Free Les Miserables by Victor Hugo Page B

hour.”
    â€œA quarter of an hour!” I cried. “Fauchelevent will be dead in that time. There’s still room for a man to crawl under the cart and lift it on his back. I’ll give five francs to anyone with the muscle and the heart.”
    No one spoke. I raised my offer to ten francs. Twenty francs. Still no one came forward. Meanwhile, the cart was sinking deeper into the mud. It was squeezing the life out of Fauchelevent.
    â€œA man would have to be as strong as an ox to lift that load,” said Javert.
    I had not seen him in the crowd.
    â€œHe would risk getting crushed himself,” he continued. “I have only known one manwho could lift a load like this on his back. I knew him when I was warden in the Toulon prison.”
    Toulon. How long was it since I’d heard that name spoken? Memories of my years in prison rushed in upon me.
    Javert was watching me closely. But I couldn’t let Fauchelevent die.
    Suddenly the old man cried out, “It’s crushing me. My ribs are breaking. For God’s sake, do something!”
    I stripped off my coat and crawled under the cart. The cart was low in the mud. I was almost flat on my stomach. I slipped again and again, trying to get a foothold.
    â€œHurry! Come out of there, Monsieur Madeleine!” someone shouted.
    Fauchelevent himself cried out, “Go away, Monsieur Madeleine! I’m done for. Let me be, or you’ll be killed too.”
    But I finally had a foothold. I braced thecart’s weight on my back and pushed with all my might.
    Slowly, the cart rose. At last the mud-caked wheels came into view! Men from the crowd jumped in to help. The cart was soon out of the mud, and Fauchelevent was rescued.
    I got to my feet. Sweat poured down my face. I was drained. As I walked away, I could feel the eyes of the hawk upon my back.
    Fauchelevent’s kneecap was broken. I bought his horse and cart. I found him work as a gardener in a convent in Paris. In this way, the old man became my friend.

Fantine
    One day Javert arrested a young woman for disturbing the peace. He gave her six months in prison. She had been living on the streets in terrible poverty. Her name was Fantine.
    A rich young man had accused her of attacking him. But I had seen what happened from across the street. The man had put a handful of snow down the woman’s back. And she had lashed out in anger.
    I entered Javert’s office. Fantine turned and glared at me.
    â€œSo you’re the mayor, are you?” she said. Then she spat in my face in fury.
    She hated Monsieur Madeleine. She believed she had lost her job because of me. But I didn’t know her story.
    The woman in charge of the workers in my factory learned that Fantine had a child but wasn’t married. She fired her.
    â€œInspector Javert, this woman is to go free,” I said.
    Javert was stunned.
    â€œThis woman has insulted a respectable citizen,” he said.
    â€œI saw the whole thing from across the street,” I replied. “The respectable citizen is at fault.”
    â€œShe has insulted you too. You are the mayor of this town!” said Javert.
    â€œThat is my affair,” I said. “This womanwill not serve a single day in prison.”
    â€œBut that’s not right,” said Javert.
    â€œEnough!” I ordered. “Kindly leave your post.”
    For a moment Javert didn’t know what to do. Then he bowed low and left the room.
    Fantine had followed the argument with interest and surprise. She wasn’t angry anymore.
    â€œI will see to it that you have what money you need,” I told her. “Your worries are over.”
    This news was too much for the poor woman. She fainted at my feet. Her head burned with fever.
    I took Fantine to the factory’s nursing station. Her fever raged all night. But by morning it had broken.
    â€œI’m feeling better,” said Fantine when I asked how she was.
    â€œI’ve slept well.