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transfigures the unhappy. At that moment Fantine had be-
come beautiful once more. From time to time she paused,
and tenderly kissed the police agent’s coat. She would have
softened a heart of granite; but a heart of wood cannot be
softened.
‘Come!’ said Javert, ‘I have heard you out. Have you en-
tirely finished? You will get six months. Now march! The
Eternal Father in person could do nothing more.’
At these solemn words, ‘the Eternal Father in person
could do nothing more,’ she understood that her fate was
sealed. She sank down, murmuring, ‘Mercy!’
Javert turned his back.
The soldiers seized her by the arms.
A few moments earlier a man had entered, but no one
had paid any heed to him. He shut the door, leaned his back
against it, and listened to Fantine’s despairing supplica-
tions.
At the instant when the soldiers laid their hands upon
the unfortunate woman, who would not rise, he emerged
from the shadow, and said:—
‘One moment, if you please.’
Javert raised his eyes and recognized M. Madeleine. He
removed his hat, and, saluting him with a sort of aggrieved
awkwardness:—
‘Excuse me, Mr. Mayor—‘
The words ‘Mr. Mayor’ produced a curious effect upon
Fantine. She rose to her feet with one bound, like a spec-
tre springing from the earth, thrust aside the soldiers with
both arms, walked straight up to M. Madeleine before any