This police post in Montreuil was a long room with a ceiling so low that a tall man, such as Javert, would graze top of his hat on the beams. For this reason, Javert allowed his men the unusual licence of removing their caps when inside. The low ceiling kept the post warm, in a fuggy sort of way, and the walls and glass panes of the door were stained with smoke from the stove. All in all it was a cheerless, uncomfortable place - for the officer as much as for the criminal - the entire aspect of which seemed to say 'Abandon hope all ye who enter here'.
After entering with Fantine, Javert shut the door with a bad tempered snap that made the panes of glass rattle in their frames. This he did as a hint for the over-excited crowd that was amassing outside to go away. He seated himself at his desk, noting as he did so that Fantine had consigned herself to a corner of the room near the stove, took off his hat and began to cast about for a pen and some matches. Fortunately at that moment the duty-sergeant, Pontellier, placed a lighted candle on the desk in front of him. He flashed the boy a grateful smile. He never had much luck with those damn Lucifer things at the best of times and tonight his hands were like ice and he had seriously doubted the likelihood of his being able to successfully strike one and light the candle. Nothing was more certain to destroy the dignified image of the law than watching the officer who has just arrested you singe his fingers and send lighted matches and molten wax skittering across the table. And the dignity of the law was, in this kind of case, especially important.
As an afterthought, he said under his breath to Pontellier: "Go outside and get those vultures to bugger off."
He then turned back to the matter in hand. Yes, he reflected, in theses cases especially the majesty of the law was paramount, one wished to be as formidable as possible. There were certain conventions of appearance to be observed when dealing with different social groups. One might, for example, allow oneself to share a certain kind of ironical gallows humour with some of the seasoned criminals - after all, you both knew what to expect from each other in the end. With women of the town, however, the general plan was to terrify the poor slags so much that they did not want to come back. Although Javert appreciated that it was not always a question of 'want', especially after the first time. But that was the terrible thing about falling, having done it once it became far easier to do it the next time. Best never to do it at all! Take this woman, for example, he knew her vaguely, found her to be quiet and well-behaved enough for one of her kind. Yet she had let her self control slip (the smell of the cheap brandy on her breath had made his stomach turn somersaults) and had attacked a respectable citizen and voter without provocation - which had landed her here.
He put down his pen and turned to the scarecrow figure huddled on the floor.
At this the woman - the creature, thought Javert, since what was before him could scarcely be described as a woman - began to crawl towards him across the filthy floor, arms outstretched.
"Here we go again" he thought to himself.
"Monsieur Javert, I beg of you to be merciful. It was not my fault -"
"Well, no, of course it wouldn't be." he mentally answered.
" - I owe a hundred francs and If I don't pay my little girl will be turned out into the street - "
"Oh, an unfortunate child - this is growing more depressingly predictable by the minute", he thought, "Why do they always insist on telling me about their brats? What makes them think I'm going to be lenient on them just because of that poor excuse?. If they really gave a damn about their children they wouldn't get into these kinds of messes in the first place"
" - Have pity on me Monsieur Javert!"
"If I still retained the capacity for pity I wouldn't be wasting it on you," he thought savagely. Here Javert was not being entirely honest with himself. On reflection, he would have confessed to feeling pity for the unfortunate children of these creatures. He was also known to be tolerant and patient with those filles de joie who did not break the law, kept their medical appointments, observed police regulations and otherwise pled their trade honestly. However, once they overstepped the line he felt nothing for them but contempt and aversion.
He turned away from Fantine in disgust.
She snatched at his hand and pressed it to her lips. Looking up into his face she said in a soft voice,
"You have a child yourself Monsieur Javert - surely you can understand? Show me and my little one mercy for her sake!"
Javert snatched his hand away in real fury. The cheeky slut! How dare she bring his child into it?! How dare she use his innocent little girl as an excuse for her tawdry crimes?! Eyes blazing he turned back to Fantine and barked at her:
" Have you quite finished? Is that all you have to say for yourself? Then be off with you! You're getting six months and the Eternal Father himself can't change it!"
"Enough! Peace! Sit down afore I lay the back of me hand on the lot of you - and that means you too Yvon. A grown man and an officer of the law - you ought to know better than to be so daft!"
Even though there was a fond smile in her voice, she was obeyed instantly. Sergeant Gallimard - along with Lieutenant Daviot - lived with the Jacquemins and they naturally deferred to the woman known to all the men of the police post as 'Mother Adele'
"Kids, d'you want to come here and help me cook?"
Elise gave a bored sort of yawn and declined but Cosette and Henri, the next Jacquemin child up, crowded from eagerly. Cosette loved to watch Adele cook, and Adele was happy to have her around and teach her - how else was the poor mite ever going to learn. As for Henri, he showed an unusual interest in matters domestic for a boy - and unusual talent. Adele was considering asking M Delbecq, who kept the 'Three Horseshoes' to take him on in the kitchen when he was a bit older.
"Right, Cosette you can stir and Henri you can chop. Make it quick though cos I want to take it over to your father before it gets too late Who's on tonight other than Germain and M Javert, Yvon?"
"Auguste Pontellier and Lieutenant Charlot as I remember."
"Oh Charlot's wife'll bring him something, no need to worry there. But I'd best take something for that poor boy - his mother and sister haven't a grain of sense to share between 'em." Mme Jacquemin always referred to Pontellier as 'that poor boy'
At this the children set up a clamour wanting to come with her
"Can we come mam? Please. We want to visit Papa. Please can we come - it's not really very late."
"Yeah mam - can we go?" Henri said, adding with a ghoulish smile, "We might get to see someone getting nicked"
Cosette and Elise shivered with pleasure. It was a dear wish of theirs to see someone being 'nicked' - whatever that might entail.
"Don't talk such rubbish Henri. And of course you can't come - it's far too late and far too cold for you to be out."
However, by the time Adele had prepared the food, packed it into a basket and but on her red cloak, she had relented and Elise, Cosette and Henri trooped out the door with her.
"A moment of your time please Javert."
Javert bowed deeply, grimacing as he did so. The appearance of M Madeleine was the one thing calculated to put him in a worse temper than before. His presence did not seem to please to woman much either, since she wrenched herself free of Jacquemin's grasp, dashed forward and spat in the mayor's face.
"So, you're the mayor are ya? Well here's for you, ya swine!"
M Madeleine simple wiped his face, turned back to Javert and announced;
"This woman is to go free"
Javert had the distinct impression that he had suddenly gone mad - or that perhaps the rest of the world had seen fit to go mad and left him behind. He had seen that creature attack society not once, but twice, tonight. She had spat in the mayor's face - a thing that had not occurred in even his wildest fantasies (Well, maybe in his wildest fantasies). Yet his policeman's instinct told him that there was something perfectly intelligible in the woman's actions, something . . .reasonable, even? And what the devil was that old sod Madeleine playing at? Encroaching on his territory - and requesting that the tart should go free after what she had just done. It was this line of though that he chose to pursue.
"I cannot agree to that M le Maire. She attacked a respectable citizen and she attacked you."
"The respectable citizen was at fault. I spoke to bystanders and found out it was he who initiated the brawl. By the letter of the law he should have been arrested."
Javert mentally cursed himself that he should have made so basic an error as to forget to question bystanders. That he should have been caught out in his mistake by M Madeleine of all people was unbearable. That he should be in a position to lecture about 'the letter of the law'!. Had anyone else pointed out the mistake Javert would have submitted with a modicum of grace and suggested ironically that Bamatabois might like to 'join his lady friend' As it was, he fixed the mayor with a steady gaze and said
"That may be. But she also insulted you - consequently I am holding the woman Fantine."
"She is to go free"
Fantine, crouched on the floor, heard nothing but the words 'she is to go free'. She assumed that they had been spoken by Javert - impossible that someone as hateful as the mayor could have uttered them - and she crawled over to him, clutching his coat and addressing him with another pleading monologue. Javert feeling unsteady, sat down and focused all his attention upon Fantine, feeling her to be the only constant and predictable point in the room. Madeleine stood a few paces apart, listening to Fantine intently.
"- and I owe the Thenardier's a hundred francs - "
Something horrible began to stir in the back of Javert's mind. Thenardier - where had he heard that name before?
"What name did you say, girl?"
"Thenardier - they're innkeepers. They look after my little girl."
"And where might this be?"
"Monfermiel"
"Ah," said Javert, almost without expression, your child is how old?"
"Nearly nine."
"And her name?"
"Cosette"
At that moment there was a terrible sense of illumination in the room - the kind of light produced by lightning rather than a candle - which was only understand by the bystanders Madeleine, Jacquemin and Pontellier. Fantine and Javert both seemed to wilfully ignore it. That this man . . . That this woman . . It was too terrible to be considered, and so it was not considered.
It was at this moment that Adele entered with the three children. Sensing the atmosphere in the room, she made as if to leave but M Madeleine held out his hand and she halted at the door.
"Cosette, come here please." he said gently, beckoning to the child.
Cosette glanced at Adele as if for reassurance. Mme Jacquemin nodded slowly and Cosette went. M Madeleine crouched down to the child's level and began to question her. Where had she been born? How old was she? Where had she lived before coming to Montreuil? With whom and what was it like? Was Javert her father? Did she remember her mother?
When he had finished Madeleine stood up and turned to Javert.
"Now will you let the woman go?"
Despite the fact that he was trembling, Javert managed to stand up and look the mayor full in the face
"No. This is my province and I intend to keep the woman Fantine under arrest."
"Then as mayor and magistrate I dismiss you from your post for the remainder of today - kindly step outside."
Javert bowed and left. Adele too, white as a sheet and clutching at Elise's shoulder violently, stepped towards the door.
"Come along children - I think we should go"
She set down her basket gingerly and stewarded them into the snow.