CHAPTER IV.
A PLAN OF ESCAPE.
The strides of halting men are like the glances of squinters, they donot reach their point very rapidly. Fauchelevent was perplexed, andhe spent upwards of a quarter of an hour in returning to the gardencottage. Cosette was awake, and Jean Valjean had seated her by thefireside. At the moment when Fauchelevent entered, Jean Valjean waspointing to the gardener's basket leaning in a corner, and saying toher,--
"Listen to me carefully, little Cosette. We are obliged to leave thishouse, but shall return to it, and be very happy. The good man willcarry you out in that thing upon his back, and you will wait forme with a lady till I come to fetch you. If you do not wish MadameThénardier to catch you again, obey, and say not a word."
Cosette nodded her head gravely; at the sound Fauchelevent made inopening the door Jean Valjean turned round.
"Well?"
"All is arranged, and nothing is so," said Fauchelevent. "I have leaveto bring you in, but to bring you in you must go out. That is thedifficulty; it is easy enough with the little one."
"You will carry her out?"
"Will she be quiet?"
"I answer for that."
"But you, Father Madeleine?"
And after an anxious silence Fauchelevent cried,--
"Why, go out in the same way as you came in."
Jean Valjean, as on the first occasion, confined himself to saying"Impossible!"
Fauchelevent, speaking to himself rather than to Jean Valjean,growled,--
"There is another thing that troubles me. I said that I would put earthin it, but now I come to think of it, earth instead of a body will notdo, for it will move about and the men will notice it. You understand,Father Madeleine, the Government will perceive the trick?"
Jean Valjean looked at him, and fancied that he must be raving;Fauchelevent continued,--
"How the deuce are you going to get out? For everything must be settledto-morrow, as the prioress expects you then."
Then he explained to Valjean that it was a reward for a servicewhich he, Fauchelevent, was rendering the community. It was part ofhis duty to attend to the funerals, nail up the coffin, and assistthe grave-digger at the cemetery. The nun who had died that morningrequested to be buried in the coffin which served her as bed in thevault under the altar of the chapel. This was forbidden by the policeregulations, but she was one of those women to whom nothing could berefused. The prioress and the vocal mothers intended to carry out thewishes of the deceased, and so all the worse for the Government. He,Fauchelevent, would nail up the coffin in the cell, lift the stone inthe chapel, and let down the body into the vault. As a reward for thisthe prioress would admit into the house his brother as gardener, andhis niece as boarder. The prioress had told him to bring his brotherthe next day after the pretended funeral; but he could not bring M.Madeleine in from outside if he were not there. This was his firstembarrassment, and then he had a second in the empty coffin.
"What do you mean by the empty coffin?" Valjean asked.
"Why, the Government coffin."
"I do not understand you."
"A nun dies, and the physician of the municipality comes and says:'There is a nun dead.' Government sends a coffin; the next day it sendsa hearse and undertaker's men to fetch the coffin and carry it to thecemetery. They will come and lift the coffin, and there's nothing init."
"Put something in it."
"A dead person? I have n't such a thing."
"Well, then, a living one."
"Who?"
"Myself," said Jean Valjean.
Fauchelevent, who was seated, sprang up as if a shell had explodedunder his chair.
"You?"
"Why not?"
Jean Valjean had one of those rare smiles which resembled a sunbeam ina wintry sky.
"You know that you said, Fauchelevent, 'Mother Crucifixion is dead,'and I added, 'And Father Madeleine is buried,' It will be so."
"Oh, you are joking, not speaking seriously."
"Most seriously. Must I not get out of here?"
"Of course."
"I have told you to find for me also a basket and a tilt."
"Well?"
"The basket will be of deal, and the tilt of black cloth."
"No, white cloth. Nuns are buried in white."
"All right, then, white cloth."
"You are not like other men, Father Madeleine."
To see such ideas, which are nought but the wild and daring inventionsof the hulks, issue from his peaceful surrounding, and mingled withwhat he called "the slow pace of the convent," produced in Faucheleventa stupor comparable to that which a passer-by would feel on seeing awhaler fishing in the gutter of the Rue St. Denis. Jean Valjean went on.
"The point is to get out of here unseen, and that is a way. But justtell me, how does it all take place? Where is the coffin?"
"The empty one?"
"Yes."
"In what is called the dead-house. It is upon two trestles, and coveredwith the pall."
"What is the length of the coffin?"
"Six feet."
"What is this dead-house?"
"A ground-floor room with a grated window looking on the garden, andtwo doors, one leading to the church, the other to the convent."
"What church?"
"The street church, the one open to everybody."
"Have you the keys of these doors?"
"No, I have the key of the one communicating with the convent; but theporter has the other."
"When does he open it?"
"Only to let the men pass who come to fetch the body. When the coffinhas gone out the door is locked again."
"Who nails up the coffin?"
"I do."
"Who places the pall over it?"
"I do."
"Are you alone?"
"No other man, excepting the doctor, is allowed to enter thedead-house. It is written on the wall."
"Could you hide me in that house to-night, when all are asleep in theconvent?"
"No; but I can hide you in a dark hole opening out of the dead-house,in which I put the burial tools, of which I have the key."
"At what hour to-morrow will the hearse come to fetch the body?"
"At three in the afternoon. The interment takes place at the Vaugirardcemetery a little before nightfall, for the ground is not very nearhere."
"I will remain concealed in your tool-house during the night andmorning. How about food? For I shall be hungry."
"I will bring you some."
"You can nail me up in the coffin at two o'clock." Faucheleventrecoiled and cracked his finger-bones.
"Oh, it is impossible!"
"Nonsense! To take a hammer and drive nails into a board?"
What seemed to Fauchelevent extraordinary was, we repeat, quite simpleto Jean Valjean, for he had gone through worse straits; and any man whohas been a prisoner knows how to reduce himself to the diameter of themode of escape. A prisoner is affected by flight just as a sick man isby the crisis which saves or destroys him, and an escape is a cure.What will not a man undergo for the sake of being cured? To be nailedup and carried in a box, to live for a long time in a packing-case, tofind air where there is none, to economize one's breath for hours, tomanage to choke without dying, was one of Jean Valjean's melancholytalents.
Besides, a coffin in which there is a living body, this convict'sexpedient, is also an imperial expedient. If we may believe the monkAustin Castillejo, it was the way employed by Charles V., who, wishingto see La Plombes for the last time after his abdication, contrived toget her in and out of the monastery of St. Yuste. Fauchelevent, when hehad slightly recovered, exclaimed,--
"But how will you manage to breathe?"
"I will manage it."
"In that box? Why, the mere idea of it chokes me.
"You have a gimlet. You will make a few holes round the mouth, andnail down the lid, without closing it tightly."
"Good! and suppose you cough or sneeze?"
&
nbsp; "A man who is escaping does not do such a thing."
And Jean Valjean added,--
"Father Fauchelevent, we must make up our minds. I must either becaptured here or go out in the hearse."
Everybody must have noticed the fancy which cats have of stopping andsniffing in a half-opened door. Who has not said to a cat, "Come in,then"? There are men who, when an incident stands half opened beforethem, have also a tendency to remain undecided between two resolutions,at the risk of being crushed by destiny as it hurriedly closes theadventure. The more prudent, cats though they are, and because they arecats, often incur greater danger than the more daring. Fauchelevent wasof this hesitating nature; still, Jean Valjean's coolness involuntarilymastered him, and he growled,--
"After all, there is no other way."
Jean Valjean continued,--
"The only thing I am anxious about is what will take place at thecemetery."
"There is the very thing I am not anxious about," said Fauchelevent;"if you feel sure of getting out of the coffin, I feel sure of gettingyou out of the grave. The grave-digger is a friend of mine and adrunkard of the name of Father Mestienne; he puts the dead in thegrave, and I put the grave-digger in my pocket. I will tell you whatwill occur. We shall arrive a little before twilight, three quartersof an hour before the cemetery gates are closed The hearse will driveup to the grave; and I shall follow, for that is my business. I shallhave a hammer, a chisel, and pincers in my pocket; the hearse stops,the undertaker knots a cord round your coffin and lets you down; thepriest says the prayers, makes the sign of the cross, sprinkles theholy water, and bolts. I remain alone with Father Mestienne; and he isa friend of mine, I tell you. One of two things is certain; he willeither be drunk or not be drunk. If he is not drunk, I shall say tohim, 'Come, and have a drink before the "Bon Coing" closes.' I takehim away, make him drunk, which does not take long, as he has alwaysmade a beginning. I lay him under the table, take his card, and returnto the cemetery without him. You will have only to deal with me. If heis drunk I shall say to him, 'Be off; I will do your work for you.' Hewill go, and I get you out of the hole."
Jean Valjean held out his hand, which Father Fauchelevent seized with atouching peasant devotion.
"It is settled, Father Fauchelevent. All will go well."
"Providing that nothing is deranged," Fauchelevent thought; "supposethe affair was to have a terrible ending!"