MARIUS HAGGARD, JAVERT LACONIC.
Let us describe what was going on in Marius's thoughts. Our readers
will remember his state of mind, for, as we just now said, everything
was only a vision to him. His appreciation was troubled, for he was
(we urge the fact) beneath the shadow of the great gloomy wings opened
above the dying. He felt that he had entered the tomb, he fancied that
he was already on the other side of the wall, and he only saw the faces
of the living with the eyes of a dead man. How was M. Fauchelevent
present? Why was he here, and what did he come to do? Marius did not
ask himself all these questions. Moreover, as our despair has the
peculiar thing about it that it envelops others as it does ourselves,
it appeared to him logical that everybody should die. Still he thought
of Cosette with a contraction of the heart. However, M. Fauchelevent
did not speak to him, did not look at him, and did not even seem to
hear Marius when he raised his voice, saying, "I know him." As for
Marius, this attitude of M. Fauchelevent relieved him, and if such
a word were permissible for such impressions, we might say that it
pleased him. He had ever felt an absolute impossibility in addressing
this enigmatical man, who was at once equivocal and imposing to him. It
was a very long time too since he had seen him; and this augmented the
impossibility for a timid and reserved nature like Marius's.
The five men selected left the barricade by the Mondétour Lane,
perfectly resembling National Guards. One of them wept as he went away,
and before doing so they embraced those who remained. When the five
men sent back to life had left, Enjolras thought of the one condemned
to death. He went to the ground-floor room, where Javert, tied to the
post, was reflecting.
"Do you want anything?" Enjolras asked him.
Javert answered,--
"When will you kill me?"
"Wait. We require all our cartridges at this moment."
"In that case, give me some drink," Javert said.
Enjolras himself held out to him a glass of water, and, as Javert was
bound, helped him to drink.
"Is that all?" Enjolras resumed.
"I feel uncomfortable at this post," Javert replied; "you did not act
kindly in leaving me fastened to it the whole night. Bind me as you
please, but you might surely lay me on a table, like the other man."
And with a nod of the head he pointed to M. Mabœuf's corpse. It
will be remembered that there was at the end of the room a long, wide
table on which bullets had been run and cartridges made. All the
cartridges being made, and all the powder expended, this table was
free. By Enjolras's order, four insurgents unfastened Javert from
the post, and while they did so a fifth held a bayonet to his chest.
His hands remained fastened behind his back, a thin strong cord was
attached to his feet, which enabled him to step fifteen inches, like
those who are going to ascend the scaffold, and he was forced to walk
to the table at the end of the room, on which they laid him, securely
fastened round the waist. For greater security, a system of knotting
was employed by means of a cord fastened to the neck, which rendered
any escape impossible; it was the sort of fastening called in prisons a
martingale, which starts from the nape, of the neck, is crossed on the
stomach, and is turned round the hands after passing between the legs.
While Javert was being bound, a man standing in the doorway regarded
him with singular attention, and the shadow this man cast caused Javert
to turn his head. He raised his eyes and recognized Jean Valjean, but
he did not even start; he merely looked down haughtily, and restricted
himself to saying, "It is all plain."