Javert breaks the circle and drags Fantine to the police station, a low room warmed by a stove, with a glazed and grated door. The spectators crane at the glass. Curiosity is a sort of gluttony. To see is to devour. Fantine falls in a corner, crouching like a terrified dog. Javert draws stamped paper and writes. This class of women is consigned entirely to the discretion of the police. He is entering judgement. A prostitute has made an attempt on the life of a citizen, a freeholder and an elector. He signs: Take three men and conduct this creature to jail. You are to have six months of it. She shudders. Six months in which to earn seven sous a day. What will become of Cosette? She still owes the Thénardiers over a hundred francs. She drags herself across the damp floor on her knees. That gentleman put snow in her back. He had been saying she was ugly, that she had no teeth. She did nothing; she said to herself the gentleman is amusing himself. She would ask his pardon. In prison one earns seven sous. She kisses the police agent's coat. She would have softened a heart of granite; a heart of wood cannot be softened. I have heard you out, says Javert. You will get six months. Now march. The Eternal Father in person could do nothing more.
A man has entered and shut the door. When the soldiers lay hands on her he says, One moment, if you please. Javert recognizes Madeleine and removes his hat. Excuse me, Mr. Mayor. The words produce a curious effect on Fantine. She rises like a spectre, walks straight up to Madeleine, cries, Ah, so it is you who are the mayor, bursts into a laugh, and spits in his face. Madeleine wipes his face and says, Inspector Javert, set this woman at liberty. Javert feels he is on the verge of going mad. Fantine clings to the damper of the stove and decides it cannot have been the monster of the mayor who said that. She tells Javert the whole chain: the workroom, the nine sous, Cosette, the snow, the one silk dress. She puts his coarse hand on her throat. Then she adjusts her garments and steps toward the door: Monsieur the inspector has said that I am to be released. The latch rouses Javert. Sergeant, don't you see that that jade is walking off? Who bade you let her go? I, says Madeleine.
Javert turns pale, blue-lipped: Mr. Mayor, that cannot be. This miserable woman has insulted a citizen. It was the townsman who was in the wrong, Madeleine says, and should have been arrested. This wretch has just insulted the mayor. That concerns me. My own insult belongs to me. The insult is not to him but to the law. The highest law is conscience. I have heard this woman. Then content yourself with obeying. I am obeying my duty. She will not serve a single day. Javert names Bamatabois, elector, proprietor of the handsome house with a balcony. Madeleine folds his arms, in a voice no one in the town has heard: the matter is municipal police; by the code he is the judge; he orders her set at liberty. He cites arbitrary detention. Leave the room. Javert receives the blow erect, like a Russian soldier, bows to the earth, and goes. Fantine has seen two giants combat for her liberty, her child, her soul: one drawing her toward darkness, the other toward light. The angel has conquered the demon, and the angel is the man she has so long hated. Madeleine says he knew nothing; he will pay her debts, send for her child, undertake them both. She has never ceased to be virtuous and holy in the sight of God. She kneels, presses her lips to his hand, and faints.
Coming Up in Chapter 53
Madeleine has Fantine carried to the infirmary in his own house. A burning fever comes on. Toward midday she wakes, draws the curtain, and sees him standing there, his gaze full of pity, fixed on a crucifix nailed to the wall.
