374 Les Miserables
Master Scaufflaire experienced a frightful regret that
he had not said a thousand francs. Besides the horse and
tilbury together were worth but a hundred crowns.
The Fleming called his wife, and related the affair to her.
‘Where the devil could Monsieur le Maire be going?’ They
held counsel together. ‘He is going to Paris,’ said the wife. ‘I
don’t believe it,’ said the husband.
M. Madeleine had forgotten the paper with the figures
on it, and it lay on the chimney-piece. The Fleming picked
it up and studied it. ‘Five, six, eight and a half? That must
designate the posting relays.’ He turned to his wife:—
‘I have found out.’
‘What?’
‘It is five leagues from here to Hesdin, six from Hesdin
to Saint-Pol, eight and a half from Saint-Pol to Arras. He is
going to Arras.’
Meanwhile, M. Madeleine had returned home. He had
taken the longest way to return from Master Scaufflaire’s, as
though the parsonage door had been a temptation for him,
and he had wished to avoid it. He ascended to his room,
and there he shut himself up, which was a very simple act,
since he liked to go to bed early. Nevertheless, the portress
of the factory, who was, at the same time, M. Madeleine’s
only servant, noticed that the latter’s light was extinguished
at half-past eight, and she mentioned it to the cashier when
he came home, adding:—
‘Is Monsieur le Maire ill? I thought he had a rather sin-
gular air.’
This cashier occupied a room situated directly under