It only took him a few moments to get there. It wasn't far, and skittish bourgeois parted nervously to let the imposing man through. Within a quarter of an hour, Javert had reached his destination-and there was nothing.

Aghast, Javert whipped his head around, searching for anything or anyone. Nothing? How could there be nothing in this hotbed of revolutionary activity? No soapbox, no boisterous students inquiring if one had heard the people singing, no French flags, not even one, "Down with the Bourbon regime!" The square was empty. Dejected, Javert leaned up against a lamppost with the glass all broken out, and pulled out his snuffbox.

Then all of a sudden he heard a loud crash, the sound of wood splintering, and a stentorian working class woman's voice rising over it all. Javert spun around in the direction of the cacophony. The commotion was coming from the direction of the Cafe Musain. Javert smirked. It seemed as if there would be some action that evening after all.

The heavy oak door of the building slammed open with a frightful bang. A man's voice crashed out into the evening air.

"I'll fix you in faith, dear hostess!"

"The only thing you'll fix is a pair of stocks, you drunken rogue!" answered the booming female voice. A symphony of clattering cookware accompanied her threat.

"Rogue! Cessez, Madame, for you have insulted the good name of the Grantaire family. Apologize immediately, or, sadly, I will be forced to take measures." The man spoke in a lilting and mocking tenor, full of vivacity and a great deal of wine.

"Apologize!" the woman screeched. "You! You come into my winery, you drink my best-and my worst-wine, you break over a dozen wine glasses and refuse to pay for them, and then you scare away all of my customers with your inebriated ramblings! I should call the Inspector!"

Now thoroughly enjoying himself, Javert crept closer to the scene. This was certainly action of the variety he had hoped for. More crashes resounded from inside, and without ceremony, the man who called himself Grantaire was tossed out onto the curb. A garganuan woman-type creature covered in spilled wine and brandishing a frying pan appeared in the doorway. In anger, her face was redder than the spirits that had been splashed on her frock.

"What do you have to say to that, you worthless bum?" she demanded of the man now lying in the gutters.

Grantaire gave a hearty laugh in return. "Dear Inspector Javert! Let him come and kindly! A day locked up never did me any harm. It's been a few weeks since I've seen the constable anyhow; I should wonder how his wife is faring after the baby." The drunk laughed some more, then leaned back. Presently his mirth melted into slumber, and only snores came from his mouth.

The mistress of the establishment scrutinized Grantaire for a moment more before giving a lofty sigh and returning inside, the door slamming after her. The affair was ended.

But not for Javert. His night was just beginning. He approached the sleeping man with caution, lest he wake him from his drunken stupor. He crouched down beside him in the gutter and carefully prodded him with his cane. Javert's only answer was an immense snore. Javert smiled.

"Too many times have I hauled this swine off the streets for drunk and disorderly conduct," he thought to himself. "I believe a trick will perhaps teach him a lesson...but what?" He glanced back down at Grantaire. A moment later, a ploy had been conceived. "Of course! I shall take this man into the back of the cafe, and, while he sleep off his excess of drink, I will clothe him in the manner of a French nobleman!" He paused, pacing excitedly back and forth. "There I shall have a banquet brought in, and servants even! And perhaps new clothing as well. Would he not then forget himself?"

Smiling wickedly, Javert hauled up Grantaire as if he were no more than a sack of potatoes, and again approached the Cafe Musain. His knock was swiftly answered by the proprietress. Although her visage soured somewhat when she saw Grantaire, she greeted, "Good evening, dear Inspector, lovely evening?"

"Yes, indeed," Javert replied. "Listen to me, madame-" He leaned over and whispered his connivance into her ear. The woman's eyes flashed with admiration at Javert's cunning. A few gestures brought forth her serving girls and her son. Together they brought the still-sleeping Grantaire into the back, leaving Javert and the mistress at the door.

"Inspector, I'll keep an eye on him. When he wakes, you'll be the first to know!" she told him with a twinkle in her eye.

Smugly, the Inspector answered, "Yes, thank you madame, for your cooperation in this matter."

"No, thank you!" she said earnestly. "Anything to get that Grantaire off my hands!"