Chapter Text
On a gray November day, a visitor arrived at the headquarters of the Paris prefecture.
He hesitated for a long moment in the street, looking up the massive stairs to the prefecture’s towering iron doors. Under his unfashionable coat, his broad shoulders gave an impression of vigor and vitality - but when he set his feet upon the stairs his step was heavy, his face set and grim, his head lowered as if he were bulling forward against a rough headwind, or dragging an unseen weight behind him. As he reached the top and put his hand upon the door, his expression momentarily twisted into one of indescribable dread.
Inside, officers strode by with gleaming boots and predatory faces. In the vast main hall the floor was stone, and boots rapped against it with menacing authority. Marble walls rose in stark grandeur to a high arched ceiling. The entire proud edifice stood as a reminder to citizens of the unshakable power of the law and the men who enforced it.
This particular man knew all about the power of the law. Warily, like a cat slipping into territory held by a dog-pack, he approached the young sergeant at the front desk.
He said, "My name is Madeleine."
The sergeant bowed. "Welcome, monsieur le maire. The Secretary informed me you would arrive today. Please, come with me." Nonplussed by the man's deferential tone, Madeleine followed him down the hall into a large meeting room dominated by an oak table. "Won't you sit, Monsieur? Some tea while you wait?"
After he departed, Madeleine looked around in wonder. Of all the places I never thought I'd be.
A short time later, the door banged open. Madeleine recoiled from the phalanx of blue bearing down on him - three men, shoulder to shoulder, their gold tassels and bright buttons glinting. He flinched, recovered, and reminded himself sternly that he was the mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer and not anybody else. He extended his hand to the figure in the center. This was, it transpired, none other than M. le secretaire Chabouillet himself. He was about Madeleine's own age, all squared-off angles, with a strong nose and a crisp dark beard. With him was his attaché, M. Ecrain, a younger man who had an air of affability and charm. The third man was, to Madeleine's surprise, the prefect: M. Gisquet.
Gisquet waved Madeleine back into his chair. "M. Madeleine! What an honor. It's a pleasure to have you here, and to supply a man as famous as yourself with the finest officer in France to be your chief inspector."
Madeleine could not help noticing that Gisquet's tone was effusive to the point of mockery. Ecrain, meanwhile, seemed to be stifling a grin. M. Chabouillet threw his attaché a certain look. "Fetch the inspector, will you? I imagine he will be at his usual post."
As Ecrain set off, Gisquet's smile lingered. "Our inspector is truly one of a kind. It will be hard to give him up, as he has provided us with such....satisfaction this past year. However, a man like you deserves only the best. You'll find him talented in many areas. Support me in this, Chabouillet -- do I not speak the truth?"
Chabouillet nodded soberly. "Our beloved inspector is, as you say, talented -- whether on his feet or on his knees. He has the flexibility of an acrobat at a village fair. And I must say that when he uses his tongue, well -- angels would weep!"
Madeleine produced a polite smile. This seemed odd praise to bestow upon a police inspector, and he was now convinced that a species of joke was being played. He kept his expression bland. "I see. Then I am sure he will be an asset."
"Of course," Gisquet added, "he was not so useful in his early years. But we took it upon ourselves to improve him, and as you'll soon see the results have been impressive." The doorknob rattled and Gisquet smiled. "Ah -- here he is now."
Ecrain entered. Behind him hulked a man of imposing height. His dark whiskers were severely trimmed and he was wearing a uniform so sharply creased it appeared to have been just pressed. His posture, however, did not match the sharpness of his clothes, for his head was down and he gazed at the floor with shoulders slumped. His overlarge hands hung loose at his sides. "Look smart," Ecrain addressed him. "You're meeting your new master." The big man raised his head, giving Madeleine a better view of him. The broad, flared nose, dark eyes and narrow forehead, together with his bristling whiskers, gave him a somewhat bestial appearance. His expression was partway between a wild creature's wariness and a caged one's timidity.
When Madeleine was a child, a traveling fair had passed through his home village. It had been a great occasion, and his father had gruffly pressed a few coins into his elder sister's hand and said, "Take the boy, then, and be back by sundown." They had parted after dividing up the money, and young Jean wandered through the crowd filling his eyes, dazzled by the painted tents, at last coming upon a tent fronted by a barrel-chested man. “Come, boy - come see the giant wolf of the Spanish mountains! A real man-eater, he is - tore open the throats of a dozen soldiers before he was captured. One sou; step right up! Not too faint-hearted for him, are you?" He had shivered in fearful delight and handed over his precious coin. But when he stepped through the canvas flap, what he saw was not the fierce, slavering beast with bloody jaws that he had hoped for. In a rusting cage crouched a sad creature with drooping head and mangy ruff, blinking its dull, yellow eyes at the handful of gawkers outside the bars.
This is what he thought of, when he looked at his new chief inspector.
Yet there was also something familiar in the man's face - the line of his jaw, the narrow forehead. He stared, puzzling. Dimly, he remembered this face - and as he looked upon it, a creeping fear took root in him. He could not recall exactly where he had crossed paths with this officer before, but it had surely been long ago - long before he was called Madeleine, before the felon Jean Valjean had been vanquished and interred on the road from Digne.
He knew this man. And this man would know him.
Gisquet's smile enlarged. "M. Madeleine," he said. "Meet our dear inspector. This is Javert."