Author's Note: Special thanks to L'Ael-Inire and AmZ, my first reviewers, for their thoughtful and encouraging words. I hope you continue to enjoy the story!

This will be another short chapter, but more is coming soon.

As always, any honest feedback is appreciated!


It was nearly five in the afternoon by the time M. Madeleine arrived back in Montreuil-sur-mer. The journey back had been uneventful and left plenty of time for thought. In fact, Madeleine was quite close to driving himself mad with all his thoughts. At one moment he was rejoicing, feeling himself finally free of his past; the next he was racked with guilt, cursing himself for allowing an innocent to be condemned in his name. He was on the verge of tears, or of laughing. He tried to suppress all of these emotions, finding none of them appropriate. By the time he pulled the little tilbury into the city, his feelings of remorse and joy alike had faded and he began to sink back into fear. It was a familiar feeling; the sense of being on the run, not free, not yet taken. Strange torment that he had brought on himself.

He turned down a little street off the main road, without paying much attention to where he was going. The streets were busy this time of day and already a few citizens had greeted the mayor as he passed. He did not see them. Finally he realized that his horse was exhausted, that he himself had neither eaten nor slept for nearly forty-eight hours, and he would have to stop. It seemed that his first priority should be to return the horse and tilbury to Master Scaufflaire. He drove on for few more minutes until he reached the little deserted street that took him directly to the Flemish man's place. Along the street he passed the rectory of the little parish he attended. Two days ago he had found himself compelled to knock on that very door and seek the council of the curé who lived there, a kind and worthy man whom he trusted. He had hesitated then; now he did not even slow his pace. He found he wanted to avoid the place entirely.

He arrived at Scaufflaire's, returned the horse and carriage, paid a generous bonus to compensate for the damages, and made his way back to the street. It was fortunate that his residence was not far, since by now he was nearly fainting from exhaustion. He was no longer capable of thinking clearly, which had the benefit that he was no longer tormented by his thoughts. It was a sensation somewhat like drunkenness. He had a headache. He felt like he was forgetting something. In this state, the mayor conducted himself down the street towards his home.

***

Javert had followed the mayor down the little street, stopping before he reached Scaufflaire's. He scrutinized M. Madeleine like a tiger evaluating its prey, as it looks for signs of weakness. He noted the strange manner of the man's movements. Madeleine, while given to absentmindedness, always walked with purpose; now his stride was hesitant. Moreover, he normally looked composed and well-groomed; today, the man looked half-crazed and completely disheveled. He was not wearing a hat; his cravat was half-untied; the knees of his trousers and edges of his frock-coat looked muddy as if he'd been kneeling on the ground. From the glimpse he had caught of Madeleine's face, he appeared tense and distracted, and his eyes were unnaturally bright. This disturbed Javert. The mayor had the air of a man who is both lost and pursued.

As Madeleine reappeared from the building, he turned for a moment in Javert's direction, as if looking for something. Javert paused uneasily, suddenly irritated with himself for so easily reverting to that insolent habit of observing the mayor. However, Madeleine did not seem to notice him there, and brusquely turned to resume his walk. Javert checked himself then and resolved to leave the man alone, despite whatever curiousity he might have about the mayor's strange behavior. God knows his curiosity had caused enough misery already. Why should he, against all reason and proof, still feel such distrust towards the mayor? He was about to turn back when he saw the other man appear to stop abruptly, then stumble. Javert stopped for a moment, watching out of concern or fascination, and then he saw the man fall. His long strides took him quickly over to the mayor, who appeared to have fainted. As Javert approached, the sight made him shudder. The man on the ground, motionless, livid as a corpse, was no longer breathing.

***

"M. Madeleine! Where are you? I can't see you."

The light was very soft when Fantine woke up. It was either dawn or evening. Her own cry had woken her, and she sat up and looked wildly around. "M. Madeleine? Are you there? " She was sure she'd heard his voice. The room was empty. Then she laughed. How silly she was! She had forgotten that M. Madeleine had gone to Montfermeil to bring back her Cosette. He might return with her at any moment. She was suddenly concerned about the time, and looked around for a clock, which she did not find. She had to make herself look presentable. She combed her shorn locks with her fingers, straightened her little lace cap, and fixed her gown. There was no mirror for her to check her work. What a sight she must be! She hoped that she would not frighten the child. To imagine that she, wretched as she was, could have such an angel for a daughter! She could still picture little Cosette, so rosy and fresh, with her round cheeks and big blue eyes.

Fantine was wide awake now, humming with excitement over the prospect of seeing Cosette, and so she occupied herself by making plans. She would teach Cosette everything she herself did well; to knit, to sew, to embroider. But the girl must have a proper education too, she must learn to read and write and do figures. Her daughter would have everything that she herself had not. Yes, M. Madeleine had promised her. Cosette would be a proper little lady. She must have grown a great deal; she would surely need new clothes. What a delight to think of taking her daughter to the shops, buying her pretty little dresses and bonnets!

Fantine's cheerful train of thought was suddenly cut short as a tall figure strode rapidly past the open door to her room. It could have been anyone; but in the dark, in her delirious state, the figure had seemed more like a phantom from one of her nightmares. She brushed it off, telling herself she was safe now, that M. Madeleine would always protect her. Still she could not suppress an ominous feeling, and she shivered.