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—Prologue—
The Fall
Scene I
The Evening of a Day
The action takes place at Digne in 1815.
A square in a small town; evening of a summer day. To the right, an inn. The door is open and the window lit letting the interior of a huge kitchen be seen from which the noise of drinkers issues. Stone bench by the door. To the left a small house whose lower floor projects out with a large window with four panes facing the audience. A prison farther back. At the far back a house of modest appearance.
Enter a man in rags, dusty, sack on his back, a big stick in his hand, he seems exhausted with fatigue and looks around him, he goes towards the inn—he raises the knocker on the open door and raps softly. The host JACQUIN LABARRE enters.
JACQUIN: What's the gentleman want?
MAN: To eat and sleep.
JACQUIN (eyeing the man suspiciously): Nothing easier—by paying.
MAN: I have money.
JACQUIN: In that case—it's all yours.
(The MAN falls seated on the stone bench.)
VOICES IN THE INN: To the health of Jacquin Labarre!
A CARTER (on the sill or in the doorway, presenting a glass to JACQUIN—in a Provencal accent): To your health, my old friend Jacquin! What are you doing there?
JACQUIN: It's someone who's coming to me.
CARTER: Someone. (Looks at the MAN.) Eh! Why Dear me! Jacquin, it's him. (Whispers in JACQUIN's ear.) I tell you, I was at the farm—and that I saw him—and that it's the talk of the village.
JACQUIN (to MAN): Sir, I cannot receive you.
MAN: What! Are you afraid that I won't pay? Do you want me to pay in advance? Cause I have money.
JACQUIN: That's not it. You have money?
MAN: Yes.
JACQUIN: But as for me, I have no room.
MAN: All right! A pad of hay in a corner. We'll see about that after supper.
JACQUIN: I don't want to give you any supper.
MAN: I've been walking since sun-up. I've gone a dozen leagues. I'll pay. I want to eat.
JACQUIN: I have nothing.
MAN: Nothing? (Pointing to the kitchen.) And what's all that?
JACQUIN: It's reserved and paid for in advance.
MAN (rising): I come to an inn. I'm hungry. I'm going in.
JACQUIN (in a significant tone): Go away!
MAN: Huh?
JACQUIN: I'm used to being polite with everyone. Go away.
MAN: But—
JACQUIN: Do you want me to tell you who you are?
MAN: I'm going.
(JACQUIN goes back in with the CARTER. The MAN takes a few hesitant steps then disappears down the alleyway to the right. The window at the house on the left opens and allows the proper and gay lodging of a worker to be seen. A table is set, a women with a child on her knees, the husband who has opened the window extends his hand outside.)
WORKER: Good! Now it's raining!
WIFE (laughing): Well—so much the better, my husband, that will take away your desire to go out.
WORKER: Yes, if I had it, but I don't think it would do me good to run the streets tonight.
WIFE: Why's that?
WORKER: Nothing. There's no need to tell you. (The MAN returns and slowly approaches the open window.) Ah, indeed! If you really wanted to give me the brat? It's my turn.
WIFE: It's always your turn.
WORKER: Damn! I work. Every Saturday I have my weekly pay—but my pay every day is my child. Let's eat.
MAN (with a hopeful smile): Oh, those there. (He raps a bit on the ledge.)
WOMAN: Someone's knocking. (The MAN knocks again; the WORKER rises and goes to the window.)
MAN: Pardon me. If I pay for it, would you give me a serving of soup and a corner to sleep, no matter where. —Say, could you? If I pay for it?
WORKER: Who are you?
MAN: I'm coming from Puy-Mousson. I walked all day. I've done a dozen leagues. Could you—if I paid for it?
WORKER: I wouldn't refuse to lodge a decent person who would pay. But why don't you go to the Inn?
MAN: There's no room.
WORKER: Bah! Not possible! It's not a market day. You went there—to Labarre's—face to face with him?
MAN: Yes.
WORKER: Well?
MAN: I don't know—he wouldn't receive me.
WORKER: You went to Rue Chaffaut—to Choses's
MAN: I'm coming from there. He wouldn't receive me either.
WORKER (recoiling): Could you be the man? (Uncocking his rifle.)
MAN: Sir!
WORKER: Go away!
MAN: A glass of water. Mercy!
WORKER: A rifle shot. (He violently closes the window. The wife closes the shutters—you can hear the noise of the bolts and iron bars.)
MAN (alone): Go away! Get out! A rifle shot—where do they want me to go? (Stopping before the prison.) Here—so be it. (He rings—a face appears at the window gate.)
TURNKEY: What do you want?
MAN (opening his box): Mr. Turnkey—could you open for me and lodge me for this night?
TURNKEY: This is not an Inn. (Shuts the window.)
MAN: Not even the prison! (The MAN sits on the stone steps by the door. One hears the noise of clocks. A woman passes in a black hood, a book of hours in her hand.)
WOMAN: What are you doing there, my friend?
MAN (harshly): You see, good woman, I am sleeping.
WOMAN: There?
MAN: For nineteen years, I had a mattress of wood, today I have a mattress of stone.
WOMAN: You've been a soldier?
MAN: Yes, a soldier.
WOMAN: Why don't you go to the Inn?
MAN: Because I have no money.
WOMAN: I have only four sous in my purse.
MAN: Give me anyway.
WOMAN: You cannot lodge with so little in an inn. Still, did you try? It's raining. It's impossible for you to spend the night this way.
MAN: I rapped on every door.
WOMAN: Well?
MAN: They ran me off everywhere.
WOMAN: You rapped on all doors?
MAN: Yes.
WOMAN: Did you rap on that one? (Pointing to the house at the back.)
MAN: No—
WOMAN: Rap on it.
BLACKOUT
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—Scene II—
Mr. Myriel's
A very simple room—door at the back giving on the street, two doors to the right. To the left a stairway and a window. In the wall at the right an armoire. A white wood table. Two candlesticks—one on the table, the other by the chimney. An armchair near the chimney. Four straw chairs.
(MADAME MAGLOIRE setting the table.)
MISS BAPTISTINE: No, Madame Magloire. I would never dare to speak again to my brother about this door which doesn't lock.
MADAME MAGLOIRE: Well—I will. I am so afraid that I have courage.
MISS BAPTISTINE: But my brother doesn't want us to be afraid of him! Our duty is to understand him and to let him do everything without saying anything. That's how it must be with a man who has something great in his spirit. Anyway, you know well enough, Madame Magloire, that there's nothing to take here.
MADAME MAGLOIRE: It's true that everything is already taken—by the poor. But still there are the golden place settings, there are also two candlesticks which came from Madame—your mother; and this house here is useless being a house of the Lord—the just man who lives has no use being adored by all those who know him—even the bad folks. You have to think that the malefactor simply doesn't know him. (MR. MYRIEL enters—book in hand. MADAME MAGLOIRE gives MISS BAPTISTINE a sign of understanding.) It seems, Miss, he's a very rascally man—a villainous man with an awful face.
(MR. MYRIEL sits in the armchair and opens his book.)
MISS BAPTISTINE: Hurry the supper, Madame Magloire, my brother must be really tired by his day.
MADAME MAGLOIRE: Yes, Miss. And they said that there could even be a wretch in this village tonight, and to take care to bolt up and lock doors carefully. But as for us, we don't have either a bolt or a lock.
MISS BAPTISTINE: Did you hear what Madame Magloire said, brother? (MR. MYRIEL makes a sign indicating that he does.) What do you want to do about that, Madame Magloire?
MADAME MAGLOIRE: Eh!—why I could go tell Musebois the locksmith to come put the old bolts back in the door—if only for tonight! They have those bolts there—it will only take a minute for a door which opens from outside with a latch by the first passerby to come along—nothing is more terrible; with the habit they have here of always saying to come in, and besides even in the middle of the night no one needs to ask permission.
(A violent knock on the door.)
MR. MYRIEL: Come in.
MAN (enters, leaning with both hands on his stick): Here. My name's Jean Valjean. I'm a galley slave.
MADAME MAGLOIRE (choking back a scream): Oh!
JEAN VALJEAN: I've been liberated four days ago and I'm en route to Pontarlier, which is my destination. Four days of walking from Toulon. Tonight, arriving in this district, I've been in the inns—they've sent me away because of my passport which I showed at the farm. It was necessary. I've been from one place to another, I've been to the prison—no one wants me. A good woman showed me your house and said to me 'Knock there!' I rapped. What is this place here? Are you an inn? I have money, my lump sum, 900 francs, 15 sous—I will pay. It's raining out. I am very fatigued, I'm really hungry. Will you let me stay?
MR. MYRIEL: Madame Magloire, lay another place.
(MADAME MAGLOIRE takes a setting from the armoire and set its on the table.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Here, that's not it—you don't seem to have understood me. Here's my passport—yellow as you see. Would you like to read? As for me, I know how to read. There's a school there for those who want to. This is what they put on my passport—"Jean Valjean native of—" it's all the same to you?—"spent 19 years in prison. Five years for theft by burglary—fourteen years for having attempted to escape four times. This man is very dangerous." They put that because of my strength which is awesome. It's true—in prison they called me Jean, the Crane. And out there everybody threw me out. Will you receive me? Will you sell me a scrap—and let me eat in a corner?
MR. MYRIEL (rising): Mr. Valjean—here's supper. Let's sit down. Come to dinner, sister.
JEAN VALJEAN: Really—What? You'll keep me? You let me sit facing you? Me? You call me sir! You don't talk down to me. Get out dog—that's what they always say to me. (He sits.)
MR. MYRIEL: We can't see too well, Madame Magloire.
(MADAME MAGLOIRE lights the second candlestick and places it on the table. MYRIEL serves his sister and JEAN VALJEAN.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Oh! You are a fine man! Thanks! I really thought you'd run me off. As soon as I said my name.
MR. MYRIEL (as JEAN VALJEAN eats avidly): You didn't have to tell me. This door doesn't ask those who enter if they have a name, but if they have a sorrow. You are suffering—you're hungry and thirsty—be welcome. I say to you—to you who are passing through—you are more at home here than I am myself. All that is here is yours. What need do I have to know your name? Anyway, before you told me you had one, I knew.
JEAN VALJEAN: You knew what my name is?
MR. MYRIEL: Yes—you are called my brother.
JEAN VALJEAN: Ah—hold on—I was really hungry when I came in here—but you are so good that now I no longer am—it left me.
MR. MYRIEL: Drink a little of this old Mauves wine. Excuse us, my sister and I—we're not accustomed to drink.
JEAN VALJEAN: Now it's my fatigue that I feel. Is there in your courtyard a place in a shed where I could sleep? Do you have a stable?
MR. MYRIEL: Madame Magloire, you will put white sheets on the bed in the alcove.
(MADAME MAGLOIRE goes out by the second door at the right.)
JEAN VALJEAN: A bed! For me!—with a mattress and sheets—like everybody else! It's nineteen years since I have slept in a bed! Nineteen years and I am forty-six!
MR. MYRIEL: You've really suffered!
JEAN VALJEAN: Yes, I've suffered (Hotly.) Oh! Yes, I've suffered. The red cassock—the chain on your foot—a plank to sleep on—the heat, the cold—the work, the crew of convicts, the blows from the stick, the double chain for nothing—the black hole for a word—even sick in bed, the chain—19 years! Now I have the yellow passport. That's it.
MR. MYRIEL: You are leaving a place of sadness, but there will be more joy in heaven for the tearful face of a repentant sinner—than for the white robe of one hundred just men. (JEAN VALJEAN shakes his head lugubriously. Reenter MADAME MAGLOIRE, bringing a lamp that she places by the chimney. She blows out the lights on the table, takes up the place settings and crowds the plates in the armoire.) Come on, it's getting late—and you need your bed.
MISS BAPTISTINE: Good night, my brother.
MR. MYRIEL: Good night, sister. (MISS BAPTISTINE and MADAME MAGLOIRE leave by the stairway on the left.) You too, Mr. Valjean, have a good night. In the morning before leaving you will drink a cup of milk from our cow—still warm. Here's my room—and here's yours.
JEAN VALJEAN (rising): Thanks. (Returning after taking a few steps.) Ah, indeed—decidedly, you are lodging me in your home, near you like this? Have you considered carefully? Who is it told you I haven't murdered?
MR. MYRIEL: I didn't ask you any questions.
JEAN VALJEAN: What is it tells you, at least that I won't murder? You are good—that's very well! As for me, I am bad; the paper says so, "A very dangerous man." And perhaps not even a man! A sort of wild beast, a ferocious animal! I was enchained! Here I am unchained!—and I'm going! and it's all dark in me and around me! and as for what I can crush as I walk through the night—so much the worse. I am doing enough to make you scream—Beware! Now if you don't beware—
MR. MYRIEL: That's God's lookout.
(JEAN VALJEAN makes a gesture of savage scorn and leaves.)
MR. MYRIEL (alone coming back): Me too. I'm worn out and sleepy. (Sitting pensively on the arm chair.) The poor soul! is it true, is what he said possible—there's nothing of man left in him? Oh, no, right my God? You put in us a first spark, a divine element—incorruptible in this world, immortal in the next—so that the good can shine resplendently but so that the bad can never entirely be extinguished. Only—to rekindle the ashes a lightening strike is thought to be necessary. And in the presence of a desperately ill person—without breath, motionless the doctor is forced to say 'There is no more providence!' Oh misery! misery! oh—I endure, I too—all the misery I cannot ease—
(He remains a few moments dreaming, then little by little falls asleep. JEAN VALJEAN, a mining tool in his hand pushes open the door and stops, listening. Then he advances into the room. There, he turns noticing MYRIEL sleeping, cracked and pensive, haggard—the face of an old man softly lit by the lamp. After an instant his left arm rises slowly towards his face and he removes his visor, then he looks where MADAME MAGLOIRE shut in the plates.)
JEAN VALJEAN: There's stuff in there worth double what I've taken 20 years to earn. (Abruptly he puts back his visor—walks to the cupboard, takes the place settings, throws them in his sack, moves to the door and flees.)
MADAME MAGLOIRE (running down the stairs): Someone opened the door. It's still open. Ah—the armoire—our plates—(Going to the armoire.) No more plates!
MR. MYRIEL (awakening): What's the matter, Madame Magloire?
MADAME MAGLOIRE (pointing to the empty cupboard): The plates! The man! He's gone—the silverware is stolen! (Shouting.) Stolen! Stolen!
MR. MYRIEL: And first of all—is that silverware ours?
MADAME MAGLOIRE: What!
MR. MYRIEL: Madame Magloire, it was the poor's. And what was this man—a poor.
(MISS BAPTISTINE enters.)
MADAME MAGLOIRE (turning away her eyes): And, Miss, who cannot eat in pewter?
MR. MYRIEL: I was thinking rather there are wooden plates.
(Tumult outside.)
(A BRIGADIER and two Police lead in JEAN VALJEAN.)
BRIGADIER: Move along, wretch, move along!
MR. MYRIEL: Ah! There you are! I am happy to see you. Well, but, I would have given you the candlesticks also—which are in silver like the rest. Why didn't you take them with your plates?
JEAN VALJEAN (haggard): Huh?
BRIGADIER: Ah—it was really true what he said? We met him—he was going like someone trying to escape—he had this silverware.
MR. MYRIEL: And he told you he'd been given it by an old man with whom he had supped? I see how it is. And you've brought him here? It's a mistake.
BRIGADIER: In that case, we can let him go?
MR. MYRIEL: Without doubt.
JEAN VALJEAN: Is it true they're going to let me go?
BRIGADIER: Yes—we're letting you go; can't you hear?
MR. MYRIEL: My friend, before you go—here are your candlesticks—take them. (JEAN VALJEAN mechanically takes the candlesticks.) (To police.) Gentleman, you can withdraw. (The police salute and leave. He gestures to MADAME MAGLOIRE and MISS BAPTISTINE, who retire silently. Going up to JEAN VALJEAN.) Don't forget—never forget that you've promised me to use this money to become an honest man.
JEAN VALJEAN: Me?
MR. MYRIEL: Jean Valjean, my brother—you don't belong to evil—but to good. It's your soul I am buying you. I bring it from dark thoughts and the spirit of perdition—and I gave it to God.
CURTAIN
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—Scene III—
Petit-Gervais
A road in a deserted plain—the sun rising—in the back, the Alps.
JEAN VALJEAN comes in running. He looks behind him distractedly and stops.
JEAN VALJEAN: Huh? What's all that about? Untangle these things! I didn't see it, I don't see it! "You promised me—" As for me, I never promised—nothing at all! I stole—you knew quite well what I stole. It was the silverware. The police also knew well enough what they were doing. I ought to be in prison. Did I ask you to release me? What are you meddling for? Ah—I'm ill. I want to cry but I cannot. (Falls seated on a milestone by a field.) Flowers—I saw some like that in my country when I was little. Oh, things like that when you're not expecting them—buzz in your head. You don't know where you are. I was calm—I'd stolen, I was going to prison. Why did they mess me up?
(He prostrates himself in wild despondency. The noise of hurdy gurdy and a Savoyard song can be heard. PETIT-GERVAIS appears playing on bones with pieces of money. At the moment he passes the milestone, a piece of 40 sous escapes from his hand and come to rest by JEAN VALJEAN. JEAN VALJEAN abruptly places his foot on it.)
PETIT-GERVAIS: Sir, my coin.
JEAN VALJEAN: Hey, what's your name?
PETIT-GERVAIS: Petit-Gervais, sir.
JEAN VALJEAN: Beat it!
PETIT-GERVAIS: Sir, give me back my coin, my coin, sir—my white coin—my money—I want my coin! My 40 sous coin. (He weeps.)
JEAN VALJEAN (raising his head and extending his hand toward his stick): Who's there?
PETIT-GERVAIS: Me, sir—Petit-Gervais, me! me! Give me back my 40 sous, if you please! Lift your foot, sir, if you please! (In a rage.) Ah—look! will you lift your foot? Are you going to lift your foot? Look!
JEAN VALJEAN (standing, foot still on the coin): Ah, it's you again! Do you really want to escape?
PETIT-GERVAIS (terrified and running): Ah! ah! I didn't know.
(PETIT-GERVAIS flees, running with all his strength.)
JEAN VALJEAN (after a few moments of immobility, awakening): It's getting cold—let's get going. (Mechanically he tries to button his blouse, stooping to pick up his stick, he notices the coin. Stupefied.) What's this? (Coming to himself.) Oh! Oh! (Picks up the coin, looks around him—and rushes yelling in every direction.) Petit-Gervais! Petit-Gervais! Petit-Gervais! (A passerby enters and JEAN VALJEAN runs to him.) Sir, have you see a child pass by?
PASSERBY: No.
JEAN VALJEAN: One named Petit-Gervais?
PASSERBY: I haven't seen anybody.
JEAN VALJEAN: Petit-Gervais—isn't he from one of the villages hereabouts?
PASSERBY: He's without doubt a foreign child. That happens in the country. If he was from here I could tell you. I am deputy of the Commune.
JEAN VALJEAN (taking a shilling from his sack): Mr. Deputy—this is for your poor. Mr. Deputy—he's small, around ten years old with a monkey I think—and a hurdy-gurdy. He was going. One of those Savoyards, you know.
PASSERBY: I haven't seen him.
JEAN VALJEAN (violently taking two more shillings): For your poor!
PASSERBY: Thanks.
JEAN VALJEAN: Mr. Deputy—have me arrested. I am a thief!
PASSERBY (terrified): What's the matter with this man? (He leaves precipitously.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Petit-Gervais!—Petit-Gervais! Petit-Gervais! (In a soft voice.) Petit-Gervais! (Falling on the milestone and breaking into tears.) Ah! I am a wretch!
CURTAIN
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—Part I—
Fantine
—Characters in Part I:—
Mr. Madeleine
Javert
Fauchlevent
Thenardier
Champmathieu
Boulatruelle
Brevert
Cochepaille
The President of the Court of Assizes
The Advocate General
A Doctor
Street Workers
Fantine
Soeur (Sister) Simplice
La Thenardier
Madame Victurnien
The Female Overseer or Chaperone
A Working Woman
Male and Female Workers
—Scene I—
One Mother Meets Another
The action takes place first in Montfermeil, then at Montreuil sur Mer then at Arras.
A village street—to the right an inn. In the back, the highway.
LA THENARDIER (seated in the doorway of the Inn and cradling on her knees a little girl.) (Singing):
To the beautiful and tender Imogine
The warriors said—
I'm a knight
I have to go,
I'm leaving for Palestine.
FANTINE (carrying a sleeping child and a traveling bag.) (Stopping): You've got a pretty child there, madame.
LA THENARDIER: You are very polite. Heavens! but you've got a kid, too. Sit down then, my little Lady. My name is La Thenardier. We keep this inn.
FANTINE (sitting): I am a little tired. The darling is sleeping in my arms. I'm coming from Paris.
LA THENARDIER: And from Paris to Montfermeil is a ways. What's your little one's name?
FANTINE: Cosette. She's going to be four.
LA THENARDIER: She's like my Eponine. And where are you going like this?
FANTINE: I'm returning to my country at Montreuil sur Mer—to try to earn a living.
LA THENARDIER: To earn a living!—and the father of your little one—isn't he there?
FANTINE (troubled): The father?
LA THENARDIER: Yes, your husband—
FANTINE: My husband! (She lowers her eyes.)
LA THENARDIER: Ah! I see how it is! Poor young girl! Always the same story. These monstrous men! They cajole you, they promise you marriage and everything, and then they plant you there—with a child on your conscience and months of nursing on your arms!
FANTINE: At least I've had the joy of nursing my Cosette myself. That tired me a bit and I cough.
LA THENARDIER: La!—you are not strong. What are you going to do for work?
FANTINE: I have courage. They wrote me from Montreuil that a woman can now earn 30 sous per day! A foreign gentleman, foreign to the country, has established himself in the country. Mr. Madeleine they call him. In four or five years, he made his fortune in black glassware. He had an invention, instead of 500 workers the glassware now supports a thousand. He's done so much good for the town they've named him mayor. I will go there. Oh! he will receive me.
LA THENARDIER: Hmmm!
FANTINE: Do you think I won't be able to find a situation?
LA THENARDIER: Damn!
FANTINE: Because of my child, right? Because I am bringing her with me? Oh! I already said to myself that perhaps it would be imprudent to confess my angel—for it's true my little Cosette with her blue eyes and her smile and her innocence—comes from shame!
LA THENARDIER: Ah, there'll be gossip for sure.
FANTINE: But still I cannot leave my daughter. I have only her in the world, poor love. You love your little one as I love mine—and you seem like a good woman—well, speak—is it possible?
LA THENARDIER: In your position, when one must hide one's sin and one wants to earn a living—it's another matter. You put your child somewhere—with someone good—that you pay, someone who will keep her and care for her for you.
FANTINE: You think some one could take care of her for me?
LA THENARDIER: Heavens that's dumb! A slip of child! It's not such great trouble.
FANTINE: Leave my daughter! Never!
LA THENARDIER: Take her.
FANTINE: But if they're not going to want me in the country! I must still find work since it's for her.
LA THENARDIER: Well, there, there. As sure as I call myself Thenardier from my husband's name, don't take her.
FANTINE: Oh, shut up! Here! I'm going, because I feel that if I listen to you—(She rises and goes to leave.) Goodbye, madame, goodbye!
LA THENARDIER: Good luck. (Looking at her daughter with love and hugging her.) It's not you, my Ponine, who will ever die of starvation.
FANTINE (returning): Die of starvation! My child, die of starvation!
LA THENARDIER: It's been seen.
FANTINE: Oh, my God! My God! My God! But who to entrust her to? (Silence.) Madame—you are a mother—a good mother! Could you keep her for me—with your little one?
LA THENARDIER: We'd have to see.
FANTINE: And then I won't be long returning. Come—it's got to be done—I can see plainly it's got to be done.
LA THENARDIER: She will play with my Ponine. Be calm. They will take care of her for you for your money.
FANTINE: How much will you take from me?
VOICE OF THENARDIER (from inside the house): Not less than seven francs a month and six months paid in advance.
LA THENARDIER: Six times seven; forty-two.
VOICE OF THENARDIER: And fifteen francs additional for the first expenses.
LA THENARDIER: Total fifty-seven francs.
FANTINE (pulling out her purse): Here they are. I have eighty francs. I'll have enough remaining to go to the country. Going on foot.
VOICE OF THENARDIER: Does she have an outfit?
LA THENARDIER: That's my husband.
FANTINE: Without a doubt she has a—the poor treasure, I can see indeed that it was your husband—and, a fine outfit. It's in my travelling bag.
VOICE OF THENARDIER: You'll need to give it.
FANTINE: I think indeed that I'll give it! That would be strange if I left my daughter naked!
VOICE OF THENARDIER: That's good.
LA THENARDIER: Give me the child.
FANTINE (giving the child to LA THENARDIER): Take care of watching over her. Oh—let me kiss her again. (She kisses her.) You will indeed spoil her for me, right? You love children, that can be seen. My beloved Cosette. I will take her back for a moment—you'll allow me? (Takes the child and embraces her and returns her to LA THENARDIER.) Ah, her outfit! There I was going forgetting her outfit! Am I dumb! (She opens her travelling bag and pulls out some children's clothes.) Here are her bodices, Madame Thenardier and bonnets braided with ribbons, and silk dresses—like a lady!—and little cherubs stockings, and that's all a little rich girl's outfits. Come, I was lucky to meet you. There now, everything is well arranged. My Cosette will be happy. More happy than with me. I am leaving—calm—very calm. Just let me give her a little smile one more time! (She bursts into tears, embraces her child desperately and leaves running.)
THENARDIER (appearing at the doorway): That's going to complete my bill of 110 francs which falls due tomorrow. Do you know that I would have had a bailiff and a protest? You did some great mouse trapping with your little one.
LA THENARDIER: Without suspecting it.
CURTAIN
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—Scene II—
The Success of Madame Victurnien
In front of MADELEINE's factory at Montreuil sur Mer. A large alleyway in the faubourg, furrowed with ruts which is in the process of being leveled and paved. To the left the edifice of the factory with an open grill and two doors, one raised by several steps leading to a women's workshop, the other leading to the men's workshop. An unyoked cart filled with paving materials whose rear end is visible behind a pile of earth occupies the back of the alleyway. Paving workers, their tools in their hands—the lunch bell sounds. Male and female workers of the factory leave in successive groups. MADAME VICTURNIEN enters hurriedly from the left.
THE HEADMISTRESS (leaving the women's workshop): Ah! Madame Victurnien! There you are! Well?
MADAME VICTURNIEN: Madame Headmistress! I've come from Montfermeil. For my 35 francs I've got the dope on La Fantine. Oh when it's a question of morality I don't spare my trouble or my money.
HEADMISTRESS: Come tell me about this.
(They go back into the women's workshop. Groups of female workers pass by. FANTINE leaves the factory giving her arm to another working girl.)
FANTINE: The fact is that since I've been in Mr. Madeleine's factory, I have been happy, I feel calm. What it is, is the work!
WORKING GIRL: And the honesty.
FANTINE: It's so easy to be honest when you earn your living.
WORKING GIRL: That doesn't prevent this one and that one in the village, especially the richer ones, who follow you and pressure you—even when you are not on the esplanade at the theatre or the ball. As if a girl like you was going to amuse herself.
FANTINE: It's when you're unhappy that you amuse yourself and I am almost happy.
WORKING GIRL: Almost.
FANTINE (not wanting to explain about COSETTE who's absence troubles her happiness, she says): I know what I mean.
(They pass by. The pavers come down stage to remove their work clothes.)
FIRST PAVER: You can say what you like, but it's funny all the same that for the last two days that we've been paving this alleyway, Mr. Javert is always on the prowl around here. And I've noticed he never takes his eye off Madeleine's factory.
SECOND PAVER: He's doing his job as Police Inspector—what!
THIRD PAVER: A tough Inspector! Honest man but not soft!
FIRST PAVER: All that doesn't explain why, every time the Mayor passes Mr. Javert greets him in a way—
SECOND PAVER: Well?
FIRST PAVER: Well—I don't know—but they seem to observe each other as if there were something between them.
THIRD PAVER: Between Mr. Madeleine and Mr. Javert.
(JAVERT enters from the right.)
JAVERT: Go eat a bite, too—you others, but come back quick. You have to finish this work here for me.
FIRST PAVER: It's because so much water has fallen, Inspector. With what that loafer of a Fauchlevent leaves us his cart here flat in the middle of the alley.
(They leave.)
JAVERT (to an apprentice who leaves the factory in the middle of a group): Hey! You!
APPRENTICE (putting his hand on his hat): Mr. Javert?
JAVERT: Go find me old man Fauchlevent.
APPRENTICE: Old man Fauchlevent? The one who said to hang the Mayor?
A WORKER (laughing): Ah—you see, Mr. Javert, it's because we don't love those who don't love Mr. Madeleine, our brave boss.
ANOTHER: You might call him our providence.
(They pass by. Enter FAUCHLEVENT.)
(New groups of workers pass.)
FAUCHLEVENT: Ah, always their Mr. Madeleine, their idol!
JAVERT (pointing to his wagon): Here, you! the least turn of the wheel forward and your cart is clogging in the soft ground like nothing at all, you see.
FAUCHLEVENT: Hey!—we're going to get it out for you, what! Me, too—eight years ago it was my line of business, the black glassware. He's enriched the country, it's true—but he's ruined me with his invention and it seems to me that I really have the right to detest him, this Mr. Madeleine of good God that the whole world loves!
JAVERT (grumbling): Not the whole world.
FAUCHLEVENT: They say he's the benefactor of the country; he founded an orphanage, an asylum, a hospital! he's good, by God, he's good.
JAVERT (between his teeth): He's too good! He's good for the bad! Real honest folk are not as good as that! (To some workers who pass by.) Who is it who comes to give a hand to old man Fauchlevent to move his cart?
A WORKER: Come on! all the same!
ANOTHER: Also, why's he always ready to cry down the Mayor?
FAUCHLEVENT: Well, yes!— I don't like him, your boss! And he's my bête noire! and I abominate him as no one was ever abominated since abominating started on earth—and he knows it quite well.
JAVERT: Come on! Four men of good will—and quickly.
(The workers surround the cart.)
FAUCHLEVENT (pushing them away): Don't touch! Pack of good for nothings, lazybones. (He disappears behind the carriage.) You are going to see if I cannot budge my cart by myself alone. This knows me. Here—there it's rolling.
GENERAL SHOUT: Ah!
JAVERT: The carts rolling on him! Go get a crane, quick, quick!
MADELEINE (running through the gate): Twenty louis to whomever will save this poor man.
ALL: Mr. Madeleine.
A WORKER: Ah, Mr. Madeleine, it's not good will we lack.
JAVERT (looking fixedly at MADELEINE): It's strength. I know only one man—just one, capable of raising a wagon filled with paving stones.
MADELEINE (looking at JAVERT): Ah!
JAVERT: He was a galley slave!
MADELEINE: From the Prison of Toulon.
VOICE OF FAUCHLEVENT: I'm choking! ah! it's crushing me!
JAVERT: I knew only one man who could replace a crane—he was a galley slave.
MADELEINE (with a sad smile): May the will of God be done. (He goes back rapidly and disappears behind the cart—still surrounded by workers. A general cry of terror.)
WORKERS: Mr. Madeleine!—stop!
JAVERT (impassive): The cart is raising up.
WORKERS: Help us! (The cart is raised by 20 arms.)
MADELEINE (reappearing calm): Carry this man to the infirmary. Warn Sister Simplice.
WORKERS: Long live Mr. Madeleine!
FAUCHLEVENT: Mr. Madeleine! it's you who saved me! You! Then it's true you were the good God! I know you now.
JAVERT (in a low voice, always watching MADELEINE): Me too. (He leaves by the left. The workers carry out FAUCHLEVENT.)
MADELEINE (alone, watching JAVERT move away): What does this man matter to me! All the world loves me here! Ah! My life is full! And still I sense an emptiness. What do I lack? In this crowd which surrounds me like a father, I don't know why, I feel myself alone.
WORKERS (in the factory): Long live Mr. Madeleine.
(He goes in. The working girls come back. FANTINE appears. At the moment she puts her foot on the first step to the workshop to follow her comrades, the HEADMISTRESS appears.)
HEADMISTRESS (coming down the steps): You, Miss—don't come in.
FANTINE (recoiling): What!
HEADMISTRESS: You no longer share in the workshop.
FANTINE: My God!
HEADMISTRESS: I know why you were writing every week to Montfermeil.
FANTINE (crushed): Ah! You know!
HEADMISTRESS: I suggest you leave the country. Here are fifty francs I give to you in the name of Mr. Madeleine. (She puts the money in the hand of FANTINE who takes it mechanically.)
FANTINE: Then it's Mr. Madeleine who is running me off?
HEADMISTRESS: Mr. Madeleine never meddles in matters that occur in the women's workshop. It's not Mr. Madeleine that kicks you out, it's the rules. (Goes back up the steps.)
FANTINE (following, her hands joined): Oh, madame, pity! I have only this livelihood—don't kick me out! My little Cosette—if you knew her! A child of seven. Madame, if you kick me out here I am all alone in the world. What do you want me to become?
(The HEADMISTRESS abruptly shuts the door. FANTINE lets out a burst of distorted laughter—she takes three steps staggering and looks with stupor at the money in her hand.)
FANTINE: And then? (Going to leave.)
WORKERS (in the factory): Long live Mr. Madeleine!
FANTINE (turning and looking at the factory with rage): Oh, this Mr. Madeleine!
BLACKOUT
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—Scene III—
A Tempest Under a Crane
MR. MADELEINE's office. A fire in the chimney. On the chimney two silver candlesticks.
FAUCHLEVENT: Sister Simplice, it's well known that you would prefer to die rather than to lie, but in your letter you are writing about my accident to the Superior of the Convent of Petiti Picpus where you really want to send me—
SISTER SIMPLICE: Well?
FAUCHLEVENT: It's on the subject of this weakness that I still have in my leg you know? That won't hurt in gardening and wouldn't it perhaps—not be lying—just not mention it.
SISTER SIMPLICE: So Papa Fauchlevent, not to tell the whole truth—is not to tell the truth. What I am saying especially to the Superior is that you are a brave and worthy man, profoundly grateful toward those who have done you well.
FAUCHLEVENT: Oh! yes, grateful enough to give my life in my turn for Mr. Madeleine.
SISTER SIMPLICE: Papa Fauchlevent, here's your letter of introduction, and here's what the Mayor has entrusted me to give you before your departure for Paris. (She gives him the letter and a bank note.)
FAUCHLEVENT: A thousand francs.
SISTER SIMPLICE: Mr. Madeleine is purchasing your cart and your horse.
FAUCHLEVENT (smiling sweetly): Oh, Sister Simplice, you who are truth itself—do you think that my broken cart and lame horse together are worth one thousand francs?
SISTER SIMPLICE: For you, no. To the Mayor, yes. Keep this money, Papa Fauchlevent, you really earned it through the good deed you did for Mr. Madeleine.
FAUCHLEVENT: I'm going to have to leave here weeping all the tears in my eyes.
(Noises and shouts outside.)
SISTER SIMPLICE: What's that?
FAUCHLEVENT (going to the window): One would say a fight. A comical art for the fun of the thing. A sally from a masked ball.
(FANTINE enters dressed in a faded and torn hood, pulled over her head; JAVERT holding her—and a crowd behind them.)
FANTINE: Sir! my good, sir!
JAVERT: As for you, you were a working girl here! A worker of Mr. Madeleine's leading a life like this would create such a scandal! It's good the Mayor told me that you had left his place.
FANTINE: My God!
JAVERT: He's going to come, isn't he, Sister Simplice? Anyway, I have to speak to him on my own account.
SISTER SIMPLICE: In a moment. What's it all about?
JAVERT: We will see if she dares to maintain her lie before you, Sister Simplice.
FANTINE: Oh, heavens, before the Mayor comes, you ought rather to let me go, my good sir. Really you ought to. You were witness, but not to the beginning. I was fighting with this gentleman, it's true, I trampled on his hat, it's true, but you don't know what he did to me. I left Morel's ball alone, calmly, without saying anything to any body. And suddenly he put a fistful of snow down my back, there between my shoulders—that got me going. I am a little sick you see! I cough—I've something in my stomach like a ball which burns me, I have a fever—I wasn't talking to him, I hadn't done anything, I refused to dance with him three times that's all. I thought he was a little high—and when I got in the square he put snow on me. Perhaps I was wrong to get mad, but one isn't master. And then, something so cold put on your back unexpectedly! All the same, I was wrong. Why did that gentleman leave? I would ask for his pardon.
JAVERT: You will tell it to the judge.
FANTINE (shaking): To the judge—when?
JAVERT: I don't know—in a week or two. You will get off with a month in prison.
FANTINE: Prison! Oh, my God! Prison! But if I am there only a week, all will be lost. In three days, I have to pay one hundred francs—100 francs! or otherwise they will take my little one, my Cosette! I am going to tell you, Inspector, it's the Thenardiers, the innkeepers, peasants—there's no reasoning with them. They must have money. Oh—no prison! My Cosette, my little angel of the good holy Virgin. What will become of her, poor darling? No prison! She's a little one they'll put in the street! Could you do that in the heart of winter? If she was bigger, she could earn her living, but she cannot. She's so young! You have to have pity on this little thing, my good sir!
SISTER SIMPLICE: Oh! yes—you must have pity!
JAVERT: Have pity—pity on a wretched woman who hurls herself on everybody with kicks and blows! Ah! She will go to prison! Wait! Here's Mr. Madeleine.
FANTINE: Ah! Here he is!
JAVERT: Explain a bit and let's see if he will stop you from going to prison.
FANTINE: Ah! I will to go prison! Ah, yes, then I am going to speak to your virtuous Mr. Madeleine! It was he, it was the headmistress of this workshop who kicked me out six months ago. It's he who is the cause of my shame. It's he who is the cause of everything. Because I had a child! But it's not a horror! I was working, I never lacked anything. To send away a poor girl who has honestly done her work. Then I no longer earned anything, and the whole misfortune came. Ah, if it was laziness or coquetry that led me to no longer be the upright girl I was! But no, I had my little Cosette. I wanted to struggle. But it was then that my child fell ill. Ah, do you understand now who has caused all this misfortune—it's him. (Pointing to MADELEINE.) I sold my last furniture, I sold my last dress—I sold my hair. (She pulls back her hood and grasping her short hair in her hands, the hair is in disorder, coifed in a nasty bouquet of artificial flowers soiled in mud.) And since I am going to prison and since I am going to die and since Cosette is going to die! Yes—I've wanted to speak before the Mayor—to insult him like the other one, and call him monster, and to throw in his face my shame and my need! (She tears the bouquet from her hair and throws it in the face of MR. MADELEINE.)
A GENERAL SHOUT OF INDIGNATION: Oh!
MADELEINE (wiping his face): Inspector Javert, set this woman at liberty.
FANTINE (bewildered): What's he say?
JAVERT: I didn't hear properly, Mr. Mayor.
MADELEINE: Not so. Would you tell the sergeant that I bear surety for this woman and that I will answer for her.
JAVERT: Pardon, Mr. Mayor—it's impossible! She was grossly wanting in respect to a gentleman in the street.
MADELEINE: Inspector Javert, I passed through the square as you were taking this woman. There were several groups—I got information—I know everything. It's the gentleman who was in the wrong, and ought to have been arrested by thorough police.
JAVERT: This wretched woman just insulted you, Mr. Mayor.
MADELEINE: That's my concern—my insult is my own!
JAVERT: Above all there is justice. She's a recidivist. This woman deserves six months in prison—she'll get it.
MADELEINE: Listen carefully to this: she won't do a day.
JAVERT: Mr. Mayor, allow me—
MADELEINE: Not another word—go!
JAVERT: Still—
MADELEINE: Leave.
(JAVERT bows deeply to the Mayor and leaves.)
FANTINE: What's this? It's you who save me now? You!
MADELEINE (who has taken her hand): Sister Simplice, she's ill, she's very ill, she has a terrible fever. You have a free room in the infirmary, right?
SISTER SIMPLICE: Yes, sir.
FANTINE: Oh!
MADELEINE: I don't know about what you said. I believe that it's true. I was unaware that you had left my workshop. But here, I will pay your debts. I will have your child brought here or you will go rejoin her. You will live here—or Paris—wherever you like. I will take care of your child and you. You will become honest again and you will be happy again. And listen, I declare it from now, if you've suffered all you said—and I don't doubt it—you've never ceased to be pardoned by God. Oh! poor woman!
FANTINE: Is it true? God in heaven! Is it possible? Oh! oh! oh! (She falls to her knees, grasping MADELEINE's hands, gluing her lips to them and fainting.)
MADELEINE: Père Fauchlevent, my friends, help to carry her—Sister Simplice, I will go see her in an hour. (Alone.) Ah! Here's a fine day! Mother and child. All I needed was that! A destiny to protect, a soul to save! A lost soul completely found. Be joyful my soul. This is what happened to you.
JAVERT (entering): Mr. Mayor consents to receive me?
MADELEINE: What's wrong, Javert?
JAVERT: Mr. Mayor, just now a subordinate officer of the authority in this town lacked respect to a magistrate in the most serious way. Just now, when, by chance, I brought this girl here, it was done so very gravely that I am come to bring it to your attention.
MADELEINE: Who is this officer?
JAVERT: Me.
MADELEINE: You! And who is this magistrate?
JAVERT: You, Mr. Mayor.
MADELEINE: What are you talking about, Javert? You were lacking in respect to me? When was it?
JAVERT: It's been for too long already. Sir, I come to beg of you to seek my removal as Inspector of Police. I ought to have already given my resignation but to give one's resignation is honorable. I have to be kicked out.
MADELEINE: I don't understand.
JAVERT: You are going to understand, Mr. Mayor. I've never liked you. Since I've been here, I've always seen you take sides with those who have done wrong—release those detained for debts, send help to those in prison, you give bail for the little vagabonds of the street, what do I know? Just now again with this woman! Mr. Mayor, goodness which consists of deciding in favor those who are low against those who are above them—that's a bad kind of goodness. You are good with that kind of goodness. As for me, I am just—I don't like you.
MADELEINE: That's your right.
JAVERT: Oh! without doubt, if I was satisfied with not liking you! Mr. Mayor—I denounced you.
MADELEINE: Denounced me?
JAVERT: In Paris.
MADELEINE: As a Mayor having encroached on the police?
JAVERT: As a former galley salve. (Silence.) I believed it. A striking resemblance. Your physical strength. Raising that carriage. What do I know? Stupid things. But, anyway, I took you for a man named Jean Valjean.
MADELEINE: A man named?
JAVERT: Jean Valjean. I had seen this Jean Valjean when I went to my father's who was a police-surgeon at Toulon. After he left the galley he stole again. A little Savoyard. They've been searching for him for eight years. As for me, I imagined—finally I did the thing—my hate decided me—and I denounced you.
MADELEINE: And what did they reply to you?
JAVERT: That I was mad.
MADELEINE: Well?
JAVERT: Well, they were right.
MADELEINE: You recognize it.
JAVERT: Indeed I had to.
MADELEINE: Ah!
JAVERT: Mr. Mayor—you resemble, feature by feature, an individual named Champmathieu who was arrested last year for a theft of apples—and who has just been identified by the lifers Boulatruelle, Brevet and Cochepaille. It was just at that moment that I sent in my denunciation they told me that Jean Valjean is at Arras in the power of justice. They made me come—they brought me to Champmathieu.
MADELEINE: Well?
JAVERT: Mr. Mayor—the truth is the truth. I am angry about it, but that man there is the one who is Jean Valjean. Me too, I identified him.
MADELEINE: You are sure?
JAVERT (with a sad laugh): Oh! sure! And even after I had seen the real Jean Valjean I didn't understand how I had been able to believe otherwise. I ask your pardon, Mr. Mayor.
MADELEINE: And what did this man say?
JAVERT: Ah! Damn!—it's a bad business, he's a recidivist. It's no longer police correction, it's the court of Assizes—the galleys for life. He's been taken to the Assizes at Arras. I am summoned as a witness.
MADELEINE: And when are you leaving?
JAVERT: Tonight—he will be judged tomorrow.
MADELEINE: And how much time will the business last?
JAVERT: A day, maybe a bit more; the sentence will be pronounced tomorrow evening. But I won't wait for the sentence, as soon as my statement is given, I will return here and you can have me replaced right away. Mr. Mayor, the good of the service needs an example. I ask simply for the dismissal of Inspector Javert. (He salutes and leaves.)
MADELEINE (alone, he collapses overwhelmed into a chair): Ah, is it possible? Ah! My God! Where am I? Is it really true that Javert spoke to me this way? A man who resembles me to such a degree. What's happening to me is unheard of. When I think that yesterday I was so calm! What to do? (He rises and paces up and down.) Go to Arras, immediately, tonight and denounce myself? Yes, that's it. Right away. Jean Valjean—here you are before your great test—between your safety and your duty. Come on—let's do our duty. Let's save that man. (He stops.) Oh—but—let's see, let's consider, let's think, let's weigh things. Yes, the situation is unheard of. It's true, but I am the master of it. Yes, that's what is terrifying. (Going to the door and bolting it.) Let's see, let's see what's wrong in all this? Let's try to examine the thing coldly. If I denounce myself, they will release this Champmathieu, they'll send me back to the galleys. Well, and then?—what will happen here? Ah, here there's a country, a town, workers. I created all that. Without me, all this dies. And this woman who has suffered so much, who without wishing to, I've harmed so much! And that child I promised to the mother! If I disappear the mother dies, the child becomes whatever it can; that's what happens if I denounce myself.—Ah, truly, I haven't the right to denounce myself! That would be infamous, that's that. No, no! I am Madeleine, I am going to remain Madeleine. And if, at this moment, there is a Jean Valjean, things will straighten themselves out! It's a fatal name that floats in the night, he will be sentenced and beaten on the head—so much the worse for him. Come one, that's decided. Ah, this will save me from making a decision. Let's finish right away with this hideous Jean Valjean! In this very room even there are things which could be proof—but all this will disappear. Come on!
(He opens an armoire, hidden in the tapestry and pulls out a blouse, a pine stick, an old sack, with an abrupt gesture, and without looking, he casts it all in the fire. That done, he bends over the fire place and mechanically warms himself.) Ah—fine heat! (He stands up, raises his eyes, straightens and notices the two silver candlesticks.) What remains of Jean Valjean is in there. It's necessary to destroy these candlesticks, too. (Going to place them in the fire, he stops and with terror replaces them on the chimney.)
Yes, that's it—finish it! destroy these candlesticks, obliterate this record, forget the just man! Forget everything—ruin this Champmathieu—go, that's fine! Congratulate yourself. Here's a man who knows what he wants: an innocent on whom your name weighs like a crime, who's going to be condemned in your place, who's going to end his life in your place, in honor and meanness!—that's fine. Be an honest man, you. Remain the Mayor, remain honored, enrich the city, nourish the poor, raise orphans, save mothers, live happy, virtuous and admired, and during this time, while you are here in happiness and in the light, there will be someone who will have your red cassock, who will wear your name in shame and drag your chain at the bench! Yes, indeed arrange it so. Ah! Wretch! (Looking around him—shocked.) Who is it shouted Wretch? (Midnight sounds. A moment of silence. He passes his hand over his face like someone who is trying to reorder his thoughts.) What was I thinking of when midnight struck? Ah, yes, I've got it. I had made the decision to denounce myself. (He abruptly recoils a few steps.) Great God, after having been what I am—the crew of convicts, the iron collar, the red cassock, the chain on your foot, the fatigue, the dank cell, the camp bed—to submit anew to all that! To be spoken down to by the crew guard, to receive a blow from a stick by the warder, to have naked feet in iron slippers! To display your leg morning and night to the hammer of the guard who inspects the shackles. To submit to the curiosity of strangers who will say 'That one is the famous Jean Valjean who was Mayor of Montreuil.' In the evening, overwhelmed with fatigue, the green cap over your eyes—to remount the ladder to the floating prison under the guard's whip two by two. Oh, it's too much, My God! Mercy! Oh—since it's necessary, why do you make it impossible?
BLACKOUT
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—Scene IV—
The Champmathieu Affair
The courtroom—Court of Assizes in Arras
The PRESIDENT, the ATTORNEY GENERAL, the LAWYER for the accused, and CHAMPMATHIEU are present. JAVERT is seated at a witness bench. Two Police officers.
THE ATTORNEY GENERAL (concluding his final argument): So, gentlemen of the jury, this man, this Champmathieu, found on the public highway in the flagrant crime of theft, denies his name, denies his identity. Still, four witnesses recognize him. Javert, upright Police Inspector Javert, and three of his old companions in shame—the galley slaves Boulatruelle, Brevet and Cochepaille. You will do justice gentleman of the jury. We ask for the application of the law in all its rigor. (Sitting down.)
JAVERT (rising): Mr. President, I am no longer necessary here and I must return tomorrow morning to Montreuil-sur-Mer. I ask the Court for permission to withdraw.
PRESIDENT: The Public Prosecutor or the Defense are not opposed to the departure of the witness? (The ATTORNEY GENERAL and the DEFENDER make signs of agreement.) Inspector Javert, before leaving the court, you maintain your declaration?
JAVERT: Yes, Mr. President. (Pointing to CHAMPMATHIEU.) This man is not named Champmathieu. He's the galley slave Jean Valjean. I saw him at Toulon. I recognize him.
PRESIDENT: That's fine. Go. (JAVERT bows and leaves.) Does the Defense have anything to add?
DEFENSE ATTORNEY: I beg the jury and the court, if this identity of Jean Valjean appears plain to them to have regard for the limited intelligence of this wretch, proven through long suffering in prison and out of prison and to apply to him police punishments which require the guilty to leave their assigned place of abode and not the terrible punishments which strike recidivist galley slaves. (He sits down.)
PRESIDENT: Accused, stand up. (CHAMPMATHIEU rises.) Do you have something to say in your defense?
CHAMPMATHIEU: I have only this: I was a cartright in Paris. You have only to ask of Old Man Champmathieu. Beyond that, I don't know what you want from me.
PRESIDENT: Accused, in your interest, I ask you once again. Are you, yes or no, the freed galley slave Jean Valjean?
CHAMPMATHIEU: I am Old Man Champmathieu, that's all! It's plain! I never stole. I've been in prison for three months and they led me right, left and they spoke against me and they told me: Answer. The policeman who is a good guy said: Come on, answer—and gave me an elbow. As for me, I don't know how to explain. I never completed my studies. I am a poor man. That's all. So why is the world after me so ruthlessly?
ATTORNEY GENERAL: Mr. President, in the presence of the obstinate denials of the accused, we request, that it please you and that it please the court, to call anew to this forum the convicts Boulatruelle, Brevet and Cochepaille and question them one last time, over the identity of the accused with the galley slave, Jean Valjean.
PRESIDENT: Usher, bring the witnesses back in. (Enter BOULATRUELLE, BREVET and COCHEPAILLE escorted in by police.) Witnesses, you have all three received a degrading conviction. Now, only a feeling of fairness can remain with you. Consider then before responding to me, and consider that a word from you can yet ruin or save. Accused rise. (CHAMPMATHIEU rises.) Boulatruelle, do you persist in recognizing this man to be your former comrade, Jean Valjean?
BOULATRUELLE: Yes, Mr. President—I was the one who first recognized him. He entered Toulon in 1796 and left in 1815. I recognize him.
PRESIDENT: And you Brevet?
BREVET: Yes, I recognize him! We were attached to the same chain for five years.
PRESIDENT: And you, Cochepaille?
COCHEPAILLE: Yes, your honor. It's him.
PRESIDENT: That's sufficient. I am going to conclude the discussion.
MADELEINE (emerging from the crowd): Boulatruelle, Brevet, Cochepaille—look over this way.
SEVERAL VOICES: Mr. Madeleine!
MADELEINE (coming forward): You don't recognize me? (The three convicts, stupefied, make negative signs.) Well, as for me, I recognize you! Boulatruelle, you remember? (After having hesitated, he gets hold of himself.) You remember the file we hid together, the morning of our first escape, under the sewer third flagstone of the winding pathway?
BOULATRUELLE: Huh?
MADELEINE: Brevet, your whole right shoulder is deeply burned because you lay one day on a chafing dish full of coals to remove the three letters T.F.P that can still be seen now. Answer—is it true?
BREVET: It's true.
MADELEINE: Cochepaille, you have on your left arm a date tattooed in blue letters burned in with powder—March 1815.
COCHEPAILLE (raising his arm): There!
GENERAL SHOUT: Ah!
MADELEINE: Gentlemen of the jury, release the accused. Mr. President, have me arrested. The man you are looking for is not him—it's me. I am Jean Valjean.
BLACKOUT
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—Scene V—
Sister Simplice—A Room in the Infirmary
At the back, to the right, the door to SISTER SIMPLICE's cell. To the left a window, giving on the streets. Also the left, an entry door opposite the long chair on which FANTINE is sleeping. It is night.
SISTER SIMPLICE (to FANTINE stretched on the chair): How do you feel?
FANTINE: Fine. I would like to see Mr. Madeleine.
SISTER SIMPLICE (low to the DOCTOR): She's been asking me that for the last 48 hours—what do you want me to tell her?
DOCTOR (low): She's very ill. But still, where is Mr. Madeleine? Where is he?
SISTER SIMPLICE: We only learned just now that he left the town at daybreak without saying where he was going.
FANTINE (abruptly sitting up): You are talking about Mr. Madeleine—why are you speaking so low? What's he done? Why doesn't he come? Answer—
SISTER SIMPLICE: My child, keep calm.
FANTINE: He's not coming? Why's that? Sister Simplice, you know the reason—tell me.
DOCTOR (low to Simplice): Reply that he's busy with the factory.
SISTER SIMPLICE (shaking her head, then after hesitating): The Mayor left since yesterday morning.
FANTINE (with an explosion of joy): Left!—He went to find Cosette!
SISTER SIMPLICE: What's she saying?
FANTINE: Sister Simplice, I really intend to go back to bed, I am going to do whatever you wish—just now I was bad, I ask your pardon for having talked too loud. It's very bad to talk loud, I know that very well, my good sister, but you see I am very satisfied. God is Good, Mr. Madeleine's good. Can you imagine that he went to find my little Cosette at Montfermeil.
SISTER SIMPLICE: My child, try to rest now and don't speak any more.
FANTINE: The Thenardiers will have nothing to say, right? Since they are paid. I am extremely happy. I'm doing fine. I'm no longer ill at all. I am going to see Cosette again. I am even very hungry. Oh, how good he is at fixing things, Mr. Madeleine!
SISTER SIMPLICE: Well, now that you are happy—obey me, don't talk any more.
FANTINE: Yes, be wise, since you are going to have your child. She's right, Sister Simplice. All those who are here are right. Mr. Doctor—won't you?—you are going to let her sleep here, beside me—in a little bed, you see in the morning when she awakes—I will say 'hello' to her—to that poor cat, and at night, I who never sleep will hear her sleep. Her little breath—so sweet will make me well.
DOCTOR: Give me your hand. (Takes FANTINE's hand and hangs his head.)
FANTINE: Ah! heavens it's true—you don't know—it's that I am cured. Cosette's going to arrive. (Singing.)
We'll buy lots of stuff
And take long walks around town
Wash that cloth?—Where? In the river.
Do it without wasting or soiling it.
A pretty skirt with a child's bodice,
That I intend to embroider and fill with flowers
Your child is dead madame, what's to be done?
Make a cloth to bury me in.
The cornflowers are blue, roses are red
The cornflowers are blue, I love my loves.
(Her voice weakens; she drowses off.)
(MADELEINE enters.)
SISTER SIMPLICE: Ah! at last! its' you, Mr. Madeleine! Oh, how worried we were about you!
MADELEINE: Pardon, sister, I am rather pressed. Yes, in the first moment of shock they let me leave the place where I was—but I am not free for long, that's quite certain. How is this poor woman doing?
DOCTOR: Oh, very ill. At this moment she drowsed off.
SISTER SIMPLICE: She thinks that the Mayor went to search for her child. Is it true?
MADELEINE: No—
SISTER SIMPLICE: Then you are not coming from Montfermeil?
MADELEINE: I'm coming from Arras. I was caught between two duties—one terrible, the other sweet—I wasn't able to begin that which was sweet.
DOCTOR: So that the child of this poor woman?
MADELEINE: She will have her, but it will take at least two days.
DOCTOR: Oh!—very late—when she wakes up what to tell her?
SISTER SIMPLICE: That Mr. Madeleine hasn't shown up. That will make her patient and it won't be necessary to make up lies.
MADELEINE: No, Sister Simplice, I must see her. I told you I am rushed. (He goes to FANTINE and takes her hand.)
FANTINE (waking up—with a smile—calm): And Cosette?
SISTER SIMPLICE: My God.
FANTINE: Mr. Madeleine. I knew that you were there, I was sleeping but I saw you. I've seen you for a long time, I followed you with my eyes all night. You were in glory and you had about you all sorts of celestial figures. But tell me then,—where is Cosette? Why didn't they put her on my bed the moment that I awoke?
DOCTOR: Look, calm down. Your child is here.
FANTINE: Oh, bring her to me.
DOCTOR: Not yet. Your fever remains. The sight of your child would agitate you.
FANTINE: But I am cured! I tell you I am cured. Ah, indeed! I want to see my child!
DOCTOR: You see how carried away you are. So long as you are this way, I will prevent you from having your child.
FANTINE: Doctor, I ask your pardon. I truly ask your pardon. I will await as long as you like, but I swear to that it wouldn't do me harm to see my child. Do you know—if they brought her to me now I would set myself to speak softly to her. Since they went direct to Montfermeil to get her for me. I am not angry. When the Doctor likes, he will bring me Cosette. Mr. Madeleine, isn't she beautiful, my child? Can't you bring her even for a short moment? They could take her away again right away afterwards. Speak, you who are the master, if you would?
MADELEINE: Cosette is beautiful. Cosette is fine, you will see her soon—but calm down.
(The DOCTOR writes an order and leaves.)
FANTINE: How happy we are going to be! She must know her alphabet, now. I will make her spell. And then she will have her first communion. She's seven years old. In five years, she will have a white veil completely up to date, she will have the air of a little woman. Oh, my good Sister Simplice, you don't know how stupid I am—here I am thinking of my daughter's first communion. (She breaks off abruptly, turns to the right and looks at the door with terror.) Ah! Mr. Madeleine—save me!
JEAN VALJEAN (rising calmly): Don't worry. It's not for you that he's coming. (To JAVERT.) I know what you wish.
JAVERT: Come and quickly!
SISTER SIMPLICE: Mr. Madeleine!
JAVERT: Sister Simplice—you who don't know how to say anything except the truth don't call this man by that name—it's a false name. (To MADELEINE.) An arrest warrant from the Prosecutor of the Court at Arras has just come to me now. Did you hear me?
JEAN VALJEAN: Javert.
JAVERT: I'm called Inspector Javert!
JEAN VALJEAN (low): Inspector Javert—a word—a prayer.
JAVERT: Aloud!—I'm spoken to aloud—
JEAN VALJEAN (low): Give me two days. Two days—from Mercy. Two days to go find the child of this unfortunate woman at Montfermeil. I will pay what it costs. You will accompany me if you wish.
JAVERT (aloud, sneering): Ah, indeed—that's laughable! Two days of liberty self proclaimed—to go find the child of this girl! Ah! ah—that's good!
FANTINE (sitting up, bewildered): My child. Go find my child! Then she's not here! Sister, answer me—where is Cosette? I want my child! Mr. Madeleine!
JAVERT (grabbing JEAN VALJEAN): Yet once more—there is no Mr. Madeleine! There's a thief, a brigand, a galley slave called Jean Valjean—I figured it out, by God!—and now I've got him, that's what's wrong.
FANTINE (with a raucous scream): Ah! (She convulsively extends her hands—her head falls to her breast—she dies.)
SISTER SIMPLICE (falling to her knees): Mercy!
JEAN VALJEAN (disengaging from JAVERT's grasp, opening and closing her hand, as he would a child's): You killed this woman.
JAVERT (astonished): Shall we finish? The guard is below.
JEAN VALJEAN (terrible): I don't advise you to disturb me at this moment.
JAVERT (laughing but subjugated): What's this?
JEAN VALJEAN: I have to speak to this dead woman. Wait for me outside. It's not convenient for you to see what I have to say and to do here.
SISTER SIMPLICE (trembling and begging): No longer my business, Mr. Javert. (She goes to her cell at the back.)
JAVERT (looking around him): Sister Simplice's room—no exit there. (Going to open the window.) Forty feet high. I give you two minutes.
JEAN VALJEAN (hand extended toward the door): Go!
(JAVERT leaves.)
JEAN VALJEAN (kneeling by FANTINE and taking her hand): Fantine! You came too late, you left too soon. It's all right, Fantine, I promise you—do you hear—to go find Cosette, I promise you that your child will be happy—I promise you will see. (Rising and calling.) Sister Simplice.
(SISTER SIMPLICE remains in the doorway of her cell—a torch in her hand.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Sister, I beg you to watch over all that I am leaving here—they will take out the expenses of my trial and the burial of this poor woman—the rest to the poor. (Giving her a paper.)
SISTER SIMPLICE: Where are you going?
JEAN VALJEAN: To surrender myself.
SISTER SIMPLICE: Oh—impossible! (She pushes JEAN VALJEAN into the corner made by opening the door at the left. JAVERT reenters.)
JAVERT: Well? (Looks around the room.) Ah!—he's no longer here! Sister Simplice! Sister Simplice—you've never lied in your life. Speak! speak—he's no longer here?
SISTER SIMPLICE: No.
JAVERT: Escaped! Which way? (Pointing to the open window.) Ah—through there?
SISTER SIMPLICE: Yes.
JAVERT: Over the rooftops! I should have thought of that. (Rushing out.) Help! Help!
JEAN VALJEAN (bending his knee to her): O saintly woman—may this lie be counted in your favor in paradise!
BLACKOUT
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—Scene VI—
Cosette
A woods near Montfermeil—profound night. To the left a spring in the rocks. Enter JEAN VALJEAN, he bears a pick ax and a locked box.
JEAN VALJEAN (alone): This great woods—the night—it's terrifying but it's religious. I sense you near me, Fantine. I've felt since the other night that you were leading me—invisible—Javert's on my trail. I can hardly be far ahead of him—and before this furious pursuit, I am going, I am acting, I am fleeing with a strange calm, with a lucidity which is not mine. Oh, still, Fantine, we've been able to go from Montreuil sur Mer to Paris—we've been able to withdraw money from the bank—which is now Cosette's—we've been able to return from Paris here to Montfermeil. But hide the money, find and bring back Cosette, find shelter for the orphan—and her wretched tutor—can we still do all that, Fantine? Can we do it? Come! You must still show me where I must hide the infant's fortune.
(He leaves by the right. Enter COSETTE from the left terrified, carrying a large pail.)
COSETTE (alone): Madame Thenardier ought not to send me to find water at the spring at night. Day, yes, but not night.—Oh, in the trees there's someone all white who is looking at me. Oh! (She places the pail on the ground.) How cold I am! The spring—ah, I'm at it. Oh, my God! I must hurry, I will be beaten else. Come on! (She plunges the pail into the spring and pulls it back, with effort.) God, it's heavy! (She takes two or three steps and drops it.) Oh—it's too heavy. (She tries again.) I cannot do it! My God! My God!
(JEAN VALJEAN who has reappeared after a few minutes comes toward COSETTE and grabs the handle of the pail.)
JEAN VALJEAN: My child, it's really heavy what you are carrying there.
COSETTE: Oh! yes, sir.
JEAN VALJEAN: Give it to me. I am going to carry it for you. (COSETTE releases the pail.) Little one, how old are you?
COSETTE: Seven, sir.
JEAN VALJEAN: Are you going far?
COSETTE: To Montfermeil, if you want to know. A good quarter of an hour from here.
JEAN VALJEAN: You don't have a mother?
COSETTE: I don't know. I don't think so. The others have 'em. As for me, I don't think I never had one.
(JEAN VALJEAN puts the pail down, leans over and puts his two hands over her shoulders, making an effort to see her face in the darkness.)
JEAN VALJEAN: What's your name?
COSETTE: Cosette.
JEAN VALJEAN: Oh—who is it sent you at this hour to fetch water in the woods?
COSETTE: It's Madame Thenardier.
JEAN VALJEAN: What's she do, your Madame Thenardier?
COSETTE: She's my boss. She keeps the Inn.
JEAN VALJEAN: Don't they have any servants at Madame Thenardier's?
COSETTE: No, sir.
JEAN VALJEAN: Are you alone?
COSETTE: Yes, sir—that is to say, there's another little girl, Ponine.
JEAN VALJEAN: Who is this Ponine?
COSETTE: She's the young lady of Madame Thenardier—as you would say—her daughter.
JEAN VALJEAN: And what's she do—that one?
COSETTE: Oh! she has pretty dolls, things that cost money or made from gold. Lots of stuff. She plays—she amuses herself.
JEAN VALJEAN: All day long?
COSETTE: Yes, sir.
JEAN VALJEAN: And you?
COSETTE: Me—I work.
JEAN VALJEAN: All day long?
COSETTE: Yes, sir.
JEAN VALJEAN (to himself): Oh! should I take her, remove her right away—? No, I mustn't do it. (Aloud.) You say Madame Thenardier keeps an Inn?
COSETTE: Yes.
JEAN VALJEAN: Well, I am going to go there to eat. Can you lead me there?
COSETTE: Yes, sir.
JEAN VALJEAN: Come. (He takes up the pail; they leave.)
BLACKOUT
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—Scene VII—
Thenardier in Action
A room in the Inn. Door left and right. Tables, bottles and glasses.
LA THENARDIER: Thank God the little ragamuffin takes her time. She's amusing herself, the hussy. And then that mother no longer pays! Say, Thenardier, you know that tomorrow I am kicking Cosette out the door, bag and baggage.
THENARDIER: Tomorrow there will no longer be any door.
MONTPARNASSE: Oh, at least the key will be here.
LA THENARDIER: Ah, what a misfortune! If you knew Mr. Montparnasse, Mr. Claquesous!—for a measly note of 1500 francs!
THENARDIER: Montfermeil drinks ill.
CLAQUESOUS: And you, old boy, drink too much.
(JEAN VALJEAN and COSETTE appear in the open doorway.)
COSETTE (low): Sir?
JEAN VALJEAN: What my child?
COSETTE: Would you let me have the pail back now?
JEAN VALJEAN: Why?
COSETTE: It's that, if madame sees you carried it for me she will beat me.
(JEAN VALJEAN gives her the pail; they enter.)
LA THENARDIER (noticing COSETTE): Ah—there you are, you!
COSETTE: Madame, here's a gentleman wants to sup.
LA THENARDIER (eyeing JEAN VALJEAN): This gentleman.
JEAN VALJEAN: Yes, madame.
THENARDIER: To eat and sleep.
JEAN VALJEAN: To eat.
LA THENARDIER: What do you want to eat?
JEAN VALJEAN: Bread and cheese.
THENARDIER (to CLAQUESOUS and MONTPARNASSE): A beggar. Nothing to do.
(LA THENARDIER serves JEAN VALJEAN. COSETTE takes some knitting and goes to squat down at the foot of the table near JEAN VALJEAN. Enter EPONINE, beribboned and spruced up.)
LA THENARDIER (going to her with love): Is she dressed up. (She pulls EPONINE onto her knees and smoothes her hair.)
COSETTE (to herself): How pretty Ponine is.
LA THENARDIER (to COSETTE): Huh? Is that how you work? I'm going to make you work, just you wait! (She removes a cat-o-nine tails hanging on the wall.)
JEAN VALJEAN (holding her arm): What's that child doing there?
LA THENARDIER: Socks, if you please for my little girl who, you might as well say, doesn't have any, and who will soon be going around barefoot.
JEAN VALJEAN : When will she finish that pair of socks?
LA THENARDIER: She has at least three or four full days to go, the lazybones!
JEAN VALJEAN: And how much is that pair of socks worth?
LA THENARDIER: At least 30 sous.
JEAN VALJEAN: I'll buy this pair of socks.
THENARDIER (in a half voice to CLAQUESOUS and MONTPARNASSE): Huh?
JEAN VALJEAN (placing a five franc coin on the table): And I am paying for it. (To COSETTE.) Now, your time is mine. Stop working, my child.
CLAQUESOUS (coming to the table and examining the five franc piece): It's not counterfeit.
MONTPARNASSE: And not counterfeit.
THENARDIER: Who's this man? (Pocketing the coin.)
COSETTE: Madame, is it true? Can I play?
LA THENARDIER (in a terrible voice): Play!
COSETTE: Thanks, Madame. (She takes some rags and sets to play.)
THENARDIER (low to MONTPARNASSE): I've seen millionaires with dress coats like that. (Takes pen and paper and writes.)
LA THENARDIER (low): My husband's right. Perhaps it's Mr. Lafitte. The rich are sometimes so funny.
THENARDIER (to his wife): Here—toss him a napkin, a tablecloth, some wine and a candle. (He gives her a napkin.) And slide him this—quietly.
LA THENARDIER (placing a tablecloth before JEAN VALJEAN): You see, sir—I would really like for the child to play—but that's no good. She must work.
JEAN VALJEAN: Isn't she yours, that child?
LA THENARDIER: Oh, my God, no, sir. She's a poor little girl that we received like this from charity. The mother owes us a hundred francs—and we have so many expenses! Nothing but debts! And then I have my own daughter and another kid, a boy who's bawling there, in the corner in his cradle. I don't need to nourish the children of others.
JEAN VALJEAN: So that if someone were to rid you of her?
LA THENARDIER: Of whom? Of Cosette?
JEAN VALJEAN: Yes.
LA THENARDIER: And the hundred francs they owe us?
JEAN VALJEAN: You'd be paid them.
LA THENARDIER: Ah, then, sir, my good sir, take her, keep her, sweeten her up, stuff her with truffles, devour her—and be blessed by the Holy Virgin and all the Saints of Paradise.
JEAN VALJEAN: It's agreed.
LA THENARDIER: Really—you will take her?
JEAN VALJEAN: I will take her.
LA THENARDIER: Immediately?
JEAN VALJEAN: Immediately.
LA THENARDIER: Cosette!
JEAN VALJEAN: Take this, my child, and go get dressed. (Gives COSETTE a bundle to fill.)
COSETTE: Oh! Yes! (She leaves.)
JEAN VALJEAN: What do I owe you?
LA THENARDIER: Ah, yes, indeed. (Takes out the paper her husband gave her.) (With satisfaction.) Twelve francs! (To JEAN VALJEAN.) Twelve francs. Indeed, yes, sir, it's twelve francs.
JEAN VALJEAN (placing three five franc coins on the table): So be it!
THENARDIER (who has heard everything, coming forward): The gentleman owes six sous.
LA THENARDIER: Huh?
THENARDIER: Two sous for the bread and four sous for the cheese. As for the little one, I need to talk to the gentleman a little about this. (Low to his wife and CLAQUESOUS and MONTPARNASSE.) Leave me, I've got to learn who we have under that waistcoat.
JEAN VALJEAN (to himself): Ah, this is terrible, this delay! Poor Cosette! Poor treasure! You are going to cost me dear, perhaps.
(All leave except JEAN VALJEAN and THENARDIER.)
THENARDIER: Sir, wait! I am going to tell you. As for me, you see I adore this child.
JEAN VALJEAN: What child?
THENARDIER: Its' really funny how one gets attached to her. What's all that money there? Take it back, your 500 sous. It's the child I adore!
JEAN VALJEAN: Ah!
THENARDIER: You want to take her from us? Well, then frankly I cannot consent to it. It's true she's costing us the eyes in our head and that we are not rich—but you see, it's as if she were our child. We just can't give our child to a stranger. After all, I don't say no—you are rich if it was for her happiness! A supposition—that I let her go, that I sacrifice myself, I want to know where she's going, so as to go see her from time to time. I don't even know your name. At least I have to see some measly scrap of paper—the face of a passport, whatever!
JEAN VALJEAN: Mr. Thenardier—one doesn't have a passport to come five leagues from Paris. If I am to take Cosette, I will take her, that's all. You shan't know my name, you shan't know my residence, you will never know where she is, and my intention is that she never see you again in her life. I am breaking the chain she has on her foot and she's going away. Does that suit you—yes or no?
THENARDIER (abruptly): Sir, I need 1500 francs.
JEAN VALJEAN: Mr. Thenardier, everything in this matter must be perfectly in order and consented to on both sides. It's for that I am here. I never had the intention of taking Cosette away until after you've been paid what you are owed. They owe you 100 francs—you ask for 1500. here they are. (Removes 3 bank notes from a billfold.)
THENARDIER (extending his hands toward the notes): Jesus Christ!
JEAN VALJEAN (stopping him): Excuse me, I've prepared a formal receipt by which you recognize having been made whole and that you have no further any claim to make of any sort whatsoever, neither for the past nor the future in anything concerning Cosette. Do you wish to sign? (THENARDIER hesitates a moment then signs.) Now call Cosette.
THENARDIER (calling): Cosette! (COSETTE returns all in black. JEAN VALJEAN takes her by the hand. THENARDIER bars his passage.) Pardon, excuse me, but I've reflected on something. It's that I have no right to give you Cosette.
JEAN VALJEAN: Ah!
THENARDIER: I am an honest man—the little one is not mine. She belongs to her mother—it was her mother who confided her to me. I cannot turn her over to anyone except her mother, or a person who brings me a writing signed by her mother that I must turn the child over to that person. That's clear.
JEAN VALJEAN: That's just. (Reopens his billfold.)
THENARDIER (aside): He's going to corrupt me, watch and see. (Aloud.) Sir, this time I'll be satisfied with 100 crowns.
JEAN VALJEAN (pulling a paper from his wallet): Read. (He reads.) "Mr. Thenardier, you will turn over Cosette to the bearer. They will pay you—Signed, Fantine." You recognize that signature? See—it's been authenticated.
THENARDIER (stupefied): But—
JEAN VALJEAN: Now, I've paid you. I proved my authority to you—and you have nothing further to pretend. Goodbye.
THENARDIER: Still—
JEAN VALJEAN (looking at him severely): Come, Cosette. (Taking COSETTE by the hand and leaving with her.)
LA THENARDIER: Well—what did you get out of him?
THENARDIER: My 1500 francs.
LA THENARDIER: What's that?
CLAQUESOUS: It's mediocre.
MONTPARNASSE: It's depressing.
THENARDIER: Ah—indeed, you're right, I'm an imbecile. That man is evidently a millionaire in a waist coat. First he gave me 5 francs, then 12 francs—then 1500 francs—he'll give me 15,000 for her! I am going to get him back. (Starts to leave.)
JAVERT (in the doorway): In the name of the law! (All stop.) A man must have come here this evening, just now to claim a child?
THENARDIER: Yes—he just left.
AN OFFICER (coming in from the rear right; to JAVERT): No one in the house.
JAVERT: Oh, I'll have him! I will have him! (To OFFICER.) All your men on the road to Paris. (He leaves hastily with the OFFICER.)
THENARDIER: I didn't know if he was rich or if he was poor—he was both. He was a thief!
BLACKOUT
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—Scene VIII—
The Convent
[Omitted in representation]
A deserted square on which abut at angles two long irregular alleyways, bordered with walls. In the back—an old abandoned house with barred windows and an old coachman's door that has been condemned. To the right and left—huge perpendicular walls. That on the left, 15 feet high forming an angle jutting out on the street at the left, then another angle as it turns in the form of a sideways Z; in the corner a solid mass of triangular masonry. An unlit street lamp whose cord cuts across the square. Night. Moonlight.
JEAN VALJEAN (enters carrying COSETTE): All these alleyways in the Faubourg Sainte Antoine—a labyrinth. So much the better. They've ended by ruining me. Oh! The inflexible Javert! The horrible chase | 