One snowy evening eight or ten months later, in January 1823, Fantine was walking back and forth on the street by a military officers’ café. In spite of the cold, she wore a revealing dress, which left her neck, shoulders, and back completely bare. A man inside began hurling insults at her, such as, “How ugly you are!” and “You have lost your teeth!”
She did not answer him, nor did she dare even to look at him, but continued walking in silence. Her walking back and forth, however, brought her under his sarcastic scrutiny with dismal regularity. Being ignored, the man chose to escalate his unruly behavior. He sneaked up behind her, scooped up a handful of snow, and threw it at her. It struck her on the bare skin of her back, which caused her to roar with rage. Fantine pounced on him like a panther, burying her fingernails into his face.
Her screaming attracted a crowd who made a circle around them, and who then began laughing, jeering, and applauding as the two struggled. Suddenly Javert emerged from among them, grabbed her by her satin belt, and demanded, “Follow me!” Recognizing him, immediately Fantine became quiet, turned pale, and began to shake in terror. Yet during all the commotion, her attacker slipped through the crowd and ran away.
Javert dragged her behind himself to the police station. She submitted mechanically and was afraid to utter a word. Once inside she fell down in a corner of the station, motionless and crouching like a terrified dog. A sergeant brought Javert a lighted candle while Javert seated himself, took an official-looking form from his pocket, and began to write. When he had finished, he signed the paper and handed it to the sergeant. As he did so, he said, “Take three men and escort this creature to jail.” Then turning to Fantine, he said, “You are to serve six months.”
“Six months! Six months in prison!” she screamed. “But what will become of Cosette? My daughter! My poor daughter! I still owe the Thénardiers more than 100 francs. Do you realize that, Monsieur Inspector?” She crawled on her knees before him with her hands clasped, and begged, “Monsieur Javert, I plead for mercy. If you had seen the beginning, you would know I am not in the wrong. I swear to you before God—I am not to blame! Have pity on me, Monsieur Javert!”
“Are you quite finished?” Javert responded. “I have let you have your say, and you will get six months. Now march! The eternal God in person would have done no more for you.”
At these words, Fantine realized her fate was sealed. She sank down, mumbling to herself, “Have mercy, oh God!”
Moments earlier, without anyone realizing it, a man had entered the station, had stood there quietly, and had heard Fantine’s desperate appeals to Javert. As her guards turned to lift her from the floor and take her to her cell, the man emerged from the shadows of the room and said, “Just a moment, please.”
Javert swung around and saw it was Mayor Madeleine. Javert removed his hat and spoke somewhat begrudgingly, by saying, “Excuse me, Monsieur le Mayor?”
Yet before Madeleine could respond, Fantine sprang to her feet and, with one bound, pushed the policemen aside and stood face-to-face with the mayor. Before anyone could stop her, she glared at him, laughed mockingly, and then spit in his face.
Madeleine wiped his face and continued, “Inspector Javert, set this woman free.” At this Javert couldn’t believe his ears and suffered the most violent upheaval of emotions he had ever felt in his life. These words also had no less effect on Fantine, who now clung to the damper of the room’s stove, reeling from the impact of the mayor’s demand.
Inspector Javert, now pale and cold, and with a look of despair on his face, finally responded in a firm tone, “Monsieur le Mayor, that cannot be done.”
“Inspector Javert,” replied the mayor in a calm and conciliatory tone, “you are an honest man, and I feel no hesitation in explaining matters to you. Here is the truth of this case: I was passing through the area just as you were leading this woman away. There were still groups of people standing around, so I made a number of inquiries and learned the whole story. It was the man who initiated the assault and is in the wrong. He is the one who should have been arrested by the police.”
Javert retorted, “But this vile, despicable creature has just insulted you, Monsieur le Mayor!”
“That’s my concern,” replied the mayor. “My own insult belongs to me, and I can do as I please about it.”
“I beg the mayor’s pardon, sir, but the insult is also to the law,” Javert insisted.
“Inspector Javert, conscience is a higher law. I have heard this woman, and I know what I am doing. Heed this well—she will not serve a single day.”
“But …,” Javert stammered.
“Leave the room, sir,” demanded the mayor. Javert submitted, bowed low before the mayor, and finally left the room.
Fantine moved away from the door and stared in amazement as the inspector walked away. Nevertheless, she was in a state of strange confusion. She saw these two men as giants—one a demon and the other an angel. She was dumbfounded that the very man she had abhorred for so long, and whom she felt was to blame for all of her woes, had become her liberator—the angel who had defeated the demon. Another thing that amazed her was that at the very moment she had insulted him in such a hideous way, he had saved her. Had she, then, been mistaken about this man? As she pondered this possibility, she felt the icy chains of hatred beginning to melt and crumble within her. A bright light of unspeakable joy, confidence, and love was already dawning in her heart.
Once Javert was gone, Mayor Madeleine turned to Fantine with great emotion in his voice, as one who is close to weeping and finding it difficult to speak. Yet he spoke in a deliberate tone and said, “I knew nothing about your plight, but I believe what you have said. And until tonight I even was unaware that you had left my factory. Why didn’t you appeal to me? Nevertheless, that is history at this point.”
He continued, “Now—I will pay your debts, and will send for your child, or you can go to her. Also, you may live here or in Paris, or wherever you please, for I will take care of you and your child. You will not be forced to work unless you would like, for I will provide the money you need to live. I want you to be happy and honest again. And what’s more—I believe that if everything is as you say, and I am not doubting you, you have never ceased to be virtuous and holy in the sight of God.”
All this was overwhelming to Fantine. To have Cosette again! To leave such an infamous lifestyle! To live free and happy! She only was able to gaze blindly at the mayor as he spoke to her, for she was seeing the beautiful realities of paradise suddenly beginning to blossom from the very midst of her misery and despair. Fantine was unable to speak and began to sob. She knelt before the mayor, and before he could stop her, she grabbed his hand and pressed her lips to it. Then she fainted.
Monsieur Madeleine had Fantine moved to an infirmary he had set up in his own house. He entrusted her care to the Sisters of Charity, who put her to bed. She had developed a burning fever and spent much of the night delirious and raving. At long last, however, she fell asleep.
Toward the middle of the following day, Fantine awoke. She heard someone breathing nearby and pulled the curtain back that separated her bed from the remainder of the room. She saw Madeleine standing there, looking at something on the wall above his head. His eyes seemed full of pity, anguish, and supplication. Looking to the wall where his eyes were fixed, she saw a crucifix nailed there.
At that point, Monsieur Madeleine seemed transformed in Fantine’s eyes. He seemed to be bathed in light as he was absorbed in prayer. She gazed at him for a long time, not daring to interrupt him. Finally, she asked, timidly, “What are you doing?”
Madeleine had been there for at least an hour, waiting for Fantine to awake. He took her hand, felt her pulse, and asked, “How do you feel?”
“Very well, thank you,” she replied. “I think I’m better. This is nothing.”
Finally responding to her first question as though he had just heard it, he said, “I have been praying to the Martyr there on high.” But then he finished the thought silently to himself, for the martyr here below.
He had spent much of the night and the morning making inquiries regarding Fantine and now knew her history in all its heartrending details. He continued, “You have suffered a great deal, poor mother. But now you have a portion with the elect, for I believe God uses our difficulties to help transform us into His saints. I trust that taking this step from your hell of misery will be your first step toward heaven.”
That very night, Madeleine wrote the Thénardiers. Fantine owed them 120 francs, but he sent them 300 instead, telling them to use the overage to bring Cosette immediately to Montreuil, where her sick mother needed her. The letter delighted Monsieur Thénardier, who said to his wife, “I think our little Lark is becoming a cash cow! We can’t let her go now. I think some idiot has taken a fancy to her mother.”
Monsieur Thénardier replied by sending a formal bill for a little more than 500 francs. Over 300 francs of the bill were for a doctor and for medicine—not for Cosette, for she had not been ill—but for his daughters, Éponine and Azelma. It seems both of them had prolonged illnesses. Of course, he did not note this deception on the bill. Madeleine immediately sent another 300 francs and wrote, “Bring Cosette here quickly.”
Yet Thénardier told his wife, “We should not give up the child just yet.”
In the meantime, Fantine did not recover but remained in the infirmary. She was very kind to the Sisters of Charity who took care of her. One day the nuns heard her talking during a high fever. She said, “I have been a sinner, but having my child beside me will be a sign God has pardoned me. It was for her sake I was evil, and that’s why God will pardon me. Once Cosette is here, I will feel the blessings of our gracious God. It will do me good to see that innocent creature. She is an angel, for at her young age the wings have not yet fallen off.”
Madeleine took time to see her twice a day, and each time she would ask him, “Will I see my Cosette soon?”
He would answer, “Tomorrow, perhaps. She may arrive at any moment. I’m expecting her soon.”
At this her pale countenance would grow radiant, and she would declare, “Oh, how happy I’m going to be!”
Not only did Fantine not recover, but her condition worsened from week to week. Some time later the doctor listened to her chest, shook his head, and told Monsieur Madeleine her condition was very grave. The doctor asked, “Doesn’t she have a daughter she desires to see?”
“Yes,” Madeleine answered.
“Then you should hurry and get her!” the doctor urged. Madeleine shuddered at these words.
Just then, Fantine asked, “What did the doctor say?”
Madeleine forced a smile and replied, “He said your child should be brought to you quickly. That will restore your health.”
“He’s right!” she agreed. “What can the Thénardiers be doing—keeping my Cosette from me? Ah, but now she is coming. Finally, I will see happiness close beside me!”
Madeleine assured her, “I will send someone to get Cosette. If necessary, I will go myself.”
Fantine dictated a message to Thénardier, which Madeleine wrote for her and had her sign. The message was this: “Monsieur Thénardier, you will deliver Cosette to the bearer of this note. He will pay you for everything still owed. Respectfully, Fantine.”
In the meantime, a serious matter intervened. It seems that as much as we may chisel the block of stone that comprises our lives, the dark vein of destiny constantly seems to reappear.