When you are in a small place for a very long time with no exposure to the outside world, you begin to lose your sense of time. The only way Claudette had been able to keep track of time at all was having the knowledge that she got one piece of bread in the morning and some kind of meal in the evening; but even this was hard to keep track of. She thought she had had about five dinners, but it could have been more, or less. It frustrated her not to know.
It also frustrated her that whenever she asked any of the jail security workers about where here daughters or husband were, they wouldn't say anything. She sat in silence most of the time.
Sometimes Claudette would try to make conversation with her cell mate, but these conversations were always one sided and usually about what Claudette hated.
"I hate these benches. The seats aren't wide enough for me and they are cold and uncomfortable."
"I hate this food. The bread is stale and the meat is thin and dry. I don't even know of it is meat."
"I hate the police here. Why won't they tell me anything? I don't even know my sentence. Will I even have a trial?"
Most of these conversations were short. Once Claudette realized that Agatha wasn't responding to her talking, she would stop talking and continue the conversation in her head, just periodically muttering nonsense.
One day two large men wearing uniforms came to her cell door. "Claudette," one of them said. "Come with us."
Claudette stood up and brushed some of the dust of off her dress. She followed the men down the stone corridor of the jail passing cell after cell of sickly, dirty women. "Where are you taking me?" Claudette asked.
The men remained quiet.
"Where are you taking me?" Claudette asked again, a little louder.
The men still said nothing. She passed a cell with two young girls in it. One of them saw her. "Mama!" she exclaimed. It was Azelma. She ran up to the bars of her cell and grasped them. Eponine sat of the bench of their cell eyeing her Mother, but saying nothing.
"Girls! Girls! My daughters!" Claudette said, stopping by their cell.
"Let's move!" one of the men snapped.
"Mama don't go!" Azelma shouted. Claudette continued to follow the men down the hallway, looking back at her daughter who stared at her.
Eponine remained still with her arms crossed. "Sit down, Zelma, she doesn't care about us," Claudette heard her say. Her heart sunk.
The men led Claudette down another hallway. This one had no cells, just doors leading to various rooms. She men opened the door to one of the rooms and led Claudette inside. It was a large room, but not too large. There were benches on both sides of the room, a table, and a desk. The men pointed to the table and said "sit" very sternly, like how one would say it to a dog. They sat together on one of the benches.
The door opened again and a man in judge's robes came in. The two men nodded at him. He made his way over to the desk and sat facing Claudette.
So this was her trial, Claudette thought to herself. She thought it would have been in a larger, more grand room. She put her arms on the table.
"Claudette Thenardier," the judge said. "Claudette Thenardier is your name, not Camille Jondrette?"
"Yes," Claudette said.
"Good. You are much more cooperative than your husband. You'll learn that the more you comply, the easier this will be. Now, I have some questions to ask you before I give you you're sentence," the judge said. Before Claudette could respond he pulled out a piece of paper and said "You live in the Gorbeau Tenement, room 6, is this correct?"
"Yes," Claudette said.
"Who lives there with you?" the judge asked.
"My husband and my two daughters, Azelma and Eponine. That is all," Claudette said.
"Describe to me the man who was in your apartment the night of January 24, 1832," the judge said.
"There were many men there," Claudette said.
"The old man," the judge said. Claudette wondered how the judge knew the man was old. The man had escaped before the police arrived.
"He was a philanthropist. He came to our home to help us pay for our rent," Claudette said.
"What where you doing that night?" the judge asked.
Claudette shifted in her seat. "I was ill in bed," she said.
"Were you really ill or were you pretending to be ill to get this man's charity?" the judge asked.
Claudette wondered whether or not to lie. "I was feeling under the weather," Claudette said. This was more of a left-for-interpretation lie than a straight out lie.
"What brought this man to your house?" the judge asked.
"He saw my daughters out on the streets. He felt bad for them and came to help us," Claudette said. Again, another half truth.
"Describe to me what happened," the judge said.
Claudette bit her cheek inside her mouth. What did they already know? Have they spoken to her husband? What cover story did he muster up? "The man came to our apartment with his daughter. He said he wanted to bring us more money so he and his daughter left and he said he'd come back alone that night." She paused to think.
"Continue."
"When he came back we discovered that he was a man we used to know. We used to care for his daughter when she was little, you see, and since then we became very poor and they had become very rich. He was going to give us more, that he didn't have, so he was going to give a letter to his daughter that I would bring to her and she would read and give us money. But he gave us a false address. He was never meaning to truely help us."
"Then what happened?"
"Well of course we were angry. Before we got the chance to do anything, though, we were sent a note from our daughter saying the police were there and-"
"Why we're the others in your house?" the judge asked.
"Visiting," Claudette said.
"You mean to tell me that the Patron-Minette were merely visiting you while all this was going on?" the judge asked.
"I never said it was the Patron-Minette," Claudette said.
"You think I don't know it's the Patron-Minette?" the judge asked. "I know everyone involved in your little scheme. They are all locked up here too! They have all come in here for questioning too! And they have all given me a slightly different story as to what happened! Now Claudette, you don't know what we do and do not know. So tell me the story again but this time with the full truth, no holes, and things will be much easier for you!"
"What I said is true," Claudette said.
"Police heard your husband say he was going to slit the man's throat," the judge said.
"I never said that," Claudette said.
"But your husband did!" the judge exclaimed. "You wanted money from this man so badly you and your husband were willing to kill him. You were going to put his daughter in danger and do whatever you had to for money. That's why the whole Patron-Minette were there. They were there to help you accomplish this scheme. You knew all along what the plan was!"
"You have no proof!" Claudette shouted. "The old man, he ran away! He escaped! He was a criminal too! He is a bad man! He is the reason we are like this! He practically stole the lark from us so many years ago and we lost our main source of money!" Claudette was boiling with anger. "We are the victims, not him! He owes us that money! Why is it such a crime to want to earn that money back?" She slammed her giant fists on the table.
The two policemen stood to try to control her. The judge shut his book. "Take her back to her cell," he said. "Keep her there for five years."
"Five years!" Claudette exclaimed. "You cannot lock me up for five years!"
"Consider yourself lucky," the judge said. "Your husband was given ten."
"Ten years?" Claudette was shocked. "What about my daughters?"
"They haven't been questioned yet," the judge said. "But probably not too long for them, since from what I've perceived, they were just props in this and didn't know the plan. Now away with you Claudette. You'll miss your evening dinner."
The men led Claudette out of the room and down the hallway back to her lonely cell. Five years. That was many many morning breads, many many evening meals, many many days of one-sided conversations about hatred. The men locked her cell doors. She would never step out from them again.