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Her voice was so abrupt and hoarse that the two women
thought they heard the voice of a man; they wheeled round
in affright.
‘Answer me!’ cried Fantine.
The servant stammered:—
‘The portress told me that he could not come to-day.’
‘Be calm, my child,’ said the sister; ‘lie down again.’
Fantine, without changing her attitude, continued in a
loud voice, and with an accent that was both imperious and
heart-rending:—
‘He cannot come? Why not? You know the reason. You
are whispering it to each other there. I want to know it.’
The servant-maid hastened to say in the nun’s ear, ‘Say
that he is busy with the city council.’
Sister Simplice blushed faintly, for it was a lie that the
maid had proposed to her.
On the other hand, it seemed to her that the mere com-
munication of the truth to the invalid would, without doubt,
deal her a terrible blow, and that this was a serious matter in
Fantine’s present state. Her flush did not last long; the sister
raised her calm, sad eyes to Fantine, and said, ‘Monsieur le
Maire has gone away.’
Fantine raised herself and crouched on her heels in the
bed: her eyes sparkled; indescribable joy beamed from that
melancholy face.
‘Gone!’ she cried; ‘he has gone to get Cosette.’
Then she raised her arms to heaven, and her white face
became ineffable; her lips moved; she was praying in a low
voice.