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Updated: May 29, 2025
He repeated what he had already said to himself when he had hired Scaufflaire's cabriolet: that, whatever the result was to be, there was no reason why he should not see with his own eyes, and judge of matters for himself; that this was even prudent; that he must know what took place; that no decision could be arrived at without having observed and scrutinized; that one made mountains out of everything from a distance; that, at any rate, when he should have seen that Champmathieu, some wretch, his conscience would probably be greatly relieved to allow him to go to the galleys in his stead; that Javert would indeed be there; and that Brevet, that Chenildieu, that Cochepaille, old convicts who had known him; but they certainly would not recognize him; bah! what an idea! that Javert was a hundred leagues from suspecting the truth; that all conjectures and all suppositions were fixed on Champmathieu, and that there is nothing so headstrong as suppositions and conjectures; that accordingly there was no danger.
"Monsieur le Maire, it is just five o'clock in the morning." "What is that to me?" "The cabriolet is here, Monsieur le Maire." "What cabriolet?" "The tilbury." "What tilbury?" "Did not Monsieur le Maire order a tilbury?" "No," said he. "The coachman says that he has come for Monsieur le Maire." "What coachman?" "M. Scaufflaire's coachman." "M. Scaufflaire?"
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.
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