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‘Listen,’ resumed Madeleine; ‘there is still room enough
under the cart to allow a man to crawl beneath it and raise
it with his back. Only half a minute, and the poor man can
be taken out. Is there any one here who has stout loins and
heart? There are five louis d’or to be earned!’
Not a man in the group stirred.
‘Ten louis,’ said Madeleine.
The persons present dropped their eyes. One of them
muttered: ‘A man would need to be devilish strong. And
then he runs the risk of getting crushed!’
‘Come,’ began Madeleine again, ‘twenty louis.’
The same silence.
‘It is not the will which is lacking,’ said a voice.
M. Madeleine turned round, and recognized Javert. He
had not noticed him on his arrival.
Javert went on:—
‘It is strength. One would have to be a terrible man to do
such a thing as lift a cart like that on his back.’
Then, gazing fixedly at M. Madeleine, he went on,
emphasizing every word that he uttered:—
‘Monsieur Madeleine, I have never known but one man
capable of doing what you ask.’
Madeleine shuddered.
Javert added, with an air of indifference, but without
removing his eyes from Madeleine:—
‘He was a convict.’
‘Ah!’ said Madeleine.
‘In the galleys at Toulon.’
Madeleine turned pale.