When Jean Valjean was left alone with Javert, he untied the rope which fastened the prisoner across the middle of the body, and the knot of which was under the table. After this he made him a sign to rise.
Javert obeyed with that indefinable smile in which the supremacy of enchained authority is condensed.
Jean Valjean took Javert by the martingale, as one would take a beast of burden by the breast-band, and, dragging the latter after him, emerged from the wine-shop slowly, because Javert, with his impeded limbs, could take only very short steps.
Jean Valjean had the pistol in his hand.
In this manner they crossed the inner trapezium of the barricade. The insurgents, all intent on the attack, which was imminent, had their backs turned to these two.
Marius alone, stationed on one side, at the extreme left of the barricade, saw them pass. This group of victim and executioner was illuminated by the sepulchral light which 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 themselves alonein 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: "Javert, 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."
Javert was not easily astonished. Still, master of himself though he was, he could not repress a start. He remained open-mouthed and motionless.
Jean Valjean continued:
"I do not think that I shall escape from this place. But if, by chance, I do, I live, under the name of Fauchelevent, in the Rue de l'Homme Arme, No. 7."
Javert snarled like a tiger, which made him half open one corner of his mouth, and he muttered between his teeth:
"Have a care."
"Go," said Jean Valjean.
Javert began again:
"Thou saidst Fauchelevent, Rue de l'Homme Arme?"
"Number 7."
Javert repeated in a low voice:--"Number 7."
He buttoned up his coat once more, resumed the military stiffness between his shoulders, made a half turn, folded his arms and, supporting his chin on one of his hands, he set out in the direction of the Halles. Jean Valjean followed him with his eyes:
A few minutes later, Javert turned round and shouted to Jean Valjean:
"You annoy me. Kill me, rather."
Javert himself did not notice that he no longer addressed Jean Valjean as "thou."
"Be off with you," said Jean Valjean.
Javert retreated slowly. A moment later he turned the corner of the Rue des Precheurs.
When Javert had disappeared, Jean Valjean fired his pistol in the air.
Then he returned to the barricade and said:
"It is done."
In the meanwhile, this is what had taken place.
Marius, more intent on the outside than on the interior, had not, up to that time, taken a good look at the pinioned spy in the dark background of the tap-room.
When he beheld him in broad daylight, striding over the barricade in order to proceed to his death, he recognized him. Something suddenly recurred to his mind. He recalled the inspector of the Rue de Pontoise, and the two pistols which the latter had handed to him and which he, Marius, had used in this very barricade, and not only did he recall his face, but his name as well.
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.
Marius called to Enjolras, who had just stationed himself at the other extremity of the barricade:
"Enjolras!"
"What?"
"What is the name of yonder man?"
"What man?"
"The police agent. Do you know his name?"
"Of course. He told us."
"What is it?"
"Javert."
Marius sprang to his feet.
At that moment, they heard the report of the pistol.
Jean Valjean re-appeared and cried: "It is done."
A gloomy chill traversed Marius' heart.
十九 冉阿让报复
剩下了冉阿让单独和沙威在一起，他解开那根拦腰捆住犯人的绳索，绳结在桌子下面。然后做手势要沙威站起来。
沙威含笑照办，笑容还是那样无法捉摸，但表现出一种被捆绑的权威的优越感。
冉阿让抓住沙威的腰带，如同人们抓住负重牲口的皮带那样，把他拖在自己后面，慢慢走出酒店，由于沙威双腿被捆，只能跨很小的步子。
冉阿让手中握着手枪。
他们经过了街垒内部的小方场。起义者对即将到来的猛攻全神贯注，身子都转了过去。
马吕斯单独一人被安置在围墙尽头的左侧边，他看见他们走过。他心里燃烧着的阴森火光，照亮了受刑人和刽子手这一对形象。
冉阿让不无困难地让捆着腿的沙威爬过蒙德都巷子的战壕，但是一刻也不松手。
他们跨过了这堵围墙，现在小路上只有他们两人，谁也瞧不见他们。房屋的转角遮住了起义者的视线。街垒中搬出来的尸体在他们前面几步堆成可怕的一堆。
在这堆死人中可以认出一张惨白的脸，披散着的头发，一只打穿了的手，一个半裸着的女人的胸脯，这是爱潘妮。
沙威侧目望望这具女尸，分外安详地小声说：“我好象认识这个女孩子。”
他又转向冉阿让。
冉阿让臂下夹着枪，盯住沙威，这目光的意思是：“沙威，是我。”
沙威回答：
“你报复吧。”
冉阿让从口袋中取出一把刀并打开来。
“一把匕首！”沙威喊了一声，“你做得对，这对你更合适。”
冉阿让把捆住沙威脖子的绳子割断，又割断他手腕上的绳子，再弯腰割断他脚上的绳子，然后站起来说：
“您自由了。”
沙威是不容易吃惊的。这时，虽然他善于控制自己，也不免受到震动，因而目瞪口呆。
沙威象老虎似的皱了皱眉，嘴的一角微微张开，在牙缝中嘟囔着：
“你得提防着。”
“走吧。”冉阿让说。
“你刚才说的是割风，武人街？”
“七号。”
沙威小声重复一遍：“七号。”
他重新扣好他的大衣，使两肩间笔挺，恢复军人的姿态，向后转，双臂交叉，一只手托住腮，朝麻厂街走去。冉阿让目送着他。走了几步，沙威又折回来，向冉阿让喊道：
“您真使我厌烦，还不如杀了我。”
沙威自己也没有留意，他已不用“你”对冉阿让说话了。
“您走吧。”冉阿让说。
沙威缓步离去，片刻后，他在布道修士街的街角拐了弯。
当沙威已看不见了，冉阿让向天空开了一枪。
他回到街垒里来，说：
“干掉了。”
当时的情况是这样的：
马吕斯忙于外面的事，顾不上注意内部，在这之前还没有仔细瞧捆在地下室后部黑暗中的密探。
当他在日光下看见他跨过街垒去死时，这才认了出来。一个回忆突然在他脑中闪过。他记起了蓬图瓦兹街的侦察员，这人曾给过他两支手枪，就是他马吕斯目前正在街垒中使用的，他非但想起了他的相貌，而且还记得他的名字。
这个回忆象他的其他思想一样是模糊不清的，他不能肯定，因而在心里自己问自己：
“他不就是那个对我说过叫沙威的警务侦察员吗？”
可能还来得及由他出面说一下情？但首先要知道究竟是不是那个沙威。
“安灼拉！”
“什么？”
“那人叫什么名字？”
“哪个人？”
“那个警察。你知道他的名字吗？”
“当然知道。他对我们说了。”
“叫什么？”
“沙威。”
马吕斯竖起了身子。
这时听见一声枪响。
冉阿让回来喊着：“干掉了。”
马吕斯心里忧郁地打了一个寒战。
