The mayor could save Fantine from prison, he could not save her life; but before the unhappy woman died she had delivered a paper to Mr. Madeleine authorising him to take her child, and Mr. Madeleine had accepted the trust.

It was when Fantine lay dying in the hospital that Javert, who had quite decided in his own mind who M. Madeleine was, came to the mayor and asked to be dismissed from the service.

“I have denounced you, M. le Maire, to the prefect of police at Paris as Jean Valjean, an ex-convict, who has been wanted for the robbery of a little Savoyard more than five years ago.”

“And what answer did you receive?”

“That I was mad, for the real Jean Valjean has been found.”

“Ah!”

Javert explained that an old man had been arrested for breaking into an orchard; that on being taken to the prison he had been recognised by several people as Jean Valjean, and that he, Javert, himself recognised him.  To-morrow he was to be tried at Arras, and, as he was an ex-convict, his sentence would be for life.

Terrible was the anguish of M. Madeleine that night.  He had done all that man could do to obliterate the past, and now it seemed another was to be taken in his place.  The torture and torment ended.  In the morning M. Madeleine set out for Arras.

M. Madeleine arrived before the orchard-breaker was condemned.  He proved to the court’s astonishment that he, the revered and philanthropic Mayor of M——­, was Jean Valjean, and that the prisoner had merely committed a trivial theft.  Then he left the court, returned to M——­, removed what money he had, buried it, and arranged his affairs.

A few days later Jean Valjean was sent back to the galleys at Toulon, and with his removal the prosperity of M——­ speedily collapsed.  This was in July 1823.  In November of that year the following paragraph appeared in the Toulon paper: 

“Yesterday, a convict, on his return from rescuing a sailor, fell into the sea and was drowned.  His body has not been found.  His name was registered as Jean Valjean.”

III.—­A Hunted Man

At Christmas, in the year 1823, an old man came to the village of Montfermeil, called at the inn, paid money to the rascally innkeeper, Thenardier, and carried off little Cosette to Paris.

The old man rented a large garret in an old house, and Cosette became inexpressibly happy with her doll and with the good man who loved her so tenderly.

Till then Jean Valjean had never loved anything.  He had never been a father, lover, husband, or friend.  When he saw Cosette, and had rescued her, he felt his heart strangely moved.  All the affection he had was aroused, and went out to this child.  Jean Valjean was fifty-five and Cosette eight, and all the love of his life, hitherto untouched, melted into a benevolent devotion.

Cosette, too, changed.  She had been separated from her mother at such an early age that she could not remember her.  And the Thenardiers had treated her harshly.  In Jean Valjean she found a father, just as he found a daughter in Cosette.