Changes in Situation

If Louise's confession had been a floodgate, Fantine now felt the full deluge of the scorn of the women at the factory. She learned to bite her tongue at the whispers behind her back and to look down whenever people glanced her way.

One morning when Fantine arrived at the door of the factory, the foreman stood there with a small purse in his hands. "For you, Fantine," he said curtly as he handed it to her.

"What is this about?" Fantine asked warily.

"You're sacked, Fantine. For deception—you know how the Mayor detests dishonesty," the foreman said, leering at her all the while. His breath smelled sour, as if he had been drinking the night before.

Fantine fought not to gag. "How much is this?"

"Fifty francs. Now be on your way!" the foreman snapped, waving her off with a gesture. Fantine felt her cheeks burn as she went back the way she came. She had not gone very far when she caught sight of some of the other factory girls. As soon as they saw her, their tittering fell into hushed whispers.

"Put on airs, apparently. Now there she goes!" Fantine heard one of them whisper as she tried to slip past. She clutched the bag even more tightly as she walked to a street corner. She sat down on a torn up paving stone as she felt her head begin to spin. She knew that writing to Felix was out of the question—it was not worth risking his displeasure at this point.

"Who will take me in now?" she wondered. She looked at her hands, still coarse from needlework and bead-stringing. "They hardly know much else!"

Fighting the urge to be sick with panic, she got up and began walking towards the shops. She willed her feet not to turn to M. Madeleine's office, not just yet. Her eyes scanned the posts and windows, hoping for a friendly face or a notice.

She had gone quite some way when at last she heard what sounded like someone cursing loudly. She caught sight of a man who she recognized to be the prison warden yelling at a little girl wearing a threadbare dress.

"Useless! I ask you to make a shirt, and you come up with this?!" the warden bellowed, holding up what resembled sooty rags.

"M'sieur, it fell into the ashes when I was trying to finish it!" the child quavered. Before the warden could reach for his cane, Fantine strode over.

"Monsieur, what is the matter? If it is a shirt you need, I can help her make it," Fantine said, looking the warden in the eye.

"I do not need just a shirt, I need a dozen," the warden said. He eyed Fantine carefully, as if sizing her up for the market. "You are a needlewoman?"

"I know the trade somewhat." Fantine said, raising her chin.

The warden nodded in acknowledgement. "Take this useless girl and teach her how to make shirts. I will pay you eleven sous a day."

Fantine tried not to wince at the sum. "Very well then. When do I begin?"

"Now. I will look at your work at the end of the day," the warden said. He shoved the girl forward. "You will work in this space here."

The child, a sullen waif who could not have been more than nine years old, led Fantine to a small backroom where three other women were crouched over half-finished shirts. Fantine squinted at the dim light as she picked up a shirt, followed by a needle and thread.

"You'll ruin your eyes soon enough, Mamselle," the little girl said to Fantine in a somber voice.

"I've already had more ruined than that," Fantine said ruefully as she tried to thread the needle.

It was blessing enough for Fantine that she had not gone blind by nightfall. She carefully added the eleven sous to the money she had received earlier that day before she made her way home.

Gilles and Cosette were seated on the step when she arrived. "Maman! They said you weren't at the factory!" Cosette blurted out when she saw Fantine.

Fantine yawned as she looked from her daughter to Gilles. "You brought her there?" she asked Gilles pointedly.

"Because of this," Gilles said, indicating a letter in his hand.

Fantine looked down. "I can't read it, Gilles."

"Oh. I forgot," Gilles said sheepishly. Fantine went inside and lit a candle that Cosette handed to her. The trio crowded around the table as Gilles unfolded the letter and cleared his throat.

"It says, 'To Madame Fantine,' " the young man began. "I must speak with you as soon as possible regarding your situation. There have been a few good turns that you must know of. Please come by my office tomorrow morning. Sincerely, M. Madeleine."

Cosette's eyes went wide. "The old man!"

"Oh hush, Cosette. He's been terribly kind," Gilles said by way of light-hearted rebuke. He looked at Fantine concernedly. "Why, has something happened, Madame Fantine?"

Fantine sighed painfully. "I will tell you some time, but now I must get supper prepared," she said fretfully as she went to the small kitchen. She busied herself making some soup, all the while blinking from the strain in her eyes.

"I do not mind sewing, but those rough shirts in such a place! I don't know how I can manage for long".

Morning found Fantine rummaging for what good clothes she had left. She bravely put on her best dress, trimmed and tucked very simply at the hems. For good measure, she tied a neat band around her hair to keep it back from her face. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she shook her head on seeing her pallid complexion and tired eyes. She frowned as she looked down at her already worn shoes.

"I could be more beautiful" she thought. However, she felt her conscience pricking her; had it not been her beauty that had led her astray at the very beginning of it all?

She shook her head to clear away an ill thought as she went to make sure that the children were ready for the day. After seeing them off safely, she headed towards M. Madeleine's house.

It was still early enough in the day, and few people were about. Still, even if there had been a crowd, Fantine would not have lowered her head. "God is good, and this will pass," she reminded herself as she arrived at the Mayor's door.

However, she saw a tall figure already there. "Good morning, Monsieur Inspecteur," she greeted, forcing some cheer into her voice.

Javert's eyes were dark as he gave her a cordial nod. "You hope to speak to the Mayor?"

Fantine nodded. "And you too, M'sieur?"

Javert took off his hat. "Normally I would ask you to go first, but today I must be discourteous. There is an urgent matter that needs his attention."

Fantine was about to say something to this when the porteress opened the door. "The Mayor will speak with you—" she said before she was stopped with a look from Javert.

"Forgive me Mesdames, but there is no time to lose," the inspector said as he walked past the women and went up into M. Madeleine's study.