CHAPTER I THE SEWER AND ITS SURPRISES
It was in the sewers of Paris that Jean Valjean found himself.
Still another resemblance between Paris and the sea. As in the ocean, the diver may disappear there.
The transition was an unheard-of one. In the very heart of the city, Jean Valjean had escaped from the city, and, in the twinkling of an eye, in the time required to lift the cover and to replace it, he had passed from broad daylight to complete obscurity, from midday to midnight, from tumult to silence, from the whirlwind of thunders to the stagnation of the tomb, and, by a vicissitude far more tremendous even than that of the Rue Polonceau, from the most extreme peril to the most absolute obscurity.
An abrupt fall into a cavern; a disappearance into the secret trap-door of Paris; to quit that street where death was on every side, for that sort of sepulchre where there was life, was a strange instant. He remained for several seconds as though bewildered; listening, stupefied. The waste-trap of safety had suddenly yawned beneath him. Celestial goodness had, in a manner, captured him by treachery. Adorable ambuscades of providence!
Only, the wounded man did not stir, and Jean Valjean did not know whether that which he was carrying in that grave was a living being or a dead corpse.
His first sensation was one of blindness. All of a sudden, he could see nothing. It seemed to him too, that, in one instant, he had become deaf. He no longer heard anything. The frantic storm of murder which had been let loose a few feet above his head did not reach him, thanks to the thickness of the earth which separated him from it, as we have said, otherwise than faintly and indistinctly, and like a rumbling, in the depths. He felt that the ground was solid under his feet; that was all; but that was enough. He extended one arm and then the other, touched the walls on both sides, and perceived that the passage was narrow; he slipped, and thus perceived that the pavement was wet. He cautiously put forward one foot, fearing a hole, a sink, some gulf; he discovered that the paving continued. A gust of fetidness informed him of the place in which he stood.
After the lapse of a few minutes, he was no longer blind. A little light fell through the man-hole through which he had descended, and his eyes became accustomed to this cavern. He began to distinguish something. The passage in which he had burrowed--no other word can better express the situation--was walled in behind him. It was one of those blind alleys, which the special jargon terms branches. In front of him there was another wall, a wall like night. The light of the air-hole died out ten or twelve paces from the point where Jean Valjean stood, and barely cast a wan pallor on a few metres of the damp walls of the sewer. Beyond, the opaqueness was massive; to penetrate thither seemed horrible, an entrance into it appeared like an engulfment. A man could, however, plunge into that wall of fog and it was necessary so to do. Haste was even requisite. It occurred to Jean Valjean that the grating which he had caught sight of under the flag-stones might also catch the eye of the soldiery, and that everything hung upon this chance. They also might descend into that well and search it. There was not a minute to be lost. He had deposited Marius on the ground, he picked him up again,-- that is the real word for it,--placed him on his shoulders once more, and set out. He plunged resolutely into the gloom.
The truth is, that they were less safe than Jean Valjean fancied. Perils of another sort and no less serious were awaiting them, perchance. After the lightning-charged whirlwind of the combat, the cavern of miasmas and traps; after chaos, the sewer. Jean Valjean had fallen from one circle of hell into another.
When he had advanced fifty paces, he was obliged to halt. A problem presented itself. The passage terminated in another gut which he encountered across his path. There two ways presented themselves. Which should he take? Ought he to turn to the left or to the right? How was he to find his bearings in that black labyrinth? This labyrinth, to which we have already called the reader's attention, has a clue, which is its slope. To follow to the slope is to arrive at the river.
This Jean Valjean instantly comprehended.
He said to himself that he was probably in the sewer des Halles; that if he were to choose the path to the left and follow the slope, he would arrive, in less than a quarter of an hour, at some mouth on the Seine between the Pont au Change and the Pont-Neuf, that is to say, he would make his appearance in broad daylight on the most densely peopled spot in Paris. Perhaps he would come out on some man-hole at the intersection of streets. Amazement of the passers-by at beholding two bleeding men emerge from the earth at their feet. Arrival of the police, a call to arms of the neighboring post of guards. Thus they would be seized before they had even got out. It would be better to plunge into that labyrinth, to confide themselves to that black gloom, and to trust to Providence for the outcome.
He ascended the incline, and turned to the right.
When he had turned the angle of the gallery, the distant glimmer of an air-hole disappeared, the curtain of obscurity fell upon him once more, and he became blind again. Nevertheless, he advanced as rapidly as possible. Marius' two arms were passed round his neck, and the former's feet dragged behind him. He held both these arms with one hand, and groped along the wall with the other. Marius' cheek touched his, and clung there, bleeding. He felt a warm stream which came from Marius trickling down upon him and making its way under his clothes. But a humid warmth near his ear, which the mouth of the wounded man touched, indicated respiration, and consequently, life. The passage along which Jean Valjean was now proceeding was not so narrow as the first. Jean Valjean walked through it with considerable difficulty. The rain of the preceding day had not, as yet, entirely run off, and it created a little torrent in the centre of the bottom, and he was forced to hug the wall in order not to have his feet in the water.
Thus he proceeded in the gloom. He resembled the beings of the night groping in the invisible and lost beneath the earth in veins of shadow.
Still, little by little, whether it was that the distant air-holes emitted a little wavering light in this opaque gloom, or whether his eyes had become accustomed to the obscurity, some vague vision returned to him, and he began once more to gain a confused idea, now of the wall which he touched, now of the vault beneath which he was passing. The pupil dilates in the dark, and the soul dilates in misfortune and ends by finding God there.
It was not easy to direct his course.
The line of the sewer re-echoes, so to speak, the line of the streets which lie above it. There were then in Paris two thousand two hundred streets. Let the reader imagine himself beneath that forest of gloomy branches which is called the sewer. The system of sewers existing at that epoch, placed end to end, would have given a length of eleven leagues. We have said above, that the actual net-work, thanks to the special activity of the last thirty years, was no less than sixty leagues in extent.
Jean Valjean began by committing a blunder. He thought that he was beneath the Rue Saint-Denis, and it was a pity that it was not so. Under the Rue Saint-Denis there is an old stone sewer which dates from Louis XIII. and which runs straight to the collecting sewer, called the Grand Sewer, with but a single elbow, on the right, on the elevation of the ancient Cour des Miracles, and a single branch, the Saint-Martin sewer, whose four arms describe a cross. But the gut of the Petite-Truanderie the entrance to which was in the vicinity of the Corinthe wine-shop has never communicated with the sewer of the Rue Saint-Denis; it ended at the Montmartre sewer, and it was in this that Jean Valjean was entangled. There opportunities of losing oneself abound. The Montmartre sewer is one of the most labyrinthine of the ancient network. Fortunately, Jean Valjean had left behind him the sewer of the markets whose geometrical plan presents the appearance of a multitude of parrots' roosts piled on top of each other; but he had before him more than one embarrassing encounter and more than one street corner--for they are streets-- presenting itself in the gloom like an interrogation point; first, on his left, the vast sewer of the Platriere, a sort of Chinese puzzle, thrusting out and entangling its chaos of Ts and Zs under the Post-Office and under the rotunda of the Wheat Market, as far as the Seine, where it terminates in a Y; secondly, on his right, the curving corridor of the Rue du Cadran with its three teeth, which are also blind courts; thirdly, on his left, the branch of the Mail, complicated, almost at its inception, with a sort of fork, and proceeding from zig-zag to zig-zag until it ends in the grand crypt of the outlet of the Louvre, truncated and ramified in every direction; and lastly, the blind alley of a passage of the Rue des Jeuneurs, without counting little ducts here and there, before reaching the belt sewer, which alone could conduct him to some issue sufficiently distant to be safe.
Had Jean Valjean had any idea of all that we have here pointed out, he would speedily have perceived, merely by feeling the wall, that he was not in the subterranean gallery of the Rue Saint-Denis.Instead of the ancient stone, instead of the antique architecture, haughty and royal even in the sewer, with pavement and string courses of granite and mortar costing eight hundred livres the fathom, he would have felt under his hand contemporary cheapness, economical expedients, porous stone filled with mortar on a concrete foundation, which costs two hundred francs the metre, and the bourgeoise masonry known as a petits materiaux--small stuff; but of all this he knew nothing.
He advanced with anxiety, but with calmness, seeing nothing, knowing nothing, buried in chance, that is to say, engulfed in providence.
By deGREes, we will admit, a certain horror seized upon him. The gloom which enveloped him penetrated his spirit. He walked in an enigma. This aqueduct of the sewer is formidable; it interlaces in a dizzy fashion. It is a melancholy thing to be caught in this Paris of shadows. Jean Valjean was obliged to find and even to invent his route without seeing it. In this unknown, every step that he risked might be his last. How was he to get out? Should he find an issue? Should he find it in time? Would that colossal subterranean sponge with its stone cavities, allow itself to be penetrated and pierced? Should he there encounter some unexpected knot in the darkness? Should he arrive at the inextricable and the impassable? Would Marius die there of hemorrhage and he of hunger? Should they end by both getting lost, and by furnishing two skeletons in a nook of that night? He did not know. He put all these questions to himself without replying to them. The intestines of Paris form a precipice. Like the prophet, he was in the belly of the monster.
All at once, he had a surprise. At the most unforeseen moment, and without having ceased to walk in a straight line, he perceived that he was no longer ascending; the water of the rivulet was beating against his heels, instead of meeting him at his toes. The sewer was now descending. Why? Was he about to arrive suddenly at the Seine? This danger was a great one, but the peril of retreating was still greater. He continued to advance.
It was not towards the Seine that he was proceeding. The ridge which the soil of Paris forms on its right bank empties one of its water-sheds into the Seine and the other into the Grand Sewer. The crest of this ridge which determines the division of the waters describes a very capricious line. The culminating point, which is the point of separation of the currents, is in the Sainte-Avoye sewer, beyond the Rue Michelle-Comte, in the sewer of the Louvre, near the boulevards, and in the Montmartre sewer, near the Halles. It was this culminating point that Jean Valjean had reached. He was directing his course towards the belt sewer; he was on the right path. But he did not know it.
Every time that he encountered a branch, he felt of its angles, and if he found that the opening which presented itself was smaller than the passage in which he was, he did not enter but continued his route, rightly judging that every narrower way must needs terminate in a blind alley, and could only lead him further from his goal, that is to say, the outlet. Thus he avoided the quadruple trap which was set for him in the darkness by the four labyrinths which we have just enumerated.
At a certain moment, he perceived that he was emerging from beneath the Paris which was petrified by the uprising, where the barricades had suppressed circulation, and that he was entering beneath the living and normal Paris. Overhead he suddenly heard a noise as of thunder, distant but continuous. It was the rumbling of vehicles.
He had been walking for about half an hour, at least according to the calculation which he made in his own mind, and he had not yet thought of rest; he had merely changed the hand with which he was holding Marius. The darkness was more profound than ever, but its very depth reassured him.
All at once, he saw his shadow in front of him. It was outlined on a faint, almost indistinct reddish glow, which vaguely empurpled the flooring vault underfoot, and the vault overhead, and gilded to his right and to his left the two viscous walls of the passage. Stupefied, he turned round.
Behind him, in the portion of the passage which he had just passed through, at a distance which appeared to him immense, piercing the dense obscurity, flamed a sort of horrible star which had the air of surveying him.
It was the gloomy star of the police which was rising in the sewer.
In the rear of that star eight or ten forms were moving about in a confused way, black, upright, indistinct, horrible.
一 阴渠和它那使人料想不到之处
冉阿让就处于巴黎的下水道中。
这是巴黎和大海的又一相似之处。就象在大泽里一样，潜水员也能在下水道里失踪。
这种转移是出奇的。就在市中心，冉阿让就离开了城市；刹那间，在揭开盖子又关上的工夫，他就从大白天进入绝对的黑暗，从中午到了半夜，从喧嚣达到绝静，从雷电般的漩涡中到了死气沉沉的坟墓里，比波隆梭街的变化转折更不可思议的，是从极端的危境到了绝对的安全地带。
突然掉入地窖，在巴黎的地牢里消失，离开到处是死亡的街道来到这能活命的坟墓，这真是一个奇特的时刻。他一时感到头昏眼花，于是倾耳谛听，痴呆失常。这个救命的陷阱忽然在他下面打开。仁慈的上苍就象使他上了当似的。这是上天安排的可爱的埋伏！
但是受伤者毫不动弹，冉阿让不知他带进阴沟的是活人还是死人。
他最初的感觉是失明。他突然什么也看不见了。他感到在一分钟工夫里他耳也聋了，什么也听不见了。激烈的残杀的怒吼在他上面只有几尺远，但由于有厚厚的土地隔绝，传到他所在处，我们曾提起过，就变得微弱不清，好象地深处的声响似的。他只要感到脚下踏实，这就够了。他伸出一条手臂，接着又伸出另一条，在两边都接触到了墙，发现巷道很窄；他脚下滑了一下，发现石板很湿。他谨慎地跨出了一步，怕有洞、小井或深坑什么的。他发现石板路向前伸展着。一股恶臭提醒他自己在什么地方。
不久以后，他已不瞎了。从他滑落下来的通风洞那儿射进了少许光线，他的视觉已经适应这地窖。他开始能辨别出一些东西。他藏身的地下巷道??没有别的字眼比这更能说明这一情况了??后面有墙堵着。这是一条死胡同，术语称之为分支管。在他前面，有另一堵墙，是一堵黑夜的墙。通风洞射进的光线在冉阿让身前十步或十二步即消失，仅能在几米长的阴沟湿墙上产生一点暗淡的白色，再远一点就一团漆黑了；钻到里面去似乎很可怕，进去就象被吞没一样。但人仍能闯进这堵浓雾似的墙，也必须这样做，甚至还得赶紧做。冉阿让想起他在铺路石下面发现的铁栅栏，也很可能被士兵们发现，一切都让偶然来安排，他们也可能走下这陷阱并搜查它。此刻一分钟也不能耽误了。他已把马吕斯放在地上，现在又把他拾起来，“拾起来”这个词用得很恰当，他把他背到背上并向前走，坚决进入黑暗。
事实上他俩并非象冉阿让所想的那样已经得救。另一种危险，也不见得小，在等待着他们。在迅如闪电的斗争之后来到了到处是陷阱和腐烂气息的地窖，在混乱后来到了粪坑。冉阿让从地狱的一个圈子掉进了另一个圈子。
他走了五十步后就不得不停下来，出现了一个问题。这条巷道通到另一条横管道。两条路在面前出现了。选择哪一条呢？他该向左还是向右？在漆黑的迷宫中如何定向呢？这座迷宫，我们已经指出过，有一条引线，这就是它的坡度，随着斜坡，就走向河流。
冉阿让立刻心中有了数。
他想他大概是在菜市场的阴沟中，因此，如果他选左路顺坡而下，一刻钟后他就可到达交易所桥和新桥之间，塞纳河的一处出口，这也等于说在大白天出现在巴黎人口最稠密的地方。他可能会走到一个游手好闲的人群集的十字路口。行人该多么惊愕地看到两个鲜血淋淋的人在他们脚下从地下走出来。警察会突然来到，附近就有着武装的保安警察。他们还没出洞口就会被捕。所以还不如钻进这座曲折的迷宫，信任这黑暗，至于以后的出路只有听天由命了。
他走上坡路，向右拐。
当他转过了巷角以后，远处通气洞的光线就消失了，黑幕又在他前面落下，使他再次失明。但他仍继续前进，尽力快走。马吕斯的双臂围着他的脖子，双足在他后面挂着。他用一只手抓住这双手臂，另一只手摸索着墙。马吕斯的面颊靠着他的面颊并贴在上面，而且在流血。他感到一股来自马吕斯的微温的水流在他身上淌着，浸透了他的衣服，但挨在他耳旁的受伤者的嘴里仍有一股湿润的热气，这说明他仍有呼吸，因此还有生命。此刻冉阿让走的通道比第一条要宽些。冉阿让困难地走着。昨夜的雨水尚未淌尽，在沟槽中间形成一道小激流。他必须靠着墙走，以免双足泡在水里。他这样摸黑前进，就好象黑夜中人在看不见的地方摸索，结果迷失在地下黑暗的脉管里。
可是，慢慢地，也许远处通气洞透进了一点浮动着的光亮到这浓雾中来了，也许他的目光已习惯这种黑暗，他又有了一点模糊的视觉，他开始模糊地意识到，有时他碰到的是墙，有时他正走过拱顶，瞳孔在夜间扩大了，结果在那里找到了光亮，同样灵魂在灾祸中膨胀了，终于找到了上帝。
要辨别方向是不容易的。
可以这样说，阴渠的线路反映了与它重叠着的街道的线路。当时巴黎有两千两百条街道，我们可以想象一下地下那黑黢黢的支管如林的所谓的阴渠。当时已建成的阴渠，如各段相接，就有十一法里长。我们在前面已经提到，目前的路网，多亏最后三十年特殊的辛劳，已不少于六十法里了。
冉阿让一开始就搞错了，他以为他在圣德尼街下面，然而很不幸他并不在那儿。在圣德尼街下面有一条路易十三时期的石砌老沟，它直通被称作大渠的总渠，它只有一个拐角，在右方；在旧圣迹区下面，它只有一条支管，圣马尔丹沟，它的四臂成十字形。小化子窝斜巷的沟管的进口挨近科林斯小酒店，但从没和圣德尼街的地下管接通；它通到蒙马特尔沟管，这就是冉阿让所在之处。在这里迷路的机会太多了，蒙马特尔阴渠是古老管网中最复杂的迷宫之一。幸而冉阿让已走过了菜市场的阴渠，这条阴渠的平面图呈现出无数杂乱的鹦鹉栖架似的岔道，但在他面前的困难还不止一次，街道（这确实是街道）的拐角也不止一个，在黑暗中象一个问号似的出现着：第一，在他左方，是石膏窑街大阴渠，这个伤脑筋的东西，它乱七八糟的支管成T字和Z字形，从邮政大厦地下和麦市圆亭下一直到塞纳河，以Y字形结束；第二，在他右方，是钟面街的弯曲巷道和它三条岔道，都是死胡同；第三，在他左边，是玛依街的分支，几乎在进口处就象一个长柄叉，弯弯曲曲地伸展到卢浮宫下面排污水的地下室，有许多分支伸向四面八方；最后，在右边，是绝食人街下面的死胡同，在没到达总沟之前，这儿那儿还有些没计算在内的小隐蔽处；总沟是唯一可以引导他到一个较远因而也比较保险的出口去的。
如果冉阿让对我们在这儿所指出的这一切有点概念，他只要摸摸沟墙，就很快明白他不在圣德尼街的地下沟渠中。他会感到手下摸到的不是打磨出来的老石块，不是那种即使在阴沟里也是高贵而堂皇的古式建筑，地基是花岗石和肥石灰浆砌的，其造价是八百利弗一脱阿斯；他会感到摸到的是现代的廉价货，经济的节省的措施，碎磨石拌水凝砂浆，下面有一层混凝土，造价是二百法郎一米，资产阶级的泥水工程称它为“碎石货”。但冉阿让对此却一无所知。
他心情焦急，但镇静地向前走去，什么也看不见，什么也不知道，靠运气，换句话说靠上天保佑。
渐渐地，可以说有种恐惧侵袭了他。包围他的黑暗进入了他的心灵。他在谜中走。这个污水沟渠实在太可怕，它的交叉使人晕眩。在这黑暗的巴黎里被擒是凄惨的事。冉阿让必须找到，也就是在盲目地探索他的路线。在这陌生地区，他每冒险走一步都可能成为他的最后一步。他怎样走出这里呢？他是否能找到一条出路？他是否能及时找到？这个有石头孔穴的庞大的地下海绵能让人钻进又穿出去吗？在黑暗中是否会碰到什么意想不到的疙瘩？是否会走到错综复杂无法跨越的地方？马吕斯是否会因流血过多而他也因饥饿而同归于尽？难道他俩最后要在这里迷路并在这黑夜的角落里留下两具尸骨？他一无所知。他自问但又无法自答。巴黎的肠道是个深渊。就象预言家一样，他是在魔鬼的肚子里①。
①古代认为先知住在魔鬼的肚中。
他忽然遇到了一件使他吃惊的事。在最意料不到的时刻，他不停地向前直走，但发现他已不在上坡，小河的水在冲击他的脚跟，而不是迎着脚尖泻来。阴渠在下降。这是为什么？他是否突然会到达塞纳河？这一危险很大，但后退的危险则更大。于是他就继续前进了。
他完全不是向塞纳河走去。巴黎在河右岸有一处是驴背形的地势，两边都是斜坡，其中一边的污水泻入塞纳河，另一边流入总渠。分开两股水的驴背形斜坡的顶端是一条流向变化不定的线路，最高的分水岭，是过了米歇尔伯爵街，在圣阿瓦沟渠中；靠近林荫大道，在卢浮宫沟渠中；在菜市场附近，在蒙马特尔沟渠中。冉阿让就是到了这个分水岭的最高峰。他走向总渠，他的路线是正确的，但他一点也不知道。
每遇到一个分支管，他就去摸拐角，如果发觉出口比他所在的巷道狭些，他就不进去，就继续原来的路线。他认为窄路通向死胡同，只能使他离开目标，也就是离开出路。他判断得很正确。他就这样避开了黑暗向他伸出的、我们已列举过的四个迷宫给他设下的四个陷阱。
有一阵他觉得他在下面已躲开了因暴动而造成的惊慌的巴黎，那里的街垒使交通断绝，他已回到了活跃正常的巴黎的下面。他忽然听到头上有雷鸣样的响声，距离很远，但连续不断，这原来是车辆的滚动声。
他大致走了半点钟光景，至少这是他自己的估计，他还没有想到要休息一下，只换了一下抓住马吕斯的手。黑暗显得更加幽深，但这一幽深使他安心。
忽然间他在身前看见自己的影子。它被一种微弱得几乎看不清的红光衬托出来，这一微光使他脚下的路和头上的拱顶呈现出模糊的紫红色，并在他左右巷道的粘糊糊的墙上移动。他惊愕地回头一望。
在他后面，在他刚经过的沟巷中，他觉得离他很远的地方，一点可怕的星光划破了沉重的黑暗，好象在注视着他。
这是保安警察的阴暗的星光在阴渠中升起了。
在这星光后面有八到十个黑影，笔直、模糊、骇人地在乱动。
