Chapter 56 2 How "Ran" can become "Shang"

One morning, in his office, M. Madeleine was prepping some urgent business for the municipality, in case he should go to Montfermeil at any time.At that time someone came to convey that the scout Javert would see you.M. Madeleine could not but feel an unpleasant feeling at that name. Since the incident at the police station, Javert had become more evasive from him, and Madeleine never saw him again. "Please come in," he said. Javert came in. M. Madeleine was sitting close to the fireplace, with a pen in his hand, and his eyes fixed on a file, which he read and approved of several crimes concerning the Highway Police.He ignored Javert completely.He could not restrain himself from thinking of poor Fantine, and he felt that he might as well be indifferent to him.

Javert saluted respectfully to the mayor who was carrying him behind his back.Mr. Mayor didn't look at him, but still criticized his official business. Javert took two or three steps in the office, then stopped again, not daring to break the silence. If someone who is familiar with Javert's character has studied this barbarian serving civilization for a long time, this monster made up of Romans, Spartans, monks and minor officers, there must be some evidence for this statement. The spy, the invariable inquisitor, would come to observe Javert again, if he knew of Javert's old enmity against M. Madeleine, of his quarrel with the mayor about Fantine. , he must ask in his heart: "What happened?" Anyone who knows this upright, straightforward, sincere, straightforward, serious, and fierce person can see at a glance that Javert has just come out of a fierce ideological struggle. .Javert must not have something to hide in his heart and not show it.He was just the sort of rough man who can change his mind suddenly.Never had his look been more peculiar than it had been then.He bowed to M. Madeleine as he entered the door, and stopped a few paces behind the Mayor's armchair; A posture of standing at attention, with a rough, simple, and indifferent attitude, a man who has never been willing to be pleasant, but has always been able to endure to the end; he does not speak or move, and waits for the mayor in a sincere humility and calm forbearance. Mr. Happy to turn around the moment.At this time, he maintained a peaceful and solemn appearance, with the hat in his hand, and his eyes were looking at the ground. The expression on his face was a bit like a soldier in front of an officer, and a bit like a criminal in front of a judge.All the emotions and old manners that others thought he might have had disappeared.There was only a brooding melancholy on his face, which was hard and simple as granite.His whole being was one of submissiveness, firmness, and inexpressible slaying.

In the end, Mr. Mayor put down his pen and turned his body halfway: "Tell me! What's the matter, Javert?" Javert didn't answer immediately, as if he had to concentrate first.Then he let go, and said in a melancholy but still simple voice: "Yes, Mr. Mayor, there is a crime." "What happened?" "A junior police officer has committed a very serious disrespect towards his superior. I have come to explain this to you because it is my responsibility." "Who is the officer?" asked M. Madeleine. "It's me," said Javert.

"you?" "I." "Who's the officer who's going to sue the police officer?" "You, Mr. Mayor." M. Madeleine straightened up in his easy chair.Javert went on, gravely, with his eyes always down: "Mr. Mayor, I come to ask you to apply to your superiors to remove me from my post." M. Madeleine opened his mouth in astonishment.Javert hastily said: "I could resign, you might say, but that's not enough. Resigning is an honorable thing. I've neglected my duty, and I deserve to be punished. I should be dismissed." After a pause, he continued:

"Monsieur Mayor, you were hard on me that day, but unjustly; today you must be hard on me with justice." "Ah! why?" exclaimed M. Madeleine, "where does this riddle come from? What does it mean? Where have you been disrespectful to me? What have you done to me? What have you done to me?" What's wrong? You surrender yourself, you want to resign..." "Dismissal," said Javert. "Dismissed, dismissed. Very good. But I don't understand." "You will understand in a moment, Monsieur Mayor." Javert sighed from his chest, and said again calmly and melancholy:

"Monsieur Mayor, six weeks ago, after what happened to that girl, I was so angry that I denounced you." "expose!" "Reported to the Paris police." M. Madeleine, who never laughed more than Javert, laughed this time too. "Exposing me as the mayor for interfering with police affairs?" "Exposing you as a former convict." The mayor turned pale. Javert, without raising his eyes, went on: "That's what I thought at the beginning. I have long been suspicious. You look alike, and you sent someone to Favirolles to inquire about your waist strength, the matter of Uncle Fauchelevent, and your marksmanship. Exactly, you have a little sluggish leg, and I don't know what else, what a fool! In a word, I take you for a Jean Valjean."

"What's your name? What's your name?" "Jean Valjean. It was a convict whom I had seen twenty years ago when I was deputy prison officer at Toulon. When Jean Valjean came out of the prison, he seemed to have stolen in a bishop's house, and then in a On the highway, murder weapon in hand, robbed a chimney boy. For eight years, somehow, he has disappeared, but the government is still looking for him. I, I thought... I finally did That's what happened! I made up my mind in a moment of anger, and I denounced you at the police station." M. Madeleine had already taken up his papers, and said in a tone of indifference:

"Then what is the answer to you?" "They said I was crazy." "So, how?" "Then they were right." "It's a good thing you're willing to admit it." "I must confess, because the real Jean Valjean has been arrested." M. Madeleine dropped the papers in his hand, raised his head, fixed his eyes on Javert, and said "Ah!" in an indescribable tone. Javert continued: "That's what happened, Mr. Mayor. It is said that there is a man named Uncle Shangmadi near the clock tower of Erigor. He is a very poor guy. No one pays attention to it. No one knows what to live on. Recently, just this fall, that Uncle Shangmadi was at someone’s house, whose home? I forgot, it doesn’t matter! Uncle Shangmadi stole the Apple of wine, arrested. It was a robbery, jumped a wall, and broke a branch. They caught this Shangmadi I said. He still had an apple branch in his hand. They took this villain Shut up. Until then, it was just an ordinary criminal case. The next thing is really God's eyes. The prison there is too bad, Mr. Magistrate is right, he sent Shangmadi to Arras , because there is a provincial prison in Arras. In the prison in Arras, there was an old convict named Brevet. Why he was in prison, I don’t know. Because he behaved well, he was assigned to be in that cell. Monsieur the Mayor, as soon as he entered the prison, Brevet exclaimed: "What a strange thing! I know this man. He is "dry wood." Hey! Look at me. You are Jean Valjean." ''Jean Valjean! Who, who is Jean Valjean?' Jean Martin pretended to be surprised. 'Don't put on airs,' said Blevet. 'You are Jean Valjean, and you were in the prison at Toulon. It has been twenty years now. We were together at that time.'Shangmadi did not admit it. God! You understand. Everyone understands deeply. We must investigate this strange thing. The information obtained is: Shangmadi, about Thirty years ago, he worked as a tree trimmer in several places, especially at Favelolès. Since then, the thread has been broken. After many years, he was met in Auvergne, and later, in This man was met again in Paris, where he was said to have worked as a car-maker and had a laundry girl, but these events have not been proved; at last, he came to this place. So, before he was imprisoned for special theft, Jean Valerie What does Jean do? Tree trimmer. Where? Favirolles. Another thing. This Jean took his baptismal name 'Jean' and his mother's surname was Maddie. After he was released from prison, he took his mother's surname as his own to conceal it, and called himself Jean Marty. Is there anything more natural in the world? He went to Auvergne. There, 'Jean' reads For 'Shang'. People call him Shangmadi. This man of ours let himself go and became Shangmadi. You understand, don't you? Someone went to Favelolès to investigate. Jean Valjean's house It's not there anymore. No one knows where the family is. You know, in that class, there are such cases of extermination of the whole family. The search was in vain, and there is no whereabouts. That kind of person, if it is not mud, it is Dust. And these events happened thirty years ago. In Favirolles, there is no one who knew Jean Valjean before. So I went to Toulon to investigate. In addition to Brevet, two other people who saw Jean Valjean's convicts. Two prisoners for life, one named Goshbay and the other named Chenyjie. They took the two prisoners out of the prison and sent them there.They went to confront the person who pretended to be Shangmadi.They didn't hesitate.Like Brevet, they say he is Jean Valjean.The same age, he is fifty-six years old, the same figure, the same look, it is that person, it is him.It was at that time that I sent your denunciation to the police station in Paris.They answered me that I was insane and that Jean Valjean was being held in Arras.I was amazed at your idea of ​​this, and I thought I had captured Jean Valjean himself here, and I wrote to the magistrate.He told me to go, and they showed me the Shangmadi..."

"Well?" interrupted M. Madeleine. Javert, with his determined and melancholy face, replied: "Monsieur Mayor, the truth is always the truth. I am disappointed. Jean Valjean is indeed the man. I recognize him, too." M. Madeleine continued in a very low voice: "Do you think it's reliable?" Javert laughed, the sad smile that comes when one is convinced. "Oh, the most reliable!" He paused for a while, thoughtful, mechanically pinched a handful of ink-absorbing sawdust in the wooden cup on the table, and continued: "Now that I have seen the real Jean Valjean, I still don't understand why I thought so. I beg your pardon, Monsieur the Mayor."

Six weeks ago, M. Madeleine insulted him in front of everyone in the police station, and said to him "Get out!" And now he can say such a pleading and heavy word to him, Javert, this arrogant man , he himself did not know that he was indeed a very simple and noble character.M. Madeleine answered his request only with this sudden question: "What did the man say?" "Ah! Madonna, Monsieur Mayor, something is wrong. If it was Jean Valjean, there is crime there. Climbing a wall, breaking a twig, picking up a few apples is just a naughty kind of thing for a child." Action, to an adult is only a small fault; to a convict, it is a crime. There are crimes of burglary and burglary, and it is no longer a matter of police violations, but a matter of the High Court. It is not a few days It is the question of the detention, but the question of lifelong hard labor. And there is also the matter of the chimney boy, which I hope will be brought up in the future. Damn it! There is something to do, isn't there? Of course, if it is not Jean Valjean but someone else One. But Jean Valjean is a ghost. That is how I see him. If it had been another man, he would have found it difficult, he would have been impatient, he would have made a fuss, The ants on the hot pot can't settle down, he will never be willing to be Jean Valjean, he must talk about it. But he seemed to understand nothing, he said: "I am Shangmadi, I insist that I am Shangmadi." Matty!' He looked surprised, and he pretended to be stupid, which is more natural. Oh! That scoundrel is really clever. But it doesn't matter, there are all kinds of evidence. He has been confirmed by four people, and the old slicker must suffer He has been taken to Arras Superior Court. I am going to testify. I have been appointed."

M. Madeleine had already returned to his desk, took his file again, flipped through it gracefully, read and wrote, like a busy man, he turned to Javert: "That's enough, Javert, I'm not much interested in such trifles. We've wasted our time, and we've got a lot of urgent business to do. Javert, go at once to the Rue Saint-Sauve, there's a Good lady who sells hay, Bissoby. Go to her house and tell her that she is going to sue Pierre Chneron, the coachman, a brute who almost crushed the lady and her son. Son. He deserves to be punished. Go again to M. Chasseret's house in the Rue de Mont-de-Chambigny. He appeals that the gutters of his neighbour's house flooded his house with rainwater and broke the foot of his house. Afterwards, you go to the house of the Widow Doris in Gibb Street and Madame Le Poucet's in Gallo-Blanc Street to find out about some of the crimes reported to me by others and make a report. But I will do it for you There are too many things. Didn't you want to leave here? Didn't you tell me that in eight or ten days you would go to Arras for that matter?  …" "You have to leave earlier, Mr. Mayor." "So, when will we go?" "I seem to have told the mayor that the trial is to-morrow, and that I must take the coach to-night." M. Madeleine moved so slightly that it was hardly perceptible to anyone else. "How long will it take for this case to be concluded?" "A day at most. The verdict will be announced by tomorrow evening at the latest. But I don't intend to wait until the verdict is announced, there is no problem. I have completed my task as a witness and am coming back here at once." "That is very good," said M. Madeleine. He made a gesture and told Javert to step back. Javert will not go. "Excuse me, Mr. Mayor," he said. "What else?" asked M. Madeleine. "Mr. Mayor, there is one thing left, and I have to remind you again." "Which thing?" "It is that I should be dismissed." Madeleine stood up. "Javert, you are a man worthy of respect, and I admire you. You overemphasize your fault. Besides, the offense is my own. Javert, you deserve promotion, not relegation. My opinion." It is you who have to keep your post." Javert looked at M. Madeleine, and in his innocent eyes, we seemed to be able to see that strong, pure, but incomprehensible expression.He said in a calm voice: "Mr. Mayor, I cannot agree." "I repeat to you," retorted M. Madeleine, "this is my business." But Javert, paying attention only to his own opinion, went on: "As for overemphasis, I don't overemphasize it at all. That's how I understand it. I doubted you without grounds. That's all right. We people have a right to doubt other people, although it is beyond our authority to suspect superiors. But Not based on the facts, out of a moment of anger and out of revenge, I have denounced you, a venerable man, a mayor, a magistrate, as a convict! This is serious. Very serious. I, a judge As a police officer in an authority, insulting you is an insult to the law. If my subordinate did what I did, I would declare him incompetent and remove him. Isn't it?  … Oh, Mr. Mayor, one more word. I have been strict with people in my life. I am strict with others, and that is right. I have done right. Now, if I am not strict with myself, then what I have done before Reasonable things have all become unreasonable. Should I be an exception? No, certainly not! Have I not become a person who is only good at punishing others and not punishing myself! How pitiful I am! Those who say 'Javert the rascal' will have a plausible argument. Mr. Mayor, I don't want you to treat me kindly. I suffer enough when you treat others with your kindness. I don't like that. The kindness of indulging a public whore who offends a gentry, a policeman who offends the mayor, or a low-level person who offends his superiors is, in my opinion, just bad kindness. Social corruption is caused by that kind of kindness. My God! It's easy to be good, but hard to be honest. Humph! If you were what I thought I should be, I would never treat you kindly! You will suffer! Mr. Mayor, I should treat people kindly. When I suppressed the saboteurs, when I severely punished the gangsters, I often said to myself: 'You, if you make a mistake, in case I catch your mistake, you have to be careful!' Now I am out Wrong, I caught my fault, and deserved it! Come on, fire, fire, fire! All good. I have two arms, I can farm, I don't care. Mr. Mayor, for the sake of discipline, you should set an example .I demand that Scout Javert be dismissed altogether." The words were all uttered in a tone of humility, dejection, pomp, and confidence, which gave the honest eccentric an air of indescribably strange grandeur. "We will talk later," said M. Madeleine. He offered him his hand. Javert flinched, and said in a brutish voice: "I beg your pardon, Monsieur Mayor, but it's unacceptable. A mayor shouldn't shake hands with a spy." He said through his teeth: "A spy, yes, I have abused the police power, and I am no more than a spy." So he bowed deeply and walked towards the door. When he got to the door, he turned around again, keeping his eyes down: "Mr. Mayor," he said, "I'm in charge until someone else takes my place." He went out.M. Madeleine's heart swayed, listening to his steady and firm steps going farther and farther on the stone slabs of the corridor.