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heard a stifled voice crying, ‘Make haste! Help!’ It was Mad-
eleine, who had just made a final effort.
They rushed forwards. The devotion of a single man had
given force and courage to all. The cart was raised by twenty
arms. Old Fauchelevent was saved.
Madeleine rose. He was pale, though dripping with per-
spiration. His clothes were torn and covered with mud. All
wept. The old man kissed his knees and called him the good
God. As for him, he bore upon his countenance an inde-
scribable expression of happy and celestial suffering, and
he fixed his tranquil eye on Javert, who was still staring at
him.