932 Les Miserables
ger puts the corpses in the grave, and I put the grave-digger
in my pocket. I will tell you what will take place. They will
arrive a little before dusk, three-quarters of an hour before
the gates of the cemetery are closed. The hearse will drive
directly up to the grave. I shall follow; that is my business.
I shall have a hammer, a chisel, and some pincers in my
pocket. The hearse halts, the undertaker’s men knot a rope
around your coffin and lower you down. The priest says
the prayers, makes the sign of the cross, sprinkles the holy
water, and takes his departure. I am left alone with Father
Mestienne. He is my friend, I tell you. One of two things
will happen, he will either be sober, or he will not be sober.
If he is not drunk, I shall say to him: ‘Come and drink a
bout while the Bon Coing [the Good Quince] is open.’ I car-
ry him off, I get him drunk,— it does not take long to make
Father Mestienne drunk, he always has the beginning of it
about him,—I lay him under the table, I take his card, so
that I can get into the cemetery again, and I return without
him. Then you have no longer any one but me to deal with.
If he is drunk, I shall say to him: ‘Be off; I will do your work
for you.’ Off he goes, and I drag you out of the hole.’
Jean Valjean held out his hand, and Fauchelevent pre-
cipitated himself upon it with the touching effusion of a
peasant.
‘That is settled, Father Fauchelevent. All will go well.’
‘Provided nothing goes wrong,’ thought Fauchelevent.
‘In that case, it would be terrible.’