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Bigrenaille flung his bludgeon at Javert’s feet.
‘You’re the emperor of the fiends! I surrender.’
‘And you?’ Javert asked the rest of the ruffians.
They replied:—
‘So do we.’
Javert began again calmly:—
‘That’s right, that’s good, I said so, you are nice fellows.’
‘I only ask one thing,’ said Bigrenaille, ‘and that is, that I
may not be denied tobacco while I am in confinement.’
‘Granted,’ said Javert.
And turning round and calling behind him:—
‘Come in now!’
A squad of policemen, sword in hand, and agents armed
with bludgeons and cudgels, rushed in at Javert’s summons.
They pinioned the ruffians.
This throng of men, sparely lighted by the single candle,
filled the den with shadows.
‘Handcuff them all!’ shouted Javert.
‘Come on!’ cried a voice which was not the voice of a
man, but of which no one would ever have said: ‘It is a wom-
an’s voice.’
The Thenardier woman had entrenched herself in one of
the angles of the window, and it was she who had just given
vent to this roar.
The policemen and agents recoiled.
She had thrown off her shawl, but retained her bonnet;
her husband, who was crouching behind her, was almost
hidden under the discarded shawl, and she was shielding
him with her body, as she elevated the paving-stone above