Fantine glanced back at the inn, again taking in the image of the building. It wasn't grand, and only a while ago she would never have dreamed of going near such a place. But everything was different now, and the days of endless wonder, of apple turnovers, of laughing gaily in the park and more importantly, being with the man she loved, were over. Now, as she gazed at the odd sign in front of the door, the peeling paint on the window sills and the smoke drifting gently out of the chimney, she knew that this was a far better place than she could ever give her daughter.
Cosette. The one name echoed through her mind, a single star in a gradually darkening sky. The Sergeant of Waterloo was where Cosette was to live now. If Fantine had not been in such a place of despair as she was, she would have laughed. Only ten months ago all the silks, dresses and indulgences she could have ever wanted could not save her from falling to the ranks of a working woman. Now, fifty seven francs had secured a life for Cosette. It was no more than temporary, but it was enough for now.
Again, creepers of doubt began to lurk at the edges of Fantine's mind, and she tried to shove them away as best she could. She had not allowed herself to wonder whether her little angle would be alright without her, whether it was wise for her to be left in the care of a family she did not know. Fantine shook her head; of course everything would be okay. She had seen Madame Thenardier's own two daughters, simply shining with happiness and contentment. Cosette had instantly got along with those two, soon they would become as close as sisters, playing together, talking together and sharing everything. And it would do her good to be with a secure family with a substantial income. The woman forced down a lump in her throat even as she thought this. Soon enough, she assured herself, she would have her own place to live and her own income, she could take Cosette back to live with her. Of course, it would take time, but if she told people that she was a widow, they would not mind Cosette so much. Surely they had only to see the little girl, glowing with light and decked in ribbons and silks as Fantine saw her in her mind now, to love her. Even so, some might question her…No, she didn't care what other people thought of her, all she cared about was Cosette.
These thoughts came and went as Fantine walked through the small streets of Montfermeil. It was only when people who passed her on the street began to look quizzically at her, some in sympathy, some with something close to disgust, when she realised that tears were sliding down her cheeks.
"Are you alright Madame?" It took a while for the distraught mother to realise that this was addressed to her, and when her eyes fell on another woman, perhaps a few years older than herself, she found that all she could focus on was the small girl of about six standing beside her, holding hands with her mother. The child was dressed in a simple black dress; a matching bonnet adorned her head. She stared with the innocence of one completely assured by her mother's hand. It was too much for Fantine.
With only a sob in reply, Fantine hurried past, unable to banish an image of herself standing there in the woman's place, with her beautiful Cosette beside her. She did not stop again in the town and she did not look back. The entire time, the single thought circulated her head, refusing to be dismissed, but she denied it anyway. She had not abandoned her child, she had not let go of her Euphrasie.