piece of furniture was disarranged; then a pause ensued; then the step began again.The cashier sat up in bed, quite awake now, and staring; and through his window-panes he saw the reddish gleam of a lighted window reflected on the opposite wall; from the direction of the rays, it could only come from the window of M. Madeleine's chamber.The reflection wavered, as though it came rather from a fire which had been lighted than from a candle. The shadow of the window-frame was not shown, which indicated that the window was wide open.The fact that this window was open in such cold weather was surprising.The cashier fell asleep again. An hour or two later he waked again.The same step was still passing slowly and regularly back and forth overhead.

The reflection was still visible on the wall, but now it was pale and peaceful, like the reflection of a lamp or of a candle. The window was still open.
This is what had taken place in M. Madeleine's room.

     从市政府出来之后，他走到城尽头一个佛兰德人的家里。那人叫斯戈弗拉爱，变成法文便是斯戈弗莱尔，他有马匹出租。车子也可以随便租用。

    去那斯戈弗莱尔家最近的路，是走一条行人稀少的街，马德兰先生住的那一区的本堂神甫的住宅就在那条街上。据说，神甫为人正直可敬，善于断疑。正当马德兰先生走到那神甫住宅门前时，街上只有一个行人，那行人看到了这样一件事：市长先生走过那神甫的住宅以后，停住脚，立了一会，又转回头，直走到神甫住宅的那扇不大不孝有个铁锤的门口。他急急提起铁锤，继而又提着它不动，突然停了下来，仿佛在想什么，几秒钟过后，他又把那铁锤轻轻放下，不让它发出声音，再循原路走去，样子急促，那情形是他以前没有过的。

    马德兰先生找到了斯戈弗莱尔师父，他正在家修补鞍具。“斯戈弗莱尔师父，”他问道，“您有匹好马吗？”“市长先生，”那个佛兰德人说，“我的马全是好的。您所谓好马是怎样的好马呢？”

    “我的意思是说一匹每天能走二十法里的马。”
    “见鬼！”那个佛兰德人说，“二十法里！”
    “是的。”
    “要套上车吗？”
    “要的。”
    “走了以后，它能有多少休息时间？”

    “它总该能够第二天又走，如果必要的话。”“走原来的那段路程吗？”
    “是的。”

    “见鬼！活见鬼！是二十法里吗？”马德兰先生从衣袋里把他用铅笔涂了些数字的那张纸拿出来。他把它递给那佛兰德人看。那几个数字是5，6，8 1。“您看，”他说，2“总共是十九又二分之一，那等于二十。”“市长先生，”佛兰德人又说，“您的事，我可以办到。我的那匹小白马，有时您该看见它走过的。那是一匹下布洛涅种的小牲口。火气正旺。起初，有人想把它当成一匹坐骑。呀！它发烈性，它把所有的人都摔在地上。大家都把它当个坏种，不知道怎么办。我把它买了来。叫它拉车。先生，那才是它愿意干的呢，它简直和娘儿们一样温存，走得象风一样快。呀！真的，不应当骑在它的背上。它不愿意当坐骑。各有各的志愿。拉车，可以，骑，不行；我们应当相信它对自己曾经说过那样的话。”

    “它能跑这段路吗？”
    “您那二十法里，一路小跑，不到八个钟头便到了。但是我有几个条件。”
    “请说。”

    “第一，您一定要让它在半路上吐一个钟头的气；它得吃东西，它吃东西时，还要有人在旁边看顾，免得客栈里的佣人偷它的荞麦；因为我留心过，客栈里那些佣人吞没了的荞麦比马吃下去的还多。”
    “一定会有人看守。”
    “第二??车子是给市长先生本人坐吗？”

    “是的。”
    “市长先生能驾车吗？”
    “能。”
    “那么，市长先生不能带人同行，也不能带行李，免得马受累。”

    “同意。”
    “但是市长先生既不带人，那就非自己看守荞麦不可埃”“说到做到。”
    “我每天要三十法郎。停着不走的日子也一样算。少一文都不行，并且牲口的食料也归市长先生出。”

    马德兰先生从他的钱包里拿出三个拿破仑放在桌子上。“这儿先付两天。”
    “第四，走这样的路程，篷车太重了，马吃不消。市长先生必须同意，用我的那辆小车上路。”
    “我同意。”
    “轻是轻的，但是敞篷的呢？”

    “我不在乎。”
    “市长先生考虑过没有？我们是在冬季里呀。”马德兰先生不作声。那佛兰德人接着又说：“市长先生想到过天气很冷吗？”

    马德兰先生仍不开口。斯戈弗莱尔接着说：“又想到过天可能会下雨吗？”马德兰先生抬起头来说：“这小车和马在明天早晨四点半钟一定要在我的门口等。”“听见了，市长先生，”斯戈弗莱尔回答，边用他大拇指的指甲刮着桌面上的一个迹印，边以佛兰德人最善于混在他们狡猾里的那种漠不关心的神气说：“我现在才想到一件事。市长先生没有告诉我要到什么地方去。市长先生到什么地方去呢？”从交谈一开始，他就没有想到过别的事，但是他不知道他以前为什么不敢问。

    “您的马前腿得力吗？”马德兰先生说。
    “得力，市长先生。在下坡时，您稍微勒住它一下。您去的地方有许多坡吗？”
    “不要忘记明天早晨准四点半钟在我的门口等。”马德兰先生回答说。

    于是他出去了。那佛兰德人，正象他自己在过了些时间讲的，“傻得和畜牲似的”楞住了。市长先生走后两三分钟，那扇门又开了，进来的仍是市长先生。他仍旧是那种心情紊乱而力持镇静的神气。
    “斯戈弗莱尔师父，”他说，“您租给我的那匹马和那辆车子，您估计值多少钱呢，车子带马的话？”

    “马带车子，市长先生。”那佛兰德人呵呵大笑地说。“好吧。值多少钱呢？”
    “难道市长先生想买我的车和马吗？”
    “不买。但是我要让您有种担保，以备万一有危险。我回来时，您把钱还我就是了。依您估价车和马值多少钱呢？”

    “五百法郎，市长先生。”

    “这就是。”放了一张销票在桌子上，马德兰先生走了，这次却没有再回头。斯戈弗莱尔深悔没有说一千法郎。虽然实际上，那匹马和那辆车子总共不过值三百法郎。佛兰德人把他的妻子叫来，又把经过告诉了她。市长先生可能到什么鬼地方去呢？他们猜测起来。“他要去巴黎。”那妇人说。“我想不是的。”丈夫说。马德兰先生把写了数字的那张纸忘在壁炉上了。那佛兰德人把那张纸拿来研究。“五，六，八又二分之一？这应该是记各站间的里程的。”他转身向着他的妻。“我找出来了。”“怎样呢？”“从此地到爱司丹五法里，从爱司丹到圣波尔六法里，从圣波尔到阿拉斯八 法里半。他去阿拉斯。”

    这时，马德兰先生已经到了家。他从斯戈弗莱尔师父家回去时，走了一条最长的路，仿佛那神甫住宅的大门对他是一种诱惑，因而要避开它一样。他上楼到了自己屋子里，关上房门，那是件最简单不过的事，因为他平日素来乐于早睡。马德兰先生唯一的女仆便是这工厂的门房，当晚，她看见他的灯在八点半钟便熄了，出纳员回厂，她把这情形告诉他说：“难道市长先生生病了吗？我觉得他的神色有点不对。”那出纳员恰恰住在马德兰先生下面的房间里。他丝毫没有注意那门房说的话，自去睡他的，并且睡着了。

    快到半夜时，他忽然醒了过来；他在睡梦中听见在他头上有响声。

    他注意听。好象有人在他上面的屋子里走动，是来回走动的脚步声。他再仔细听，便听出了那是马德兰先生的脚步。他感到诧异，平时在起身之前，马德兰先生的房间是素来是无声无息的。过了一会，那出纳员又听见一种开橱关橱的声音。随后，有人搬动了一件家具，一阵寂静之后，那脚步声又开始了。出纳员坐了起来，完全醒了，张开眼睛望，他通过自己的玻璃窗看见对面墙上有从另一扇窗子里射出的红光。从那光线的方向，可以看出那只能是马德兰先生的卧室的窗子。墙上的反光还不时颤动，好象是一种火焰的反射，而不是光的反射。窗格的影子没有显出来，这说明那扇窗子是完全敞开的。当时天气正冷，窗子却开着，事情真怪。出纳员又睡了。一两个钟头过后，他又醒过来。同样缓而匀的步履声一直在他的头上来来去去。

    反光始终映在墙上，不过现在比较黯淡平稳，好象是一盏灯或一支烛的反射了。窗子却仍旧开着。
    下面便是当晚发生在马德兰先生房间里的事。

The reader has, no doubt, already divined that M. Madeleine is no other than Jean Valjean.

We have already gazed into the depths of this conscience; the moment has now come when we must take another look into it. We do so not without emotion and trepidation.There is nothing more terrible in existence than this sort of contemplation. The eye of the spirit can nowhere find more dazzling brilliance and more shadow than in man; it can fix itself on no other thing which is more formidable, more complicated, more mysterious, and more infinite.There is a spectacle more grand than the sea; it is heaven:there is a spectacle more grand than heaven; it is the inmost recesses of the soul.

To make the poem of the human conscience, were it only with reference to a single man, were it only in connection with the basest of men, would be to blend all epics into one superior and definitive epic. Conscience is the chaos of chimeras, of lusts, and of temptations; the furnace of dreams; the lair of ideas of which we are ashamed; it is the pandemonium of sophisms; it is the battlefield of the passions. penetrate, at certain hours, past the livid face of a human being who is engaged in reflection, and look behind, gaze into that soul, gaze into that obscurity.There, beneath that external silence, battles of giants, like those recorded in Homer, are in progress; skirmishes of dragons and hydras and swarms of phantoms, as in Milton; visionary circles, as in Dante.What a solemn thing is this infinity which every man bears within him, and which he measures with despair against the caprices of his brain and the actions of his life!

Alighieri one day met with a sinister-looking door, before which he hesitated.Here is one before us, upon whose threshold we hesitate. Let us enter, nevertheless.

We have but little to add to what the reader already knows of what had happened to Jean Valjean after the adventure with Little Gervais. From that moment forth he was, as we have seen, a totally different man. What the Bishop had wished to make of him, that he carried out. It was more than a transformation; it was a transfiguration.

He succeeded in disappearing, sold the Bishop's silver, reserving only the candlesticks as a souvenir, crept from town to town, traversed France, came to M. sur M., conceived the idea which we have mentioned, accomplished what we have related, succeeded in rendering himself safe from seizure and inaccessible, and, thenceforth, established at M. sur M., happy in feeling his conscience saddened by the past and the first half of his existence belied by the last, he lived in peace, reassured and hopeful, having henceforth only two thoughts,--to conceal his name and to sanctify his life; to escape men and to return to God.

These two thoughts were so closely intertwined in his mind that they formed but a single one there; both were equally absorbing and imperative and ruled his slightest actions.In general, they conspired to regulate the conduct of his life; they turned him towards the gloom; they rendered him kindly and simple; they counselled him to the same things.Sometimes, however, they conflicted.In that case, as the reader will remember, the man whom all the country of M. sur M. called M. Madeleine did not hesitate to sacrifice the first to the second--his security to his virtue.Thus, in spite of all his reserve and all his prudence, he had preserved the Bishop's candlesticks, worn mourning for him, summoned and interrogated all the little Savoyards who passed that way, collected information regarding the families at Faverolles, and saved old Fauchelevent's life, despite the disquieting insinuations of Javert.It seemed, as we have already remarked, as though he thought, following the example of all those who have been wise, holy, and just, that his first duty was not towards himself.

At the same time, it must be confessed, nothing just like this had yet presented itself.

Never had the two ideas which governed the unhappy man whose sufferings we are narrating, engaged in so serious a struggle. He understood this confusedly but profoundly at the very first words pronounced by Javert, when the latter entered his study.At the moment when that name, which he had buried beneath so many layers, was so strangely articulated, he was struck with stupor, and as though intoxicated with the sinister eccentricity of his destiny; and through this stupor he felt that shudder which precedes great shocks.He bent like an oak at the approach of a storm, like a soldier at the approach of an assault.He felt shadows filled with thunders and lightnings descending upon his head. As he listened to Javert, the first thought which occurred to him was to go, to run and denounce himself, to take that Champmathieu out of prison and place himself there; this was as painful and as poignant as an incision in the living flesh.Then it passed away, and he said to himself, "We will see!We will see!"He repressed this first, generous instinct, and recoiled before heroism.

It would be beautiful, no doubt, after the Bishop's holy words, after so many years of repentance and abnegation, in the midst of a penitence admirably begun, if this man had not flinched for an instant, even in the presence of so terrible a conjecture, but had continued to walk with the same step towards this yawning precipice, at the bottom of which lay heaven; that would have been beautiful; but it was not thus.We must render an account of the things which went on in this soul, and we can only tell what there was there. He was carried away, at first, by the instinct of self-preservation; he rallied all his ideas in haste, stifled his emotions, took into consideration Javert's presence, that great danger, postponed all decision with the firmness of terror, shook off thought as to what he had to do, and resumed his calmness as a warrior picks up his buckler.

He remained in this state during the rest of the day, a whirlwind within, a profound tranquillity without.He took no "preservative measures," as they may be called.Everything was still confused, and jostling together in his brain.His trouble was so great that he could not perceive the form of a single idea distinctly, and he could have told nothing about himself, except that he had received a great blow.

He repaired to Fantine's bed of suffering, as usual, and prolonged his visit, through a kindly instinct, telling himself that he must behave thus, and recommend her well to the sisters, in case he should be obliged to be absent himself.He had a vague feeling that he might be obliged to go to Arras; and without having the least in the world made up his mind to this trip, he said to himself that being, as he was, beyond the shadow of any suspicion, there could be nothing out of the way in being a witness to what was to take place, and he engaged the tilbury from Scaufflaire in order to be prepared in any event.

He dined with a good deal of appetite.
On returning to his room, he communed with himself.

He examined the situation, and found it unprecedented; so unprecedented that in the midst of his revery he rose from his chair, moved by some inexplicable impulse of anxiety, and bolted his door.He feared lest something more should enter. He was barricading himself against possibilities.

A moment later he extinguished his light; it embarrassed him.
lt seemed to him as though he might be seen.
By whom?

Alas!That on which he desired to close the door had already entered; that which he desired to blind was staring him in the face,-- his conscience.
His conscience; that is to say, God.

Nevertheless, he deluded himself at first; he had a feeling of security and of solitude; the bolt once drawn, he thought himself impregnable; the candle extinguished, he felt himself invisible.Then he took possession of himself:he set his elbows on the table, leaned his head on his hand, and began to meditate in the dark.

"Where do I stand?Am not I dreaming?What have I heard?Is it really true that I have seen that Javert, and that he spoke to me in that manner?Who can that Champmathieu be?So he resembles me! Is it possible?When I reflect that yesterday I was so tranquil, and so far from suspecting anything!What was I doing yesterday at this hour?What is there in this incident?What will the end be? What is to be done?"

This was the torment in which he found himself.His brain had lost its power of retaining ideas; they passed like waves, and he clutched his brow in both hands to arrest them.

Nothing but anguish extricated itself from this tumult which overwhelmed his will and his reason, and from which he sought to draw proof and resolution.

His head was burning.He went to the window and threw it wide open. There were no stars in the sky.He returned and seated himself at the table.
The first hour passed in this manner.

Gradually, however, vague outlines began to take form and to fix themselves in his meditation, and he was able to catch a glimpse with precision of the reality,--not the whole situation, but some of the details.He began by recognizing the fact that, critical and extraordinary as was this situation, he was completely master of it.

This only caused an increase of his stupor.

Independently of the severe and religious aim which he had assigned to his actions, all that he had made up to that day had been nothing but a hole in which to bury his name.That which he had always feared most of all in his hours of self-communion, during his sleepless nights, was to ever hear that name pronounced; he had said to himself, that that would be the end of all things for him; that on the day when that name made its reappearance it would cause his new life to vanish from about him, and--who knows?-- perhaps even his new soul within him, also.He shuddered at the very thought that this was possible.Assuredly, if any one had said to him at such moments that the hour would come when that name would ring in his ears, when the hideous words, Jean Valjean, would suddenly emerge from the darkness and rise in front of him, when that formidable light, capable of dissipating the mystery in which he had enveloped himself, would suddenly blaze forth above his head, and that that name would not menace him, that that light would but produce an obscurity more dense, that this rent veil would but increase the mystery, that this earthquake would solidify his edifice, that this prodigious incident would have no other result, so far as he was concerned, if so it seemed good to him, than that of rendering his existence at once clearer and more impenetrable, and that, out of his confrontation with the phantom of Jean Valjean, the good and worthy citizen Monsieur Madeleine would emerge more honored, more peaceful, and more respected than ever--if any one had told him that, he would have tossed his head and regarded the words as those of a madman.Well, all this was precisely what had just come to pass; all that accumulation of impossibilities was a fact, and God had permitted these wild fancies to become real things!

His revery continued to grow clearer.He came more and more to an understanding of his position.

It seemed to him that he had but just waked up from some inexplicable dream, and that he found himself slipping down a declivity in the middle of the night, erect, shivering, holding back all in vain, on the very brink of the abyss.He distinctly perceived in the darkness a stranger, a man unknown to him, whom destiny had mistaken for him, and whom she was thrusting into the gulf in his stead; in order that the gulf might close once more, it was necessary that some one, himself or that other man, should fall into it: he had only let things take their course.

The light became complete, and he acknowledged this to himself: That his place was empty in the galleys; that do what he would, it was still awaiting him; that the theft from little Gervais had led him back to it; that this vacant place would await him, and draw him on until he filled it; that this was inevitable and fatal; and then he said to himself, "that, at this moment, be had a substitute; that it appeared that a certain Champmathieu had that ill luck, and that, as regards himself, being present in the galleys in the person of that Champmathieu, present in society under the name of M. Madeleine, he had nothing more to fear, provided that he did not prevent men from sealing over the head of that Champmathieu this stone of infamy which, like the stone of the sepulchre, falls once, never to rise again."

All this was so strange and so violent, that there suddenly took place in him that indescribable movement, which no man feels more than two or three times in the course of his life, a sort of convulsion of the conscience which stirs up all that there is doubtful in the heart, which is composed of irony, of joy, and of despair, and which may be called an outburst of inward laughter.

He hastily relighted his candle.

"Well, what then?" he said to himself; "what am I afraid of? What is there in all that for me to think about?I am safe; all is over.I had but one partly open door through which my past might invade my life, and behold that door is walled up forever! That Javert, who has been annoying me so long; that terrible instinct which seemed to have divined me, which had divined me-- good God! and which followed me everywhere; that frightful hunting-dog, always making a point at me, is thrown off the scent, engaged elsewhere, absolutely turned from the trail:henceforth he is satisfied; he will leave me in peace; he has his Jean Valjean. Who knows? it is even probable that he will wish to leave town! And all this has been brought about without any aid from me, and I count for nothing in it!Ah! but where is the misfortune in this? Upon my honor, people would think, to see me, that some catastrophe had happened to me!After all, if it does bring harm to some one, that is not my fault in the least:it is providence which has done it all; it is because it wishes it so to be, evidently.Have I the right to disarrange what it has arranged?What do I ask now? Why should I meddle?It does not concern me; what!I am not satisfied: but what more do I want?The goal to which I have aspired for so many years, the dream of my nights, the object of my prayers to Heaven,--security,--I have now attained; it is God who wills it; I can do nothing against the will of God, and why does God will it? In order that I may continue what I have begun, that I may do good, that I may one day be a grand and encouraging example, that it may be said at last, that a little happiness has been attached to the penance which I have undergone, and to that virtue to which I have returned.Really, I do not understand why I was afraid, a little while ago, to enter the house of that good cure, and to ask his advice; this is evidently what he would have said to me: It is settled; let things take their course; let the good God do as he likes!"

Thus did he address himself in the depths of his own conscience, bending over what may be called his own abyss; he rose from his chair, and began to pace the room:"Come," said he, "let us think no more about it; my resolve is taken!" but he felt no joy.

Quite the reverse.
One can no more prevent thought from recurring to an idea than one can the sea from returning to the shore:the sailor calls it the tide; the guilty man calls it remorse; God upheaves the soul as he does the ocean.

After the expiration of a few moments, do what he would, he resumed the gloomy dialogue in which it was he who spoke and he who listened, saying that which he would have preferred to ignore, and listened to that which he would have preferred not to hear, yielding to that mysterious power which said to him:"Think!" as it said to another condemned man, two thousand years ago, "March on!"

Before proceeding further, and in order to make ourselves fully understood, let us insist upon one necessary observation.

It is certain that people do talk to themselves; there is no living being who has not done it.It may even be said that the word is never a more magnificent mystery than when it goes from thought to conscience within a man, and when it returns from conscience to thought; it is in this sense only that the words so often employed in this chapter, he said, he exclaimed, must be understood; one speaks to one's self, talks to one's self, exclaims to one's self without breaking the external silence; there is a great tumult; everything about us talks except the mouth.The realities of the soul are none the less realities because they are not visible and palpable.

So he asked himself where he stood.He interrogated himself upon that "settled resolve."He confessed to himself that all that he had just arranged in his mind was monstrous, that "to let things take their course, to let the good God do as he liked," was simply horrible; to allow this error of fate and of men to be carried out, not to hinder it, to lend himself to it through his silence, to do nothing, in short, was to do everything! that this was hypocritical baseness in the last degree! that it was a base, cowardly, sneaking, abject, hideous crime!

For the first time in eight years, the wretched man had just tasted the bitter savor of an evil thought and of an evil action.
He spit it out with disgust.

He continued to question himself.He asked himself severely what he had meant by this, "My object is attained!"He declared to himself that his life really had an object; but what object? To conceal his name?To deceive the police?Was it for so petty a thing that he had done all that he had done?Had he not another and a grand object, which was the true one--to save, not his person, but his soul; to become honest and good once more; to be a just man? Was it not that above all, that alone, which he had always desired, which the Bishop had enjoined upon him--to shut the door on his past? But he was not shutting it! great God! he was re-opening it by committing an infamous action!He was becoming a thief once more, and the most odious of thieves!He was robbing another of his existence, his life, his peace, his place in the sunshine. He was becoming an assassin.He was murdering, morally murdering, a wretched man.He was inflicting on him that frightful living death, that death beneath the open sky, which is called the galleys. On the other hand, to surrender himself to save that man, struck down with so melancholy an error, to resume his own name, to become once more, out of duty, the convict Jean Valjean, that was, in truth, to achieve his resurrection, and to close forever that hell whence he had just emerged; to fall back there in appearance was to escape from it in reality.This must be done!He had done nothing if he did not do all this; his whole life was useless; all his penitence was wasted.There was no longer any need of saying, "What is the use?"He felt that the Bishop was there, that the Bishop was present all the more because he was dead, that the Bishop was gazing fixedly at him, that henceforth Mayor Madeleine, with all his virtues, would be abominable to him, and that the convict Jean Valjean would be pure and admirable in his sight; that men beheld his mask, but that the Bishop saw his face; that men saw his life, but that the Bishop beheld his conscience. So he must go to Arras, deliver the false Jean Valjean, and denounce the real one.Alas! that was the greatest of sacrifices, the most poignant of victories, the last step to take; but it must be done. Sad fate! he would enter into sanctity only in the eyes of God when he returned to infamy in the eyes of men.

     读者一定已经猜到了，马德兰先生便是冉阿让。我们已向那颗良心的深处探望过，现在是再次探望的时刻了。我们这样做，不能不受感动，也不能无恐惧，因为这种探望比任何事情都更加触目惊心。精神的眼睛，除了在人的心里，再没有别的地方可以见到更多的异彩、更多的黑暗；再没有比那更可怕、更复杂、更神秘、更变幻无穷之物。世间有一种比海洋更远大的景象，那便是天空；还有一种比天空更远大的景象，那便是内心活动。

赞美人心，即便只涉及一个人，只涉及人群中最微贱的一个，也得熔化所有歌颂英雄的诗文于一炉，赋成一首优异成熟的英雄颂。人心是妄念、贪欲和阴谋的污池，梦想的舞台，丑恶意念的渊薮，诡诈的都会，欲望的战常在某些时候你不妨从一个运用心思的人的阴沉面容深入到他的皮里去，探索他的心情，考究他的思绪。在那种外表的寂静下就藏有荷马史诗中那种巨灵的搏斗，密尔顿①诗中那种龙蛇的混战，但丁诗中那种幻象的萦绕。人心是广漠寥廓的天地，人在面对良心、审视胸中抱负和日常行动时往往黯然神伤！
①尔顿（Milton，1608—1674），英国著名诗人。

    但丁有一天曾经谈到过一扇险恶的门，他在那门前犹豫过。现在在我们的面前也有那么一扇门，我们也在它门口迟延不进。但我们还是进去吧。
    读者已经知道了冉阿让自从瑞尔威事件发生之后的情形，除此而外，我们要补述的事已经不多。从那时起，我们知道，他已变成另外一 个人了。那位主教所期望于他的，他都已躬行实践了。那不仅是转变，而且是再生。

    他居然做到了销声匿迹，他变卖了主教的银器，只留了那两个烛台作为纪念，从这个城跑到那个城，穿过法兰西，来到滨海蒙特勒伊，发明了我们说过的那种新方法，造就了我们谈过的那种事业，做到自己使人无可捉摸，无可接近，卜居在滨海蒙特勒伊，一面追念那些伤怀的往事，一面庆幸自己难得的余生，可以去弥补前半生的缺憾；他生活安逸，有保障，有希望，他只有两种心愿：隐名，立德；远避人世，皈依上帝。这两种心愿在他的精神上，已紧密结合成为一种心愿了。两种心愿不相上下，全是他念念不忘、行之惟恐不力的；他一切行动，不论大小，都受着这两种心愿的支配。平时，在指导他日常行动时，这两种心愿是并行不悖的；使他深藏不露，使他乐于为善，质朴无华；这两种心愿所起的作用完全一致。可是有时也不免发生矛盾。在不能两全时，我们记得，整个滨海蒙特勒伊称为马德兰先生的那个人，决不会为后者牺牲前者，决不会为自己的安全牺牲品德，他在取舍之间毫不犹豫。因此，他能冒着危险，毅然决然保存了主教的烛台，并且为他服丧，把所有过路的通烟囱孩子唤来询问，调查法维洛勒的家庭情况，并且甘心忍受沙威的那种难堪的隐语，救了割风老头的生命。我们已注意到，他的思想，仿佛取法于一切圣贤忠恕之士，认为自己首要的天职并不在于为己。但是必须指出，类似的情形还从未发生过。这个不幸的人的种种痛苦，我们虽然谈了一些，但是支配着他的那两种心愿，还从来不曾有过这样严重的矛盾。沙威走进他的办公室，刚说了最初那几句话，他已朦胧却又深切地认识到了这一事件的严重性。当他那深埋密隐的名字被人那样突然提到时，他大为惊骇，好象被他那离奇的恶运冲昏了一样；并且在惊骇之中，泛起了一阵大震动前的小颤抖；他埋头曲颈，如同暴风雨中的一株栎树，冲锋之前的一个士兵。他觉得他头上来了满天乌云，雷电即将大作。听着沙威说话，他最初的意念便是要去，要跑去，去自首，把那商马第从牢狱里救出来，而自受监禁；那样想是和椎心刺骨一 样苦楚创痛的；随后，那种念头过去了，他对自己说：“想想吧！想想吧！”他抑制了最初的那种激昂心情，在英雄主义面前退缩了。

    他奉行那主教的圣言已久，经过了多年的忏悔和忍辱，他修身自赎，也有了值得高兴的开端，到现在，他在面临那咄咄逼人的逆境时，如果仍能立即下定决心，直赴天国所在的深渊，毫不犹豫，那又是何等豪放的一件事；但那样做固然豪放，他却并未那样做。我们必须认清他心中的种种活动，我们能说的也只是那里的实际情况。最初支配他的是自卫的本能；他赶忙把自己的多种思想集中起来，抑制冲动，注意眼前的大祸害沙威，恐怖的心情使他决定暂时不作任何决定，胡乱地想着他应当采取的办法，力持镇定，好象一个武士拾起了他的盾那样。

    那天余下的时间，他便是这种样子，内心思潮起伏，外表恬静自如；他只采取一种所谓的“自全方法”。一切都是混乱的，并在他的脑子里互相冲突，心情骚乱使他看不清任何思想的形态；对自己做什么也说不上来，只知道刚刚受到了猛烈的打击。他照常到芳汀的病榻旁边去，延长了晤谈的时间，那也只是出自为善的本性，觉得应该如此而已。他又把她好好托给姆姆们，以防万一。他胡乱猜想，也许非到阿拉斯去走一 趟不可了，其实他对那种远行，还完全没有决定，他心想他绝没有被别人怀疑的危险，倒不妨亲自去看看那件事的经过，因此他订下了斯戈弗莱尔的车子，以备不时之需。

    他用了晚餐，胃口还很好。
    他回到自己房里，开始考虑。他思索当时的处境，觉得真是离奇，闻所未闻。离奇得使他在心思紊乱之中，起了一种几乎无法形容的急躁情绪，他从椅子上跳起来，去把房门闩上。他恐怕还会有什么东西进来。他对可能发生的事作好了准备。

    过了一会，他吹熄了烛。烛光使他厌烦。他觉得仿佛有人看见了他。
    有人，谁呢？咳！他想要关在门外的东西终于进来了，他要使它看不见，它却偏偏望着他。这就是他的良心。但起初，他还在欺骗自己；他自以为身边没有别人，不会发生意外；既然已经闩上门，便不会有人能动他；熄了烛，便不会有人能看见他。那么他是属于自己的了；他把双肘放在桌子上，头靠在手里，在黑暗里思索起来。

    “我怎么啦？”“我不是在作梦吧？”“他对我说了些什么？”“难道我真的看见了那沙威，他真的向我说了那样一番话吗？”“那个商马第究竟是什么人呢？”“他真象我吗？”“那是可能的吗？”“昨天我还那样安静，也绝没有感到有什么事要发生！”“昨天这个时候我在干些什么？”“这件事里有些什么问题？”“将怎样解决呢？”“怎么办？”他的心因为有着那样的烦闷而感到困惑。他的脑子也已失去了记忆的能力，他的思想，波涛一样，起伏翻腾。他双手捧着头，想使思潮停息下来。那种纷乱使他的意志和理智都不得安宁，他想从中理出一种明确的见解和一定的办法，但是他得到的，除苦恼之外一无所有。他的头热极了。他走到窗前，把窗子整个推开。天上没有星辰。他又回来坐在桌子旁边。

    第一个钟头便这样过去了。慢慢地，此时一些模糊的线索在他的沉思中开始形成、固定下来了，他还不能看清整个问题的全貌，但已能看见一些局部的情形，并且，如同观察实际事物那样，很清晰了。
    他开始认清了这么一点，尽管当时情况是那样离奇紧急，他自己还能完全居于主动地位。

    他的惊恐越来越大了。直到目前为止，他所作所为仅仅是在掘一个窟窿，以便能掩藏他的名字，这和他行动所向往的严正虔诚的标准并不相干。当他们扪心自问时，当他夜里思量时，他发现他向来最怕的，便是有一天听见别人会提到那个名字；他时常想到，那样等于他一切的终结；那个名字一旦重新出现，他的新生命就在他的四周毁灭，并且，谁知道？也许他的新灵魂也在他的心里毁灭。每当他想到那种事完全可能发生时，他就会颤抖起来。如果当时有人向他说将来有一天，那个名字会在他耳边轰鸣，冉阿让那几个丑恶不堪的字会忽然从黑暗中跳出来，直立在他前面；那种揭穿他秘密的强烈的光会突然在他头上闪耀；不过那人同时又说，这个名字不会威胁他，那种光还可能使他的隐情更加深密，那条撕开了的面纱也可能增加此中的神秘，那种地震可能巩固他的屋宇，那种奇异的变故得出的结果，要是他本人觉得那样不坏的话，便会使他的生存更加光明，同时也更难以被人识破，并且这位仁厚高尚的士绅马德兰先生，由于那个伪冉阿让的出现，相形之下，反会比以前任何时候显得更加崇高，更加平静，也更加受人尊敬??如果当时曾有人向他说了这一类的话，他一定摇头，认为是无稽之谈。可是！这一切刚才恰巧发生了，这一大堆不可能的事竟成为事实了，上帝已允许把那些等于痴人说梦的事变成了真正的事！

    他的梦想继续明朗起来。他对自己的处境越看越清楚了。仿佛觉得他刚从一场莫名其妙的梦里醒来，又看见自己正在黑夜之中，从一个斜坡滑向一道绝壁的边缘；他站着发抖，处于一种进退两难的情形。他分明看见一个不相识的人，一个陌生人的黑影，命运就把那人当作他自己，要把他推下那深坑。为了填塞那深坑，就必须有一个人落下去，他自己也许正是那个人。

    他只好听之任之。事情已经完全明白了，他这样来认识：他在监牢里的位子还是空着的，躲也无用，那位子始终在那里等着他，抢小瑞尔威的事又要把他送到那里去，那个空位子一直在等着他，拖他，直到他进去的那一天，这是无法逃避、命中注定的。随后，他又向自己说，此时他已有了个替身，那个叫商马第的活该倒霉，而他，从今以后，可以让那商马第的身体去蹲监，自己则冒马德兰先生的名生存于社会，只要他不阻止别人把那个和墓石一样、一落永不再起的犯罪的烙印印在那商马第的头上，他再也没有什么可以惧怕之事了。

    这一切是那样强烈，那样奇特，以致使他心中忽然起了一种难以名状的冲动，那种冲动，是没一个人能在一生中感到两三次以上的，那是良心的一种激发，把心中的暖昧全部激发起来，其中含有讥刺、欢乐和失望，我们可以称之为内心的一种狂笑。
    他又连忙点起了他的蜡烛。

    “什么！”他向自己说道，“我怕什么？我何必那样去想呢？我已经得救了。一切都安排好了。我原来只剩下一扇半开的门，从那门里，我的过去随时可以混到我的生命里来，现在那扇门已经堵塞了！永远堵塞了！沙威那个生来可怕的东西，那头凶恶的猎狗，多少年来，时时让我心慌，他好象已识破了我，确实识破了我，天呵！并且无处不尾随着我，随时都窥伺着我，现在却被击退了，到别处忙去了，绝对走入歧途了！他从此心满意足，让我逍遥自在了，他逮住了他的冉阿让！谁知道，也许他还要离开这座城市呢！况且这一经过与我无关！我完全不曾过问！呀，不过这里有些什么不妥的呢！等会儿看见我的人，说老实话，还以为我碰到什么倒霉事呢！总而言之，假使有人遭殃，那完全不是我的过错。掌握一切的是上天。显然是天意如此！我有什么权利扰乱上天的安排呢？我现在还要求什么？我还要管什么闲事？那和我不相干。怎么！我不满意！我究竟需要什么？多年来我要达到的目的，我在黑夜里的梦想，我向上天祷祝的愿望——安全——我已经得到了。要这样做的是上帝。我绝不应当反抗上帝的意旨。并且上天为什么要这样呢？为了要使我能继续我已开始了的工作，使我能够行善，使我将来成为一个能起鼓舞作用的伟大模范，使我能说我那种茹苦含辛、改邪归正的美德终究得了一点善果！我实在不懂，我刚才为什么不敢到那个诚实的神甫家里去，认他做一个听忏悔的教士，把一切经过都告诉他，请求他的意见，他说的当然会是同样的一些话。决定了，听其自然！接受慈悲上帝的安排！”他在他心灵深处那样自言自语，我们可以说他在俯视他自己的深渊。他从椅子上立起身来，在房间里走来走去。“不必再想了，”他说。“就这么办！”但他丝毫也不感到快乐。

    他反而感到不安。人不能阻止自己回头再想自己的见解，正如不能阻止海水流回海岸。对海员说，那叫做潮流；对罪人说，那叫做悔恨。上帝使人心神不定，正如海洋的起伏。
    过了一会，他白费了劲，又回到那种沉闷的对答里去自说自听，说他所不愿说，听他所不愿听的话，屈服在一种神秘的力量下面，这一神秘力量向他说“想！”正如两千年前向另一个临刑的人说“走！”一样。我们暂时不必说得太远，为了全面了解，我们得先进行一种必要的观察。

    人向自己说话，那是确有其事的，有思想活动的人都有过这种经验，并且我们还可以说，语言在人的心里，从思想到良心，又从良心回到思想是一种灿烂无比的神秘。在这一章里，时常提到“他说，他喊道”这样的字眼，我们只应从上面所说的那种意义去理解它们。人向自己述说，向自己讲解，向自己叫喊，身外的寂静却依然如故。有一种大声的喧哗，除嘴口以外一切都在我们的心里说话。心灵的存在并不因其完全无形无体而减少其真实性。于是他问自己究竟是怎么回事。他从那“既定办法”上进行问答。他向自己供认，刚才他在心里作出的那种计划是荒谬的。

    “听其自然，接受慈悲上帝的安排”，纯粹是丑恶可耻的。让那天定的和人为的谬误进行到底，而不加以阻止，闭口不言，毫无表示，等于积极参与了一切谬误的活动，那是最卑鄙、丧失人格的伪善行为！是卑污、怯懦、阴险、无耻、丑恶的罪行！八年来，那个不幸的人初次尝到一种坏思想和坏行为的苦味。他心中作恶，一口吐了出来。

    他继续反躬自问。他严厉地责问自己，所谓“我的目的已经达到！”那究竟是什么意思。他承认自己生在人间确有一种目的。但是什么目的呢？隐藏自己的名字吗？蒙蔽警察吗？难道他所做的一切事业，仅仅是为了那一点点小事吗？难道他没有另外一个远大的、真正的目的吗？救他的灵魂，而不是救他的躯体。重做诚实仁善的人。做一个有天良的人！难道那不是对他一生的抱负和主教对他的期望的唯一重要的事情吗？斩断已往的历史？但是他并不是在斩断，伟大的上帝，而是在做一件丑事并将它延续下去！他又在作贼了，并且是最丑恶的贼！他偷盗另一个人的生活、性命、安宁和在阳光下的位子！他正在干杀人的勾当！他杀人，从精神方面杀害一个可怜的人！他害他受那种惨酷的活死刑，大家叫做苦牢的那种过露天生活的死刑。从反面着想，去自首，救出那个蒙受不白之冤的人，恢复自己的本来面目，尽自己的责任，重做苦役犯冉阿让，那才是真正的洗心革面、永远关上了自己所进出的那扇地狱之门！外表是重入地狱，实际上却是跳出地狱！他必须那样做！他如果不那样做，便是什么也没有做！他活着也是枉然，他的忏悔也全是白费，他以后只能说：“活着有什么意义？”他觉得那主教和他在一起，主教死了，但却更在眼前，主教的眼睛盯住他不动，从今以后，那个德高望重的马德兰市长在他的眼里将成为一个面目可憎的人，而那个苦役犯冉阿让却成了纯洁可亲的人。人们只看见他的外表，主教却看见他的真面目。人们只看见他的生活，主教却看见他的良心，因此他必须去阿拉斯，救出那个假冉阿让，揭发这个真冉阿让！多么悲惨的命运！这是最伟大的牺牲，最惨痛的胜利，最后的难关；但却非这样不可。悲惨的身世！在世人眼中他只有重蒙羞辱，才能够达到上帝眼中的圣洁！

"Well, said he, "let us decide upon this; let us do our duty; let us save this man."He uttered these words aloud, without perceiving that he was speaking aloud.

He took his books, verified them, and put them in order. He flung in the fire a bundle of bills which he had against petty and embarrassed tradesmen.He wrote and sealed a letter, and on the envelope it might have been read, had there been any one in his chamber at the moment, To Monsieur Laffitte, Banker, Rue d'Artois, paris.He drew from his secretary a pocket-book which contained several bank-notes and the passport of which he had made use that same year when he went to the elections.

Any one who had seen him during the execution of these various acts, into which there entered such grave thought, would have had no suspicion of what was going on within him.Only occasionally did his lips move; at other times he raised his head and fixed his gaze upon some point of the wall, as though there existed at that point something which he wished to elucidate or interrogate.

When he had finished the letter to M. Laffitte, he put it into his pocket, together with the pocket-book, and began his walk once more.

His revery had not swerved from its course.He continued to see his duty clearly, written in luminous letters, which flamed before his eyes and changed its place as he altered the direction of his glance:--
"Go!Tell your name!Denounce yourself!"

In the same way he beheld, as though they had passed before him in visible forms, the two ideas which had, up to that time, formed the double rule of his soul,--the concealment of his name, the sanctification of his life.For the first time they appeared to him as absolutely distinct, and he perceived the distance which separated them.He recognized the fact that one of these ideas was, necessarily, good, while the other might become bad; that the first was self-devotion, and that the other was personality; that the one said, my neighbor, and that the other said, myself; that one emanated from the light, and the other from darkness.

They were antagonistic.He saw them in conflict.In proportion as he meditated, they grew before the eyes of his spirit. They had now attained colossal statures, and it seemed to him that he beheld within himself, in that infinity of which we were recently speaking, in the midst of the darkness and the lights, a goddess and a giant contending.

He was filled with terror; but it seemed to him that the good thought was getting the upper hand.

He felt that he was on the brink of the second decisive crisis of his conscience and of his destiny; that the Bishop had marked the first phase of his new life, and that Champmathieu marked the second. After the grand crisis, the grand test.

But the fever, allayed for an instant, gradually resumed possession of him.A thousand thoughts traversed his mind, but they continued to fortify him in his resolution.

One moment he said to himself that he was, perhaps, taking the matter too keenly; that, after all, this Champmathieu was not interesting, and that he had actually been guilty of theft.

He answered himself:"If this man has, indeed, stolen a few apples, that means a month in prison.It is a long way from that to the galleys. And who knows?Did he steal?Has it been proved?The name of Jean Valjean overwhelms him, and seems to dispense with proofs. Do not the attorneys for the Crown always proceed in this manner? He is supposed to be a thief because he is known to be a convict."

In another instant the thought had occurred to him that, when he denounced himself, the heroism of his deed might, perhaps, be taken into consideration, and his honest life for the last seven years, and what he had done for the district, and that they would have mercy on him.

But this supposition vanished very quickly, and he smiled bitterly as he remembered that the theft of the forty sous from little Gervais put him in the position of a man guilty of a second offence after conviction, that this affair would certainly come up, and, according to the precise terms of the law, would render him liable to penal servitude for life.

He turned aside from all illusions, detached himself more and more from earth, and sought strength and consolation elsewhere. He told himself that he must do his duty; that perhaps he should not be more unhappy after doing his duty than after having avoided it; that if he allowed things to take their own course, if he remained at M. sur M., his consideration, his good name, his good works, the deference and veneration paid to him, his charity, his wealth, his popularity, his virtue, would be seasoned with a crime. And what would be the taste of all these holy things when bound up with this hideous thing? while, if he accomplished his sacrifice, a celestial idea would be mingled with the galleys, the post, the iron necklet, the green cap, unceasing toil, and pitiless shame.

At length he told himself that it must be so, that his destiny was thus allotted, that he had not authority to alter the arrangements made on high, that, in any case, he must make his choice:virtue without and abomination within, or holiness within and infamy without.

The stirring up of these lugubrious ideas did not cause his courage to fail, but his brain grow weary.He began to think of other things, of indifferent matters, in spite of himself.

The veins in his temples throbbed violently; he still paced to and fro; midnight sounded first from the parish church, then from the town-hall; he counted the twelve strokes of the two clocks, and compared the sounds of the two bells; he recalled in this connection the fact that, a few days previously, he had seen in an ironmonger's shop an ancient clock for sale, upon which was written the name, Antoine-Albin de Romainville.

He was cold; he lighted a small fire; it did not occur to him to close the window.

In the meantime he had relapsed into his stupor; he was obliged to make a tolerably vigorous effort to recall what had been the subject of his thoughts before midnight had struck; he finally succeeded in doing this.
"Ah! yes," he said to himself, "I had resolved to inform against myself."

And then, all of a sudden, he thought of Fantine.
"Hold!" said he, "and what about that poor woman?"
Here a fresh crisis declared itself.

Fantine, by appearing thus abruptly in his revery, produced the effect of an unexpected ray of light; it seemed to him as though everything about him were undergoing a change of aspect:he exclaimed:--

"Ah! but I have hitherto considered no one but myself; it is proper for me to hold my tongue or to denounce myself, to conceal my person or to save my soul, to be a despicable and respected magistrate, or an infamous and venerable convict; it is I, it is always I and nothing but I: but, good God! all this is egotism; these are diverse forms of egotism, but it is egotism all the same. What if I were to think a little about others?The highest holiness is to think of others; come, let us examine the matter. The _I_ excepted, the _I_ effaced, the _I_ forgotten, what would be the result of all this?What if I denounce myself?I am arrested; this Champmathieu is released; I am put back in the galleys; that is well-- and what then?What is going on here?Ah! here is a country, a town, here are factories, an industry, workers, both men and women, aged grandsires, children, poor people!All this I have created; all these I provide with their living; everywhere where there is a smoking chimney, it is I who have placed the brand on the hearth and meat in the pot; I have created ease, circulation, credit; before me there was nothing; I have elevated, vivified, informed with life, fecundated, stimulated, enriched the whole country-side; lacking me, the soul is lacking; I take myself off, everything dies: and this woman, who has suffered so much, who possesses so many merits in spite of her fall; the cause of all whose misery I have unwittingly been!And that child whom I meant to go in search of, whom I have promised to her mother; do I not also owe something to this woman, in reparation for the evil which I have done her? If I disappear, what happens?The mother dies; the child becomes what it can; that is what will take place, if I denounce myself. If I do not denounce myself? come, let us see how it will be if I do not denounce myself."

After putting this question to himself, he paused; he seemed to undergo a momentary hesitation and trepidation; but it did not last long, and he answered himself calmly:--

"Well, this man is going to the galleys; it is true, but what the deuce! he has stolen!There is no use in my saying that he has not been guilty of theft, for he has!I remain here; I go on: in ten years I shall have made ten millions; I scatter them over the country; I have nothing of my own; what is that to me? It is not for myself that I am doing it; the prosperity of all goes on augmenting; industries are aroused and animated; factories and shops are multiplied; families, a hundred families, a thousand families, are happy; the district becomes populated; villages spring up where there were only farms before; farms rise where there was nothing; wretchedness disappears, and with wretchedness debauchery, prostitution, theft, murder; all vices disappear, all crimes:and this poor mother rears her child; and behold a whole country rich and honest!Ah!I was a fool! I was absurd! what was that I was saying about denouncing myself? I really must pay attention and not be precipitate about anything. What! because it would have pleased me to play the grand and generous; this is melodrama, after all; because I should have thought of no one but myself, the idea! for the sake of saving from a punishment, a trifle exaggerated, perhaps, but just at bottom, no one knows whom, a thief, a good-for-nothing, evidently, a whole country-side must perish! a poor woman must die in the hospital! a poor little girl must die in the street! like dogs; ah, this is abominable! And without the mother even having seen her child once more, almost without the child's having known her mother; and all that for the sake of an old wretch of an apple-thief who, most assuredly, has deserved the galleys for something else, if not for that; fine scruples, indeed, which save a guilty man and sacrifice the innocent, which save an old vagabond who has only a few years to live at most, and who will not be more unhappy in the galleys than in his hovel, and which sacrifice a whole population, mothers, wives, children. This poor little Cosette who has no one in the world but me, and who is, no doubt, blue with cold at this moment in the den of those Thenardiers; those peoples are rascals; and I was going to neglect my duty towards all these poor creatures; and I was going off to denounce myself; and I was about to commit that unspeakable folly! Let us put it at the worst:suppose that there is a wrong action on my part in this, and that my conscience will reproach me for it some day, to accept, for the good of others, these reproaches which weigh only on myself; this evil action which compromises my soul alone; in that lies self-sacrifice; in that alone there is virtue."

He rose and resumed his march; this time, he seemed to be content.

Diamonds are found only in the dark places of the earth; truths are found only in the depths of thought.It seemed to him, that, after having descended into these depths, after having long groped among the darkest of these shadows, he had at last found one of these diamonds, one of these truths, and that he now held it in his hand, and he was dazzled as he gazed upon it.

"Yes," he thought, "this is right; I am on the right road; I have the solution; I must end by holding fast to something; my resolve is taken; let things take their course; let us no longer vacillate; let us no longer hang back; this is for the interest of all, not for my own; I am Madeleine, and Madeleine I remain.Woe to the man who is Jean Valjean!I am no longer he; I do not know that man; I no longer know anything; it turns out that some one is Jean Valjean at the present moment; let him look out for himself; that does not concern me; it is a fatal name which was floating abroad in the night; if it halts and descends on a head, so much the worse for that head."

He looked into the little mirror which hung above his chimney-piece, and said:--
"Hold! it has relieved me to come to a decision; I am quite another man now."
He proceeded a few paces further, then he stopped short.

"Come!" he said, "I must not flinch before any of the consequences of the resolution which I have once adopted; there are still threads which attach me to that Jean Valjean; they must be broken; in this very room there are objects which would betray me, dumb things which would bear witness against me; it is settled; all these things must disappear."

He fumbled in his pocket, drew out his purse, opened it, and took out a small key; he inserted the key in a lock whose aperture could hardly be seen, so hidden was it in the most sombre tones of the design which covered the wall-paper; a secret receptacle opened, a sort of false cupboard constructed in the angle between the wall and the chimney-piece; in this hiding-place there were some rags-- a blue linen blouse, an old pair of trousers, an old knapsack, and a huge thorn cudgel shod with iron at both ends.Those who had seen Jean Valjean at the epoch when he passed through D---- in October, 1815, could easily have recognized all the pieces of this miserable outfit.

He had preserved them as he had preserved the silver candlesticks, in order to remind himself continually of his starting-point, but he had concealed all that came from the galleys, and he had allowed the candlesticks which came from the Bishop to be seen.

He cast a furtive glance towards the door, as though he feared that it would open in spite of the bolt which fastened it; then, with a quick and abrupt movement, he took the whole in his arms at once, without bestowing so much as a glance on the things which he had so religiously and so perilously preserved for so many years, and flung them all, rags, cudgel, knapsack, into the fire.

He closed the false cupboard again, and with redoubled precautions, henceforth unnecessary, since it was now empty, he concealed the door behind a heavy piece of furniture, which he pushed in front of it.

After the lapse of a few seconds, the room and the opposite wall were lighted up with a fierce, red, tremulous glow.Everything was on fire; the thorn cudgel snapped and threw out sparks to the middle of the chamber.

As the knapsack was consumed, together with the hideous rags which it contained, it revealed something which sparkled in the ashes. By bending over, one could have readily recognized a coin,--no doubt the forty-sou piece stolen from the little Savoyard.
He did not look at the fire, but paced back and forth with the same step.

All at once his eye fell on the two silver candlesticks, which shone vaguely on the chimney-piece, through the glow.
"Hold!" he thought; "the whole of Jean Valjean is still in them. They must be destroyed also."
He seized the two candlesticks.

There was still fire enough to allow of their being put out of shape, and converted into a sort of unrecognizable bar of metal.
He bent over the hearth and warmed himself for a moment.He felt a sense of real comfort."How good warmth is!" said he.
He stirred the live coals with one of the candlesticks.

A minute more, and they were both in the fire.
At that moment it seemed to him that he heard a voice within him shouting:"Jean Valjean!Jean Valjean!"
His hair rose upright:he became like a man who is listening to some terrible thing.

"Yes, that's it! finish!" said the voice."Complete what you are about!Destroy these candlesticks!Annihilate this souvenir! Forget the Bishop!Forget everything!Destroy this Champmathieu, do! That is right!Applaud yourself!So it is settled, resolved, fixed, agreed:here is an old man who does not know what is wanted of him, who has, perhaps, done nothing, an innocent man, whose whole misfortune lies in your name, upon whom your name weighs like a crime, who is about to be taken for you, who will be condemned, who will finish his days in abjectness and horror.That is good! Be an honest man yourself; remain Monsieur le Maire; remain honorable and honored; enrich the town; nourish the indigent; rear the orphan; live happy, virtuous, and admired; and, during this time, while you are here in the midst of joy and light, there will be a man who will wear your red blouse, who will bear your name in ignominy, and who will drag your chain in the galleys.Yes, it is well arranged thus.Ah, wretch!"

The perspiration streamed from his brow.He fixed a haggard eye on the candlesticks.But that within him which had spoken had not finished.The voice continued:--

"Jean Valjean, there will be around you many voices, which will make a great noise, which will talk very loud, and which will bless you, and only one which no one will hear, and which will curse you in the dark.Well! listen, infamous man!All those benedictions will fall back before they reach heaven, and only the malediction will ascend to God."

This voice, feeble at first, and which had proceeded from the most obscure depths of his conscience, had gradually become startling and formidable, and he now heard it in his very ear.It seemed to him that it had detached itself from him, and that it was now speaking outside of him.He thought that he heard the last words so distinctly, that he glanced around the room in a sort of terror.

"Is there any one here?" he demanded aloud, in utter bewilderment.
Then he resumed, with a laugh which resembled that of an idiot:--
"How stupid I am!There can be no one!"

There was some one; but the person who was there was of those whom the human eye cannot see.
He placed the candlesticks on the chimney-piece.
Then he resumed his monotonous and lugubrious tramp, which troubled the dreams of the sleeping man beneath him, and awoke him with a start.

This tramping to and fro soothed and at the same time intoxicated him. It sometimes seems, on supreme occasions, as though people moved about for the purpose of asking advice of everything that they may encounter by change of place.After the lapse of a few minutes he no longer knew his position.

He now recoiled in equal terror before both the resolutions at which he had arrived in turn.The two ideas which counselled him appeared to him equally fatal.What a fatality!What conjunction that that Champmathieu should have been taken for him; to be overwhelmed by precisely the means which providence seemed to have employed, at first, to strengthen his position!

There was a moment when he reflected on the future.Denounce himself, great God!Deliver himself up!With immense despair he faced all that he should be obliged to leave, all that he should be obliged to take up once more.He should have to bid farewell to that existence which was so good, so pure, so radiant, to the respect of all, to honor, to liberty.He should never more stroll in the fields; he should never more hear the birds sing in the month of May; he should never more bestow alms on the little children; he should never more experience the sweetness of having glances of gratitude and love fixed upon him; he should quit that house which he had built, that little chamber!Everything seemed charming to him at that moment.Never again should he read those books; never more should he write on that little table of white wood; his old portress, the only servant whom he kept, would never more bring him his coffee in the morning.Great God! instead of that, the convict gang, the iron necklet, the red waistcoat, the chain on his ankle, fatigue, the cell, the camp bed all those horrors which he knew so well!At his age, after having been what he was! If he were only young again! but to be addressed in his old age as "thou" by any one who pleased; to be searched by the convict-guard; to receive the galley-sergeant's cudgellings; to wear iron-bound shoes on his bare feet; to have to stretch out his leg night and morning to the hammer of the roundsman who visits the gang; to submit to the curiosity of strangers, who would be told:"That man yonder is the famous Jean Valjean, who was mayor of M. sur M."; and at night, dripping with perspiration, overwhelmed with lassitude, their green caps drawn over their eyes, to remount, two by two, the ladder staircase of the galleys beneath the sergeant's whip. Oh, what misery!Can destiny, then, be as malicious as an intelligent being, and become as monstrous as the human heart?

And do what he would, he always fell back upon the heartrending dilemma which lay at the foundation of his revery:"Should he remain in paradise and become a demon?Should he return to hell and become an angel?"
What was to be done?Great God! what was to be done?

The torment from which he had escaped with so much difficulty was unchained afresh within him.His ideas began to grow confused once more; they assumed a kind of stupefied and mechanical quality which is peculiar to despair.The name of Romainville recurred incessantly to his mind, with the two verses of a song which he had heard in the past.He thought that Romainville was a little grove near paris, where young lovers go to pluck lilacs in the month of April.

He wavered outwardly as well as inwardly.He walked like a little child who is permitted to toddle alone.

At intervals, as he combated his lassitude, he made an effort to recover the mastery of his mind.He tried to put to himself, for the last time, and definitely, the problem over which he had, in a manner, fallen prostrate with fatigue:Ought he to denounce himself?Ought he to hold his peace?He could not manage to see anything distinctly.The vague aspects of all the courses of reasoning which had been sketched out by his meditations quivered and vanished, one after the other, into smoke.He only felt that, to whatever course of action he made up his mind, something in him must die, and that of necessity, and without his being able to escape the fact; that he was entering a sepulchre on the right hand as much as on the left; that he was passing through a death agony,-- the agony of his happiness, or the agony of his virtue.

Alas! all his resolution had again taken possession of him. He was no further advanced than at the beginning.

Thus did this unhappy soul struggle in its anguish. Eighteen hundred years before this unfortunate man, the mysterious Being in whom are summed up all the sanctities and all the sufferings of humanity had also long thrust aside with his hand, while the olive-trees quivered in the wild wind of the infinite, the terrible cup which appeared to Him dripping with darkness and overflowing with shadows in the depths all studded with stars.

     “那么，”他说，“走这条路吧，尽我天职！救出那个人！”他大声地说了那些话，自己并未感到。他拿起他的那些书，检查以后，又把它们摆整齐。他把一些告急的小商人写给他的债券，整扎的一齐丢在火里。他写了一封信，盖了章，如果当时有人在他房里，便会看见信封上写的是“巴黎阿图瓦街银行经理拉菲特先生”。

    他从一张书桌里取出一个皮夹，里面有几张钞票和他那年参加选举用的身份证。

    看见他这样一面沉痛地思考一面做完那些杂事的人，一定可以猜出他心里的打算。不过有时他的嘴唇频频启闭，另外一些时候他抬头望着墙上随便哪一点，好象恰巧在那一点上有他需要了解或询问的东西。他写完了给拉菲特先生的那封信以后，便把信和那皮夹一同插在衣袋里，又开始踱起来。他的萦想一点没有转变方向。他分明地看见他该做的事已用几个有光的字写出来了，这些字在他眼前发出火焰，久久不灭，并且随着他的视线移动：“去！说出你的姓名！自首！”同时他又看见自己一向视为处世原则的那种心愿“埋名”和“立德”，好象有了显著的形状，在他眼前飘动。他生平第一次感到那两种愿望是绝不相容的，同时也看出区别它们的方法。他认识到那两种愿望中的一种是好的，另外一种却可能成为坏事；前者济世，后者谋己；一个说“为人”，一个说“为我”；一个来自光明，一个来自黑暗。

    它们相互斗争，他看着它们斗争。他一面想，它们也一面在他智慧的眼前扩大起来；现在它们有了巨大的身材；他仿佛看见在他自己心里，在我们先前提到的那种广漠辽廓的天地里，在黑暗和微光中，有一个女神和一个女魔，正在鏖战。他异常恐惧，但是他觉得善的思想胜利了。

    他觉得他接近了自己良心和命运的另一次具有决定性的时刻；主教标志着他新生命的第一阶段，商马第标志着它的第二阶段。深刻的危机之后，又继以严重的考验。

    到此时，他胸中平息了一会的烦懑又渐渐涌起了。万千思绪穿梭于他的脑海，但却使他的决心更加巩固了。他一时曾对自己说过：“他对这件事也许应付得太轻率了，究其实，商马第也并不在乎他这样作的，说来说去，他也曾偷过东西。”

    他回答自己说：“如果那个人果真偷过几个苹果，那也不过是一个月的监禁问题。这和苦役大不相同。并且谁知道他偷了没有？证实了没有？冉阿让这个名字压在他头上，似乎也就可以不需要证据了。钦命检察官岂不常常那样做吗？大家以为他是盗贼，只是因为知道他做过苦役犯。”

    在另一刹那，他又想到，在他自首以后，人家也许会重视他在这一行动中表现的英勇，考虑到他七年来的诚实生活和他在地方上起过的作用而赦免他。

    但是那种假想很快就消失了，他一面苦笑，一面想到他既抢过小瑞尔威的四十个苏，人家就可以加他以累犯的罪名，那件案子一定会发作，并且依据法律明白规定的条文，可以使他服终身苦役。

    他丢开一切幻想，慢慢放弃了他对这个世界的留恋，想要到别处去找安慰和力量。他向自己说他应当尽他的天职；他在尽了天职以后，也许并不见得会比逃避天职更痛苦些；假使他“听其自然”，假使他待在滨海蒙特勒伊不动，他的尊荣、他的好名誉、他的善政、他受到的敬重尊崇、他的慈善事业、他的财富、他的名望、他的德行都会被一种罪恶所玷污；那一切圣洁的东西和那种丑恶的东西搀和在一起，还有什么意义！反之，假使他完成自我牺牲，入狱，受木柱上的捶楚，背枷，戴绿帽，做没有休息的苦工，受无情的羞辱，倒还可以有高洁的心境！

    最后他向自己说，这样做是必要的，他的命运是这样注定了的，他无权变更上天的旨意，归根到底，他得选择，或者外君子而内小人，或是圣洁其中而羞辱其外。

    那么多愁惨的想法在心头起伏，他的勇气却并不减少，但他的脑子疲乏了。他开始不由自主地想到一些别的事，一些毫无关系的事。

    他鬓边的动脉强烈地搏动。他不停地走来走去。夜半的钟声，起初在礼拜堂、继又在市政厅都报过时了。他数着那两口钟的十二响，又比较着它们的声音。这时，他想到前几天，在一个收买破铜烂铁的商人家里，看见有口古钟出卖，钟上有这样一个名字：罗曼维尔的安东尼?阿尔班。

    他觉得冷。生了一点火。他没想到要关上窗子。这时，他又堕入恐怖中了。他竟想不起自己在午夜以前思考过的事，他作了最大的努力，后来总算想起来了。“呀！对了，”他向自己说，“我已经决定自首。”过后，他忽然一下想到了芳停“啊呀，”他说，“还有那个可怜的妇人！”想到这里，一个新的难题又出现了。突然出现在他萦想中的芳汀，好象是一道意外的光。他仿佛觉得他四周的一切全变了样子，他喊道：“哎哟，可了不得！直到现在，我还只是在为自己着想！我还只注意到我自己的利害问题。我可以一声不响也可以公然自首，可以隐藏我的名字或是挽救我的灵魂，做一个人格扫地而受人恭维的官吏，或是一 个不名誉而可敬的囚徒，那是我的事，始终是我的事，而且仅仅是我的事！但是我的上帝，那完全是自私自利！那是自私自利的不同形式，但总还是自私自利！如果我稍稍替别人着想呢？最高的圣德便是为别人着想。想想，研究研究。我被抛弃了，我被消灭了，我被遗忘了，结果会发生什么事呢？假使我自首呢？他们捉住我，释放那个商马第，再把我关在牢里，好的。往后呢？这里将会成什么样子呢？呀！这里有地，有城，有工厂，有工业，有工人，有男人，有女人，有老公公，有小孩子，有穷人！我建立了这一切，我维持着这一切人的生活；凡是有一个冒烟的烟囱的地方，都是由我把柴送到火里，把肉送到锅里的；我使人们生活安乐，金融周转，我举办信用贷款；在我以前，一无所有；有扶植，振兴，鼓舞，丰富，推动，繁荣了整个地方；失去了我，便是失去了灵魂。我退避，一切都将同归于荆还有那妇人，那个饱尝痛苦、舍身成仁、由我失察而颠连无告的妇人！还有那孩子，我原打算把她带来，带到她母亲身边，并且我已有话在先！那妇人的苦难既然是我造成的，难道我就没有一点补偿的义务吗？如果我走了，将会发生什么事呢？母亲丧命，孩子流离失所。那将是我自首的后果。如果我不自首呢？想想，如果我不自首呢？”

    在向自己提出那个问题之后，他愣住了。他仿佛经过了一阵迟疑和战栗，但是那一会儿并不长，他镇静地回答自己说：“那么，那个人去坐苦役牢，那是真的，不过，真见鬼，他自己作了贼！我说他没有作贼，也是徒然，他作了贼！我呢？我留在这里，继续干我的事。十年以后，我可以赚一千万，我把这些钱花在地方上，自己一文不留，那有什么要紧？我做的事并不是为了自己！大家日益富裕，工业发展，兴旺，制造厂和机器厂越来越多，家庭，千百个家庭都快乐，地方人口增加，在只有几户农家的地方，出现乡镇，在没有人烟的地方，出现农村，穷困不存，随着穷困的消灭，所有荒淫、娼妓、盗窃、杀人，一切丑行，一切罪恶，全都绝迹！那个可怜的母亲也可以抚养她的孩子！整个地方的人都富裕，诚实！啊呀！我刚才疯了，发昏了，我说什么自首来着？真是，我应当小心，凡事不可急躁冒进。也难怪！因为我也许喜欢做一个伟大慷概的人，说来说去，还是一套欺世盗名的把戏，因为我也许只想到自己，只想到我个人，如此而已！为了救一个人，其实他罪有应得，我把他的苦处想得太过份了，谁也不知道那究竟是个什么人，一个贼，一个坏蛋，那是肯定的，为了救那么一个人而使整个地方受害！让那个可怜的妇人死在医院里！那个可怜的小女孩死在路旁！和狗一样！呀！那多么惨！那母亲和她的孩子连再见一面也不能够！那孩子连母亲也几乎还不认识！况且这一切全是为了一个自作自受、偷苹果的老畜牲，他去服他的终身苦役，如果不是为了偷苹果，也一定还做了别的事！我多么虚心，多么高尚，为了救一个罪犯，竟不惜牺牲许多无罪的人。那老流氓即使要活，也活不了几年了，并且他坐牢并不见得会比住在他那破顶楼里更苦，为了救那样一个老流氓，竟不惜牺牲全体人民，母亲们、妻子们、孩子们！那可怜的小珂赛特，她在世上只有我这样一个依靠，现在她一定在那德纳第家的破洞里冻得发青了！那两个家伙也都不是好东西！我对那一切可怜的人将不能尽责了！我去自首，我去干那种糊涂透顶的傻事！让我从最坏的方面着想。对我而言，假设我在这件事里的行为是坏的，总有一天我会受到自己良心的谴责，可是，为了别人的利益去接受那种只牵涉到我个人的谴责，我不顾自己灵魂的堕落，而仍去完成那种坏行动，那样才真算是忠诚，那样才真算是美德。”

    他站起，又走了起来。这次他觉得好象还满意。
    在泥土下黑暗的地方才能发现金刚钻，在深入缜密的思想中才能发现真理。他仿佛觉得在最黑暗的地方深入摸索了一阵之后，他终于找到了那么一颗金刚钻，那么一点真理；他握在手里望着，他望得眼睛都花了。

    “是的，”他想，“就是这样。我找到了真理。我有了办法。我到底掌握了一点东西。我已经下了决心。由它去！不必再犹豫，不必再退缩。这是为了大众的利益，不是为我。我是马德兰，我仍旧做马德兰。让那个叫冉阿让的人去受苦！冉阿让已不是我了。我不认识那个人，我已不知道那是怎么一回事；假使在这时有个人做了冉阿让，让他自己去想办法！那和我不相干。那个名字是一个在黑夜里飘荡的鬼魂，假使它停下来，落在谁的头上，便该谁倒霉！”

    他对着壁炉上的一面小镜子望了望自己，说道：“真奇怪！有了办法，我心里立刻舒服了！我现在完全是两回事了。”他走了几步，随后又忽然站住：“干吧！”他说，“不应当在既定办法的任何后果上迟疑。现在我和冉阿让仍旧是藕断丝连的。应当斩断那些丝！这里，就在这房间里，有些东西可以暴露我的过去，一些不能说话而可以作证的东西，说定了，应当把它们完全消灭。”他搜着自己的衣服，从里面抽出他的钱包，打开来，拿出一把钥匙。他把这把钥匙插在一个锁眼里，那锁眼隐藏在裱壁纸上花纹颜色最深之处，几乎是看不见的。一层夹壁开开了，那是一种装在墙角和壁炉台间的假橱。在那橱壁里只有几件破衣，一件蓝粗布罩衫，一条旧罩裤，一只旧布袋，一根两端镶了铁的粗刺棍。看见过冉阿让在一八一五年十月间穿过迪涅城的那些人，都能一眼认出那种褴褛服装的全套行头。他保存了那些东西，正如他保存那两个银烛台一样，为的是使自己永远不忘自己的出身。不过他把来自监狱的那些东西藏了起来，把来自主教的两个烛台陈设给人家看。

    他向房门偷望了一眼，那扇门虽然上了闩，好象他仍害怕它会开开似的；随后他用一种敏捷急促的动作把所用的东西，破衣、棍子、口袋，一手抱起，全丢在火里，对自己那样小心谨慎、冒着危险、收藏了那么多年的东西，他连看都没有看一眼。他又把那假橱关上，它既是空的，此后也用不着了，但为了加紧提防，他仍然推上一件大家具，堵住橱门。几秒钟之后，那屋子里和对面墙上都映上了一片强烈的、颤巍巍的红光。一切都烧了。那根刺棍烧得劈啪作响，火星直迸到了屋子中间。那只布袋，在和它里面的那些褴褛不堪的破布一同焚化时，露出了一件东西，落在灰里，闪闪发光。假使有人弯着腰，就不难看出那是一 枚银币。那一定是从那通烟囱的小瑞尔威抢来的那枚植四十个苏的钱了。

    他呢，并不望火，只管来回走，步伐始终如一。他的视线忽然落到壁炉上被火光映得隐隐发亮的那两个银烛台上。
    “得！”他想道，“整个冉阿让都还在这里面。这玩意儿也得毁掉。”
    他拿起那两个烛台。火力还够大，很容易让它们失去原来的形状，烧成不能辨认的银块。他在炉前弯下腰去，烘了一回火，他确实舒服了一阵。“好火！”

    他说。
    他拿着两个烛台中的一个去拨火。一分钟后，两个全在火里了。这时，他仿佛听见有个声音在他心里喊：“冉阿让！冉阿让！”

    他头发都竖起来了，好象变成了一个听到恐怖消息的人。“对！没有错，干到底！”那声音说。“做完你现在做的事！毁了那两个烛台！消灭那种纪念品！忘掉那主教！忘掉一切！害死商马第！干吧，这样好。称赞你自己！这样，说定了，下决心了，一言为定，那边有个人，一个老头，他不知道人家打算怎样对付他，他可能什么事都没做过，是一个无罪的人，他的苦难全是因你的名字带来的，他被你的名字压在头上，就好象有了罪，他将因你而被囚，而受惩罚，他将在唾骂和悚惧之中结束他的生命。那样很好。你呢？做一个诚实的人。仍旧做市长先生，可尊可敬的，确实也受到了尊敬，你繁荣城市，接济穷人，教养孤儿，过快乐日子，俨然是个君子，受人敬佩，与此同时，当你留在这里，留在欢乐和光明中时，那边将有一个人穿上你的红褂子，顶着你的名字，受尽羞辱，还得在牢里拖动你的铁链！是呀，这种办法，是正当的！呀！无赖！”

    汗从他额头上淌出来。他望着那两个烛台，茫然不知所措。这时，在他心里说话的声音还没有说完。它继续说：“冉阿让！在你的前后左右将有许多欢腾、高呼、赞扬你的声音，只有一种声音，一种谁也听不见的声音，要在黑暗中诅咒你。那么！听吧，无耻的东西！那一片颂扬的声音在到达天上之前，全都会落下，只有那种诅咒才能直达上帝！”

    那说话的声音，起初很弱，并且是从他心中最幽暗的地方发出的，一步一步，越来越宏亮惊人，现在他听见已是在他耳边了。他仿佛感到它起先是从他身体里发出来的，现在却在他的外面说话了。最后的那几句话，他听得分处清楚，他毛骨耸然，向房里四处看了一遍。

    “这里有人吗？”他惝恍迷离的声音高声问道。随后他笑了出来，仿佛是傻子的那种笑声，他接着说：“我多么糊涂！这里不可能有人。”那里有人，但是在那里的，不是肉眼可以看见的人。他又把那两个烛台放在壁炉上。于是他又用那种单调、低沉的步子走来走去，把睡在他下面的那个人从梦中惊得跳了起来。那样走动，让他舒适了一点，同时也让他兴奋。有时，人在无可奈何的关头总喜欢走动，仿佛不断迁移地方，便会碰见什么东西，可以向它征询意见。过了一阵，他又摸不着头脑了。现在他对自己先后轮流作出决定的那两种办法，同样感到畏缩不前。涌上他心头的那两种意见，对他仿佛都是绝路。何等的恶运！拿了商马第当他，这是何等的遭遇！当初上帝仿佛要用来磨炼他的那种方法，现在正使他陷入绝境了！

    对未来，他思考了一下。自首，伟大的上帝！自投罗网！他面对他所应当抛弃和应当再捡起的那一切东西，心情颓丧到了无以复加的地步。那么，他应当向那样好、那样干净、那样快乐的生活，向大众的尊祟、荣誉和自由告别了！他不能再到田野里去散步了，他也再听不到阳春时节的鸟叫了，再不能给小孩子们布施了！他不能再感受那种表示感谢敬爱而向他注视的温暖目光了！他将离开这所他亲手造的房子，这间屋子，这间小小的屋子！所有一切这时对他而言都是妩媚可爱的。他不能再读这些书了，不能在这小小的白木桌上写字了！他那唯一的女仆，那看门的老妇人，不会再在早晨把咖啡送上来给他了。伟大的上帝！替代这些的是苦役队，是枷，是红衣，是脚镣，是疲劳，是黑屋，是帆布床和大家熟悉的那一切耸人听闻的事。在他那种年纪，在做过他那样的人以后！如果他还年轻！但是，他老了，任何人都将以“你”称呼他，受狱卒的搜查，挨狱警的棍子！赤着脚穿铁鞋！早晚把腿伸出去接受检验链锁人的锤子！忍受外国人的好奇心，会有人向他们说：“这一个便是做过滨海蒙特勒伊市长的那个著名的冉阿让！”到了晚上，流着汗，疲惫不堪，绿帽子遮在眼睛上，两个两个地在警察的鞭子下，由软梯爬上战船的牢房里去！呵！何等的痛苦！难道天意也能象聪明人一样残酷，也能变得和人心一样暴戾吗！

    无论他怎样做，他总是回到他沉思中的那句痛心的、左右为难的话上，留在天堂里做魔鬼，或是回到地狱里做天使。
    怎么办，伟大的上帝！怎么办？他费了无穷的精力才消释了那种烦恼又重上心头。他的思维又开始紊乱起来。人到了绝望时思想便会麻痹，不受控制。罗曼维尔那个名字不时回到他的脑海中来，同时又联想到他从前听过的两句歌词上。他想起罗曼维尔是巴黎附近的一处小树林，每逢四月，青年情侣总到那里去采撷丁香。

    他的身心都摇曳不定，他好象一个没人扶的小孩，正跌跌撞撞地走着。
    有时他勉强提起精神，克服疲倦。他竭力想作最后一次努力，想把那个使他疲惫欲倒的问题正式提出来，应当自首？还是应当缄默？结果他什么都分辨不出。他在梦想中凭自己的理智，根据各种情况初步描摹出来的大致轮廓，都一一烟消云散了。不过他觉得，无论他怎样决定，他总得死去一半，那是必然的，无可幸免的；无论向右或向左，他总免不了进入坟墓；他已到了垂死的时候，他的幸福之死或是他的人格之死。可怜！他又完全回到了游移不定的当中。他并不比开始时有了什么进展。

    这个不幸的人老是在苦恼下挣扎。在这苦命人之前一千八百年，那个汇集了人类一切圣德和一切痛苦于一身的圣人，正当橄榄树在来自太空的疾风中颤动时，也曾把那杯在星光下显得阴森惨暗的苦酒推在一 边，久久低徊不决。

Three o'clock in the morning had just struck, and he had been walking thus for five hours, almost uninterruptedly, when he at length allowed himself to drop into his chair.

There he fell asleep and had a dream.

This dream, like the majority of dreams, bore no relation to the situation, except by its painful and heart-rending character, but it made an impression on him.This nightmare struck him so forcibly that he wrote it down later on.It is one of the papers in his own handwriting which he has bequeathed to us.We think that we have here reproduced the thing in strict accordance with the text.

Of whatever nature this dream may be, the history of this night would be incomplete if we were to omit it:it is the gloomy adventure of an ailing soul.

Here it is.On the envelope we find this line inscribed, "The Dream I had that Night."
"I was in a plain; a vast, gloomy plain, where there was no grass. It did not seem to me to be daylight nor yet night.

"I was walking with my brother, the brother of my childish years, the brother of whom, I must say, I never think, and whom I now hardly remember.

"We were conversing and we met some passers-by. We were talking of a neighbor of ours in former days, who had always worked with her window open from the time when she came to live on the street. As we talked we felt cold because of that open window.

"There were no trees in the plain.We saw a man passing close to us. He was entirely nude, of the hue of ashes, and mounted on a horse which was earth color.The man had no hair; we could see his skull and the veins on it.In his hand he held a switch which was as supple as a vine-shoot and as heavy as iron.This horseman passed and said nothing to us.

"My brother said to me, `Let us take to the hollow road.'

"There existed a hollow way wherein one saw neither a single shrub nor a spear of moss.Everything was dirt-colored, even the sky. After proceeding a few paces, I received no reply when I spoke: I perceived that my brother was no longer with me.

"I entered a village which I espied.I reflected that it must be Romainville.(Why Romainville?)(5)
(5) This parenthesis is due to Jean Valjean.

"The first street that I entered was deserted.I entered a second street.Behind the angle formed by the two streets, a man was standing erect against the wall.I said to this Man:--

"`What country is this?Where am I?'The man made no reply. I saw the door of a house open, and I entered.

"The first chamber was deserted.I entered the second.Behind the door of this chamber a man was standing erect against the wall. I inquired of this man, `Whose house is this?Where am I?' The man replied not.

"The house had a garden.I quitted the house and entered the garden. The garden was deserted.Behind the first tree I found a man standing upright.I said to this man, `What garden is this? Where am I?'The man did not answer.

"I strolled into the village, and perceived that it was a town. All the streets were deserted, all the doors were open.Not a single living being was passing in the streets, walking through the chambers or strolling in the gardens.But behind each angle of the walls, behind each door, behind each tree, stood a silent man.Only one was to be seen at a time.These men watched me pass.

"I left the town and began to ramble about the fields.

"After the lapse of some time I turned back and saw a great crowd coming up behind me.I recognized all the men whom I had seen in that town. They had strange heads.They did not seem to be in a hurry, yet they walked faster than I did.They made no noise as they walked. In an instant this crowd had overtaken and surrounded me. The faces of these men were earthen in hue.

"Then the first one whom I had seen and questioned on entering the town said to me:--

"`Whither are you going!Do you not know that you have been dead this long time?'
"I opened my mouth to reply, and I perceived that there was no one near me."

He woke.He was icy cold.A wind which was chill like the breeze of dawn was rattling the leaves of the window, which had been left open on their hinges.The fire was out.The candle was nearing its end.It was still black night.

He rose, he went to the window.There were no stars in the sky even yet.
From his window the yard of the house and the street were visible. A sharp, harsh noise, which made him drop his eyes, resounded from the earth.

Below him he perceived two red stars, whose rays lengthened and shortened in a singular manner through the darkness.
As his thoughts were still half immersed in the mists of sleep, "Hold!" said he, "there are no stars in the sky.They are on earth now."

But this confusion vanished; a second sound similar to the first roused him thoroughly; he looked and recognized the fact that these two stars were the lanterns of a carriage.By the light which they cast he was able to distinguish the form of this vehicle. It was a tilbury harnessed to a small white horse.The noise which he had heard was the trampling of the horse's hoofs on the pavement.

"What vehicle is this?" he said to himself."Who is coming here so early in the morning?"

At that moment there came a light tap on the door of his chamber.
He shuddered from head to foot, and cried in a terrible voice:--

"Who is there?"
Some one said:--
"I, Monsieur le Maire."

He recognized the voice of the old woman who was his portress.
"Well!" he replied, "what is it?"
"Monsieur le Maire, it is just five o'clock in the morning."

"What is that to me?"
"The cabriolet is here, Monsieur le Maire."

"What cabriolet?"
"The tilbury."
"What tilbury?"
"Did not Monsieur le Maire order a tilbury?"

"No," said he.
"The coachman says that he has come for Monsieur le Maire."
"What coachman?"
"M. Scaufflaire's coachman."
"M. Scaufflaire?"

That name sent a shudder over him, as though a flash of lightning had passed in front of his face.
"Ah! yes," he resumed; "M. Scaufflaire!"
If the old woman could have seen him at that moment, she would have been frightened.

A tolerably long silence ensued.He examined the flame of the candle with a stupid air, and from around the wick he took some of the burning wax, which he rolled between his fingers.The old woman waited for him.She even ventured to uplift her voice once more:--

"What am I to say, Monsieur le Maire?"
"Say that it is well, and that I am coming down."

     刚刚敲过早晨三点，他几乎不停地那样走来走去，已有五个钟头了。后来，他倒在了椅子上。

    他在那上面睡着了，还做了一个梦。那梦和大多数的梦一样，只是和一些惨痛莫名的情况相关连，但是他仍然受了感动。那场恶梦狠狠地打击了他，使他后来记住了它。这是他亲笔写好留下来的一张纸。我们认为应在此把这一内容依照原文录下。

    无论那个梦是什么，如果我略过不提，那一夜的经过便不完全。那是一个害着心病的人一段辛酸的故事。
    下面便是。在那信封上有这样一行字：“我在那晚作的梦。”

    我到了田野间。那是一片荒凉辽阔、寸草不生的田野。我既不觉得那是白天，也不觉得是黑夜。我和我的哥哥，我童年时的哥哥，一同散步；这个哥哥，我应该说，是我从来没有想起，而且几乎忘了的。

    我们在闲谈，又碰见许多人走过。我们谈到从前的一个女邻居，这个女邻居，自从她住在那条街上，便时常开着窗子工作。我们谈着谈着，竟因那扇开着的窗子而感到冷起来了。

    田野间没有树。我们看见一个人在我们身边走过。那人赤身露体。浑身灰色，骑着一匹土色的马。那人没有头发；我们看见的秃顶和顶上的血管。他手里拿着一条鞭子，象葡萄藤那样软，又象铁那么重。那骑士走了过去，一句话也没和我们说。

    我哥向我说：“我们从那条凹下去的路走吧。”那里有一条凹下去的路，路上没有一根荆棘，也没一丝青苔。一切全是土色的，连天也一样，走了几步以后，我说话，却没有人应我，我发现我的哥已不和我在一起了。

    我望见一个村子，便走进去。我想那也许是罗曼维尔。（为什么是罗曼维尔呢？）①我走进的第一条街，没有人，我又走进第二条街。在转角的地方，有个人靠墙立着。我向那人说：“这是什么地方？我到了哪里？”那人没有回答。我看见一扇开着的墙门，我便走进去。
①括弧是冉阿让加的。——原注。

    第一间屋子是空的。我走进第二间。在那扇门的后面，有个人靠墙立着。我问那人：“这房子是谁的？我是在什么地方？”那人不回答。那房子里有一个园子。我走出房子，走进园子。园子是荒凉的。在第一株树的后面，我看见一个人立着。我向那人说：“这是什么园子？我在什么地方？”那人不回答。我信步在那村子里走着，我发现那是个城。所有的街道都是荒凉的，所有的门都是开的。没有一个人在街上经过，也没有人在房里走或是在园里散步。但在每一 个墙角上、每扇门后面、每株树的背后，都立着一个不开口的人。每次总只有一个，那些人都望着我走过去。

    我出了城，在田里走。过了一会，我回转头，看见一大群人跟在我后面走来。我认出了那些人，全是我在那城里看见过的，他们的相貌是奇形怪状的。他们好象并不急于赶路，但他们都走得比我快。他们走的时候，一点声音也没有。一下子，那群人追上了我，把我围了起来。那些人的面色都是土色的。于是，我在进城时最初见到并向他问过话的那个人向我说：“您往哪儿去？难道您不知道您早就死了吗？”我张开嘴，正要答话，但是我看见四周空无一人。

    他醒过来，冻僵了。一阵和晨风一样冷的风把窗板吹得在开着的窗门臼里直转。火已经灭了。蜡烛也快燃尽了。还是黑夜。他站起来，向着窗子走去，天上始终没有星星。

    从他的窗口，可以望见那所房子的天井和街道。地上忽然发出一种干脆而结实的响声，他便朝下望。
    他看见在他下面有两颗红星，它们的光在黑影里忽伸忽缩，形状奇特。
    由于他的思想仍半沉在梦境里，他在想：“奇怪！天上没有星，它们现在到地上来了。”

    这时，他才从梦中渐渐清醒过来，一声和第一次相同的响声把他完全惊醒了，他注意看，这才看出那两颗星原来是一辆车子上的挂灯。从那两盏挂灯射出的光里，他能看出那辆车子的形状。那是一辆小车，驾着一匹白马。他先头听见的便是马蹄踏地的响声。

    “这是什么车子？”他向自己说，“谁这样一大早就来了？”这时，有个人在他房门上轻轻敲了一下。他从头到脚打了一个寒噤，轻声叫道：“谁呀？”
    有个人回答：
    “是我，市长先生。”他听出那老妇人——他的门房的嗓子。

    “什么事？”他又问。
    “市长先生，快早晨五点了。”
    “这告诉我干什么？”
    “市长先生，车子来了。”
    “什么车子？”
    “小车。”
    “什么小车？”

    “难道市长先生没有要过一辆小车吗？”
    “没有。”他说。
    “那车夫说他是来找市长先生的。”
    “哪个车夫？”
    “斯戈弗莱尔先生的车夫。”

    “斯戈弗莱尔先生？”那个名字使他大吃一惊，好象有道电光在他的面前闪过。“呀！对了！”他回答说，“斯戈弗莱尔先生。”如果当时那老妇人看见了他，她一定会被他吓坏的。他一声不响，停了好一阵。他呆呆地望着那支蜡烛的火焰，又从烛心旁边取出一点火热的蜡，在指间转着。那老妇人等了一阵，才壮起胆子，高声问道：“市长先生，我该怎样回复呢？”
“您说好的，我就下来。”

The posting service from Arras to M. sur M. was still operated at this period by small mail-wagons of the time of the Empire. These mail-wagons were two-wheeled cabriolets, upholstered inside with fawn-colored leather, hung on springs, and having but two seats, one for the postboy, the other for the traveller.The wheels were armed with those long, offensive axles which keep other vehicles at a distance, and which may still be seen on the road in Germany. The despatch box, an immense oblong coffer, was placed behind the vehicle and formed a part of it.This coffer was painted black, and the cabriolet yellow.

These vehicles, which have no counterparts nowadays, had something distorted and hunchbacked about them; and when one saw them passing in the distance, and climbing up some road to the horizon, they resembled the insects which are called, I think, termites, and which, though with but little corselet, drag a great train behind them. But they travelled at a very rapid rate.The post-wagon which set out from Arras at one o'clock every night, after the mail from paris had passed, arrived at M. sur M. a little before five o'clock in the morning.

That night the wagon which was descending to M. sur M. by the Hesdin road, collided at the corner of a street, just as it was entering the town, with a little tilbury harnessed to a white horse, which was going in the opposite direction, and in which there was but one person, a man enveloped in a mantle.The wheel of the tilbury received quite a violent shock.The postman shouted to the man to stop, but the traveller paid no heed and pursued his road at full gallop.

"That man is in a devilish hurry!" said the postman.
The man thus hastening on was the one whom we have just seen struggling in convulsions which are certainly deserving of pity.

Whither was he going?He could not have told.Why was he hastening? He did not know.He was driving at random, straight ahead.Whither? To Arras, no doubt; but he might have been going elsewhere as well. At times he was conscious of it, and he shuddered.He plunged into the night as into a gulf.Something urged him forward; something drew him on.No one could have told what was taking place within him; every one will understand it.What man is there who has not entered, at least once in his life, into that obscure cavern of the unknown?

However, he had resolved on nothing, decided nothing, formed no plan, done nothing.None of the actions of his conscience had been decisive. He was, more than ever, as he had been at the first moment.
Why was he going to Arras?

He repeated what he had already said to himself when he had hired Scaufflaire's cabriolet:that, whatever the result was to be, there was no reason why he should not see with his own eyes, and judge of matters for himself; that this was even prudent; that he must know what took place; that no decision could be arrived at without having observed and scrutinized; that one made mountains out of everything from a distance; that, at any rate, when he should have seen that Champmathieu, some wretch, his conscience would probably be greatly relieved to allow him to go to the galleys in his stead; that Javert would indeed be there; and that Brevet, that Chenildieu, that Cochepaille, old convicts who had known him; but they certainly would not recognize him;--bah! what an idea! that Javert was a hundred leagues from suspecting the truth; that all conjectures and all suppositions were fixed on Champmathieu, and that there is nothing so headstrong as suppositions and conjectures; that accordingly there was no danger.

That it was, no doubt, a dark moment, but that he should emerge from it; that, after all, he held his destiny, however bad it might be, in his own hand; that he was master of it.He clung to this thought.

At bottom, to tell the whole truth, he would have preferred not to go to Arras.
Nevertheless, he was going thither.

As he meditated, he whipped up his horse, which was proceeding at that fine, regular, and even trot which accomplishes two leagues and a half an hour.
In proportion as the cabriolet advanced, he felt something within him draw back.

At daybreak he was in the open country; the town of M. sur M. lay far behind him.He watched the horizon grow white; he stared at all the chilly figures of a winter's dawn as they passed before his eyes, but without seeing them.The morning has its spectres as well as the evening.He did not see them; but without his being aware of it, and by means of a sort of penetration which was almost physical, these black silhouettes of trees and of hills added some gloomy and sinister quality to the violent state of his soul.

Each time that he passed one of those isolated dwellings which sometimes border on the highway, he said to himself, "And yet there are people there within who are sleeping!"

The trot of the horse, the bells on the harness, the wheels on the road, produced a gentle, monotonous noise.These things are charming when one is joyous, and lugubrious when one is sad.

It was broad daylight when he arrived at Hesdin.He halted in front of the inn, to allow the horse a breathing spell, and to have him given some oats.

The horse belonged, as Scaufflaire had said, to that small race of the Boulonnais, which has too much head, too much belly, and not enough neck and shoulders, but which has a broad chest, a large crupper, thin, fine legs, and solid hoofs--a homely, but a robust and healthy race.The excellent beast had travelled five leagues in two hours, and had not a drop of sweat on his loins.

He did not get out of the tilbury.The stableman who brought the oats suddenly bent down and examined the left wheel.
"Are you going far in this condition?" said the man.

He replied, with an air of not having roused himself from his revery:--
"Why?"

"Have you come from a great distance?" went on the man.
"Five leagues."
"Ah!"

"Why do you say, `Ah?'"
The man bent down once more, was silent for a moment, with his eyes fixed on the wheel; then he rose erect and said:--
"Because, though this wheel has travelled five leagues, it certainly will not travel another quarter of a league."

He sprang out of the tilbury.
"What is that you say, my friend?"

"I say that it is a miracle that you should have travelled five leagues without you and your horse rolling into some ditch on the highway. Just see here!"

The wheel really had suffered serious damage.The shock administered by the mail-wagon had split two spokes and strained the hub, so that the nut no longer held firm.

"My friend," he said to the stableman, "is there a wheelwright here?"
"Certainly, sir."

"Do me the service to go and fetch him."
"He is only a step from here.Hey!Master Bourgaillard!"

Master Bourgaillard, the wheelwright, was standing on his own threshold. He came, examined the wheel and made a grimace like a surgeon when the latter thinks a limb is broken.
"Can you repair this wheel immediately?"

"Yes, sir."
"When can I set out again?"
"To-morrow."
"To-morrow!"

"There is a long day's work on it.Are you in a hurry, sir?"
"In a very great hurry.I must set out again in an hour at the latest."
"Impossible, sir."

"I will pay whatever you ask."
"Impossible."
"Well, in two hours, then."

"Impossible to-day. Two new spokes and a hub must be made. Monsieur will not be able to start before to-morrow morning."
"The matter cannot wait until to-morrow. What if you were to replace this wheel instead of repairing it?"
"How so?"

"You are a wheelwright?"
"Certainly, sir."
"Have you not a wheel that you can sell me?Then I could start again at once."
"A spare wheel?"
"Yes."

"I have no wheel on hand that would fit your cabriolet.Two wheels make a pair.Two wheels cannot be put together hap-hazard."
"In that case, sell me a pair of wheels."
"Not all wheels fit all axles, sir."
"Try, nevertheless."

"It is useless, sir.I have nothing to sell but cart-wheels. We are but a poor country here."
"Have you a cabriolet that you can let me have?"

The wheelwright had seen at the first glance that the tilbury was a hired vehicle.He shrugged his shoulders.
"You treat the cabriolets that people let you so well!If I had one, I would not let it to you!"

"Well, sell it to me, then."
"I have none."
"What! not even a spring-cart? I am not hard to please, as you see."

"We live in a poor country.There is, in truth," added the wheelwright, "an old calash under the shed yonder, which belongs to a bourgeois of the town, who gave it to me to take care of, and who only uses it on the thirty-sixth of the month--never, that is to say.I might let that to you, for what matters it to me?But the bourgeois must not see it pass--and then, it is a calash; it would require two horses."

"I will take two post-horses."
"Where is Monsieur going?"
"To Arras."

"And Monsieur wishes to reach there to-day?"
"Yes, of course."
"By taking two post-horses?"
"Why not?"

"Does it make any difference whether Monsieur arrives at four o'clock to-morrow morning?"
"Certainly not."
"There is one thing to be said about that, you see, by taking post-horses-- Monsieur has his passport?"
"Yes."

"Well, by taking post-horses, Monsieur cannot reach Arras before to-morrow. We are on a cross-road. The relays are badly served, the horses are in the fields.The season for ploughing is just beginning; heavy teams are required, and horses are seized upon everywhere, from the post as well as elsewhere.Monsieur will have to wait three or four hours at the least at every relay. And, then, they drive at a walk.There are many hills to ascend."

"Come then, I will go on horseback.Unharness the cabriolet. Some one can surely sell me a saddle in the neighborhood."
"Without doubt.But will this horse bear the saddle?"
"That is true; you remind me of that; he will not bear it."

"Then--"
"But I can surely hire a horse in the village?"
"A horse to travel to Arras at one stretch?"

"Yes."
"That would require such a horse as does not exist in these parts. You would have to buy it to begin with, because no one knows you. But you will not find one for sale nor to let, for five hundred francs, or for a thousand."
"What am I to do?"

"The best thing is to let me repair the wheel like an honest man, and set out on your journey to-morrow."
"To-morrow will be too late."

"The deuce!"
"Is there not a mail-wagon which runs to Arras?When will it pass?"
"To-night. Both the posts pass at night; the one going as well as the one coming."

"What!It will take you a day to mend this wheel?"
"A day, and a good long one."
"If you set two men to work?"

"If I set ten men to work."
"What if the spokes were to be tied together with ropes?"
"That could be done with the spokes, not with the hub; and the felly is in a bad state, too."

"Is there any one in this village who lets out teams?"
"No."
"Is there another wheelwright?"

The stableman and the wheelwright replied in concert, with a toss of the head
"No."
He felt an immense joy.

It was evident that providence was intervening.That it was it who had broken the wheel of the tilbury and who was stopping him on the road.He had not yielded to this sort of first summons; he had just made every possible effort to continue the journey; he had loyally and scrupulously exhausted all means; he had been deterred neither by the season, nor fatigue, nor by the expense; he had nothing with which to reproach himself.If he went no further, that was no fault of his.It did not concern him further. It was no longer his fault.It was not the act of his own conscience, but the act of providence.

He breathed again.He breathed freely and to the full extent of his lungs for the first time since Javert's visit.It seemed to him that the hand of iron which had held his heart in its grasp for the last twenty hours had just released him.

It seemed to him that God was for him now, and was manifesting Himself.
He said himself that he had done all he could, and that now he had nothing to do but retrace his steps quietly.

If his conversation with the wheelwright had taken place in a chamber of the inn, it would have had no witnesses, no one would have heard him, things would have rested there, and it is probable that we should not have had to relate any of the occurrences which the reader is about to peruse; but this conversation had taken place in the street. Any colloquy in the street inevitably attracts a crowd.There are always people who ask nothing better than to become spectators. While he was questioning the wheelwright, some people who were passing back and forth halted around them.After listening for a few minutes, a young lad, to whom no one had paid any heed, detached himself from the group and ran off.

At the moment when the traveller, after the inward deliberation which we have just described, resolved to retrace his steps, this child returned.He was accompanied by an old woman.

"Monsieur," said the woman, "my boy tells me that you wish to hire a cabriolet."

These simple words uttered by an old woman led by a child made the perspiration trickle down his limbs.He thought that he beheld the hand which had relaxed its grasp reappear in the darkness behind him, ready to seize him once more.

He answered:--
"Yes, my good woman; I am in search of a cabriolet which I can hire."

And he hastened to add:--
"But there is none in the place."
"Certainly there is," said the old woman.

"Where?" interpolated the wheelwright.
"At my house," replied the old woman.
He shuddered.The fatal hand had grasped him again.

The old woman really had in her shed a sort of basket spring-cart. The wheelwright and the stable-man, in despair at the prospect of the traveller escaping their clutches, interfered.

"It was a frightful old trap; it rests flat on the axle; it is an actual fact that the seats were suspended inside it by leather thongs; the rain came into it; the wheels were rusted and eaten with moisture; it would not go much further than the tilbury; a regular ramshackle old stage-wagon; the gentleman would make a great mistake if he trusted himself to it," etc., etc.

All this was true; but this trap, this ramshackle old vehicle, this thing, whatever it was, ran on its two wheels and could go to Arras.

He paid what was asked, left the tilbury with the wheelwright to be repaired, intending to reclaim it on his return, had the white horse put to the cart, climbed into it, and resumed the road which he had been travelling since morning.

At the moment when the cart moved off, he admitted that he had felt, a moment previously, a certain joy in the thought that he should not go whither he was now proceeding.He examined this joy with a sort of wrath, and found it absurd.Why should he feel joy at turning back? After all, he was taking this trip of his own free will. No one was forcing him to it.

And assuredly nothing would happen except what he should choose.

As he left Hesdin, he heard a voice shouting to him:"Stop!Stop!" He halted the cart with a vigorous movement which contained a feverish and convulsive element resembling hope.

It was the old woman's little boy.
"Monsieur," said the latter, "it was I who got the cart for you."

"Well?"
"You have not given me anything."

He who gave to all so readily thought this demand exorbitant and almost odious.
"Ah! it's you, you scamp?" said he; "you shall have nothing."
He whipped up his horse and set off at full speed.

He had lost a great deal of time at Hesdin.He wanted to make it good. The little horse was courageous, and pulled for two; but it was the month of February, there had been rain; the roads were bad. And then, it was no longer the tilbury.The cart was very heavy, and in addition, there were many ascents.

He took nearly four hours to go from Hesdin to Saint-pol; four hours for five leagues.

At Saint-pol he had the horse unharnessed at the first inn he came to and led to the stable; as he had promised Scaufflaire, he stood beside the manger while the horse was eating; he thought of sad and confusing things.

The inn-keeper's wife came to the stable.
"Does not Monsieur wish to breakfast?"
"Come, that is true; I even have a good appetite."

He followed the woman, who had a rosy, cheerful face; she led him to the public room where there were tables covered with waxed cloth.
"Make haste!" said he; "I must start again; I am in a hurry."

A big Flemish servant-maid placed his knife and fork in all haste; he looked at the girl with a sensation of comfort.
"That is what ailed me," he thought; "I had not breakfasted."

His breakfast was served; he seized the bread, took a mouthful, and then slowly replaced it on the table, and did not touch it again.
A carter was eating at another table; he said to this man:--
"Why is their bread so bitter here?"

The carter was a German and did not understand him.
He returned to the stable and remained near the horse.
An hour later he had quitted Saint-pol and was directing his course towards Tinques, which is only five leagues from Arras.

What did he do during this journey?Of what was he thinking? As in the morning, he watched the trees, the thatched roofs, the tilled fields pass by, and the way in which the landscape, broken at every turn of the road, vanished; this is a sort of contemplation which sometimes suffices to the soul, and almost relieves it from thought.What is more melancholy and more profound than to see a thousand objects for the first and the last time? To travel is to be born and to die at every instant; perhaps, in the vaguest region of his mind, be did make comparisons between the shifting horizon and our human existence:all the things of life are perpetually fleeing before us; the dark and bright intervals are intermingled; after a dazzling moment, an eclipse; we look, we hasten, we stretch out our hands to grasp what is passing; each event is a turn in the road, and, all at once, we are old; we feel a shock; all is black; we distinguish an obscure door; the gloomy horse of life, which has been drawing us halts, and we see a veiled and unknown person unharnessing amid the shadows.

Twilight was falling when the children who were coming out of school beheld this traveller enter Tinques; it is true that the days were still short; he did not halt at Tinques; as he emerged from the village, a laborer, who was mending the road with stones, raised his head and said to him:--
"That horse is very much fatigued."

The poor beast was, in fact, going at a walk.
"Are you going to Arras?" added the road-mender.

"Yes."
"If you go on at that rate you will not arrive very early."
He stopped his horse, and asked the laborer:--

"How far is it from here to Arras?"
"Nearly seven good leagues."
"How is that? the posting guide only says five leagues and a quarter."

"Ah!" returned the road-mender, "so you don't know that the road is under repair?You will find it barred a quarter of an hour further on; there is no way to proceed further."
"Really?"

"You will take the road on the left, leading to Carency; you will cross the river; when you reach Camblin, you will turn to the right; that is the road to Mont-Saint-Eloy which leads to Arras."

"But it is night, and I shall lose my way."
"You do not belong in these parts?"
"No."

"And, besides, it is all cross-roads; stop! sir," resumed the road-mender; "shall I give you a piece of advice? your horse is tired; return to Tinques; there is a good inn there; sleep there; you can reach Arras to-morrow."

"I must be there this evening."
"That is different; but go to the inn all the same, and get an extra horse; the stable-boy will guide you through the cross-roads."

He followed the road-mender's advice, retraced his steps, and, half an hour later, he passed the same spot again, but this time at full speed, with a good horse to aid; a stable-boy, who called himself a postilion, was seated on the shaft of the cariole.

Still, he felt that he had lost time.
Night had fully come.

They turned into the cross-road; the way became frightfully bad; the cart lurched from one rut to the other; he said to the postilion:--
"Keep at a trot, and you shall have a double fee."
In one of the jolts, the whiffle-tree broke.

"There's the whiffle-tree broken, sir," said the postilion; "I don't know how to harness my horse now; this road is very bad at night; if you wish to return and sleep at Tinques, we could be in Arras early to-morrow morning."
He replied, "Have you a bit of rope and a knife?"

"Yes, sir."
He cut a branch from a tree and made a whiffle-tree of it.
This caused another loss of twenty minutes; but they set out again at a gallop.

The plain was gloomy; low-hanging, black, crisp fogs crept over the hills and wrenched themselves away like smoke:there were whitish gleams in the clouds; a strong breeze which blew in from the sea produced a sound in all quarters of the horizon, as of some one moving furniture; everything that could be seen assumed attitudes of terror. How many things shiver beneath these vast breaths of the night!

He was stiff with cold; he had eaten nothing since the night before; he vaguely recalled his other nocturnal trip in the vast plain in the neighborhood of D----, eight years previously, and it seemed but yesterday.

The hour struck from a distant tower; he asked the boy:--
"What time is it?"
"Seven o'clock, sir; we shall reach Arras at eight; we have but three leagues still to go."

At that moment, he for the first time indulged in this reflection, thinking it odd the while that it had not occurred to him sooner: that all this trouble which he was taking was, perhaps, useless; that he did not know so much as the hour of the trial; that he should, at least, have informed himself of that; that he was foolish to go thus straight ahead without knowing whether he would be of any service or not; then he sketched out some calculations in his mind: that, ordinarily, the sittings of the Court of Assizes began at nine o'clock in the morning; that it could not be a long affair; that the theft of the apples would be very brief; that there would then remain only a question of identity, four or five depositions, and very little for the lawyers to say; that he should arrive after all was over.

The postilion whipped up the horses; they had crossed the river and left Mont-Saint-Eloy behind them.
The night grew more profound.

     那时候，从阿拉斯到滨海蒙特勒伊的邮政仍使用着帝国时代的那种小箱车。那箱车是种两轮小车，内壁装了橙黄色的革，车身悬在螺旋式的弹簧上，只有两个位子，一个是给邮差坐的，另一个是备乘客坐的。车轮上面装有那种妨害人的长毂，使别的车子必须和它保持一定的距离，现在在德国的道路上还可以看见那种车子。邮件箱是一只长方形的大匣子，装在车子的后部，和车身连成一体。箱子是黑漆的，车身则是黄漆。

    那种车子有一种说不出的佝偻丑态，现在已没有什么东西和它相似的了；我们远远望见那种车子走过，或见它在地平线上沿路匍匐前进，它们正象，我想是，大家称作白蚁的那种有白色细腰、拖着庞大臂部的昆虫。但是它们走得相当快。那种箱车于每夜一点，在来自巴黎的邮车到了以后，便从阿拉斯出发，快到早晨五点时，便到了滨海蒙特勒伊。那天晚上，经爱司丹去滨海蒙特勒伊的箱车，在正进城时，在一条街的转角处，撞上了一辆从对面来的小车，那小车是由一匹白马拉的，里面只有一个围着斗篷的人。小车的车轮受了一下很猛的撞击，邮差叫那人停下来，但是那驾车的人不理，照旧快步趱赶，继续他的行程。

    “这真是个鬼一样性急的人！”那邮差说。那个如此匆忙的人，便是我们刚才看见在狠命挣扎、确实值得怜悯的同一个人。

    他去哪儿？他不能说。他为何如此匆忙？他不知道。他漫无目的地向前走。什么方向呢？想必是阿拉斯，但是他也许还要到别处去。有时，他觉得他会那样去作，他不禁颤栗起来。他沉没在那种黑夜里，如同沉没在深渊中一样。有样东西在推他，有样东西在拖他。他心里的事，此时大概没有人能说出来，但将来大家全会了解的。在一生中有谁一次也不曾进入那渺茫的幽窟呢？况且他完全没有拿定主意，完全没有下定决心，完全没有选定，一点也没有准备。他内心的一切活动是不确定的。他彻彻底底还是当初的那个样子。

    他为什么去阿拉斯？

    他心里一再重复着他向斯戈弗莱尔定车子时曾向自己说过的那些话：“不论结果是什么，也绝不妨亲眼去看一下，亲自去判断那些事”；“为谨慎起见，也应该了解一下经过情形”；“没有观察研究，就作不出任何决定”；“离得远了，总不免遇事夸张，一旦看见了商马第这个无赖，自己的良心也许会大大地轻松下来，也就可以让他去代替自己受苦刑；”“沙威当然会在那里，还有那些老苦役犯布莱卫、舍呢杰、戈什巴依，从前虽然认识他，但现在决不会认出他”；“啐！胡想！”“沙威还完全蒙在鼓里呢”；“一切猜想和一切怀疑，都集中在商马第身上，并且猜想和怀疑都是最顽固的东西”；“因此绝无危险”。

    那当然还是不幸的时刻，但是他不会受牵累；总之，无论他的命运会怎样险恶，他总还把它捏在自己的手中；他是他命运的主人。他坚持那种想法。
    实际上，说句真话，他更喜欢能不去阿拉斯。可是他去了。
    他边思前想后边鞭马，那马稳步踏实，向前趱进，每小时要走二法里半。

    车子越往前，他的心却越后退。破晓时分，他已到了平坦的乡间，滨海蒙特勒伊城已远远落在他的后面。他望着天边在发白；他望着，却不看见，冬季天明时分的各种寒冷景象，一一从他眼前掠过。早晨和黄昏一样，有它的各种幻影。他并没有看见它们，但是那些树木和山丘的黑影，象穿过他的身体似的，在他不知不觉之中，使他那紧张的心情更增添了一种无法形容的凄凉。

    他每经过有时靠近路旁的一所孤零零的房子，便向自己说：“那里肯定还有人睡在床上！”

    马蹄、铜铃、车轮，一路上合成了柔和单调的声音。那些东西，在快乐的人听来非常悦耳，但伤心却觉得无限苍凉。他到爱司丹时天已经大亮了。他在一家客栈门前停下来，让马喘口气，又叫人给他拿来荞麦。那匹马，斯戈弗莱尔已经说过，是布洛涅种的小马，头部和腹部都太大，颈太短，但是胸部开展，臂部宽阔，腿长而细，脚劲坚实，其貌不扬而体格强健，那头出色的牲口，在两个钟头之内，走了五法里，并且臂上没有一滴汗珠。他没有下车。那送荞麦来喂马的马夫忽然蹲下去，检查那左边的轮子。

    “您打算这样走远路吗？”那人说。他几乎还萦回在梦中，回答说：“怎么呢？”

    “您是从远处来的吗？”那小伙计又问。
    “离此地五法里。”
    “哎呀！”

    “您为什么说‘哎呀’？”那小伙计又弯下腰去，停了一会不出声，仔细看那轮子，随后立起来说道：“就是因为这轮子刚才走了五法里路，也许没有错，但是现在它决走不了一法里的四分之一了。”
    他从车上跳下来。

    “您说什么，我的朋友？”“我说您走了五法里路，而您却没有连人带马滚到大路边上的沟里去，那真是上帝有灵。您自己看吧。”
    那轮子确实受了重创。那辆邮政箱车撞断了两根轮辐，并且把那轮毂也撞破了一块，螺旋已经站不稳了。
    “我的朋友，”他向那马房伙计说，“这里有车匠吗？”“当然有的，先生。”

    “请您帮我个忙，去找他来。”
    “他不在那面，才两步路。喂！布加雅师父！”车匠布加雅师父正在他门口，他走来检查了那车轮，做出一副丑脸，正象个研究一条断腿的外科医师。

    “您能立刻把这轮子修好吗？”
    “行，先生。”
    “我在什么时候可以再上路呢？”

    “明天。”
    “明天！”
    “这里有足足一整天的活呢。先生有急事吗？”
    “非常急。我最迟也非在一个钟头以内上路不可。”“不可能，先生。”
    “您要多少钱，我都照给。”

    “不可能。”
    “那么，两个钟头以内。”
    “今天是不行的了。我必须重新做两根轮辐和一个轮毂。先生在明天以前是走不成的了。”
    “我的事不能等到明天。要是不修那轮子，您另换一个，可以吗？”

    “怎么换？”
    “您是车匠师父吗？”
    “当然，先生。”
    “难道您没有一个轮子卖给我吗？我就马上可以走了。”“一个备用的轮子吗？”
    “是呀。”

    “我没有替您这轮车准备好轮子。轮子总是一对对配好的。两个轮子不是偶然碰上就能成双成对的。”
    “不妨试试。”
    “不中用，先生。我只有小牛车轮子出卖，我们这里是个小地方。”

    “您有没有一辆坐车租给我呢？”那位车匠师父一眼就认出他那辆小车是租来的。他耸了耸肩。“人家把车子租给您，您可真照顾得好！我有也不租给您。”“那么，卖给我呢？”
    “我没有车卖。”

“什么！一辆破车也没有吗？您看得出，我不是难说话的。”“我们这儿是个小地方。在那边车棚里，”那车匠接着说，“我有一辆旧的软兜车，是城里的一位绅士交给我保管的，他要到每个月的三十六号①才用一次。我完全可以把它租给您，那和我有什么相干？但是切不可让那位绅士看见它走过；而且，那是一辆软兜车，非有两匹马不行。”
①于说“从来不用”。

    “我可以用邮局的马。”
    “先生去什么地方？”
    “去阿拉斯。”
    “而且先生今天就要到吗？”

    “是呀。”
    “用邮局的马？”
    “为什么不呢？”
    “假使先生在今天夜里四点钟到，可以不可以呢？”“决不可以。”
    “就是，您知道，有件事要说，用邮局的马的话??先生有护照吗？”
    “有。”

    “那么，用邮局的马的话，先生也不能在明天之前到达阿拉斯。我们是在一条支路上。换马站的工作做得很差，马都在田里。犁田的季节 已经开始了。大家都需要壮马，邮局和别的地方都一样在四处找马。先生在每个换马站都至少得等上三四个钟头。并且只能慢慢地走。有许多斜坡要爬。”
    “唉，我骑着马去吧。请您把车子解下来。在这地方我总买得到一 套鞍子吧。”

    “当然买得到。但是这匹马肯受鞍子吗？”
    “真的，您提醒了我。这马不肯受鞍子。”
    “那么??”
    “在这村子里，我总可以找得到一匹出租的马吧。”“一匹一口气走到阿拉斯的马吗？”
    “对了。”

    “您非得有一匹在我们这地方找不着的那种马才行。首先，您得买，因为我们不认识您。但是既没有卖的，也没有租的，五百法郎，一千法郎，都不中用。您找不到一匹那样的马。”“怎么办？”

    “最好是这样，老实人说老实话，我来修您的轮子，您等到明天再走。”
    “明天太迟了。”
    “圣母！”

    “此地没有去阿拉斯的邮车吗？它在什么时候经过？”“今晚。那两辆箱车，一上一下，都走夜路。”
    “怎么！您非得有一天工夫才能修好那轮子吗？”

    “一天，并且是整整的一天！”
    “用两个工人呢？”“用十个也不成！”
    “如果我们用绳子把那两条轮辐绑起来呢？”

    “绑轮辐，可以，绑轮毂，不行。并且轮箍也坏了。”“城里有出租车子的人吗？”
    “没有。”
    “另外还有车匠吗？”那马夫和车匠师父同时摇着头答道：“没有。”

    他感到一种莫大的快乐。上天从中布置，那是很明显的了。折断车轮，使他中途停顿，那正是天意。他对这初次的昭示，还不折服，他刚才已竭尽全力想找出继续前进的可能性，他已忠诚地、细心地想尽了一切办法，他在时令、劳顿、费用面前都没有退缩，他没有丝毫可谴责自己之处。假使他不再走远，那已不关他的事。那已不是他的过失，不是他的良心问题，而是天意。

    他吐了一口气。自从沙威访问以来，他第一次舒畅地、长长地吐了口气。他仿佛觉得，二十个钟头以来紧握着他心的那只铁手刚才已经松下来了。
    他仿佛觉得现在上帝是袒护他的了，并且表明了旨意。他向自己说他已尽了他的全力，现在只好心安理得地转身回去。

    假使他和那车匠的谈话是在客栈中的一间屋子里进行而没有旁人在场，没有旁人听到他们的谈话，事情也许会就此停顿下来，我们将要读到的那些波折也就无从谈起来了，但是那次谈话是在街上进行的。街上的交接总免不了要引来一些围着看热闹的观众，随时随地都有那种专门喜欢看热闹的人。当他在问那车匠时，有些来往过路的便在他们周围停了下来。其中有个年轻孩子，当时也没人注意他，他听了几分钟以后就离开那群人跑了。这位赶路人在经过了我们刚才所说的那些思想活动之后，正打算原路踅回头，那孩子回来了。还有一个老妇人跟着他。“先生，”老妇人说，“我的孩子告诉我，说您想租一辆车子。”出自那孩子带来的老妇人口中的这句简单的话，立刻使他汗流浃背。他仿佛看见那只已经放了他的手又出现在他背后的黑影里，正准备再抓住他。

    他回答：

    “是的，好妈妈，我要找一辆出租的车子。”他又连忙加上一句：“不过这地方没有车子。”
    “有。”那妇人说。
    “哪儿会有？”车匠问。

    “在我家里。”老妇人回答。他吃了一惊。那只追命的手又抓住他了。老妇人在一个车棚下确有一辆柳条车。车匠和那客栈里的佣人，看见自己的买卖做不成，大不高兴，岔着说些诸如此类的话：“那是辆吓坏人的破车”，“它是直接安在轴上的”，“那些坐板的确是用些皮带子挂在车子里面的”，“里面漏水”，“轮子都锈了，并且都因潮湿锈坏了”，“它不见得能比这辆小车走得更远”，“一辆真正的破车！”，“这位先生如果去坐那种车子，才真叫上当呢”。那些话全是真实，但是那辆破车，那辆朽车，那东西，无论如何，总能在它的两只轮子上面滚动，并且能滚到阿拉斯。他付了她要的租金，把那辆小车留在车匠家里，让他去修，约定回头再来取，把那匹白马套在车上，上了车，又走上他已走了一早晨的那条路。

    当那车子开始起动时，他心里承认，刚才他想到他不用再到他要去的那个地方，那一瞬间是多么的轻松愉快。他气恼地检查那种愉快心情，觉得有些荒谬。向后退转，为什么就要愉快呢？无论如何，他走不走都有自由。谁也没有强迫他。

    况且他决不会碰到他不想碰到的事。他正走出爱司丹，有个人的声音在对他喊叫：“停！停！”他用一种敏捷的动作停了车，在那动作里似乎又有一种急躁紧张、类似希望的意味。

    是那老妇人的孩子。
    “先生，”他说，“是我替您找来这辆车子的。”“那又怎么样呢？”

    “您什么也还没有给我。”无处不施舍。并且那样乐于施舍的他，这时却觉得那种奢望是过分的，并且是丑恶的。
    “呀！是吗，小妖怪？”他说，“你什么也得不着！”他鞭着马，一溜烟走了。

    他在爱司丹耽误太久了，他想把时间夺回来。那匹小马很得力，拉起车来一匹马可以当两匹，不过当时正是二月天气，下了雨，路也坏。而且，这已经不是那辆小车，这辆车实在难拉，而且又很重。还得上许多坡。

    他几乎费了四个钟头，才从爱司丹走到圣波尔。四个钟头五法里。进了圣波尔，他在最先见到的客栈里解下了马，叫人把它带到马房。

    在马吃粮时，他照他答应斯戈弗莱尔的去做，立在槽边。他想到了一些伤心而漫无头绪的事。
    那客栈的老板娘来到马房里。

    “先生不吃午饭吗？”
    “哈，真是，”他说，“我很想吃。”他跟着那个面貌鲜润的快乐妇人走。她把他带进一间矮厅，厅里有些桌子，桌上铺着漆布台巾。

    “请快一点，”他又说，“我还要赶路。我有急事。”一个佛兰德胖侍女连忙摆上餐具。他望着那姑娘，有了点舒畅的感受。
    “我原来是为这件事难受，”他想，“我还没有吃早饭。”吃的东西拿来了。他急忙拿起一块面包，咬了一大口，随后又慢慢地把它放在桌子上，不再动它了。

    有个车夫在另外一张桌上吃东西。他向那个人说：“他们这儿的面包为什么会这样苦巴巴的？”
    那车夫是个德国人，没有听见。
    他又回到马棚里，立在马的旁边。一个钟头过后，他离开了圣波尔，向丹克进发，丹克离阿拉斯还有五法里。

    在那段路上，他做了些什么呢？想了些什么呢，象早晨一样，他望着树木、房屋的草顶、犁好的田一一在他的眼前显现消逝，每转一个弯，原来的景物忽又渺然无踪。那种欣赏有时是能使心神快慰的，也几乎能使人忘怀一切。生平第一次，也是最后一次，他望着万千景色，再没有什么比这更黯然销魂的了！旅行就是随时生又随时死。也许他正处在他精神上最朦胧的状态中，他在拿那些变幻无常的景致来比拟人生。人生的万事万物都在我们眼前随时消失，黑暗光明，交错相替；光辉灿烂之后，忽又天地晦冥；人们望着，忙着，伸出手抓住那些掠过的东西；每件事都是道路的拐角；倏忽之间，人已衰老。我们蓦然觉得一切都黑了，我们看见一扇幽暗的门，当年供我们驰骋的那匹暗色的生命之马已停了下来，我们看见一个面目模糊、素不相识的人在黑暗中卸下了它的辔头。挨近黄昏时，一些放学的孩子望见那位旅人进了丹克。真的，那正是一年中日短夜长的季节。他在丹克没有停留。当他驰出那乡镇，一个在路上铺石子的路工抬起头来说：“这马真够累了。”那可怜的牲口确实也只能慢慢地走了。

    “您去阿拉斯吗？”那个路工又说。
    “是的。”

    “象您这样子走去，恐怕您不会到得太早吧。”他勒住马，问那路工：“从此地到阿拉斯还有多少路？”
    “差不多整整还有七法里。”

    “哪里的话？邮政手册上只标了五法里又四分之一。”“呀！”那路工接着说，“您不知道我们正在修路吗？您从此地起走一刻钟，就会看见路断了。没有法子再走过去。”“真的吗？”

    “您可以向左转，走那条到加兰西去的路，过河，等您到了康白朗，再向右转，便是从圣爱洛山到阿拉斯的那条路。”“可是天快黑了，我会走错路。”

    “您不是本地人吗？”
    “不是。”
    “您又不熟悉，又全是岔路。这样吧，先生，”那路工接着说，“您要我替您出个主意吗？您的马累了，您回到丹克去。那里有家好客栈。在那里过了夜，明天再去阿拉斯。”

    “我必须今晚到达阿拉斯。”
    “那是另一回事了。那么，您仍到那客栈走一趟，加上一匹边马。马夫还可以引您走小路。”

    他接受了那路工的建议，退转回去，半个钟头以后，他再走过那地方，但是加了一匹壮马，快步跑过去了。一个马夫坐在车辕上领路。
    可是他觉得时间已经耽误了。天已黑荆

    他们走进岔路。路坏极了。车子从这条辙里落到那条辙里。他向那向导说：“再照先头那样快步跑，酒资加倍。”车子落在一个坑里，把车前拴挽带的那条横木震断了。“先生，”那向导说，“横木断了。我不知怎样套我的马，这条路在晚上太难走了，假使您愿回到丹克去睡，明天清早我们可以到阿拉斯。”他回答说：“你有根绳子和一把刀吗？”

    “有，先生。”他砍了一根树枝，做了一根拴挽带的横杆。那样又耽误了二十分钟，但是他们跑着出发了。

    平原是惨暗的。低垂的浓雾，象烟一样在山岗上交绕匍匐。浮云中映出微白的余辉。阵阵狂风从海上吹来，在地平线的每个角落发出了一 片仿佛有人在拖动家具的声音。凡是隐隐可见的一切都露出恐怖的景象。多少东西在那遍布的夜气中惶惶战栗！他受到了寒气的侵袭。从昨夜起，他一直都没吃东西。他隐约回忆起从前在迪涅城外旷野上夜行的情景。那已是八年前的事了，想来却仿佛是在昨天。

    他听到远处的钟声，问那年轻人说：
    “什么时候了？”

    “七点了，先生，八点钟我们可以到达阿拉斯。我们只有三法里了。”这时，他才第一次这样想，他觉得很奇怪，自己以前为什么不曾这样想：他费了这么大的劲，也许只是徒劳往返，他连开庭的时间都还不知道；至少他应该先打听一下，只这样往前走而不知道究竟有无益处，确实有些孟浪。随后他心里又这样计算：平时法庭开审，常在早晨九点；这件案子不会需要多长时间的；偷苹果的事，很快就可以结束的；余下的只是怎样证明他是谁的问题了；陈述过四五件证据后，律师们也就没有多少话可说；等到他到场，已经全部结案了。

那向导鞭着马。他们过了河，圣爱洛山落在了他们后面。夜色越来越深了。

But at that moment Fantine was joyous.

She had passed a very bad night; her cough was frightful; her fever had doubled in intensity; she had had dreams:in the morning, when the doctor paid his visit, she was delirious; he assumed an alarmed look, and ordered that he should be informed as soon as M. Madeleine arrived.

All the morning she was melancholy, said but little, and laid plaits in her sheets, murmuring the while, in a low voice, calculations which seemed to be calculations of distances. Her eyes were hollow and staring.They seemed almost extinguished at intervals, then lighted up again and shone like stars. It seems as though, at the approach of a certain dark hour, the light of heaven fills those who are quitting the light of earth.

Each time that Sister Simplice asked her how she felt, she replied invariably, "Well.I should like to see M. Madeleine."

Some months before this, at the moment when Fantine had just lost her last modesty, her last shame, and her last joy, she was the shadow of herself; now she was the spectre of herself.physical suffering had completed the work of moral suffering.This creature of five and twenty had a wrinkled brow, flabby cheeks, pinched nostrils, teeth from which the gums had receded, a leaden complexion, a bony neck, prominent shoulder-blades, frail limbs, a clayey skin, and her golden hair was growing out sprinkled with gray. Alas! how illness improvises old-age!

At mid-day the physician returned, gave some directions, inquired whether the mayor had made his appearance at the infirmary, and shook his head.

M. Madeleine usually came to see the invalid at three o'clock. As exactness is kindness, he was exact.
About half-past two, Fantine began to be restless.In the course of twenty minutes, she asked the nun more than ten times, "What time is it, sister?"

Three o'clock struck.At the third stroke, Fantine sat up in bed; she who could, in general, hardly turn over, joined her yellow, fleshless hands in a sort of convulsive clasp, and the nun heard her utter one of those profound sighs which seem to throw off dejection. Then Fantine turned and looked at the door.
No one entered; the door did not open.

She remained thus for a quarter of an hour, her eyes riveted on the door, motionless and apparently holding her breath.The sister dared not speak to her.The clock struck a quarter past three. Fantine fell back on her pillow.

She said nothing, but began to plait the sheets once more.

Half an hour passed, then an hour, no one came; every time the clock struck, Fantine started up and looked towards the door, then fell back again.

Her thought was clearly perceptible, but she uttered no name, she made no complaint, she blamed no one.But she coughed in a melancholy way. One would have said that something dark was descending upon her. She was livid and her lips were blue.She smiled now and then.

Five o'clock struck.Then the sister heard her say, very low and gently, "He is wrong not to come to-day, since I am going away to-morrow."
Sister Simplice herself was surprised at M. Madeleine's delay.

In the meantime, Fantine was staring at the tester of her bed. She seemed to be endeavoring to recall something.All at once she began to sing in a voice as feeble as a breath.The nun listened. This is what Fantine was singing:--

"Lovely things we will buy As we stroll the faubourgs through. Roses are pink, corn-flowers are blue, I love my love, corn-flowers are blue.

"Yestere'en the Virgin Mary came near my stove, in a broidered mantle clad, and said to me, `Here, hide 'neath my veil the child whom you one day begged from me.Haste to the city, buy linen, buy a needle, buy thread.'
"Lovely things we will buy As we stroll the faubourgs through.

"Dear Holy Virgin, beside my stove I have set a cradle with ribbons decked.God may give me his loveliest star; I prefer the child thou hast granted me.`Madame, what shall I do with this linen fine?'--`Make of it clothes for thy new-born babe.'
"Roses are pink and corn-flowers are blue, I love my love, and corn-flowers are blue.

"`Wash this linen.'--`Where?'--`In the stream.Make of it, soiling not, spoiling not, a petticoat fair with its bodice fine, which I will embroider and fill with flowers.'--`Madame, the child is no longer here; what is to be done?'--`Then make of it a winding-sheet in which to bury me.'

"Lovely things we will buy As we stroll the faubourgs through, Roses are pink, corn-flowers are blue, I love my love, corn-flowers are blue."

This song was an old cradle romance with which she had, in former days, lulled her little Cosette to sleep, and which had never recurred to her mind in all the five years during which she had been parted from her child.She sang it in so sad a voice, and to so sweet an air, that it was enough to make any one, even a nun, weep.The sister, accustomed as she was to austerities, felt a tear spring to her eyes.

The clock struck six.Fantine did not seem to hear it.She no longer seemed to pay attention to anything about her.

Sister Simplice sent a serving-maid to inquire of the portress of the factory, whether the mayor had returned, and if he would not come to the infirmary soon.The girl returned in a few minutes.
Fantine was still motionless and seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.

The servant informed Sister Simplice in a very low tone, that the mayor had set out that morning before six o'clock, in a little tilbury harnessed to a white horse, cold as the weather was; that he had gone alone, without even a driver; that no one knew what road he had taken; that people said he had been seen to turn into the road to Arras; that others asserted that they had met him on the road to paris. That when he went away he had been very gentle, as usual, and that he had merely told the portress not to expect him that night.

While the two women were whispering together, with their backs turned to Fantine's bed, the sister interrogating, the servant conjecturing, Fantine, with the feverish vivacity of certain organic maladies, which unite the free movements of health with the frightful emaciation of death, had raised herself to her knees in bed, with her shrivelled hands resting on the bolster, and her head thrust through the opening of the curtains, and was listening. All at once she cried:--

"You are speaking of M. Madeleine!Why are you talking so low? What is he doing?Why does he not come?"

Her voice was so abrupt and hoarse that the two women thought they heard the voice of a man; they wheeled round in affright.
"Answer me!" cried Fantine.
The servant stammered:--

"The portress told me that he could not come to-day."
"Be calm, my child," said the sister; "lie down again."
Fantine, without changing her attitude, continued in a loud voice, and with an accent that was both imperious and heart-rending:--

"He cannot come?Why not?You know the reason.You are whispering it to each other there.I want to know it."
The servant-maid hastened to say in the nun's ear, "Say that he is busy with the city council."
Sister Simplice blushed faintly, for it was a lie that the maid had proposed to her.

On the other hand, it seemed to her that the mere communication of the truth to the invalid would, without doubt, deal her a terrible blow, and that this was a serious matter in Fantine's present state. Her flush did not last long; the sister raised her calm, sad eyes to Fantine, and said, "Monsieur le Maire has gone away."

Fantine raised herself and crouched on her heels in the bed: her eyes sparkled; indescribable joy beamed from that melancholy face.
"Gone!" she cried; "he has gone to get Cosette."
Then she raised her arms to heaven, and her white face became ineffable; her lips moved; she was praying in a low voice.

When her prayer was finished, "Sister," she said, "I am willing to lie down again; I will do anything you wish; I was naughty just now; I beg your pardon for having spoken so loud; it is very wrong to talk loudly; I know that well, my good sister, but, you see, I am very happy:the good God is good; M. Madeleine is good; just think! he has gone to Montfermeil to get my little Cosette."

She lay down again, with the nun's assistance, helped the nun to arrange her pillow, and kissed the little silver cross which she wore on her neck, and which Sister Simplice had given her.

"My child," said the sister, "try to rest now, and do not talk any more."
Fantine took the sister's hand in her moist hands, and the latter was pained to feel that perspiration.

"He set out this morning for paris; in fact, he need not even go through paris; Montfermeil is a little to the left as you come thence. Do you remember how he said to me yesterday, when I spoke to him of Cosette, Soon, soon?He wants to give me a surprise, you know! he made me sign a letter so that she could be taken from the Thenardiers; they cannot say anything, can they? they will give back Cosette, for they have been paid; the authorities will not allow them to keep the child since they have received their pay. Do not make signs to me that I must not talk, sister!I am extremely happy; I am doing well; I am not ill at all any more; I am going to see Cosette again; I am even quite hungry; it is nearly five years since I saw her last; you cannot imagine how much attached one gets to children, and then, she will be so pretty; you will see!If you only knew what pretty little rosy fingers she had!In the first place, she will have very beautiful hands; she had ridiculous hands when she was only a year old; like this! she must be a big girl now; she is seven years old; she is quite a young lady; I call her Cosette, but her name is really Euphrasie. Stop! this morning I was looking at the dust on the chimney-piece, and I had a sort of idea come across me, like that, that I should see Cosette again soon.Mon Dieu! how wrong it is not to see one's children for years!One ought to reflect that life is not eternal. Oh, how good M. le Maire is to go! it is very cold! it is true; he had on his cloak, at least? he will be here to-morrow, will he not? to-morrow will be a festival day; to-morrow morning, sister, you must remind me to put on my little cap that has lace on it. What a place that Montfermeil is!I took that journey on foot once; it was very long for me, but the diligences go very quickly! he will be here to-morrow with Cosette:how far is it from here to Montfermeil?"

The sister, who had no idea of distances, replied, "Oh, I think that be will be here to-morrow."

"To-morrow! to-morrow!" said Fantine, "I shall see Cosette to-morrow! you see, good sister of the good God, that I am no longer ill; I am mad; I could dance if any one wished it."

A person who had seen her a quarter of an hour previously would not have understood the change; she was all rosy now; she spoke in a lively and natural voice; her whole face was one smile; now and then she talked, she laughed softly; the joy of a mother is almost infantile.

"Well," resumed the nun, "now that you are happy, mind me, and do not talk any more."

Fantine laid her head on her pillow and said in a low voice: "Yes, lie down again; be good, for you are going to have your child; Sister Simplice is right; every one here is right."

And then, without stirring, without even moving her head, she began to stare all about her with wide-open eyes and a joyous air, and she said nothing more.

The sister drew the curtains together again, hoping that she would fall into a doze.Between seven and eight o'clock the doctor came; not hearing any sound, he thought Fantine was asleep, entered softly, and approached the bed on tiptoe; he opened the curtains a little, and, by the light of the taper, he saw Fantine's big eyes gazing at him.

She said to him, "She will be allowed to sleep beside me in a little bed, will she not, sir?"
The doctor thought that she was delirious.She added:--
"See! there is just room."

The doctor took Sister Simplice aside, and she explained matters to him; that M. Madeleine was absent for a day or two, and that in their doubt they had not thought it well to undeceive the invalid, who believed that the mayor had gone to Montfermeil; that it was possible, after all, that her guess was correct: the doctor approved.
He returned to Fantine's bed, and she went on:--

"You see, when she wakes up in the morning, I shall be able to say good morning to her, poor kitten, and when I cannot sleep at night, I can hear her asleep; her little gentle breathing will do me good."

"Give me your hand," said the doctor.
She stretched out her arm, and exclaimed with a laugh:--
"Ah, hold! in truth, you did not know it; I am cured; Cosette will arrive to-morrow."

The doctor was surprised; she was better; the pressure on her chest had decreased; her pulse had regained its strength; a sort of life had suddenly supervened and reanimated this poor, worn-out creature.
"Doctor," she went on, "did the sister tell you that M. le Maire has gone to get that mite of a child?"

The doctor recommended silence, and that all painful emotions should be avoided; he prescribed an infusion of pure chinchona, and, in case the fever should increase again during the night, a calming potion. As he took his departure, he said to the sister:--

"She is doing better; if good luck willed that the mayor should actually arrive to-morrow with the child, who knows? there are crises so astounding; great joy has been known to arrest maladies; I know well that this is an organic disease, and in an advanced state, but all those things are such mysteries:we may be able to save her."

     而这时，芳汀却正处在欢乐中。她那夜本来过得很不舒服。剧烈地咳嗽，体温更高，她做了一夜的梦。早晨医生来检查时，她还正说着胡话。医生的脸色有些紧张，吩咐大家说，等到马德兰先生回来了，便立刻去通知他。整个早晨，她精神委靡，不多说话，两手只把那被单捏出一条条小褶纹，嘴里低声念着一 些数字，仿佛是在计算里程，她的眼睛已经深陷而且不能转动了，眼神也几乎没有了。但有时又忽然充满光彩，明亮如星。就象在某种惨痛的时刻临近时，上天的光特来照耀那些被尘世的光所遗弃了的人们一样。每当散普丽斯姆姆问她觉得怎样时，她总一样回答：“还好。我想看看马德兰先生。”

    几个月前，在芳汀刚刚失去她最后的贞操、最后的羞耻、最后的欢乐时，她还算得上是自己的影子，现在她却只能算是自己的幽灵了。生理上的疾病又加深了精神上的创伤。这个二十五岁的人儿已是满额皱纹，两颊浮肿，鼻孔萎削，牙齿松弛，面色铁青，颈骨毕露，肩胛高耸，四肢枯槁，肤色灰白，新生的金发丝也杂有白毛了。可怜！病苦催人老！中午，医生又来了，他开了药方，问马德兰先生来过疗养室没有，并连连摇头。
    马德兰先生一般总在三点钟来看望这位病人的。因为守时是一种仁爱，而他总是守时的。

    将近两点半钟，芳汀着起急来了。二十分钟之内，她向那信女连问了十次：“我的姆姆，什么时候了？”三点钟敲了。敲到第三下，平时几乎不能在床上转动的芳汀竟坐了起来。她焦灼万分，紧紧捏着自己那双又瘦又黄的手。信女还听见她发了一声长叹，好象吐出了满腔积郁。芳汀转过头去，望着门。没人进来，门外毫无动静。她这样待了一刻钟，眼睛盯在门上，不动，好象也没有呼吸。那姆姆不敢和她说话。礼拜堂报着三点一刻。芳汀又倒在枕头上了。

    她没说一句话，仍旧用手折着她的被单。半个钟头过去了，接着一个钟头又过去了。没有人来。每次钟响，芳汀便坐起来，望着门，随后又倒下去。我们明白她的心情，但是她绝不曾提起任何一个人的名字，不怨天，也不尤人。不过她咳得惨不忍闻。我们可以说已有一种阴气在向她进逼。她面色灰黑，嘴唇发青。但她还在不时微笑。五点敲过了，那姆姆听见她低声慢气地说道：“既然明天我要走了，他今天便不该不来呵！”连散普丽斯姆姆也因马德兰先生的没来而感到惊奇。这时，芳汀望着她的帐顶，她的神气象是在追忆一件往事。忽然，她唱了起来，歌声微弱，就象嘘气一样。信女在一旁静听。下面便是芳汀唱的歌：我们顺着城郊去游戏，要买好些最美丽的东西。矢车菊，朵朵蓝，玫瑰花儿红又香，矢车菊，朵朵蓝，我爱我的小心肝。

    童贞圣母马利亚，昨天穿着绣花衣，来到炉边向我提：“从前有一天，你曾向我要个小弟弟，小弟弟，如今就在我的面纱里。”
    “快去城里买细布，买了针线还要买针箍。”

    我们顺着域郊去游戏，要买好些最美丽的东西。
    “童贞圣母你慈悲，瞧这炉边的摇篮上，各色丝带全齐备；即使上帝赐我星星最最美，我也只爱你给我的小宝贝。”
    “大嫂，要这细布做什么？

    “替我新生的宝宝做衣被。”
    矢车菊，朵朵蓝，玫瑰花儿红又香，矢车菊，朵朵蓝，我爱我的小心肝。
    “请把这块细布洗干净。”
    “哪里洗？”“河里洗。还有他的兜兜布，不要弄脏不要弄破，我要做条漂亮裙，我要满满绣花朵。”
    “孩子不在了，大嫂，怎么办？”
    “替我自己做块裹尸布。”

    我们顺着城郊去游戏，要买好些最美丽的东西。矢车菊，朵朵蓝，玫瑰花儿红又香，矢车菊，朵朵蓝，我爱我的小心肝。
    这歌是一首从前的摇篮曲，她曾用来催她的小珂赛特入睡的，她已五年没见那孩子了，便也没有再想。现在她用那样幽怨的声音，唱着那样柔和的歌曲，真令人心酸，连信女也几乎要哭了出来。那个一贯严肃的姆姆也觉得要流泪了。

    钟敲了六点。芳汀好象没有听见。她仿佛对四周的事物已不关心了。散普丽斯姆姆派了一个侍女去找那看守厂门的妇人，问她马德兰先生回来了没有，能不能立即到疗养室来。几分钟过后，那侍女回来了。芳汀始终不动，好象在细想她的心事。那侍女声音很低地向散普丽斯姆姆说，市长先生不顾那么冷的天气，竟在清早六点钟以前，乘着一辆白马拉的小车，独自一人走了，连车夫也没有，大家都不清楚他是朝哪个方向走的，有人说看见他转向去阿拉斯的那条路，有人又说在去巴黎的路上真的碰见了他。和平时一样，他动身时，非常和蔼，只和那看门的妇人说过今晚不必等他。

    正当那两个妇人背朝着芳汀的床，一问一猜互相耳语时，芳汀爬了起来，跪在床上，两只手捏紧了拳头，撑在长枕上，把头伸在帐子缝里听，她忽然产生了一种病态的急躁，兴奋起来，于是她完全象个健康人一样，一点也看不出她因重病而危在旦夕。她忽然叫道：“你们在那儿谈马德兰先生！你们说话声音为什么那样低？他在干什么？他为什么不来？”

    她的声音是那样突兀、那样粗暴，以致那两个妇人以为听见了哪个男子说话的音，她们转过身来，大为惊讶。“回答嘛！”芳汀喊着说。
    那侍女吞吞吐吐地说：

    “那看门的大妈说他今天不能来。”
    “我的孩子。”那姆姆说，“放安静些，睡下去吧。”芳汀姿势不改，用一种又急躁又惨痛的口气高声说：“他不能来？为什么，你们知道原因的。你们两人私下谈着，我也要知道。”

    那侍女急忙在女信徒的耳边说道：“回答她说，他正在开市政会议。”散普丽斯姆姆的面孔微微红了一下，那侍女教她的是句谎话。另一 方面，她又好象很明白，如果向病人说真话，一定会给她一种强烈的刺激，芳汀处在那种状况下，那是受不了的。她脸红，立刻又平复了。那姆姆抬起她那双镇静而愁郁的眼睛，望着芳汀说：“马德兰先生走了。”芳汀直起身子，坐在自己的脚跟上，眼睛炯炯发光。从她那愁容里放射出了一阵从不曾有过的喜色。

    “走了！”她喊着说。“他去找珂赛特去了。”于是她举起双手，指向天空，她的面容完全是无法形容的。她的嘴唇频频启合，她在低声祈祷。
    当她祈祷完时：

    “姆姆，”她说，“我很愿睡下去，无论你们说什么，我全听从；刚才我太粗暴了，我求您原谅我那样大声讲话，大声讲话是非常不好的，我很明白；但是，我的姆姆，您看吧，我是很开心的。慈悲的上帝是慈悲的，马德兰先生也是慈悲的，您想想吧，他是到孟费郿去找我的珂赛特去了。”

    她又躺了下去，帮着那姆姆整理枕头，吻着自己颈上散普丽斯姆姆给她的那个小银十字架。
    “我的孩子，”姆姆说，“现在稍稍休息一下吧，别再说话了。”芳汀把那姆姆的手握在自己潮润的手里，姆姆触到了汗渍，深感不快。

    “他今天早晨动身去巴黎了。其实他用不着经过巴黎。孟费郿稍稍靠近到这儿来的路的左边。我昨天和他谈到珂赛特时，他向我说：‘快来了，快来了。’您还记得他是怎样对我说的吗？他要让我不备，让我惊喜一场呢。您知道吗？他写了一封信，为了到德纳第家去带她回来，又叫我签了字。他们没有什么话可说的了，不是吗？他们会把珂赛特交给他带回来。他们的帐已经清了。清了帐还扣住孩子，法律不会允许吧。我的姆姆，别做手势不让我说话。我是快乐到顶点了，我很好，我完全没有病了，我将再和珂赛特会面，我还觉得很饿。快五年了，我没有看见她。您，您想不到，那些孩子们，多么让您惦念呵！而且她是多么可爱，您就会看见的！您哪里知道，她的小指头是那样鲜红漂亮的！首先，她的手是很美丽的。在一岁时她的手丑得可笑。情况就是这样！现在她该长大了。她已经七岁了，已经是个小姐了。我叫她做珂赛特，其实她的名字是欧福拉吉。听吧，今天早晨，望着壁炉上的灰尘，我就有了种想法，不久我就可以和珂赛特会面了。我的上帝！一年一年地看不到自己的孩子，这多不应该呵！人们应当好好想想，生命不是永久的！呀！市长先生走了，他的心肠多么好！真的，天气很冷吗？他总穿了斗篷吧？他明天就会到这里。不是吗？明天是喜庆日。明天早晨，我的姆姆，请您提醒我戴那顶有花边的小帽子。孟费郿，那是个大地方。从前我是从那条路上一路走来的。对我来说真够远的。但是公共马车走得很快。他明天就会和珂赛特一同在这里了。从这里到孟费郿有多少里路？”

    姆姆对于里程完全不清楚，她回答说：
    “呵！我想他明天总能到这里吧。”
    “明天！明天！”芳汀说，“我明天可以和珂赛特见面了！您看，慈悲上帝和慈悲姆姆，我已经没病了。我发疯了。假使你们允许的话，我可以跳舞呢。”

    在一刻钟以前看见过她的人一定会莫名其妙。她现在脸色红润，说话的声音圆转自如，满面只是笑容了。有时，她一面笑，一面又低声自言自语。慈母的欢乐差不多是与孩子的欢乐一样的。
    “那么，”那信女又说，“您现在高兴了，听我的话，别再说了。”

    芳汀把头放在枕头上，轻轻对自己说：“是的，您睡吧，乖乖的，你就会得到你的孩子。散普丽斯姆姆说得有理。这儿的人个个都有理。”于是她不动弹，不摇头，只用她一双睁大了的眼睛向四处望，神情愉悦，不再说话了。

    那姆姆把她的床帷重新放下，希望她可以稍稍睡一会。七点多钟，医生来了。屋子里寂静无声，他以为芳汀睡着了，他轻轻走进来，踮着脚尖走近床边。他把床帷掀开一点，在植物油灯的微光中，他看见芳汀一双宁静的大眼睛正望着他。她向他说：“先生，不是吗，你们可以允许我，让她睡在我旁边的一张小床上。”

    那医生以为她是在说胡话。她又说：
    “您瞧，这里恰好有一个空地方。”医生把散普丽斯姆姆引到一边，她才把那经过说清楚：马德兰先生在一两天之内不能来，病人以为市长先生去孟费郿了，大家既然还不清楚真情，便认为不应打破她的错觉，况且她也可能猜对了。那医生也觉得这样很妥当。

    他再近芳汀的床，她又说：
    “就是，您知道，当那可怜的娃娃早晨醒来时，我可以向她说早安，夜里，我不睡，我可以听她睡。她那种温和柔弱的呼吸使我听了心里真舒服。”

    “把您的手伸给我。”医生说。她伸出她的胳膊，又大声笑着说：“呀！对了！的确，真的，您还不知道！我的病已好了。珂赛特明天就会来。”
    那医生大为惊讶。她是好了一些。郁闷减轻了。脉博也变强了。一 种突如其来的生命力使这垂死的可怜人忽然兴奋起来。“医生先生，”她又说，“这位姆姆告诉过您市长先生已去领小宝宝了吗？”

    医生嘱咐要保持安静，并要避免一切伤心的刺激。他开了药方，冲服纯奎宁，万一夜里体温增高，便服一种镇静剂。临走时他向姆姆说：“好一点了。假使托天之福，市长先生果真明天和那孩子一同到了，谁知道呢？病势的变化是那样不可捉摸，我们见过很多次极大的欢乐一下就把病止住了。我明明知道这是一种内脏的病，而且已很深了，但是这些事是那样不可理解！也许我们能把她救转来。”