"Absolutely not," said Commissioner Génot, "I refuse to accept anything resembling a resignation." The flabby palm of his hand crumpled the perfectly penned letter from Javert. He dropped it emphatically to land on the top of his bureau.
Javert stood perfectly still at attention, his eyes fixed on anything but the Commissioner's face.
Met with silence, Génot continued to speak, if only to fill the uneasy hush that lingered between them. "Your report of last night was interesting to read. Undoubtedly she was guilty to be so driven to take her own life in order to escape you." His eyes smiled with a hit of lewdness. "Especially since all the rumors are true of your nightly exploits of late, Javert."
The Chief Inspector stiffened, his eyes unwavering in their gaze. His chest rose dramatically as he inhaled. "That is in particular what I mention in my letter under reasons for dismissal and resignation," he stated so dryly, the Commissioner looked up a bit in surprise.
"Honestly, Javert, it's refreshing to be reminded that you are a man after all, with a man's urges and ambitions," Génot commented with a chuckle. "You have seen the error of your ways. Actually, you should be commended, really, to chase after a convict so urgently. Either way, I believe the Comtesse met the same fate in the end, so I see no need to punish you for her escape."
"But Monsieur le Commissionaire," Javert began with a scowl now twisting his features.
"Ah, ah, ah," Génot tsked, "my refusal is final. In fact, I am not only refusing to dismiss you, but I am planning to assign you to some of our most promising cases yet." He bent down to the pile of missives beside him, making the wood of his chair creak and groan in protest under his extreme weight. Taking two files from the stack, he slid them lazily towards Javert. "Here, begin with these two. Now that Jacques Tournot is gone, no matter by whose hand, I want you to focus on capturing the next largest crime family in Paris."
Javert broke his stance to reach for the files, leafing through the papers of notes and information. "You want me to track and arrest the Patron Minette gang?" he sniffed. "That's only too easy, Sir."
"Which is why you also have the second assignment," Génot pointed his finger with lethargic effort to the second file on his desk, a silent command for Javert to pick it up.
"We have heard rumors of revolutionary sentiments among that devious population of Paris, the university student. We have reason to believe that a group of friends is beginning to plot some sort of poorly planned rebellion out of the warmth of the Café Musain."
The sour turn of Javert's lips made Génot grin; he knew this would be a motivating assignment for someone with Javert's noble principles. Javert weighed the cases in his hands, his eyes distant and his gaze lost in thought. After a moment, he spoke, "If you refuse to accept a resignation, then I will spend my last efforts to close these cases, Sir, if only to redeem my worth to the force."
"Yes, yes," Génot waved his hand to such a statement of zeal. "Go about it then, Javert." He busied himself with more papers, picking up his pen to scribble a note here or there until he heard his office door shut.
After a moment, the door opened quietly, and Génot gave a small chuckle. Out goes the lion of a chief inspector, and in enters the rat of an officer. "Sit down, Tanville, and be quick about it," he ordered.
Tanville's thin and expressionless face stared back at him. "Well, is all as we planned?" he whispered, carefully keeping an eye on the door should Javert return.
"Better, I would say," Génot grinned. "The Comtesse has spared us the effort of an extravagant deception by taking her own life. You can forget all about our plans for the transfer today. Contact your friend at the prison in Toulon to let them know they will not be expecting a new female resident."
"She took her own life?" Tanville's voice hissed in surprise.
Génot nodded, shaking his chins wildly. "According to Javert's report, she jumped early last night from the Pont au Change. No chance of survival, he assessed."
"Well," Tanville choked on his laugh, "that takes care of the fox in the hen house."
"Or the vixen in the rooster house, in this case," Génot chortled, pleased with his own wit.
The night before…
A hand reached out from the chilling waters of the Seine, grabbing quickly onto the slick stones of the quay, just beneath the Pont au Change. She knew she had to be quiet, deathly silent, so she barely allowed herself to inhale, easing herself out from the waters onto the bank.
Cécelie rung her hair out from the water, trying to shake as much of the river from her skin as possible. Then, she quickly made her way along the sunken bank, careful to go the opposite way from where she knew Javert would be looking for her downstream. As she crept up the quay to the road, she glanced over her shoulder, catching his back towards her, his frozen form still peering over the edge of the bridge. Bidding him one last farewell in her heart, she hurried through the shadows, reaching at last an isolated door on the Rue de Bac.
Passing under the creeping ivy, she stepped to the thick wooden door, knocking gently and offering one last desperate prayer for salvation.
The little window opened, and soft golden-brown eyes looked down at her, framed in pure white from her wimple. "How can I help you, Madame?" she asked.
"Please, Sister," she held up her shaking hand, still clutching the white beaded rosary. "I need your help. I am looking for Sister Clémence. She gave this to me and told me I could come here."
For a second, Cécelie's heart sunk; the little door of the window shut. But then, she heard the lock give way, and the exterior door opened to a warm room filled with light. The Sister's gentle hand took her gently by the shoulder, guiding her into the building. Cécelie could barely feel the blanket she wrapped around her shivering body, barely registering the words the nun spoke at first.
"Oh, that was my rosary," the nun cooed, "and although I was your Sister Clémence, that is not my name."
"Then what is?" Cécelie chattered, rubbing her arms for warmth.
The nun smiled, bringing her into the next room to sit on the hearth of a glowing fire. "Here, in our convent, I am called Sister Hope."
Cécelie grinned, feeling her lips beginning to stop their uncontrollable wavering. "Soeur Espoir, hope was just the thing I was looking for."
Sister Hope gave her a smile that warmed even her heart, reaching over to the kettle to pour two tasses of soothing tea. "And your name, child?"
"Cécelie," she whispered.
"The patron saint of music," Sister hope began to elaborate, when suddenly a man's voice came from another room.
"Sister Hope," the hushed voice called. Following the voice, a man entered, somewhere just past middle-aged, his eyes were kind and his face was handsome, but for a man of his size, it was almost a miracle for him to give the impression of gentle.
The nun turned to greet their newcomer, and Cécelie made every effort to cover up her still-wet shift with her saving blanket. "Yes, Monsieur Fauchelevent, I am here with our new guest," the small nun smiled.
His eyes moved slowly from the face he knew to the face he did not recognize and back. "I beg your pardon, ladies. I did not mean to interrupt."
"Quite alright," Cécelie dismissed the concern with a smile.
"I only came to remind, Sister Hope that tomorrow is my daughter and my last day here with the Sisters, and Mother Superior requested that I show you my work in the rose garden before I leave," the man called Fauchelevent explain, his voice was filled with so much care, Cécelie wondered how any man could be that benevolent in just a matter of a few words.
His kind pale blue eyes smiled down on her. "I am sorry I will not be around to get to know you more, Madame."
Cécelie shrugged, curling just a tad closer to the fire. "I came for a new start, not new acquaintances, Monsieur."
"Well," the kindly gardener smiled, placing his hand on Cécelie's wet hair, as if he were praying over her, "I can tell you from experience, this is a wonderful place for sanctuary and new beginnings."