IV

To drown is not to die

Javert coughed, leaning forward until he was in a completely upright position. Valjean, who had backed away when startled by the man's sudden reanimation, sat upon the risen earth where the shore met the parapet. Javert stayed motionless for a moment, water dripping off his clothes and hair, and analyzed his surroundings. Diverting his attention he began patting his coat, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pistol. He exchanged this to his other hand so to reach in again and retrieve a pair of handcuffs; He tossed the two tools indifferently into the mud. He felt the other pocket and withdrew a small square box of snuff, which was drenched and clearly ruined. 'Damn,' he said. He threw it against the mud with the cuffs and pistol. The Seine crept up quietly and washed them away. Javert touched his hand to his head and looked round again. 'Where's my hat?' he muttered. Valjean spoke:

'On the parapet.'

Javert turned sharply to him, and Valjean felt remorse for having made himself noticed. Javert continued to look at him for a minute then mumbled:

'Ah, yes.'

Gingerly he got to his feet. Valjean followed lead, never looking away from Javert, whom he was regarding as carefully as a deer does a human it meets in the woods. They stood, hesitating as the icy wind blew against their drenched clothing. Javert was looking down, his chin tucked deep into his collar. Thusly he began to walk, quite as stiffly from frostbite as he had when being led to his supposed death at the barricade. Valjean followed close behind, walking along the parapet until they reached a point where the wall had partially either crumbled or been knocked apart by an escaping convict. A path led up from the banks to the street. They made their way up then headed back the way they'd come.

No words had been spoken when they reached the corner by the police station. Javert picked up his hat but did not put it on; rather he held it in both his hands and scowled at it. He turned his head to glance at the river, then, changing his mind it seemed, looked back and focused intently in on Jean Valjean.

'How is it you came to find me?' he inquired.

Valjean, speechlessly, shook his head. Javert nodded curtly as if to say that sufficed and faced away. At last Valjean asked:

'Are you going to arrest me?'

Javert replied by turning his chin over his shoulder.

'No.' He made movement to leave when Valjean spoke once more.

'Wait.'

'What is it?' Javert snapped, although his voice was too tired to uphold its usual authority.

'Why did you do that?'

There was no question as to what was being referred. Javert did not move or speak. Then slowly he said:

'I must not arrest you.'

Valjean could only stare in incomprehension, for he could see no reason why the inspector should feel this way.

'But you were going to.'

'Yes.'

'And now you're not?'

'No.'

Valjean was mystified, but part of him continued to examine. He was forced to consider certain possibilities regarding events that had past. He seriously wondered whether human guilt, for Javert, could exist. Valjean carefully tested the waters, speaking quietly after the impressive silence:

'You owe me nothing, Javert.'

Javert barked a single, mirthless laugh.

'Less than that even, I'm sure.'

'I don't understand you.'

However Javert had returned to gazing distantly towards the ground. When he spoke his voice was nearly unrecognizable it was so composed.

'Valjean you are free. Now go.'

Tension stretched through Jean Valjean as the urge to flee nearly overwhelmed him. Then, observing the locked gaze between Javert and the river, he felt himself quite rooted to where he stood. As the final bit of reserved hope he had for his freedom was sacrificed, and was replaced by an unexpected sense of purpose, Valjean replied:

'No.'

'Clear out,' repeated Javert.

'No.'

Javert turned to him and took him by the shoulder so to push him away, but Valjean twisted out of the man's grip.

'Look here,' he began. All ties to himself as the inspector's inferior had thusly vanished, the same way all sentiments of being his superior had dissipated long ago. Where Valjean stood now was on a beam of equality. For the first time his in life he was on the same plane as the man before him, whom it appeared now was mortal after all. 'Look here,' he said, 'I don't understand why you do what you do, Javert. But I'll be damned if I'll watch you throw yourself into that river again.'

Javert's face turned white, perhaps from rage or some other undefinable emotion. They had both turned prone to sudden tremors because of the extreme cold, so this may have been a factor as well.

'I'm sorry for releasing you at the barricade if this is what it's brought you to,' Valjean said simply. 'But you did not deserve a death as such then; nor do you now.'

Abruptly Javert came very close to Valjean's face, not touching him yet giving Valjean the sensation of being held in the grip of death. Calm and menacingly he growled:

'How could you know what a man deserves? You, a thief, and yet not. You who've been with the scum of the earth and yet somehow, by some divine prank, still also with the saints; You! A man who frees his enemy in a time of revolt, who rescued that boy at the barricade and dragged him through hell beneath the streets, and brought him to his grandfather's, or his godfather's or father's or whomever it was we visited, it doesn't matter! You come to me now, in your obscure martyrdom, to drag me away from whom other than myself? Only you would take on such an assault! You think you know what I deserve--Ha! What a dichotomy you are, if I ever saw one. What an insufferable... If all the demons of Hell arrived! Nom d'un chien! To think this man believes himself when he says I don't deserve what I deserve... As if he knew anything at all of justice or what's fair. And you will save me once more if I jump into this water, monsieur? Is that what you dare proclaim? Of all the men. For the lamb to save the lion. You could be drowned yourself and still you would not hesitate to jump in after me--Don't shake your head, I can see by your clothes that's what happened. I'm not stupid, you know--you didn't find me already washed up on the banks; You dived in I see, you fool--And you'll do it again to interfere now when I try to go under.' And thus his voice became very melancholic. He spoke to himself. 'Yet these are the very reasons.'

And Jean Valjean, who had witnessed no show of humanity such as this in the inspector ever before, was shocked to discover that he pitied the man. Methodically Javert moved along the wall away from Valjean. Valjean followed, and Javert turned around to face him.

'Leave me be, Valjean. It is none of your concern,' he commanded lazily.

'It is,' Valjean sadly replied.

'Well it shouldn't be. You should try to make it so.'

'I cannot.'

'I have faith in you,' Javert sneered.

'I will not.'

'I'm warning you, Valjean.'

Valjean quickly shook his head.

'You cannot threaten me, Javert. You've thrown away your weapons, and we both know I'm the stronger man.'

Javert eyed Jean Valjean with severe dislike.

'I do wish you would leave me be,' he complained.

'I apologize.'

'Could you not find some other substitutional good deed to fill your time?'

'I'm afraid not.'

'I find I grow tired by your charity. It's excessive; I don't want it.'

Valjean did not reply. Then he quietly said:

'Arrest me, Javert. Think me nothing but an old man who's only done an ounce of good in his life. If it will help you, arrest me.' Valjean held out his wrists to Javert, forgetting the policeman had discarded his handcuffs. Nevertheless Javert jerked his hands back as if from fire. He gazed at Valjean with either immense hatred or immense fear.

'Why do you ask this of me?' he snarled.

'I am old and my time with this is done. And I'll die soon.'

'Better to die in your own bed.'

'It makes no difference. Take me to the police station.'

Javert gave a pained expression.

'I told you that you are free.'

'It's cold and nearly morning anyway. It's the nearest building.'

'Go home.'

'I'll freeze before I get there.'

'Call yourself a fiacre.'

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handful of coins, taking Valjean by the arm and dropping the money into his palm. Valjean's expression became darker.

'It confounds me, Inspector, how the mercy you've failed to show others in the past you do indeed lack, even for yourself.'

Javert murmured, 'Do not address me as such, monsieur,' and took hold of the parapet, revealing that his hands trembled. The severe cold, however, had retreated somewhat since the dawn grew lighter. He stood and looked out at the Seine.