Page 2071 - les-miserables

he bore in his own soul.
Jean Valjean with some difficulty, but without relaxing
his hold for a single instant, made Javert, pinioned as he
was, scale the little entrenchment in the Mondetour lane.
When they had crossed this barrier, they found them-
selves alone in the lane. No one saw them. Among the heap
they could distinguish a livid face, streaming hair, a pierced
hand and the half nude breast of a woman. It was Eponine.
The corner of the houses hid them from the insurgents. The
corpses carried away from the barricade formed a terrible
pile a few paces distant.
Javert gazed askance at this body, and, profoundly calm,
said in a low tone:
‘It strikes me that I know that girl.’
Then he turned to Jean Valjean.
Jean Valjean thrust the pistol under his arm and fixed on
Javert a look which it required no words to interpret: ‘Jav-
ert, it is I.’
Javert replied:
‘Take your revenge.’
Jean Valjean drew from his pocket a knife, and opened
it.
‘A clasp-knife!’ exclaimed Javert, ‘you are right. That
suits you better.’
Jean Valjean cut the martingale which Javert had about
his neck, then he cut the cords on his wrists, then, stooping
down, he cut the cord on his feet; and, straightening himself
up, he said to him:
‘You are free.’

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