Walking down Toulon's streets, Javert was on patrol. He had recently been
named the adjucent of the galley guard. For eleven years she worked
alongside the guards and convicts; now his effort was being acknowledged.
"Monsieur, where are we headed?" Michel asked. The young man was one of the guards Javert decided to bring with him. The other was a short man, Antoine, who was ten years Javert's senior despite his lower rank. A crack broke the night's silence.
"It came from behind that house, there!" Antoine said quickly, pointing to the butcher's shop. The three men took off at a run, Javert easily taking the lead. As they rounded the corner of the shop, they saw a cellar, split as it was forced open. A wine bottle and two wheels of cheese lay on the dirt beside it.
"Thieves!" Javert spat, his eyes echoing his disgust. "Search the area, quickly!" He ordered. Michel and Antoine hurried to do as they were bid.
A minute barely passed, when Michel cried out, "Monsieur! I have found him, though he is getting away!"
Javert headed to where Michel stood, and saw a man scurrying up the trellis before them.
"What do we do?" Michel asked tentatively.
"Shoot him"
"Monsieur?"
"Shoot him now, before he gets away."
Michel drew his pistol and fired. The man fell heavily to the ground. "Is he dead?"
Javert gave Michel a glance that would have made Napoleon question his confidence. "Your aim isn't nearly good enough," he answered. "The man is wounded, but it is his shoulder, not his chest. Just as well, we need him alive."
The three men walked over to the thief, who lay shaking on the ground.
"Drag him out!" Javert barked. "Let's get a good look at him."
The man was pulled out from the shadow of the trellis. Michel and Antoine stood close to the man. They were to do the initial interrogation, while Javert waited. The moonlight was now able to splash over the thief's features, illuminating the fear in his eyes.
"Your name?' Antoine asked.
"I give my name to only a select few."
Javert looked up. He didn't know how many people who, like he, kept their given names a secret. 'Your name!" Antoine tried again, his tone gathering impatience.
Tiring of the thief's obstinacy, Javert stepped forward. Looking at the guards he said, "You are superior! There should be no problem here!"
The thief, who had been looking at Javert, now gave a gasp. "Phillipe," he said quietly. "Phillipe, Do you not know me?"
Shocked that a stranger would know his name, Javert turned quickly. As he gazed, the surprise in his eyes turned to cold anger.
The man spoke again, "Phillipe, it's your father, Honoré"
Michel turned to the adjucent boldly, "He is your father?"
Ignoring the statement, Javert addressed Honoré. His voice carried no tone of compassion or even recognition. "Your name" he stated.
The man hurried to reply. "Honoré! Honoré Javert!"
"There is a record of your at the galleys. You had been brought there for theft. Do you know the penalty for committing a crime twice?"
"Yes"
Javert now spoke in a harsh, clipped tone. "You show authority to your superior when you speak."
Honoré's eyes widened, "Yes, monsieur. I know the penalty."
"And yet, here you are. There is wine and cheese by the cellar, and your jacket holds something else. Come, take it out."
The man slid a hand into his thin jacket and let two jars of preserves and a handful of salted meat fall into the dirt. "This is theft. You have been caught."
"Yes, monsieur"
"The galley guard has been missing you," the adjucent said with a harsh smile.
"They will be delighted to hear that you shall be spending the rest of your life with them."
Turning to the two guards, he snapped a command. "Handcuff him! We will head back."
Antoine quickly did as he was told, and soon the four were heading toward the jail.
Once more, Michel became bold. "You arrested your father?"
"I arrested a thief, nothing more."
"But he is your father!"
Javert spun around to block Michel's path, his eyes shining as bright as the moon. "My father is dead!" he growled. "You are a fool, and should not have dared to ask! However, since your stupidity seems to have gotten the better of you, you have your answer."
"Monsieur, where are we headed?" Michel asked. The young man was one of the guards Javert decided to bring with him. The other was a short man, Antoine, who was ten years Javert's senior despite his lower rank. A crack broke the night's silence.
"It came from behind that house, there!" Antoine said quickly, pointing to the butcher's shop. The three men took off at a run, Javert easily taking the lead. As they rounded the corner of the shop, they saw a cellar, split as it was forced open. A wine bottle and two wheels of cheese lay on the dirt beside it.
"Thieves!" Javert spat, his eyes echoing his disgust. "Search the area, quickly!" He ordered. Michel and Antoine hurried to do as they were bid.
A minute barely passed, when Michel cried out, "Monsieur! I have found him, though he is getting away!"
Javert headed to where Michel stood, and saw a man scurrying up the trellis before them.
"What do we do?" Michel asked tentatively.
"Shoot him"
"Monsieur?"
"Shoot him now, before he gets away."
Michel drew his pistol and fired. The man fell heavily to the ground. "Is he dead?"
Javert gave Michel a glance that would have made Napoleon question his confidence. "Your aim isn't nearly good enough," he answered. "The man is wounded, but it is his shoulder, not his chest. Just as well, we need him alive."
The three men walked over to the thief, who lay shaking on the ground.
"Drag him out!" Javert barked. "Let's get a good look at him."
The man was pulled out from the shadow of the trellis. Michel and Antoine stood close to the man. They were to do the initial interrogation, while Javert waited. The moonlight was now able to splash over the thief's features, illuminating the fear in his eyes.
"Your name?' Antoine asked.
"I give my name to only a select few."
Javert looked up. He didn't know how many people who, like he, kept their given names a secret. 'Your name!" Antoine tried again, his tone gathering impatience.
Tiring of the thief's obstinacy, Javert stepped forward. Looking at the guards he said, "You are superior! There should be no problem here!"
The thief, who had been looking at Javert, now gave a gasp. "Phillipe," he said quietly. "Phillipe, Do you not know me?"
Shocked that a stranger would know his name, Javert turned quickly. As he gazed, the surprise in his eyes turned to cold anger.
The man spoke again, "Phillipe, it's your father, Honoré"
Michel turned to the adjucent boldly, "He is your father?"
Ignoring the statement, Javert addressed Honoré. His voice carried no tone of compassion or even recognition. "Your name" he stated.
The man hurried to reply. "Honoré! Honoré Javert!"
"There is a record of your at the galleys. You had been brought there for theft. Do you know the penalty for committing a crime twice?"
"Yes"
Javert now spoke in a harsh, clipped tone. "You show authority to your superior when you speak."
Honoré's eyes widened, "Yes, monsieur. I know the penalty."
"And yet, here you are. There is wine and cheese by the cellar, and your jacket holds something else. Come, take it out."
The man slid a hand into his thin jacket and let two jars of preserves and a handful of salted meat fall into the dirt. "This is theft. You have been caught."
"Yes, monsieur"
"The galley guard has been missing you," the adjucent said with a harsh smile.
"They will be delighted to hear that you shall be spending the rest of your life with them."
Turning to the two guards, he snapped a command. "Handcuff him! We will head back."
Antoine quickly did as he was told, and soon the four were heading toward the jail.
Once more, Michel became bold. "You arrested your father?"
"I arrested a thief, nothing more."
"But he is your father!"
Javert spun around to block Michel's path, his eyes shining as bright as the moon. "My father is dead!" he growled. "You are a fool, and should not have dared to ask! However, since your stupidity seems to have gotten the better of you, you have your answer."