One morning M. Madeleine was in his study， occupied in arranging in advance some pressing matters connected with the mayor's office， in case he should decide to take

the trip to Montfermeil， when he was informed that Police Inspector Javert was desirous of speaking with him. Madeleine could not refrain from a disagreeable impression

on hearing this name. Javert had avoided him more than ever since the affair of the police-station， and M. Madeleine had not seen him.

"Admit him，" he said.

Javert entered.

M. Madeleine had retained his seat near the fire， pen in hand， his eyes fixed on the docket which he was turning over and annotating， and which contained the trials of

the commission on highways for the infraction of police regulations. He did not disturb himself on Javert's account. He could not help thinking of poor Fantine， and it

suited him to be glacial in his manner.

Javert bestowed a respectful salute on the mayor， whose back was turned to him. The mayor did not look at him， but went on annotating this docket.

Javert advanced two or three paces into the study， and halted， without breaking the silence.

If any physiognomist who had been familiar with Javert， and who had made a lengthy study of this savage in the service of civilization， this singular composite of the

Roman， the Spartan， the monk， and the corporal， this spy who was incapable of a lie， this unspotted police agent--if any physiognomist had known his secret and long-

cherished aversion for M. Madeleine， his conflict with the mayor on the subject of Fantine， and had examined Javert at that moment， he would have said to himself， "What

has taken place?" It was evident to any one acquainted with that clear， upright， sincere， honest， austere， and ferocious conscience， that Javert had but just gone

through some great interior struggle. Javert had nothing in his soul which he had not also in his countenance. Like violent people in general， he was subject to abrupt

changes of opinion. His physiognomy had never been more peculiar and startling. On entering he bowed to M. Madeleine with a look in which there was neither rancor，

anger， nor distrust; he halted a few paces in the rear of the mayor's arm-chair， and there he stood， perfectly erect， in an attitude almost of discipline， with the

cold， ingenuous roughness of a man who has never been gentle and who has always been patient; he waited without uttering a word， without making a movement， in genuine

humility and tranquil resignation， calm， serious， hat in hand， with eyes cast down， and an expression which was half-way between that of a soldier in the presence of

his officer and a criminal in the presence of his judge， until it should please the mayor to turn round. All the sentiments as well as all the memories which one might

have attributed to him had disappeared. That face， as impenetrable and simple as granite， no longer bore any trace of anything but a melancholy depression. His whole

person breathed lowliness and firmness and an indescribable courageous despondency.

At last the mayor laid down his pen and turned half round.

"Well! What is it? What is the matter， Javert?"

Javert remained silent for an instant as though collecting his ideas， then raised his voice with a sort of sad solemnity， which did not， however， preclude simplicity.

"This is the matter， Mr. Mayor; a culpable act has been committed."

"What act?"

"An inferior agent of the authorities has failed in respect， and in the gravest manner， towards a magistrate. I have come to bring the fact to your knowledge， as it is

my duty to do."

"Who is the agent?" asked M. Madeleine.

"I，" said Javert. "You?" "I."

"And who is the magistrate who has reason to complain of the agent?"

"You， Mr. Mayor."

M. Madeleine sat erect in his arm-chair. Javert went on， with a severe air and his eyes still cast down.

"Mr. Mayor， I have come to request you to instigate the authorities to dismiss me."

M. Madeleine opened his mouth in amazement. Javert interrupted him:--

"You will say that I might have handed in my resignation， but that does not suffice. Handing in one's resignation is honorable. I have failed in my duty; I ought to be

punished; I must be turned out."

And after a pause he added:--

"Mr. Mayor， you were severe with me the other day， and unjustly. Be so to-day， with justice."

"Come， now! Why?" exclaimed M. Madeleine. "What nonsense is this? What is the meaning of this? What culpable act have you been guilty of towards me? What have you done

to me? What are your wrongs with regard to me? You accuse yourself; you wish to be superseded--"

"Turned out，" said Javert.

"Turned out; so it be， then. That is well. I do not understand."

"You shall understand， Mr. Mayor."

Javert sighed from the very bottom of his chest， and resumed， still coldly and sadly:--

"Mr. Mayor， six weeks ago， in consequence of the scene over that woman， I was furious， and I informed against you."

"Informed against me!"

"At the Prefecture of Police in Paris."

M. Madeleine， who was not in the habit of laughing much oftener than Javert himself， burst out laughing now:--

"As a mayor who had encroached on the province of the police?"

"As an ex-convict."

The mayor turned livid.

Javert， who had not raised his eyes， went on:--

"I thought it was so. I had had an idea for a long time; a resemblance; inquiries which you had caused to be made at Faverolles; the strength of your loins; the

adventure with old Fauchelevant; your skill in marksmanship; your leg， which you drag a little;-- I hardly know what all，--absurdities! But， at all events， I took you

for a certain Jean Valjean."

"A certain--What did you say the name was?"

"Jean Valjean. He was a convict whom I was in the habit of seeing twenty years ago， when I was adjutant-guard of convicts at Toulon. On leaving the galleys， this Jean

Valjean， as it appears， robbed a bishop; then he committed another theft， accompanied with violence， on a public highway on the person of a little Savoyard. He

disappeared eight years ago， no one knows how， and he has been sought， I fancied. In short， I did this thing! Wrath impelled me; I denounced you at the Prefecture!"

M. Madeleine， who had taken up the docket again several moments before this， resumed with an air of perfect indifference:--

"And what reply did you receive?"

"That I was mad."

"Well?"

"Well， they were right."

"It is lucky that you recognize the fact."

"I am forced to do so， since the real Jean Valjean has been found."

The sheet of paper which M. Madeleine was holding dropped from his hand; he raised his head， gazed fixedly at Javert， and said with his indescribable accent:--

"Ah!"

Javert continued:--

"This is the way it is， Mr. Mayor. It seems that there was in the neighborhood near Ailly-le-Haut-Clocher an old fellow who was called Father Champmathieu. He was a

very wretched creature. No one paid any attention to him. No one knows what such people subsist on. Lately， last autumn， Father Champmathieu was arrested for the theft

of some cider apples from--Well， no matter， a theft had been committed， a wall scaled， branches of trees broken. My Champmathieu was arrested. He still had the branch

of apple-tree in his hand. The scamp is locked up. Up to this point it was merely an affair of a misdemeanor. But here is where Providence intervened.

"The jail being in a bad condition， the examining magistrate finds it convenient to transfer Champmathieu to Arras， where the departmental prison is situated. In this

prison at Arras there is an ex-convict named Brevet， who is detained for I know not what， and who has been appointed turnkey of the house， because of good behavior. Mr.

Mayor， no sooner had Champmathieu arrived than Brevet exclaims: `Eh! Why， I know that man! He is a fagot! [4] Take a good look at me， my good man! You are Jean

Valjean!' `Jean Valjean! who's Jean Valjean?' Champmathieu feigns astonishment. `Don't play the innocent dodge，' says Brevet. `You are Jean Valjean! You have been in

the galleys of Toulon; it was twenty years ago; we were there together.' Champmathieu denies it. Parbleu! You understand. The case is investigated. The thing was well

ventilated for me. This is what they discovered: This Champmathieu had been， thirty years ago， a pruner of trees in various localities， notably at Faverolles. There all

trace of him was lost. A long time afterwards he was seen again in Auvergne; then in Paris， where he is said to have been a wheelwright， and to have had a daughter， who

was a laundress; but that has not been proved. Now， before going to the galleys for theft， what was Jean Valjean? A pruner of trees. Where? At Faverolles. Another fact.

This Valjean's Christian name was Jean， and his mother's surname was Mathieu. What more natural to suppose than that， on emerging from the galleys， he should have taken

his mother's name for the purpose of concealing himself， and have called himself Jean Mathieu? He goes to Auvergne. The local pronunciation turns Jean into Chan--he is

called Chan Mathieu. Our man offers no opposition， and behold him transformed into Champmathieu. You follow me， do you not? Inquiries were made at Faverolles. The

family of Jean Valjean is no longer there. It is not known where they have gone. You know that among those classes a family often disappears. Search was made， and

nothing was found. When such people are not mud， they are dust. And then， as the beginning of the story dates thirty years back， there is no longer any one at

Faverolles who knew Jean Valjean. Inquiries were made at Toulon. Besides Brevet， there are only two convicts in existence who have seen Jean Valjean; they are

Cochepaille and Chenildieu， and are sentenced for life. They are taken from the galleys and confronted with the pretended Champmathieu. They do not hesitate; he is Jean

Valjean for them as well as for Brevet. The same age，--he is fifty-four，-- the same height， the same air， the same man; in short， it is he. It was precisely at this

moment that I forwarded my denunciation to the Prefecture in Paris. I was told that I had lost my reason， and that Jean Valjean is at Arras， in the power of the

authorities. You can imagine whether this surprised me， when I thought that I had that same Jean Valjean here. I write to the examining judge; he sends for me;

Champmathieu is conducted to me--"

[4] An ex-convict.

"Well?" interposed M. Madeleine.

Javert replied， his face incorruptible， and as melancholy as ever:--

"Mr. Mayor， the truth is the truth. I am sorry; but that man is Jean Valjean. I recognized him also."

M. Madeleine resumed in， a very low voice:--

"You are sure?"

Javert began to laugh， with that mournful laugh which comes from profound conviction.

"O! Sure!"

He stood there thoughtfully for a moment， mechanically taking pinches of powdered wood for blotting ink from the wooden bowl which stood on the table， and he added:--

"And even now that I have seen the real Jean Valjean， I do not see how I could have thought otherwise. I beg your pardon， Mr. Mayor."

Javert， as he addressed these grave and supplicating words to the man， who six weeks before had humiliated him in the presence of the whole station-house， and bade him

"leave the room，"--Javert， that haughty man， was unconsciously full of simplicity and dignity，--M. Madeleine made no other reply to his prayer than the abrupt

question:--

"And what does this man say?"

"Ah! Indeed， Mr. Mayor， it's a bad business. If he is Jean Valjean， he has his previous conviction against him. To climb a wall， to break a branch， to purloin apples，

is a mischievous trick in a child; for a man it is a misdemeanor; for a convict it is a crime. Robbing and housebreaking--it is all there. It is no longer a question of

correctional police; it is a matter for the Court of Assizes. It is no longer a matter of a few days in prison; it is the galleys for life. And then， there is the

affair with the little Savoyard， who will return， I hope. The deuce! there is plenty to dispute in the matter， is there not? Yes， for any one but Jean Valjean. But Jean

Valjean is a sly dog. That is the way I recognized him. Any other man would have felt that things were getting hot for him; he would struggle， he would cry out--the

kettle sings before the fire; he would not be Jean Valjean， et cetera. But he has not the appearance of understanding; he says， `I am Champmathieu， and I won't depart

from that!' He has an astonished air， he pretends to be stupid; it is far better. Oh! the rogue is clever! But it makes no difference. The proofs are there. He has been

recognized by four persons; the old scamp will be condemned. The case has been taken to the Assizes at Arras. I shall go there to give my testimony. I have been

summoned."

M. Madeleine had turned to his desk again， and taken up his docket， and was turning over the leaves tranquilly， reading and writing by turns， like a busy man. He turned

to Javert:--

"That will do， Javert. In truth， all these details interest me but little. We are wasting our time， and we have pressing business on hand. Javert， you will betake

yourself at once to the house of the woman Buseaupied， who sells herbs at the corner of the Rue Saint-Saulve. You will tell her that she must enter her complaint

against carter Pierre Chesnelong. The man is a brute， who came near crushing this woman and her child. He must be punished. You will then go to M. Charcellay， Rue

Montre-de-Champigny. He complained that there is a gutter on the adjoining house which discharges rain-water on his premises， and is undermining the foundations of his

house. After that， you will verify the infractions of police regulations which have been reported to me in the Rue Guibourg， at Widow Doris's， and Rue du Garraud-Blanc，

at Madame Renee le Bosse's， and you will prepare documents. But I am giving you a great deal of work. Are you not to be absent? Did you not tell me that you were going

to Arras on that matter in a week or ten days?"

"Sooner than that， Mr. Mayor."

"On what day， then?"

"Why， I thought that I had said to Monsieur le Maire that the case was to be tried to-morrow， and that I am to set out by diligence to-night."

M. Madeleine made an imperceptible movement.

"And how long will the case last?"

"One day， at the most. The judgment will be pronounced to-morrow evening at latest. But I shall not wait for the sentence， which is certain; I shall return here as soon

as my deposition has been taken."

"That is well，" said M. Madeleine.

And he dismissed Javert with a wave of the hand.

Javert did not withdraw.

"Excuse me， Mr. Mayor，" said he.

"What is it now?" demanded M. Madeleine.

"Mr. Mayor， there is still something of which I must remind you."

"What is it?"

"That I must be dismissed."

M. Madeleine rose.

"Javert， you are a man of honor， and I esteem you. You exaggerate your fault. Moreover， this is an offence which concerns me. Javert， you deserve promotion instead of

degradation. I wish you to retain your post."

Javert gazed at M. Madeleine with his candid eyes， in whose depths his not very enlightened but pure and rigid conscience seemed visible， and said in a tranquil voice:

--

"Mr. Mayor， I cannot grant you that."

"I repeat，" replied M. Madeleine， "that the matter concerns me."

But Javert， heeding his own thought only， continued:--

"So far as exaggeration is concerned， I am not exaggerating. This is the way I reason: I have suspected you unjustly. That is nothing. It is our right to cherish

suspicion， although suspicion directed above ourselves is an abuse. But without proofs， in a fit of rage， with the object of wreaking my vengeance， I have denounced you

as a convict， you， a respectable man， a mayor， a magistrate! That is serious， very serious. I have insulted authority in your person， I， an agent of the authorities! If

one of my subordinates had done what I have done， I should have declared him unworthy of the service， and have expelled him. Well? Stop， Mr. Mayor; one word more. I

have often been severe in the course of my life towards others. That is just. I have done well. Now， if I were not severe towards myself， all the justice that I have

done would become injustice. Ought I to spare myself more than others? No! What! I should be good for nothing but to chastise others， and not myself! Why， I should be a

blackguard! Those who say， `That blackguard of a Javert!' would be in the right. Mr. Mayor， I do not desire that you should treat me kindly; your kindness roused

sufficient bad blood in me when it was directed to others. I want none of it for myself. The kindness which consists in upholding a woman of the town against a citizen，

the police agent against the mayor， the man who is down against the man who is up in the world， is what I call false kindness. That is the sort of kindness which

disorganizes society. Good God! it is very easy to be kind; the difficulty lies in being just. Come! if you had been what I thought you， I should not have been kind to

you， not I! You would have seen! Mr. Mayor， I must treat myself as I would treat any other man. When I have subdued malefactors， when I have proceeded with vigor

against rascals， I have often said to myself， `If you flinch， if I ever catch you in fault， you may rest at your ease!' I have flinched， I have caught myself in a

fault. So much the worse! Come， discharged， cashiered， expelled! That is well. I have arms. I will till the soil; it makes no difference to me. Mr. Mayor， the good of

the service demands an example. I simply require the discharge of Inspector Javert."

All this was uttered in a proud， humble， despairing， yet convinced tone， which lent indescribable grandeur to this singular， honest man.

"We shall see，" said M. Madeleine.

And he offered him his hand.

Javert recoiled， and said in a wild voice:--

"Excuse me， Mr. Mayor， but this must not be. A mayor does not offer his hand to a police spy."

He added between his teeth:--

"A police spy， yes; from the moment when I have misused the police. I am no more than a police spy."

Then he bowed profoundly， and directed his steps towards the door.

There he wheeled round， and with eyes still downcast:--

"Mr. Mayor，" he said， "I shall continue to serve until I am superseded."

He withdrew. M. Madeleine remained thoughtfully listening to the firm， sure step， which died away on the pavement of the corridor.

一天早晨，马德兰先生正在他办公室里提前处理市府的几件紧急公事，以备随时去孟费郿。那时有人来传达，说侦察员沙威请见。马德兰先生听到那名字，不能不起一种不愉快的感觉，自从发

生警署里那件事后，沙威对他更加躲避得厉害，马德兰也再没有和他会面。

“请他进来。”他说。

沙威进来了。

马德兰先生正靠近壁炉坐着，手里拿着一支笔，眼睛望着一个卷宗，那里是一叠有关公路警察方面几件违警事件的案卷，他一面翻阅，一面批。他完全不理睬沙威。他不能制止自己不去想那可

怜的芳汀，因此觉得对他不妨冷淡。

沙威向那背着他的市长，恭恭敬敬地行了一个礼。市长先生不望他，仍旧批他的公事。

沙威在办公室里走了两三步，又停下来，不敢突破那时的寂静。

假使有个相面的人，熟悉沙威的性格，长期研究过这个为文明服务的野蛮人，这个由罗马人、斯巴达人、寺僧和小军官合成的怪物，这个言必有据的暗探，这个坚定不移的包打听，假使有个相

面人，知道沙威对马德兰先生所怀的夙仇，知道他为了芳汀的事和市长发生过的争执，这时又来观察沙威，他心里一定要问：“发生了什么事？”凡是认识这个心地正直、爽朗、诚挚、耿介、

严肃、凶猛的人的，都能一眼看出沙威刚从一场激烈的思想斗争里出来。沙威绝不能有点事藏在心里而不露在面上。他正象那种粗暴的人，可以突然改变主张。他的神情从来没有比当时那样更

奇特的了。他走进门时，向马德兰先生鞠了个躬，目光里既没有夙仇，也没有怒容，也没有戒心，他在市长圈椅后面几步的地方停下来；现在他笔挺地立着，几乎是一种立正的姿势，态度粗野

、单纯、冷淡，真是一个从不肯和颜悦色而始终能忍耐到底的人；他不说话也不动，在一种真诚的谦卑和安定的忍让里，静候市长先生乐意转过身来的时刻。他这时保持一种平和、庄重的样子

，帽子拿在手里，眼睛望着地下，脸上的表情，有点象在长官面前的兵士，又有点象在法官面前的罪犯。别人以为他可能有的那一切情感和故态全不见了。在他那副坚硬简朴如花岗石的面孔上

，只有一种沉郁的愁容。他整个的人所表现的是一种驯服、坚定、无可言喻的勇于受戮的神情。

到后来，市长先生把笔放下，身体转过了一半：

“说吧！有什么事，沙威？”

沙威没有立即回答，好象得先集中思想。随后他放开嗓子，用一种忧郁而仍不失为淳朴的声音说：

“就是，市长先生，有一桩犯罪的事。”

“怎样的经过？”

“一个下级警官，对于长官有了极严重的失敬行为。我特地来把这事向您说明，因为这是我的责任。”

“那警官是谁？”马德兰先生问。

“是我。”沙威说。

“您？”

“我。”

“谁又是那个要控告警官的长官呢？”

“您，市长先生。”

写德兰先生在他的圈椅上挺直了身体。沙威说下去，态度严肃，眼睛始终朝下：

“市长先生，我来请求您申请上级，免我的职。”

不胜惊讶的马德兰先生张开嘴。沙威连忙抢着说：“您也许会说，我尽可以辞职，但是那样还是不够的。辞职是件有面子的事。我失职了，我应当受处罚。我应当被革职。”

停了一会，他又接着说：

“市长先生，那一天您对我是严厉的，但是不公道，今天，您应当公公道道地对我严厉一番。”

“呀！为什么呢？”马德兰先生大声说，“这个哑谜从何说起呢？这是什么意思？您在什么地方有过对我失敬的错误？您对我做了什么事？您对我有什么不对的地方？您来自首，您要辞职……

”

“革职。”沙威说。

“革职，就算革职。很好。但是我不懂。”

“您马上就会懂的，市长先生。”

沙威从他胸底叹了一口气，又始终冷静而忧郁地说：“市长先生，六个星期以前，那个姑娘的事发生之后，我很气愤，便揭发了您。”

“揭发！”

“向巴黎警署揭发的。”

马德兰先生素来不比沙威笑得多，这次却也笑起来了。

“揭发我以市长干涉警务吗？”

“揭发您是旧苦役犯。”

市长面色发青了。

沙威并没有抬起眼睛，他继续说：

“我当初是那样想的。我心里早已疑惑了。模样儿相象，您又派人到法维洛勒去打听过消息，您的那种腰劲，割风伯伯的那件事，您枪法的准确，您那只有点拖沓的腿，我也不知道还有些什么

，真是傻！总而言之，我把您认作一个叫冉阿让的人了。”

“叫什么？您说的是个什么名字？”

“冉阿让。那是二十年前我在土伦做副监狱官时见过的一个苦役犯。那冉阿让从监狱里出来时，仿佛在一个主教家里偷过东西，随后又在一条公路上，手里拿着凶器，抢劫过一个通烟囱的孩子

。八年以来，不知道是怎么回事，他影踪全无，可是政府仍在缉拿他。我，当初以为……我终于做了那件事！一时的气愤使我下了决心，我便在警署揭发了您。”

马德兰先生早已拿起了他的卷宗，他用一种毫不关心的口气说：

“那么，别人怎样回答您呢？”

“他们说我疯了。”

“那么，怎样呢？”

“那么，他们说对了。”

“幸而您肯承认。”

“我只得承认，因为真正的冉阿让已经被捕了。”

马德兰先生拿在手里的文件落了下来，他抬起头来，眼睛盯着沙威，用一种无可形容的口气说着“啊！”

沙威往下说：

“就是这么回事，市长先生。据说，靠近埃里高钟楼那边的一个地方，有个汉子，叫做商马第伯伯。是一个穷到极点的家伙。大家都没有注意。那种人究竟靠什么维持生活，谁也不知道。最近

，就在今年秋天，那个商马第伯伯在一个人的家里，谁的家？我忘了，这没有关系！商马第伯伯在那人家偷了制酒的苹果，被捕了。那是一桩窃案，跳了墙，并且折断了树枝。他们把我说的这

个商马第逮住了。他当时手里还拿着苹果枝。他们把这个坏蛋关起来。直到那时，那还只是件普通的刑事案件。以下的事才真是苍天有眼呢。那里的监牢，太不成，地方裁判官先生想得对，他

把商马第押送到阿拉斯，因为阿拉斯有省级监狱。在阿拉斯的监狱里，有个叫布莱卫的老苦役犯，他为什么坐牢，我不知道，因为他的表现好，便派了他做那间狱室的看守。市长先生，商马第

刚到狱里，布莱卫便叫道：‘怪事！我认识这个人。他是根“干柴”①。喂！你望着我。你是冉阿让。’‘冉阿让！谁呀，谁叫冉阿让？’商马第假装奇怪。‘不用装腔，’布莱卫说，‘你是

冉阿让，你在土伦监狱里呆过。到现在已经二十年了。那时我们在一道的。’商马第不承认。天老爷！您懂吧。大家深入了解。一定要追究这件怪事。得到的资料是：商马第，大约在三十年前

，在几个地方，特别是在法维洛勒，当过修树枝工人。从那以后，线索断了。经过了许多年，有人在奥弗涅遇见过他，嗣后，在巴黎又有人遇见过这人，据说他在巴黎做造车工人，并且有过一

个洗衣姑娘，但是那些经过是没有被证实的；最后，到了本地。所以，在犯特种窃案入狱以前，冉阿让是做什么事的人呢？修树枝工人。什么地方？法维洛勒。另外一件事。这个阿让当初用他

的洗礼名‘让’做自己的名字，而他的母亲姓马第。出狱以后，他用母亲的姓做自己的姓，以图掩饰，并且自称为让马第，世上还有比这更自然的事吗？他到了奥弗涅。那地方，‘让’读作‘

商’。大家叫他作商马第。我们的这个人听其自然，于是变成商马第了。您听得懂，是吗？有人到法维洛勒去调查过。冉阿让的家已不在那里了。没有人知道那人家在什么地方。您知道，在那

种阶级里，常有这样全家灭绝的情况。白费了一番调查，没有下落。那种人，如果不是烂泥，便是灰尘。并且这些经过是在三十年前发生的，在法维洛勒，从前认识冉阿让的人已经没有了。于

是到土伦去调查。除布莱卫以外，还有两个看见过冉阿让的苦役犯。两个受终身监禁的囚犯，一个叫戈什巴依，一个叫舍尼杰。他们把那两个犯人从牢里提出，送到那里去。叫他们去和那个冒

名商马第的人对证。他们毫不迟疑。他们和布莱卫一样，说他是冉阿让。年龄相同，他有五十六岁，身材相同，神气相同，就是那个人了，就是他。我正是在那时，把揭发您的公事寄到了巴黎

的警署。他们回复我，说我神志不清，说冉阿让好好被关押在阿拉斯。您想得到这件事使我很惊奇，我还以为在此地拿住了冉阿让本人呢，我写了信给那位裁判官。他叫我去，他们把那商马第

带给我看……”

①干柴，旧苦役犯。棗原注。

“怎样呢？”马德兰先生打断他说。

沙威摆着他那副坚定而忧郁的面孔答道：

“市长先生，真理总是真理。我很失望。叫冉阿让的确是那人。我也认出了他。”

马德兰先生用一种很低的声音接着说：

“您以为可靠吗？”

沙威笑了出来，是人在深信不疑时流露出来的那种惨笑。

“呵，可靠之至！”

他停了一会，若有所思，机械地在桌子上的木杯里，捏着一小撮吸墨水的木屑，继又接下去说：

“现在我已看见了那个真冉阿让，不过我还是不了解：从前我怎么会那么想的。我请您原谅，市长先生。”

六个星期以前，马德兰先生在警署里当着众人侮辱过他，并且向他说过“出去！”而他现在居然能向他说出这样一句央求而沉重的话，沙威，这个倨傲的人，他自己不知道他确是一个十分淳朴

、具有高贵品质的人。马德兰先生只用了这样一个突如其来的问题回答他的请求：

“那个人怎么说呢？”

“呀！圣母，市长先生，事情不妙呵。假使那真是冉阿让，那里就有累犯罪。爬过一道墙，折断一根树枝，摸走几个苹果，这对小孩只是种顽皮的行动，对一个成人只是种小过失；对一个苦役

犯却是种罪了。私入人家和行窃的罪都有了，那已不是违警问题，而是高等法院的问题了。那不是几天的羁押问题，而是终身苦役的问题了。并且还有那通烟囱孩子的事，我希望将来也能提出

来。见鬼！有得闹呢，不是吗？当然，假使不是冉阿让而是另外一个人。但是冉阿让是个鬼头鬼脑的东西。我也是从那一点看出他来的。假使是另外一个人，他一定会觉得这件事很棘手，一定

会急躁，一定会大吵大闹，热锅上的蚂蚁哪得安顿，他决不会肯做冉阿让，必然要东拉西扯。可是他，好象什么也不懂，他说：‘我是商马第，我坚持我是商马第！’他的神气好象很惊讶，他

装傻，那样自然妥当些。呵！那坏蛋真灵巧。不过不相干，各种证据都在。他已被四个人证实了，那老滑头总得受处分。他已被押到阿拉斯高等法院。我要去作证。

我已被指定了。”

马德兰先生早已回到他的办公桌上，重新拿着他的卷宗，斯斯文文地翻着，边念边写，好象一个忙人，他转身向着沙威：“够了，沙威，我对这些琐事不大感兴趣。我们浪费了我们的时间，我

们还有许多紧急公事。沙威，您立刻到圣索夫街去一趟，在那转角地方有一个卖草的好大娘，叫毕索比。您到她家去，告诉她要她来控告那个马车夫皮埃尔·什纳龙，那人是个蛮汉，他几乎压

死了那大娘和她的孩子。他理应受罚。您再到孟脱德尚比尼街，夏色雷先生家去一趟。他上诉说他邻家的檐沟把雨水灌到他家，冲坏了他家的墙脚。过后，您去吉布街多利士寡妇家和加洛－白

朗街勒波塞夫人家，去把别人向我检举的一些违警事件了解一下，作好报告送来。不过我给您办的事太多了。您不是要离开此地吗？您不是向我说过在八天或十天之内，您将为那件事去阿拉斯

一趟吗？……”

“还得早一点走，市长先生。”

“那么，哪天走？”

“我好象已向市长先生说过，那件案子明天开审，我今晚就得搭公共马车走。”

马德兰先生极其轻微的动了一下，旁人几乎不能察觉。

“这件案子得多少时间才能结束？”

“至多一天。判决书至迟在明天晚上便可以公布。但是我不打算等到公布判决书，那是毫无问题的。我完成了证人的任务，便立刻回到此地来。”

“那很好。”马德兰先生说。

他做了一个手势，叫沙威退去。

沙威不走。

“请原谅，市长先生。”他说。

“还有什么？”马德兰先生问。

“市长先生，还剩下一件事，得重行提醒您。”

“哪件事？”

“就是我应当革职。”

马德兰立起身来。

“沙威，您是一个值得尊敬的人，我钦佩您。您过分强调您的过失了。况且那种冒犯，也还是属于我个人的。沙威，您应当晋级，不应当降级。我的意见是您还得守住您的岗位。”

沙威望着马德兰先生，在他那对天真的眸子里，我们仿佛可以看见那种刚强、纯洁、却又不甚了了的神情。他用一种平静的声音说：

“市长先生，我不能同意。”

“我再向您说一遍，”马德兰先生反驳，“这是我的事。”

但是沙威只注意他个人意见，继续说道：

“至于说到过分强调，我一点也没有过分强调。我是这样理解的。我毫无根据地怀疑过您。这还不要紧。我们这些人原有权怀疑别人，虽然疑到上级是越权行为。但是不根据事实，起于一时的

气愤，存心报复，我便把您一个可敬的人，一个市长，一个长官，当作苦役犯告发了！这是严重的。非常严重的。我，一个法权机构中的警务人员，侮辱了您就是侮辱了法权。假使我的下属做

了我所做的这种事，我就会宣告他不称职，并且革他的职。不对吗？……哦，市长先生，还有一句话。我生平对人要求严格。对旁人要求严格，那是合理的。我做得对。现在，假使我对自己要

求不严格，那么，我以前所做的合理的事全变为不合理的了。难道我应当例外吗？不应当，肯定不应当！我岂不成了只善于惩罚旁人，而不惩罚自己的人了！那样我未免太可怜了！那些说‘沙

威这流氓’的人就会振振有词了。市长先生，我不希望您以好心待我，当您把您的那种好心对待别人时，我已经够苦了。我不喜欢那一套。放纵一个冒犯士绅的公娼，放纵一个冒犯市长的警务

人员、一个冒犯上级的低级人员的这种好心，在我眼里，只是恶劣的好心。社会腐败，正是那种好心造成的。我的上帝！做好人容易，做正直的人才难呢。哼！假使您是我从前猜想的那个人，

我决不会以好心待您！会有您受的！市长先生，我应当以待人之道待我自己。当我镇压破坏分子，当我严惩匪徒，我常对自己说：‘你，假使你出岔子，万一我逮住了你的错处，你就得小心！

’现在我出了岔子，我逮住了自己的过错，活该！来吧，开除，斥退，革职！全好。我有两条胳膊，我可以种地，我无所谓。市长先生，为了整饬纪律，应当作个榜样。我要求干脆革了侦察员

沙威的职。”

那些话全是用一种谦卑、颓丧、自负、自信的口吻说出来的，这给了那个诚实的怪人一种说不出的奇特、伟大的气概。

“我们将来再谈吧。”马德兰先生说。

他把手伸给他。

沙威退缩，并用一种粗野的声音说：

“请您原谅，市长先生，这使不得。一个市长不应当和奸细握手。”

他从齿缝中发出声来说：

“奸细，是呀，我滥用警权，我已只是个奸细了。”

于是他深深行了个礼，向着门走去。

走到门口，他又转过来，两眼始终朝下：

“市长先生，”他说，“在别人来接替我以前，我还是负责的。”

他出去了。马德兰先生心旌摇曳，听着他那种稳重坚定的步伐在长廊的石板上越去越远。