Return of the Son Who Was Prodigal of His Life — Les Misérables

At every jolt over the pavement, a drop of blood trickled from Marius's hair. Night had fully closed in when the carriage arrived at the house in the Marais. Javert was the first to alight. He made sure of the number on the carriage gate, raised the heavy knocker of beaten iron, a male goat and a satyr confronting each other, and gave a violent peal. The gate opened a little way. The porter half made his appearance, yawning, vaguely awake, a candle in his hand. Everyone in the house was asleep. This good old quarter, terrified at the revolt, takes refuge in slumber.

Jean Valjean and the coachman took Marius out of the carriage. Jean Valjean slipped his hand under the rent clothes, felt the breast, and assured himself that the heart was still beating. It was even beating a little less feebly, as though the movement of the carriage had brought about a certain fresh access of life. Javert addressed the porter in a tone befitting the government. Some person whose name is Gillenormand. His son is brought back. He is dead. Jean Valjean, soiled and tattered, made a sign with his head that this was not so. The porter did not appear to understand either the words or the sign. He went to the barricade, and here he is. He has got himself killed. Go waken his father. There will be a funeral here to-morrow. The porter contented himself with waking Basque. Basque woke Nicolette. Nicolette roused the great-aunt. As for the grandfather, they let him sleep on, thinking that he would hear about the matter early enough in any case.

Marius was carried up to the first floor, without any one in the other parts of the house being aware of the fact, and deposited on an old sofa in the antechamber. While Basque went in search of a physician, and while Nicolette opened the linen-presses, Jean Valjean felt Javert touch him on the shoulder. He understood and descended the stairs, having behind him the step of Javert who was following him. They entered the carriage once more. Inspector Javert, said Jean, grant me yet another favour. Let me go home for one instant. Then you shall do whatever you like with me. Javert remained silent for a few moments, with his chin drawn back into the collar of his great-coat, then he lowered the glass and front. Driver, said he, the street of the Armed Man, number seven.