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going to the galleys, I was a poor peasant, with very little
intelligence, a sort of idiot; the galleys wrought a change in
me. I was stupid; I became vicious: I was a block of wood;
I became a firebrand. Later on, indulgence and kindness
saved me, as severity had ruined me. But, pardon me, you
cannot understand what I am saying. You will find at my
house, among the ashes in the fireplace, the forty-sou piece
which I stole, seven years ago, from little Gervais. I have
nothing farther to add; take me. Good God! the district-
attorney shakes his head; you say, ‘M. Madeleine has gone
mad!’ you do not believe me! that is distressing. Do not, at
least, condemn this man! What! these men do not recog-
nize me! I wish Javert were here; he would recognize me.’
Nothing can reproduce the sombre and kindly melan-
choly of tone which accompanied these words.
He turned to the three convicts, and said:—
‘Well, I recognize you; do you remember, Brevet?’
He paused, hesitated for an instant, and said:—
‘Do you remember the knitted suspenders with a checked
pattern which you wore in the galleys?’
Brevet gave a start of surprise, and surveyed him from
head to foot with a frightened air. He continued:—
‘Chenildieu, you who conferred on yourself the name of
‘Jenie-Dieu,’ your whole right shoulder bears a deep burn,
because you one day laid your shoulder against the chafing-
dish full of coals, in order to efface the three letters T. F. P.,
which are still visible, nevertheless; answer, is this true?’
‘It is true,’ said Chenildieu.
He addressed himself to Cochepaille:—