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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! My God, we need not just a hiding place but a refuge. An asylum impassible to this man, a place of hospitality for us, and walled against him before which this furious pursuit stops forever.
COSETTE: I'm afraid. Who is it who runs after us like that?
JEAN VALJEAN: Hush!
COSETTE: Oh!
JEAN VALJEAN: Don't say a thing, don't budge! (He leaves COSETTE, bows his head to look in the alleyway and pulls back quickly.) God! Javert and his men at the end of this street. (Taking COSETTE's hand again.) Come over this way, quick. (Takes a step toward the alleyway on the right and recoils rapidly.) Ah, down there—other motionless figures setting a trap. Here and there beating the bush. No other way out! Taken as in a net. Lost. (Raising his eyes and looking on all sides.) Perpendicular walls 20 feet high—to climb them with a child—impossible. How to hoist her up? If only I had rope. (Noticing the street lamp.) Ah, there's one. (He opens the box to which the light is attached with his knife and cuts the cord.) They are exploring every cranny. Perhaps I've got time. (To COSETTE.) Come and don't interfere. (Takes off his tie, and passes it around COSETTE's arms. Ties one of the ends to the light and holds the other between his teeth.) Come, let the galley slave save the penitent. (He begins to raise himself up the wall aided only by his heels and elbows—when he reaches the top he calls to COSETTE.) Lean against the wall and don't interfere. (He raises COSETTE carefully.)
JAVERT's VOICE (approaching from the alleyway): The Polonceau alleyway is guarded. He can't escape us any longer. Attention.
Change to a horizontal view. As COSETTE has ascended the wall at the left displaces revealing a large garden solitary, calm and isolated walls lit by moonlight. Now the wall goes from left to right—against this wall leans a building whose roof nearly descends to the ground. At the back of the garden a large, somber building whose windows are lit.
VOICE OF JAVERT: Search, everywhere. Search. I'll answer for it that he is here.
(JEAN VALJEAN pulls COSETTE to him then lets her slide the length of the roof—while holding. He jumps to the ground.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Cosette—thank God, again!
(Religious music suddenly pours out of the building at the left. COSETTE falls to her knees and FAUCHLEVENT enters.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Someone's coming! All is lost perhaps.
FAUCHLEVENT (coming with a lantern in his hand): Mr. Madeleine—Ah—from where did he fall—from Heaven?
JEAN VALJEAN: Fauchlevent! What's this house here?
FAUCHLEVENT: Hey. It's the convent you placed me in as gardener.
JEAN VALJEAN: Fauchlevent! In your turn you can save my life.
FAUCHLEVENT: Oh—thanks, Mr. Madeleine!
JEAN VALJEAN: Fauchlevent! You must hide me here—I must stay here.
FAUCHLEVENT: My brother is expected here—but he suddenly died. Do you want to take his name and his position?
JEAN VALJEAN: Yes, I wish to. Stay on your knees Cosette and tell your mother we are in the post of refuge.
CURTAIN
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—Part II—
Jean Valjean
—Characters in Part II:—
Jean Valjean
Javert
Marius
Thenardier
Gavroche
Enjolras
Combeferre
Courfeyrac
Feuilly
Bahorel
Claquesous
Montparnasse
Babet
Gueulemer
Bigrenaille
Brujon
Chenildieu
Cosette
Eponine
A Guard
Insurgents
Soldiers
—Scene I—
Two Misfortunes Mixed together to produce Happiness
A secluded alley in the Luxembourg Garden. To the right a bench—under the trees a barrow with gardening instruments. One notices a hanging light to the left above the garden wall.
During the entire scene JAVERT and CLAQUESOUS talk stealthily coming and going without ever staying close together, like two men who don't wish to be seen together.
CLAQUESOUS: Everyday he takes a walk in this alley of the Luxembourg with a very young girl—he won't be late. It's his hour.
JAVERT: And this Thenardier recognized him?
CLAQUESOUS: Yes, and me too, and Montparnasse as well.
JAVERT: As the man who ten years ago came to find at his place at Montfermeil a little girl named Cosette.
CLAQUESOUS: Yes.
JAVERT: Oh! if it was him! But no, it's impossible. He disappeared in December 1822 and we are now in 1832—the 5th of June. It would be almost 10 years that he escaped the police, that he escaped me, Javert! Where could he have hidden? It's a mistake. Jean Valjean is dead. All the reports are unanimous about that.
CLAQUESOUS: The Police can be mistaken, Inspector, even when it's you who are—even when I am serving them. Anyway, you are going to see for yourself. I'm also waiting for Thenardier. Oh—he has confidence in me, don't worry. The old fox has never smelled a rat. And his trap or rather yours can come today.
JAVERT: The Devil! All my men are on foot for the burial of General Lamarque. As for me, I have to watch a whole group of young men led by a formidable chief—this Enjolras! They fear uproar in Paris. It's all the same—the police must see and do everything at the same time.
CLAQUESOUS: Ah—then—there's the man.
JAVERT (looking anxiously at JEAN VALJEAN who doesn't see him): Oh—is it him? He resembles him, yes! But if it still wasn't him.
CLAQUESOUS (looking off): Thenardier—I am going to take the air.
JAVERT: Soon! (They leave in different directions.)
JEAN VALJEAN (entering with COSETTE): What's the matter, my Cosette?
COSETTE: Nothing dear father. (Aside.) He isn't here yet. (They take a few steps.) Did you notice that everybody's in the streets? I love this garden; it's so secluded here. Let's sit down a bit. (They sit down on a bench.) I was telling you then that my mother—
JEAN VALJEAN: Your mother?
COSETTE: When I was little, and when I was in the convent you spoke to me about her some times. You are silent now, or rather you have tears in your eyes.
JEAN VALJEAN: You think so?
COSETTE: I was telling you that I saw her last night in a dream—My Mother! She had two big wings. I imagine that sometimes that her soul has passed into you and she's come to dwell near me.
(CLAQUESOUS and THENARDIER are walking in silence for a moment and before the bench on which JEAN VALJEAN and COSETTE are seated.)
(THENARDIER and CLAQUESOUS are talking low.)
THENARDIER (abruptly to CLAQUESOUS): Decidedly, my fortune is made!
CLAQUESOUS: Our fortune? Tell me about this. (They walk further.)
JEAN VALJEAN (to COSETTE): I promised your mother on her death bed to make you happy—because not yet knowing you, I loved you for yourself—now I love you for myself as well—
COSETTE: As for me, I don't know how I love you, father, but I know that it was you who took me from misery to happiness. You say you promised. Oh, how you kept it.
JEAN VALJEAN: I never had any family—and the day I took you from those Thenardier who were torturing you, something unknown entered my soul—and I felt awaken anew all there was of affection and passion in this poor old heart.
COSETTE: You are so good!
JEAN VALJEAN: You were a child looking for a father—and as for me, I was a father looking for a child. We recognized each other as being in need of each other. You set yourself to love the good fellow and as for me, I set myself to adoring you. That's all. I found you, my treasure, and I kept you, and I hid you with me. Ah—that convent, that garden of Petit-Picpus where the brave Fauchlevent had us admitted on our arrival in Paris—and where I had you with me for nine years. Ah—that was heaven! You know, Cosette, I willingly seek out solitude, and I am a little wild. I am even bad, actually—really bad.
COSETTE (smiling): You?
THENARDIER (passing by—low to CLAQUESOUS): My plan is prepared. You will inform Bigrenaille and Gueulemer. As for me, I'll take care of Montparnasse and Brujon. (They go back.)
JEAN VALJEAN: And if you knew my life you would understand that it is you, my Cosette, who has been the benefactor to me. You relit in me, without suspecting it, a sacred flame which appeared to me one day but which was fading little by little. Alas, when I met you, I was going to fall back perhaps. I loved you and I became strong again. I protected you and you strengthened me. By supporting you—you know—I was leaning for support on you. Ah, you see! I had an interest to devote myself to. You cannot understand, but I assure you, go! I've given you my life, my thoughts, my soul—I've given you everything—through egoism! And if you fail me, this poor old man who made you the inseparable angel of his destiny, if you fail me, my Cosette, well—I would die. I would have the egoism to die.
COSETTE (embracing him): O the heartless. (He falls into a sort of reverie; COSETTE takes his hand.)
CLAQUESOUS (to THENARDIER): So you are sure he will come to your home today?
THENARDIER: He will come to the home of a man named Jondrette—a wretched father of a family.
CLAQUESOUS (surprised): Who's that? You.
THENARDIER: Eh, yes! Am I not the father of two orphans who wander I don't know where,—my Ponine, my Gavroche. I wrote to him yesterday to ask him for help—these folks, that is to say philanthropists, want to see for themselves. He will come. (They disappear.)
JEAN VALJEAN: I tell you all this here for the first time, you see—it's here that the terrifying idea came to me, that you might leave me one day.
COSETTE: Leave you, never—why?
JEAN VALJEAN: True! I would die if you were to take your joy away from me. If something came to separate us—if ever someone tried to take you from me. Ah, I'm afraid to think of it! (As if to himself.) I don't know, it seems to me there are volcanoes within me which would reopen and that I would become evil again and that I would be terrible.
(MARIUS appears.)
COSETTE (aside): Marius!
JEAN VALJEAN (noticing him, abruptly): Come, Cosette, we are going.
COSETTE: Already! (Rising.)
JEAN VALJEAN: I am expected at the home of those poor folks, you know? Come. (They get ready to leave. Pointing to MARIUS.) There's a young man with the air of a pedant.
COSETTE (trembling): That young man there.
(MARIUS approaches them and furtively shows a letter to COSETTE which he hides at a terrified sign from COSETTE. JEAN VALJEAN turns and looks at him fixedly then leaves with COSETTE by the left.)
MARIUS (with a gesture of despair): I've still got to get this letter to her at all cost. How? By whom? (Stops a minute, dreaming, then follows after COSETTE.)
(GAVROCHE enters with a pistol in his belt. In the distance you can hear the call to arms.)
GAVROCHE (singing in the distance): There are still many Bastilles. And I'm going to put my foot down on the public domain where the pretty girls go—So they— (Speaking.) There's a light which doesn't work! It's out of order. (Picks up a stone and throws it at the light which breaks. He looks around him.) No one! My little sister Eponine told me that I would find Marius here. That poor little sister, as for me, I don't know but I think that she's stuck on Marius. And Enjolras sent me to find him. Nobody!—it was really worth the trouble of taking a trip to the Luxembourg! (Noticing the wheelbarrow.) Heavens! A government wheelbarrow—that would work prettily on a barricade! (Pulling a scrap of paper from his shirt and with a red crayon, writes on his knee.) "French Republic. Received the wheelbarrow of the state. Gavroche." (He pins the paper in the teeth of a rake, grabs the wheelbarrow with both hands and pushes it before him at a gallop. Suddenly he finds himself face to face with a Guard of the Luxembourg.)
GUARD: Where are you going, apache?
GAVROCHE: Citizen, I didn't yet call you bourgeois. Why are you insulting me?
GUARD (trying to seize him): Wiseguy!
GAVROCHE (shielding himself with the wheelbarrow): Sir, perhaps yesterday you were a man of wit, but this morning you lost it!
GUARD: You're being asked where you are going, scoundrel.
GAVROCHE (still shielding himself): Kissy, kissy. You really talk sweet. True, one would think you were so old. You must sell all your hair for 100 francs each. That would get you 500 francs.
GUARD: Where are you going? Where are you going—wretch!
GAVROCHE: Now there are some villainous words—the first they suckle you they should wipe your mouth.
GUARD: Are you going to tell me where you're going at last, bandit?
GAVROCHE: My general, I'm going to find a doctor for my wife who's got the whooping cough. (Pushes the barrow into the knees of the GUARD and escapes.)
GUARD: There's your anarchists for you. (The GUARD leaves; MARIUS enters.)
MARIUS: Impossible to rejoin her. If I'd only been able to make her understand just now that I must see her today. Where am I going to find someone trustworthy to whom I can confide my letter. (Sits on the bench. Reenter GAVROCHE with ENJOLRAS—armed with a carbine.)
GAVROCHE: Here! Mr. Enjolras, there's Marius. Well, young man, this old country—aren't you going to do something for her? Didn't you hear the call to arms? Holy cow! That's warming up—that throws in a little stew in the pot—it's simmering! Even now they've already pillaged three gun shops—and our women are making bandages and yelling "To Arms!" And they're breaking the streetlights and taking horses from carriages—and I am amusing myself E-nor-mous-ly!
ENJOLRAS (placing his hand on MARIUS' shoulder): Marius. There's fighting.
MARIUS: As for me, I am ill—Enjolras—and I am no good when I am ill.
ENJOLRAS: Then you are still in love, Marius.
MARIUS: Enjolras, I am desperate.
ENJOLRAS: You ought to see your grandfather this morning.
MARIUS: Well!—he refuses to marry us. Ah! he will consent when it's too late! Do you know what he just said to me in pushing my elbow and smiling—"Make her into your Mistress." My mistress! Her—she whose face my lips have yet to graze—she who I always see with a halo, she who I will beg to be my wife all my life—on both knees!
ENJOLRAS: Marius—there's fighting in Paris. They're fighting in the rue Saint-Denis, they're fighting in the rue Montorgueil—they're fighting in Saint-Merry.
GAVROCHE: Men, go forward! Let an impure blood deluge the fields! The Bourgeois don't have so good a grip—I'm going to sneeze some subversive couplets at them. I will give my life for my country. So much the worse, Marius, we will never see our lovers again—Ne-ver—finished, yes—Ne-ver! But that's all the same—long live joy—let's fight—sonofabitch—I've had enough of despotism.
MARIUS: Yes, I know—the people—law—progress—these are your loves, Enjolras. You are a man of marble—still pure and still standing. You don't understand what it is to fall and be on one's knees.
ENJOLRAS: Yes—I understand what it is to kneel.
MARIUS: Before whom?
ENJOLRAS: Before one's mother: LIBERTY—on a barricade—rifle in arms.
MARIUS: Enjolras! Enjolras! I am a mad fool.
ENJOLRAS: Marius—all our friends are ready—all Feuilly with the workers—Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Bahorel—
GAVROCHE: Gavroche—
ENJOLRAS: Marius—a single word, the last—your friends are waiting for you.
MARIUS: To do what—
ENJOLRAS: To try to take the steps forward—a terrible danger.
MARIUS: Ah!—it's a question of danger?
ENJOLRAS: Will you be there?
MARIUS: Perhaps—
ENJOLRAS: Thanks. (He shakes his hand and leaves.)
MARIUS (to GAVROCHE who is about to follow ENJOLRAS): I will rejoin you at Saint-Merry—okay?
GAVROCHE: You will make there one of those pasties vulgarly called a bun. It's the rue de la Chanvrerie where they are expecting you, Citizen. (MARIUS falls back into his reverie. A very young girl in rags appears.) Ah! Ponine!—little sister—are you coming to the barricade? I will present you.
EPONINE: We will meet again during the day. Where will you be?
GAVROCHE: Everywhere. Today, Paris is mine. (He leaves singing.)
Good old people
With blows from crutches
Let's break this Louvre
Where the monarchy stretches out in furbelows
Where the pretty girls go—
(His voice trails off in the distance.)
MARIUS (to himself): Oh, but see her again first! See her again one last time.
EPONINE: Hello, Mr. Marius.
MARIUS (abruptly): What do you want? Who are you?
EPONINE: What! You don't recognize me any more? We are still living in the same house with you, with my father. It's only last winter that we were living under the bridges. What! really, you don't remember your little neighbor?
MARIUS: Ah, it's you, Eponine.
EPONINE: Eponine! How'd you know my name's Eponine? That's sweet. You called me Eponine.
MARIUS: Well?
EPONINE: You don't seem happy to see me. If I wanted, I could force you to seem happy.
MARIUS: What do you mean?
EPONINE: You're not very friendly. Have I done something to you?
MARIUS: Well!—what do you mean?
EPONINE: So much the worse. It's all the same. You seem sad. You have troubles, that's plain to see. I don't want you to have trouble. I want you to be happy. Promise me only that you are going to laugh. I want to see you laugh and see you say "Oh! That's a good one." Poor Mr. Marius! Two months ago you promised me that you would give me everything I wanted. Well!
MARIUS: Well?
EPONINE: I have the address.
MARIUS: What address?
EPONINE: The address of the lady you asked me for. Two months ago. The address—you remember, of course? Of the young lady.
MARIUS: Ah, yes, I remember. Thanks.
EPONINE (shaking): Ah!—you've got it already. Ah! you, you know where she lives. So—that's fine. Good evening, Mr. Marius—(Starts to leave.)
MARIUS (calling her back): Eponine!
EPONINE: What?
MARIUS: Would you like to do me a great service?
EPONINE: What?
MARIUS: It's a question of a letter that must be given to a person even within the hour—without being seen—Could you take it?
EPONINE: Where's that?
MARIUS: To the address that you know.
EPONINE: Ah!—you are writing?
MARIUS: Can you? Come on, answer me—look—can you do it?
EPONINE: Well—yes.
MARIUS (giving her the letter): Come—let's go together.
EPONINE: No—I will go my own way, Mr. Marius. A young man like you mustn't be seen with a woman like me.
MARIUS: Then—return quickly with the reply. I am going to wait for you at home.
EPONINE: Mr. Marius!—you know that you promised me something.
MARIUS: Ah—it's true. (Fumbles in his pocket and places a 5 franc coin in her hand.)
EPONINE (letting the coins fall): I don't want your money. (MARIUS leaves. She looks at the letter bitterly.) They're writing each other! They love each other!
BLACKOUT
Return to Top
—Scene II—
The Trap
The Jondrette hovel. Huge garret miserable and forbidding. Its ceiling is cut by beams and supported on the left by a roughly dressed pole at its base in the form of a stool. Near the stool, a table on which are writing materials. In the back, a door opening on a dark corridor. To the right a window.
(EPONINE alone on the sill of the door.)
MARIUS' voice (in the corridor): Thanks! Thanks, Eponine!
EPONINE (following him with her eyes): Oh!—how happy he seems! What did she say in that letter? (She unfolds a letter that she holds convulsively in her hands.) He was so happy that he didn't notice I stole it back from him. So what did she write him then. (Reading.) "My beloved Marius, what's wrong, my God! Your letter terrifies me. Come quickly. I am alone all evening. My father's gone out. You will enter by the gate in the garden as usual. I love you." Ah! she's receiving him—and hiding it from her father. (Bitterly.) Ah! you see—none of that, sister! (Noticing JEAN VALJEAN in the doorway.) Ah! The father! He's arriving at the right time! So much the worse. (She goes right to him, letter in hand.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Pardon, miss—does a very unfortunate poor man live here—whose name is—I believe Jondrette?
EPONINE: Yes, sir, yes.
JEAN VALJEAN: I rapped on the other door.
EPONINE (excitedly): The other door belongs to Mr. Marius.
JEAN VALJEAN: Mr. Marius? (Entering the room.) Tell me, would Mr. Marius be the young man I just saw leave this house?
EPONINE: The handsome young man?—yes, sir, exactly.
JEAN VALJEAN: Ah! (He takes a few steps into the room. At this moment THENARDIER appears at the door, looks at him, and enters after having made some mysterious signs behind him in the corridor.)
EPONINE: Yes, Mr. Marius just left (emphasizing the words) for the whole evening.
THENARDIER (aside): Good.
EPONINE (approaching JEAN VALJEAN low): And wait! I even know where. I could even show you, sir. (She crumples the letter.) No! (She leaves.)
JEAN VALJEAN (looking around him emotionally without seeing THENARDIER): Poor people! What misery!
(Noiselessly CLAQUESOUS, then BIGRENAILLE, GUEULEMER, BABET, CHENILDIEU enter, faces daubed in black armed with iron bars, clubs and hammers. They post themselves by the door and against the length of the wall. This maneuver, slow and silent, lasts during the early part of the scene.)
THENARDIER (low to CLAQUESOUS—who approaches him): Why did you bring so many? It's unnecessary.
CLAQUESOUS (low): What do you want? They all wanted to be in it. The season is bad. They aren't doing any business.
THENARDIER: My wife is at her post?
CLAQUESOUS: In the street.
THENARDIER: In the case of an alert—the signal.
CLAQUESOUS: If it's the police, she will sing her song for us.
THENARDIER: Fine.
CLAQUESOUS: But we don't need to worry, the cops are busy with the uprising.
THENARDIER (approaching JEAN VALJEAN): Sir—
JEAN VALJEAN: Mr. Jondrette, doubtless? (Noticing CLAQUESOUS.) Who's this man?
THENARDIER: A friend, this neighbor. He's all smeared up because he works with charcoal. But its' not a question of that. My name is not Jondrette. Do you recognize me?
JEAN VALJEAN: No.
THENARDIER: My name's Thenardier. I am the innkeeper of Montfermeil. Do you understand clearly? Thenardier. Now do you recognize me?
JEAN VALJEAN (impassive): Not any more.
THENARDIER: I! I've found you again—Mr. Philanthropist, Mr. Mysterious Millionaire. Ah, you don't recognize me? No! it wasn't you who came to my inn Christmas night of 1822. It wasn't you who took the child of Fantine from my home. It wasn't you who for 1500 francs took from me a little girl I had and who certainly was rich, and from whom I ought to extract a living for the rest of my life! Ah—you're going to see it's not all roses to go into peoples houses under the pretence they are inns, with dilapidated clothes, with the air of poverty, that you wouldn't give a sou for—to deceive people, play bountiful and take their livelihood—even as the police were on your heels—stealer of children!
JEAN VALJEAN: I don't know what you mean. I don't know you.
THENARDIER: Ah! you cling to the joke. Ah, you don't know me? You don't see who I am? (At this moment all the men in black have entered.)
JEAN VALJEAN (coldly): Pardon, sir—I see you are a bandit.
THENARDIER: Bandit! Yes, you call us like that, you rich gentleman. Heavens, it's true—I was weak, I hid myself, I am croaking of hunger. I am a bandit! And you—you guys have waistcoats and dancing shoes, you live in the best houses, in houses with a porter, you eat truffles, you gorge yourself, you are happy. And you come in our cellars, yes, in our cellars to call us bandits! Mr. Millionaire, I was a man with a position. I was licensed. I was actually a bourgeois and you perhaps are not one! I am not a shady man—a man who hides his real name and who comes to carry off children from their homes! And now let's be done with it: I need money, lots of money, enormous amounts of money—or I will exterminate you—Goddamnit!
GUEULEMER (raising an axe that he has in his hand): If you must chop wood, I am here.
(For several seconds JEAN VALJEAN has cast a glance around the room as if to find an exit. Suddenly he leaps toward the window. But before he can reach it, six men throw themselves on him. JEAN VALJEAN knocks down two, but the four others grab him by the arms. An athletic struggle ensues. They hold him squatting on top of the two men felled by him.)
THENARDIER: Don't do him any harm. (Pointing to the pole to which JEAN VALJEAN has been dragged by the bandits in the struggle.) Tie him to it, tightly. (In a blink, JEAN VALJEAN is garroted and seated against the stool, arms tied to the pole.) Search him.
CHENILDIEU (after having searched him): Nothing.
THENARDIER: No billfold?
BIGRENAILLE: No watch, either.
GUEULEMER (examining himself): All the same, he's an old ruffian!
THENARDIER: Sir, you were wrong to try to jump out the window. You might have broken a leg. As for me, I was wrong to get carried away. Let's admit that Cosette is really your daughter. So be it. Now we are going to talk calmly. First I have to communicate to you something I noticed. It's that you didn't utter the least scream. My God! you ought to have shouted theft! Even Murder! That's said under the circumstances, and it's all simple that one makes a bit of an uproar when you are with people who do not sufficiently inspire you with confidence. But still you didn't shout. Because you didn't want the police to come see us, right? So we can understand each other. Because you are a millionaire. I told you first of all that I was demanding money—an enormous amount of money. That was unreasonable. My God, I don't want to ruin you. Heavens! I will make a sacrifice, I make some concessions. I need simply 200,000 francs—you're going to tell me, I don't have 200,000 francs on me. Oh—your signature will suffice. With a little guarantee that I am in possession of. Be good enough to write what I am going to dictate to you.
JEAN VALJEAN (who has listened head lowered, raises his head): How do you expect me to write. I am tied up.
THENARDIER: That's true, excuse me. (To CLAQUESOUS.) Untie the gentleman's right arm. (CLAQUESOUS executes the order. THENARDIER dips the pen in the inkwell and presents it to JEAN VALJEAN.) And wait! I don't see any inconvenience in explaining to you right away what it's all about. My guarantee is your daughter.
JEAN VALJEAN (with a dull scream): My daughter!
THENARDIER: Two of my good friends are at this moment in your domicile and have got Cosette—who they are ordered to take to a safe place. Once I've got the money, they'll give her back to you.
JEAN VALJEAN (with a superhuman effort he releases himself from his bonds with a furious, all powerful jerk): Wretches! (Standing, terrifying.) I don't suppose you plan to block my passage this moment! (The six men are stupefied, facing him threateningly. One of them raises above his head a hammer. JEAN VALJEAN tears it from him and brandishing it around him, clears a way to the door.)
VOICE OF LA THENARDIER (singing in the street): He must say to a soldier—
THENARDIER: It's my wife's voice. (Moment of stupor.)
CLAQUESOUS: The cops are here.
JEAN VALJEAN (low, hiding in a dark corner of the hovel): God!
THENARDIER: Sonofabitch! Let's get out of here.
BIGRENAILLE: Which way?
THENARDIER (rushing towards the window): This way—follow me.
BABET (holding him): Ey!—say there old joker.
GUEULEMER: After us. (A struggle amongst the bandits.)
CLAQUESOUS (mocking): An idea. Let's draw lots. Put our names in a hat.
JAVERT (entering—surrounded by officers—smiling): Would you like my hat?
ALL: Javert!
JEAN VALJEAN (aside): Javert!
JAVERT: Halt there. You shan't pass through the window—you will pass through the door. It's less risky. You are six—we are 15. We won't collar you. Let's be nice. (Going successively from one to the next.) Hello, Thenardier—Hello, Bigrenaille. Hello, Babet, Hello Gueulemer, Hello, Claquesous. (To officers.) The carriage is below. Take them all—go.
(The officers disarm and seize the bandits who, stupefied, allow themselves to be led off without resistance. All leave. JEAN VALJEAN remains free—he heads toward the door—with the air of a man who doesn't think he's been recognized.)
JAVERT (barring his way): Hello, Jean Valjean! Jean Valjean, you escaped me at Arras, you escaped me at Montreuil sur Mer—you escaped me at Montfermeil—you escaped me in Paris. I thought you were dead and thought myself defeated, but you are living! Ah, you are living and I've got hold of you—and I don't see any power on earth that can tear you from me now.
(JAVERT grabs VALJEAN by the shoulder. Silence by VALJEAN. Suddenly a burst of gunfire in the streets with shouts of "To Arms, To Arms" and the Marsellaise.)
JAVERT: Uh-oh! The People.
(The garret window, empurpled with the glare of fire, opens abruptly and gives passage to a disheveled and happy kid. One can see the rifles of insurgents who are scaling the window.)
GAVROCHE (entering, pistol in hand, and noticing JAVERT who still has his hand on JEAN VALJEAN's collar): Huh! What's this? Coppers in dad's house while I am overthrowing the government. (To FEUILLY who enters through the door at the head of some workers.) Hey! hold on, Citizen Feuilly.
FEUILLY (to JEAN VALJEAN): Citizen—you are free.
GAVROCHE: On behalf of Citizeness Eponine.
FEUILLY: Liberty arrests no one today.
GAVROCHE (to JAVERT who is shivering): Not even you, Mr. Public Order. Long live the Rights of Man!
BLACKOUT
Return to Top
—Scene III—
The Idyll in the Rue Plumet
A secluded garden, cultivated and blooming. Thick walls, shrubbery, tall plants, large trees. Shadowy alleys lost under their foliage. Here and there, moldy statues leaning against crumbling lattice work. Further back a bench in an arbor. In the rear seen through the branches the house of JEAN VALJEAN. A small pavilion in the style of the 18th century.
During the scene that follows distant uproars can be heard at intervals outside—and a vague noise of the tocsin becomes sharper and increases from moment to moment especially at the end of the act.
MARIUS (slowly crossing the stage with COSETTE): I arrived desperate, but only seeing you and hearing you, it seems to me I am reborn.
COSETTE: Without doubt, my Marius, if your grandfather had consented it would have been an immense joy, indeed unhoped for, but as he refuses—
MARIUS: Well?
COSETTE: Do you still love me?
MARIUS (reproachfully): Still?
COSETTE: Will you love me forever?
MARIUS: All my life.
COSETTE: Well!—then we will remain fiancés before God until the day—
MARIUS: Until the day I shall be free to marry you without the consent of my grandfather. Is that it Cosette? I am 22. In three years.
COSETTE: Yes, Marius. I feel that from now until then I can trust myself to you. You are honest.
MARIUS: As you are pure, my Cosette. Oh! you are still more of a perfume to me than a woman! Well! I will content myself with breathing you in. And so long, as I can, from time to time, cover your hand with my lips, I will be happy. Why are you sad?
COSETTE: Because there's another really curious obstacle, my friend. You have your grandfather, Marius. As for me, I have my father.
MARIUS (frightened): Well—?
(They disappear into the depths of the garden. EPONINE comes in by the right watching them move away.)
EPONINE: Already together. (She slides to the wall at the left and follows them with her eyes.) Does he come here every night? I am no longer astonished. And this Cosette who receives him so! You see these rich girls— (Enters to the right MONTPARNASSE.) Montparnasse—what's he come to do here? (She listens.)
MONTPARNASSE: Come on, coward! You'd think there was some danger. You can see easily enough how to get in here! There's a gate easy enough.
BRUJON: We must beware of the dog if there is one.
MONTPARNASSE: There isn't any.
BRUJON: And if the girl screams?
MONTPARNASSE: She will be gagged.
EPONINE (aside): What are they saying? (Appearing abruptly.) Montparnasse!
MONTPARNASSE: Eponine.
BRUJON: Thenardier's daughter.
MONTPARNASSE: Heavens—did your father send you?
EPONINE (hesitating): Why—yes—
MONTPARNASSE: To clear up the business.
EPONINE: Yes.
MONTPARNASSE: Well—what do you know?
EPONINE: Why—
MONTPARNASSE: You know nothing. Then come, Brujon! Enough loafing—
EPONINE: Look, look, my little Montparnasse, you who are such a good child, don't be in such a rush. You must have a little confidence in people. I am my father's own daughter, perhaps. Don't get by me like that. Since they told me to clear up the business.
MONTPARNASSE: Then help us.
EPONINE: To do what?
MONTPARNASSE: To carry off Cosette.
EPONINE: To carry off Cosette? That's what you came for. Ah! That's an idea!
MONTPARNASSE: Eh—come on—do you know the house?
EPONINE: Yes.
MONTPARNASSE: Lead us.
EPONINE: Now?
MONTPARNASSE: Right away.
EPONINE: Oh! no, not right away. No! much later—soon.
MONTPARNASSE: But now is when we must do it.
BRUJON: While your father holds the millionaire. What the blazes! That's plain.
MONTPARNASSE: We'll carry off the girl and get out.
EPONINE: It's just that—
MONTPARNASSE: What now?
EPONINE: If she's not alone!—if someone is there, if—
MONTPARNASSE: Who? Old woman? Serving girl?
EPONINE: No—a man!
MONTPARNASSE (with a sinister gesture): Hey—we'll give him a little love tap!
EPONINE (aside): Oh! he will get himself killed! And for her!
MONTPARNASSE: Come on!
EPONINE (abruptly): Decidedly, you want to get into that house.
MONTPARNASSE: A bit.
EPONINE (crossing her arms and barring their passage): Well—as for me, I don't want it!
MONTPARNASSE & BRUJON: Huh!
EPONINE: Listen friends, this is not the thing. Now I am talking. First of all, if you go in, I will scream, I'll raise the police.
BRUJON (low to MONTPARNASSE): She will do it!
EPONINE: There are two of you. What's that to me. You are men. Well, I am a woman. You don't frighten me, go—I tell you that you won't go any further—because this does not please me.
BRUJON: Oh! Something's wrong with her. A reason.
EPONINE: Yes!—and if you don't go away and right away—the dog—it's me—I will bark.
MONTPARNASSE (pulling out his knife): Watch out.
EPONINE (advancing on MONTPARNASSE who pulls back): You think you frighten me! Fear of what? Ah. No way. Indeed. This summer I was starving, this winter I'll freeze. What's it do for me, if they find me tomorrow on the rue Plumet on the pavement, killed by knife blows or instead they find me next year in the gutters of Saint Cloud. Move it!
MONTPARNASSE (shaking the handle of his knife): Hum!
EPONINE (marching towards them): I'm barking—and I am going to bite.
(They back away from her and she threatens them advancing on them until they are out of sight. MARIUS and COSETTE reappear and go to sit on the bench.)
COSETTE: He told me he'd die of it.
MARIUS: You scare me.
COSETTE: Oh, yes—if he knew that beside father there is a beloved—that would be terrible for him! He loves me so much! Poor father, he almost loves me like a jealous husband. If he gave me away he would think me ruined. But I will end by twisting him around. I will force him indeed to live—even with our happiness.
MARIUS: You promise me that?
COSETTE: Yes. And yet already—on a suspicion, he's spoken to me of leaving Paris—of departing.
MARIUS: Departing—oh! Then it's I who will die!
COSETTE (shutting his mouth): Shut up—Go! He'll do whatever I want—he's so good. Be calm. Are you calm?
MARIUS: Yes.
(COSETTE leaves her hand on MARIUS' shoulder, who looks at her with intoxication. Enter EPONINE and JEAN VALJEAN from the right. They take a step and stop.)
EPONINE (to JEAN VALJEAN): I tell you they've gone—and there's no more danger from that side. (Pointing to COSETTE and MARIUS.) But hey—look!
(JEAN VALJEAN stops as if petrified and stares fixedly at COSETTE and MARIUS while EPONINE looks at them with a silent and somber look.)
COSETTE: Do you know?
JEAN VALJEAN: Oh!
COSETTE: My real baptismal name is not Cosette—I have another one. Cosette is a nasty name I was given when I was little.
MARIUS: Well, don't tell me the other—I prefer this one.
COSETTE: Then, I love it better, too. Call me, Cosette.
MARIUS (looking at her): How beautiful you are!
EPONINE: Ah! (Shaking JEAN VALJEAN's arm.) But don't you hear that?
COSETTE: I'm not as good as you, I know that quite well, I am nothing compared to you. You are witty, as for me, I am not, but I challenge you with this word. I love you.
JEAN VALJEAN: Yes, I hear. I've forgotten flight and safety. I've forgotten death on my track. It's in front of me, now.
MARIUS: Don't slander your wit! What an enchanted gleam when your thoughts open. Speak, I am listening to you—I admire you. You have grace. I don't dare look at you. That's what happens when I think about you.
COSETTE (to MARIUS): As for me, I only exist when I see you. I imagine my life with you, as we are now, without need of anything else with you; nothing without you. We are two, we adore each other. What do the rest matter?
JEAN VALJEAN: The rest?
MARIUS: Oh! Yes—I've sometimes dreamed from time to time of hours which are torn from the lives of angels, and come down here to cross our destinies. My Cosette, when we are married these will no longer be hours, but years of paradise which are torn from your life onto mine. For here, it's you who are the angel.
EPONINE (to JEAN VALJEAN): Angel! And you don't say anything! You let her be treated like an angel to your face.
MARIUS (to COSETTE): Oh! to be buried in the same tomb and from time to time in the shadows to softly touch each other's hand. That would suffice me for eternity.
EPONINE: How he loves her!
COSETTE (to MARIUS): Eh! no, rather live! The two of us living together, here in this garden watching the heaven through the trees and inhaling one after the other—the other—forever!
JEAN VALJEAN: How she loves him. (He takes a step toward the bench. EPONINE steps to the side.)
COSETTE: Someone. (To MARIUS.) Hide!
(MARIUS gets up hurriedly and disappears into the bower. JEAN VALJEAN comes forward.)
COSETTE: God! My father.
JEAN VALJEAN: Cosette, we are leaving.
COSETTE (shocked): What do you mean?
JEAN VALJEAN: I will take care of everything. I don't have a minute to lose. Come! It's a question of life or death.
COSETTE: For whom?
JEAN VALJEAN: For me.
COSETTE: Ah—and where are we going?
JEAN VALJEAN: I don't know yet. We are leaving France.
COSETTE (looking with anguish toward the bower): My God!
JEAN VALJEAN: Forever.
COSETTE: What! Instantly. To leave like this. Forever. Oh! Tomorrow. Today it's impossible. They say there's fighting in the streets.
JEAN VALJEAN: All the more reason. We can disappear better.
COSETTE: But—
JEAN VALJEAN: You hesitate. When it's a question of the life of your father! Ah, if you hesitate that's fine. You are free. You can remain. I don't wish to force you. That's fine. Stay.
COSETTE: Oh—I am not hesitating. My choice is made.
JEAN VALJEAN: Her choice. (Shaking.) God—will it be with him?
COSETTE: I am with you, my father.
JEAN VALJEAN: Ah—thanks—come. (He leaves with her.)
COSETTE (as she leaves, turning towards the bower): Forgive me, Marius!
(They go.)
MARIUS (rushing forward): No—it's impossible! I misunderstood. Leave! (He listens.) Leave! (He rushes to the side by which they left—calling.) Cosette! Cosette! (Returning.) Left—forever! Lost! Lost! (Twisting his arms in despair.) Oh, where is there an open pit to hurl myself in!
(The noise of the tocsin which could be heard from time to time during the scene resounds more distinctly and more breathlessly in the distance. EPONINE comes forward.)
EPONINE: Mr. Marius—your friends are expecting you at the barricade of the rue de la Chanvrerie.
MARIUS (terrified): My friends.
EPONINE (dragging him with her): Let's go die.
MARIUS (with feverish joy): To Die!
JEAN VALJEAN (reappearing, thoughtful): Die?
BLACKOUT
Return to Top
—Scene IV—
The Epic in Rue Saint-Denis
A square closed by tall six story houses which abut on the Rue de la Chanvrerie which can be glimpsed in perspective right up to the Rue Saint-Denis. To the left, a cabaret ripped apart by cannon balls and presenting to the spectator over its open door, a gaping and disemboweled window on its first and only floor. Before the door, on a milestone, a barrel of powder. Leaning against the cabaret and thrusting out in a funnel shape—a barricade of formidable appearance, surmounted by a red flag lit from below by a torch. On each side of the barricade, a free space, a sort of useful passageway between the paving stones and the houses, allowing a glance to encompass beyond the barricade part of the Rue de la Chanvrerie. To the left a small alleyway lost in shadow. To the right facing the spectator, in a dark corner of the wall a gate of a drain sewer placed perpendicular to the ground.
At rise, the insurgents posted on their knees, are firing under the direction of ENJOLRAS behind the barricade. At the two extremities of the barricade—COMBEFERRE and COURFEYRAC by themselves.
The Insurgents are ENJOLRAS, GAVROCHE, FEUILLY, BAHOREL, COMBEFERRE and COURFEYRAC.
The last shots from a violent exchange followed by silence.
GAVROCHE (waving his pistol): Victory! Knocked out the cannon.
ENJOLRAS: Yes, but the barricade has suffered. (Two insurgents pass by carrying cadavers. ENJOLRAS indicates to them the arched door in the cabaret.) There! (They take the body in.) Everybody to the paving stones and repair the breach.
(The Insurgents swiftly gather up paving stones and repair the Barricade as ENJOLRAS has ordered.)
GAVROCHE: Go to it! A bootfull of rubbish to plug that hole there. It's too small, your barricade. Put it all there, fling it all there, shove it all in. Break the window of the cook shop of Old Mama Hucheloup. Wait, there's a window.
COURFEYRAC: What do you want to do with a window for, you little sprout?
GAVROCHE: Kraut yourself. A window in a barricade is a lining. It doesn't prevent it from being attacked, but irritates those who take it. Haven't you stolen apples on top of a wall where there were glass shards. By God—the bottle is traitorous. The panes of a window; that cuts the feet of the National Guard.
COMBEFERRE: All the same, the troops have been driven back to the Rue Saint-Denis. Success.
ENJOLRAS (low to COMBEFERRE): And another such success and there won't be 10 cartridges in the barricade.
COMBEFERRE (pointing to the barrel of powder): It's not yet powder we lack.
ENJOLRAS: It's bullets.
(JAVERT appears at the entrance to the alleyway at the left. He enters the cabaret—puts down his rifle and silently observes the insurgents from the shadows.)
GAVROCHE (going from one group to the next): I have enough for my pistol! A rifle, I want a rifle. Why don't you give me a rifle?
COURFEYRAC: Give a rifle to you!
GAVROCHE: Heavens! Why not? Indeed, I had one in 1830 when we were quarreling with Charles X.
COURFEYRAC: When there are enough for the men there'll be time enough to give them to children.
GAVROCHE: As for you! If you are killed before me, I'll take yours.
COURFEYRAC: Smart kid!
GAVROCHE: Greenhorn! (Noticing JAVERT's rifle in the cabaret.) Lucky! Now there's a rifle not in use. I'll snatch it. (Notices JAVERT who doesn't see him, and turns back stupefied, talking to himself.) Not possible. Oh! No, yes indeed!
ENJOLRAS (accosting him): Listen, you are quick and small; go out and come back and tell me what's happening.
GAVROCHE: I'll go. Meanwhile have confidence in little guys and beware of big folk. (Pointing to JAVERT, lowering his voice.) Do you see that fellow over there?
ENJOLRAS: Well. (GAVROCHE whispers to him.) Are you sure?
GAVROCHE: When I tell you so!
ENJOLRAS (going into the café and approaching JAVERT): Who are you?
JAVERT (turning with a start): Ah! I see what it is, well, yes!
ENJOLRAS: You are—
JAVERT (interrupting him and rising at the same time, haughtily): I am an agent of the authorities.
ENJOLRAS: Your name?
JAVERT: Javert.
ENJOLRAS (giving a sign and two insurgents post themselves on either side of JAVERT): You will be shot ten minutes prior to the barricade being taken.
JAVERT: Why not right away?
ENJOLRAS: We are conserving ammunition.
JAVERT: Then finish me off with a knife.
ENJOLRAS: We are judges not murderers.
JAVERT: You are rebels.
ENJOLRAS (pointing to the arched door): Escort this man to the room for the dead.
JAVERT: Bye!
GAVROCHE: I get to keep his rifle.
ENJOLRAS: First do what I said.
GAVROCHE: I'm going. (Stopping for a moment.) I will get his rifle, right? I leave you the musician but I want the clarinet.
(Runs down the alleyway to the left. Meanwhile FEUILLY has written in large letters on the wall "Long Live the People.")
ENJOLRAS (going to FEUILLY and looking at the inscription): Right, Feuilly! Yes, Long live the People!
FEUILLY: At least let them find it here after us—a word which will be our testament!
ENJOLRAS: Yes, you see plainly the future there, valiant worker, man of the people! You have neither father nor mother—you've adopted Humanity as your mother, Justice as your father—You are going to die here, that is to say, Triumph here. Long Live the Revolution—Liberty, Equality, Brotherhood—and Death.
ALL: And death.
GAVROCHE (running back in): My rifle. They're coming. (Goes to get the rifle. In a moment heavy firing on the barricade.)
COMBEFERRE (to ENJOLRAS): The troop is starting to retreat! They're hesitating.
ENJOLRAS (coming forward with COMBEFERRE and GAVROCHE): No more ammunition.
GAVROCHE: Do you want some?
COMBEFERRE: What do you mean?
GAVROCHE: It's very simple. All you have to do is go looking for them—and not far to go!
COMBEFERRE: Where's that?
GAVROCHE: By God, in the cartridge pouches of these dead gentlemen of the National Guard.
COMBEFERRE: But to leave the barricade is sure death.
GAVROCHE: Is he a greenhorn? (Places his rifle on the ground, grabs a basket from the rubble, climbs over the barricade and advances up the rue de la Chanvrerie. Once there he sets to emptying the cartridge pouches of the bodies of the National Guard.)
COURFEYRAC (in a low voice): What are you doing there, kid?
GAVROCHE: I'm filling my basket.
FEUILLY: You are going to get yourself killed. Come back.
ENJOLRAS: I order to you get back.
GAVROCHE: Disinherit me if you like, I don't give a damn. (He continues to advance basket in his arm, going from one body to the next, emptying cartridge pouches, rapidly, furtively, joyfully. All watch him anxiously.)
BAHOREL: Take care. They're going to see you.
(A shot from the street doesn't reach him.)
BAHOREL: He's a National Guard from the suburbs.
GAVROCHE (singing): When it's ugly in Nanterre
It's the fault of Voltaire
And dumb in Palaiseau
That's the fault of Rousseau.
FEUILLY: He's quicker than the bullets.
BAHOREL: He's drawing them. He's playing hide and seek.
ENJOLRAS: With death.
(GAVROCHE comes back. Shakes hands on all sides, empties his basket and then squirms out.)
ALL: Enough! Come back! Come back!
GAVROCHE: But! (Thumbs his nose at them. He goes up to the end of the street and disappears.)
BAHOREL: Where's he going?
COMBEFERRE: There he is—down there.
COURFEYRAC: Ten steps from the troops. He's emptying an ammo pouch. They're aiming at him. They'll get him.
GAVROCHE's VOICE: Joy's my character
That's the fault of Voltaire
Poverty is my trousseau
That's the fault of Rousseau
(A shot is fired.)
COMBEFERRE: Hit!
COURFEYRAC: He's getting up.
GAVROCHE (reappears staggering and crawls to the barricade singing): I'm fallen to the ground
That's the fault of Voltaire
Nose in the mud
That's the fault of—
(New shot—he falls.)
ALL (electrified): Charge!
(At the same moment the National Guard and the soldiers appear in the street. The Guardsmen assault, the insurgents recoil and fall back to the cabaret as the National Guard appears atop the barricade. MARIUS enters through the alleyway on the left with EPONINE.)
EPONINE (pointing to the half invaded barricade): I promised you death! Look!
(MARIUS seizes the barrel of powder and rushes toward the barricade. He grabs the torch lighting the flag.)
MARIUS (standing on the barricade in a thunderous voice): Clear out or I am going to blow up the barricade.
ALL: Marius!
VOICES FROM THE GUARDSMEN: Blow up the barricade! And yourself, too!
MARIUS: Me, too.
(A soldier draws a bead on him.)
EPONINE: Oh, to die before him and for him! (She rushes up to the soldier and places her hand over the mouth of the rifle. The shot is fired and she falls with a scream. MARIUS brings the torch close to the barrel. The Guardsmen stupified retreat pall mall into the rue de la Chanvrerie. The shooting stops. MARIUS comes forward. They surround him.)
ALL: Long live Marius! He saved the barricade!
MARIUS: Where's the chief?
ENJOLRAS: That's you. (All shake his hand and go back to the barricade.) Come on! Everybody to his post.
MARIUS: Eponine! You're wounded.
EPONINE: I'm dying. (MARIUS tried to raise her up and grabs her hand. She lets out a choked and sad scream.)
MARIUS: Did I hurt you?
EPONINE: A little.
MARIUS: But I only touched your hand.
EPONINE (showing her bloody hand): Because it's pierced by a bullet. They had a bead on you. I plugged the rifle.
MARIUS: Then it was you? Oh, but they are going to dress your wound. (Pointing to the cabaret.) There. That wound is not mortal.
EPONINE: The bullet went through my hand but went out my back. No use removing me from here. I am going to tell you how you can cure me. Better than a surgeon. Stay there, near me. (She rests her head against MARIUS' knees. MARIUS is seated on the pavement.) Oh—how nice that is. I am not suffering any more. How comfy I am going to be to die. (Turning her had with difficulty toward MARIUS.) Mr. Marius, you find me ugly, right?
MARIUS: Poor child!
EPONINE: Look, you are lost! You are going to die. I'm counting on that. And yet, when I saw they were aiming at you, I put my hand over the rifle's mouth. How funny that is. But it was because I wanted to die before you. Now, I am fine. Oh—I am happy. Everybody's going to die. Oh—you cannot get out. It won't be long now! You know, Mr. Marius, you have time to promise me something. I don't want your money. Now will you promise me again?
MARIUS: What?
EPONINE: Promise me!
MARIUS: I promise you.
EPONINE: Promise me to give me a kiss on my face after I die. I will feel it. (She lets her head fall on MARIUS' knees. Here eyes shut.)
MARIUS: Dead!
EPONINE (reopening her eyes and smiling): You know, Mr. Marius, I think I was a little in love with you.
(She dies. MARIUS places a kiss on her face. Then he carries her to the door of the café—mortuary. At the moment he disappears, JEAN VALJEAN enters from the alleyway, sees him, shudders and leans against the wall in the shadows. He has a rifle in his hand.)
JEAN VALJEAN (entering, mumbling to himself): That's him! I got here in time. Why did I follow this young man? He wants to die? Well, he's going to die. Him dead, Cosette comes back to me. Let's play Destiny.
COURFEYRAC: Citizens, something new. They're firing boxloads of ammunition. Up to now, we had only bullets and cannon balls. I announce to you—grape shot.
JEAN VALJEAN (aside): Grape shot.
ENJOLRAS: Keep your head down and rally the wall. (The grape shot bursts. Several men fall.) Let's prevent the second round.
COMBEFERRE: How?
ENJOLRAS: By killing the chief of the weapon. (Firing.)
COURFEYRAC: The time it will take to replace him is only 5 minutes gained.
COMBEFERRE: Yes, but if we don't save the barricade from the grape shot in 10 minutes there won't be one man left standing.
ENJOLRAS (pointing to the angle between the barricade and the wall): We must put a mattress there.
BAHOREL: Where to find it?
FEUILLY (pointing to the roof of a house that cannot be seen): There's one up there, by the garret but cut the rope with a shot.
ENJOLRAS: Impossible!
(JEAN VALJEAN shoulders his rifle without saying a word, aims and fires. The mattress falls on the rue de la Chanvrerie.)
ALL: Bravo!
COMBEFERRE: Now it's only a question of going to get it.
(JEAN VALJEAN crosses the barricade and reappears with the mattress which he places himself in the corner of the wall.)
ENJOLRAS (to JEAN VALJEAN): Citizen—the barricade thanks you. Be welcome. You know you're going to die.
JEAN VALJEAN: I know it. (He returns to his place in the door of the cabaret. MARIUS comes out. JEAN VALJEAN follows him with his eyes.)
MARIUS: Well?
ENJOLRAS: We can hold out a quarter of an hour more. (He comes out of the cabaret followed by a group of insurgents. To insurgents.) Lead out the condemned Javert. (Two insurgents go into the cabaret.)
JEAN VALJEAN (aside): Javert. He, too! What! These two men—my two hates, my two terrors, at the same time, here at the barricade, facing death!
ENJOLRAS (to a group of insurgents): Occupy the attics and the top floor windows! The barrel of powder under the door. (JAVERT appears hands tied.) As for you, you see I didn't forget you.
JAVERT: Thanks.
ENJOLRAS (to the two insurgents who brought JAVERT in): When the drum beats the charge, you'll blow out the brains of this spy.
JEAN VALJEAN (advancing towards ENJOLRAS): You thanked me just now. Do you think I deserve a reward?
ENJOLRAS: Yes.
JEAN VALJEAN: Well, I'm asking for me.
ENJOLRAS: What is it?
JEAN VALJEAN (pulling a pistol from his belt): Let me blow this man's brains out.
JAVERT: That's fair.
ENJOLRAS: No complaining? Do it. (He returns to the barricades.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Javert, it's my turn.
JAVERT: Take your revenge.
JEAN VALJEAN: I really have the right, don't I. (Puts his pistol into his belt and takes a knife from his pocket.)
JAVERT: A knife! You're right. That suits you better.
JEAN VALJEAN (cutting the cords which tie JAVERT's hands.) You are free.
JAVERT: What are you doing?
JEAN VALJEAN: I'm revenging myself.
JAVERT (frowning): Take care! If I ever find you again—
JEAN VALJEAN: Go!
JAVERT (starting to go and returning): Wait! You annoy me! Kill me, rather.
JEAN VALJEAN (pointing to the alleyway): That way.
JAVERT: He saves me! Him!
(JAVERT hesitates for a moment, looks at JEAN VALJEAN with anxiety and rage—then leaves. They beat the charge.)
ENJOLRAS: Resistance is impossible. Everybody into the house! The barrel of powder under the door and let's enshroud ourselves in the debris.
(All fall back into the cabaret. In the midst of the smoke JEAN VALJEAN arrives carrying MARIUS, bloody and fainting. He goes to place him in the corner near the sewer gate. At that moment JAVERT reappears as if looking for someone. He gets there right after JEAN VALJEAN who doesn't see him.)
JEAN VALJEAN: He's still breathing. Ah, I have him, this man! The one I hate and she loves and who will take my child from me—and who is killing me. How to save him. (Looks everywhere anxiously. His eyes stop at the opening of the sewer. He pulls at the gate grill. JAVERT suddenly stops his arm. He turns shocked.) Ah!
JAVERT: Go! (JEAN VALJEAN looks at him stupidly. JAVERT to himself.) And I save him, too! Well—what of it—and then? They're dying—that gives his release to God!
(He rushes into the cabaret at the moment when the house is leaning and beginning to crumble. JEAN VALJEAN disappears into the orifice of the sewer carrying MARIUS.)
ENJOLRAS (standing up in the window of the cabaret holding the red flag): Long live Liberty!
(A tremendous explosion. The house collapses.)
CURTAIN
Return to Top
—Epilogue—
Night Followed by Day
—Characters in Epilogue:—
Jean Valjean
Marius
Cosette
Toussaint
A Doctor
A very simple room. Doors right and left. A table with writing materials. An armchair on the side. On the table two silver candlesticks.
TOUSSAINT: You see, doctor, it dates from the day on which he conducted Miss to the home of Mr. Marius—after Marius's Grandfather has consented—that is to say, when Mr. Marius was cured of his wounds—that is to say.
DOCTOR: So this psychological illness which is wasting him away preceded even the marriage of his daughter?
TOUSSAINT: Yes, doctor. The day that Mr. Marius was recovered, the poor dear man wrote a long letter and he went out with Miss—and he came back without her. As he came in he said to me, "Toussaint, we are going away." And we left for two months. And Miss' marriage took place without him.
DOCTOR: And since his return?
TOUSSAINT: Well, he came to lodge here without telling anyone his new address. So that I who don't know where Mrs. Marius lives—I am unable—
DOCTOR: But him?
TOUSSAINT: Oh! him—he only keeps to his room; he never leaves and he is getting worse every day.
DOCTOR: He's very ill.
TOUSSAINT: Is there a great danger? Will you come back, doctor?
DOCTOR: Yes, but someone else must come—if it's not already too late. (He leaves.)
TOUSSAINT: My God!
(Enter JEAN VALJEAN, hair entirely white, bent over, emaciated, devastated—aged 20 years. He comes forward leaning on furniture.)
JEAN VALJEAN: Toussaint, light these two candles. (She obeys—he thanks her and dismisses her with a sad but affectionate motion of his head—she leaves.)
JEAN VALJEAN (alone—going to the table and looking at the candlesticks): Are you satisfied, my mentor? Have I indeed sacrificed up to the end—my heart to my conscience? Have I indeed accepted this last test—the most frightful of all? I've made her happy and I have withdrawn. The galley slave doesn't want to meddle in their lives and I've shut myself out of their destiny and their home. Are you satisfied? (A silence. He shivers.) Oh—I am cold already? (He sits overwhelmed in the armchair. His head sinks down and rises with lugubrious inertia. He takes the pen and trembling with effort begins to write.) "Marius, I know that since the day I disappeared in leaving you with my Cosette, this letter in which I admitted to you alone who I am, you've done everything in your power to find me, and you are still looking for me. You knew everything and you still did that, thanks."—Oh, I have no more strength. (Takes up the pen and lets it fall.) Oh, my God—do I no longer have time to write her—she who knows nothing and who must not understand? (Begins to write.) "My Cosette—I bless you—" (Stops, the pen falls from his hands.) Oh! is it over? Will I never see her anymore? Oh, my God! and I am going in to night. It's nothing to die. What's frightful is to die without seeing her—she would smile at me—she would say a word to me. Would that harm anyone? No, it's finished. Forever! My God, my God! I will never see her anymore. (He bursts into sobs. Knocking on the door. In a weak voice.) Come in!
(COSETTE and MARIUS enter.)
JEAN VALJEAN (rising, flushed with joy): Cosette!
COSETTE (throwing herself into his arms): Father!
JEAN VALJEAN: Cosette, you—it's you! Ah! its' you—you are here! Ah, my God!
MARIUS: My father!—finally, I've found you again.
COSETTE (removing her shawl and hat): This is in my way! (She sits on JEAN VALJEAN's knees. Straightens his white hair, kisses his face.)
JEAN VALJEAN (wildly distracted): How stupid I was! I thought I would never see her anymore. Can you imagine that the moment you were coming in I said to myself "It's over—I will never see Cosette anymore." I was saying that at the moment you were climbing the staircase. But you count without God. God said—No, it won't happen like that. There's a poor man who has need of his angel. And the Angel is coming. And he sees his Cosette again. (He pulls her excitedly into his arms and turns toward MARIUS.) You too, Mr. Marius—you forgive me?
MARIUS: Cosette! do you hear? There he is asking my pardon. And you know what he did for me, Cosette? He saved my life. He did more. He gave you to me. And, after that, what did he do with himself? He sacrificed himself. There's a man. Cosette, all my life spent at his feet would be too little. That barricade, that sewer—crossed through it all for me, for you, Cosette. He carried me over so many deaths that he spared me from, that he accepted for himself. Ah! That man there—he's an angel.
JEAN VALJEAN: Hush! hush! What's the good of saying all that?
MARIUS: I had fainted, I could no longer see, I could no longer hear. He, he brought me to my grandfather's without saying anything—and he only came to bring you, Cosette, and if my grandfather hadn't recognized him!—but there was no further time—he disappeared. (To JEAN VALJEAN.) It's your fault, too—you saved people's lives—you write them useless revelations—and you hide from them when they owe you their life.
JEAN VALJEAN (who has not ceased to contemplate COSETTE): Let me look at her, Mr. Marius—Ah, God bless! I see her again. I see you again. You'll let me talk to her, Mr. Marius—it won't be for long.
COSETTE: What misfortune that we were left like that. Oh, where did you go? How long have you been here? Do you know that you are very changed? Ah—this nasty daddy—he's been sick and we didn't know it! Heavens, Marius—feel his hand how cold it is.
MARIUS: Ah! But you belong to us now. Don't imagine that you will be here tomorrow.
JEAN VALJEAN: Tomorrow, I won't be here—but I won't be with you.
MARIUS: What do you mean? You will not leave us anymore. I am going to carry you off.
COSETTE: There's still your room which is waiting for you at the house. If you knew how pretty our garden is at the moment. You will eat my strawberries! I water them myself. And none of this Madame business. Everything's very informal, right Marius? And you will have your patch in the garden. You will cultivate it and we will see if your strawberries are as beautiful as mine. And then I will do everything you want—and you will really be under my control.
JEAN VALJEAN: The proof that God is good is that she is here.
COSETTE: Father.
JEAN VALJEAN: It's quite true it would be charming to live together. There are trees full of birds—I would walk with Cosette. To be with folks who live, who say hello to each other, who call each other in the garden—that's sweet. They see each other in the morning. We will each cultivate our little corner. She will make me eat her strawberries, I will make her pick my roses—that would be charming. Oh, but—
COSETTE and MARIUS: Well?
JEAN VALJEAN: It's a shame—
COSETTE: My God—your hands are even colder—Are you really ill—say something? Are you sick?
JEAN VALJEAN: Me? No, I am very well—Only—
COSETTE: Only what?
JEAN VALJEAN: I am going to die soon—
COSETTE and MARIUS: Die!
JEAN VALJEAN: Yes, but that's nothing. (He breathes with difficulty and smiles.) Cosette, you were talking to me, keep talking, talk so I can hear your voice—
COSETTE (with a piercing scream): Father, father, you are going to live. You are going to live. I want you to live, do you hear?
JEAN VALJEAN: Oh, yes—forbid me to die. Who knows?—perhaps I will obey—I was in the process of dying when you came. That stopped me. It seemed to me as if I were reborn.
MARIUS: You are full of the strength of life. One doesn't die like this. You've had some unhappiness, you won't have any more. It's I who ask your pardon and at your knees. You are going to live—and live a long while with us.
COSETTE: You see quite plainly—Marius says you cannot die.
JEAN VALJEAN: Where would you be able to take me, Mr. Marius, where I would no longer be what I am? No, God has thought as I do and he won't change his opinion—it's time for me to go. How good your husband is, Cosette. You are better with him than with me.
COSETTE: But, my God—It's impossible to find you only to lose you.
MARIUS: This mustn't be.
JEAN VALJEAN (in a voice that weakens little by little): Come closer, come closer both of you. I love you indeed. Oh, it's good to die like this, you, too—you love me, my Cosette. I knew indeed that you still had friendly feelings for your old pal. You will weep for me a little, won't you? Not too much. I don't want you to have too many sorrows. You must amuse yourselves a lot, my children. You are rich. Cosette's fortune is fine for her. It's from honest money, go on! Cosette, it's to you I bequeath these two candles. They're made of silver, but for me they're made of gold—diamond. I don't know if the man who gave them to me is really going to receive me up there. I did what I was able to do. Now, my Cosette, on your knees. (She kneels.) The moment has come to tell you the name of your mother. She was called Fantine. Remember that name—Fantine—kneel this way every time you pronounce her name. She really suffered. She really loved you. She had bad luck as much as you've had good luck. I'm going to go, children. Love each other well. There's no other thing in this world except loving each other. Now I no longer see very clearly. Think a little of me. You are beings who are blessed. I see the light. Approach again. Give me your dear, beloved heads so I can place my hands on them. I am dying happy.
(COSETTE and MARIUS throw themselves wildly on his hands—he dies.)
CURTAIN
—The End—
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