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Updated: May 18, 2025
The name of Javert routed them by its mere utterance; the face of Javert petrified them at sight. Such was this formidable man. Javert was like an eye constantly fixed on M. Madeleine. An eye full of suspicion and conjecture. M. Madeleine had finally perceived the fact; but it seemed to be of no importance to him.
While they were binding Javert, a man standing on the threshold was surveying him with singular attention. The shadow cast by this man made Javert turn his head. He raised his eyes, and recognized Jean Valjean. He did not even start, but dropped his lids proudly and confined himself to the remark: "It is perfectly simple." The daylight was increasing rapidly.
Thus, in spite of all his reserve and all his prudence, he had preserved the Bishop's candlesticks, worn mourning for him, summoned and interrogated all the little Savoyards who passed that way, collected information regarding the families at Faverolles, and saved old Fauchelevent's life, despite the disquieting insinuations of Javert.
"Monsieur le Maire!" shrieked Fantine. Javert burst out laughing with that frightful laugh which displayed all his gums. "There is no longer any Monsieur le Maire here!" Jean Valjean made no attempt to disengage the hand which grasped the collar of his coat. He said: "Javert " Javert interrupted him: "Call me Mr. Inspector."
Javert leaned both elbows on the parapet, his chin resting in both hands, and, while his nails were mechanically twined in the abundance of his whiskers, he meditated. A novelty, a revolution, a catastrophe had just taken place in the depths of his being; and he had something upon which to examine himself. Javert was undergoing horrible suffering.
This recollection was misty and troubled, however, like all his ideas. It was not an affirmation that he made, but a question which he put to himself: "Is not that the inspector of police who told me that his name was Javert?" Perhaps there was still time to intervene in behalf of that man. But, in the first place, he must know whether this was Javert.
A broad open space was cleared in the middle of the garret. The Thenardier woman cast a glance at the ruffians who had allowed themselves to be pinioned, and muttered in hoarse and guttural accents: "The cowards!" Javert smiled, and advanced across the open space which the Thenardier was devouring with her eyes. "Don't come near me," she cried, "or I'll crush you."
But what will become of Cosette? My daughter! my daughter! But I still owe the Thenardiers over a hundred francs; do you know that, Monsieur Inspector?" She dragged herself across the damp floor, among the muddy boots of all those men, without rising, with clasped hands, and taking great strides on her knees. "Monsieur Javert," said she, "I beseech your mercy.
Javert ducked, the stone passed over him, struck the wall behind, knocked off a huge piece of plastering, and, rebounding from angle to angle across the hovel, now luckily almost empty, rested at Javert's feet. At the same moment, Javert reached the Thenardier couple. One of his big hands descended on the woman's shoulder; the other on the husband's head. "The handcuffs!" he shouted.
Any one who was thoroughly acquainted with him, and who had examined him attentively at the moment, would have shuddered. The buckle of his leather stock was under his left ear instead of at the nape of his neck. This betrayed unwonted agitation. Javert was a complete character, who never had a wrinkle in his duty or in his uniform; methodical with malefactors, rigid with the buttons of his coat.
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