A sound knock on the door signaled the arrival of the messenger boy, Louis.
"Come in" Javert responded, failing to raise his gaze from the papers arranged upon his desk.
"A letter for you, Inspector" the short boy entered, staying respectfully, if not fearfully by the entrance of the office. While waiting for a reply, he nervously chewed a stray piece of his flaxen hair.
"Well boy, let's have it," the inspector answered curtly, lifting his eyes toward to child. He was amazed how terrified Louis was in his presence; the boy was new to the station.
"Yes, of course, monsieur" came the hurried reply as Louis scurried across to the hardwood floor to Javert. He set the letter down as quickly as he could, while attempting to remain polite, and dashed back to the doorway.
"That will be all?" he asked rather eagerly.
"Yes, that will be. Now leave me in peace" Javert replied sharply, his gaze directed once more towards his desk. Taking his permission of leave, Louis hurried out the door and sprinted down the hall. The inspector looked up slightly, as the boy left, still slightly shocked by the child's fear.
Javert's curiosity overcame him and he reached toward the letter, rising as he did so. He knew the address well; it was a small brick house on the Rue Droit Mur, where the man's only close friends resided. Claude and Mathilde Forestier were a very lively couple and remained one of the few people who were not intimidated by Javert and his bitter facade. The inspector was very grateful in turn, though he would never openly admit it. He carefully unfolded the message, surprised at its number of pages. He began to read quickly, slowing down once he arrived at the heart of the letter. His change in pace had been for two reasons. The first being, that the bulk of a letter should always be carefully digested. The second factor was that the deep blue ink had been smudged severely by teardrops. Almost at the doorway to his office, he had gotten up to ask Louis when the letter had first arrived. The contents of the message caused him to stall, mid-step. Finishing the remainder of the note, Javert felt emotion surge within. Claude had been killed. Grief and anger scorched the man's frigid mask, fiercely betraying him. He fell to his knees beside the closed door, and hung his head.
"Come in" Javert responded, failing to raise his gaze from the papers arranged upon his desk.
"A letter for you, Inspector" the short boy entered, staying respectfully, if not fearfully by the entrance of the office. While waiting for a reply, he nervously chewed a stray piece of his flaxen hair.
"Well boy, let's have it," the inspector answered curtly, lifting his eyes toward to child. He was amazed how terrified Louis was in his presence; the boy was new to the station.
"Yes, of course, monsieur" came the hurried reply as Louis scurried across to the hardwood floor to Javert. He set the letter down as quickly as he could, while attempting to remain polite, and dashed back to the doorway.
"That will be all?" he asked rather eagerly.
"Yes, that will be. Now leave me in peace" Javert replied sharply, his gaze directed once more towards his desk. Taking his permission of leave, Louis hurried out the door and sprinted down the hall. The inspector looked up slightly, as the boy left, still slightly shocked by the child's fear.
Javert's curiosity overcame him and he reached toward the letter, rising as he did so. He knew the address well; it was a small brick house on the Rue Droit Mur, where the man's only close friends resided. Claude and Mathilde Forestier were a very lively couple and remained one of the few people who were not intimidated by Javert and his bitter facade. The inspector was very grateful in turn, though he would never openly admit it. He carefully unfolded the message, surprised at its number of pages. He began to read quickly, slowing down once he arrived at the heart of the letter. His change in pace had been for two reasons. The first being, that the bulk of a letter should always be carefully digested. The second factor was that the deep blue ink had been smudged severely by teardrops. Almost at the doorway to his office, he had gotten up to ask Louis when the letter had first arrived. The contents of the message caused him to stall, mid-step. Finishing the remainder of the note, Javert felt emotion surge within. Claude had been killed. Grief and anger scorched the man's frigid mask, fiercely betraying him. He fell to his knees beside the closed door, and hung his head.
