Javert was evidently somewhat disconcerted by the perfect naturalness and tranquillity of M. Madeleine. One day, nevertheless, his strange manner appeared to produce an impression on M. Madeleine. It was on the following occasion. CHAPTER VI—FATHER FAUCHELEVENT One morning M. Madeleine was passing through an unpaved alley of M. sur M.; he heard a noise, and saw a group some distance away. He approached. An old man named Father Fauchelevent had just fallen beneath his cart, his horse having tumbled down. This Fauchelevent was one of the few enemies whom M. Madeleine had at that time. When Madeleine arrived in the neighborhood, Fauchelevent, an ex-notary and a peasant who was almost educated, had a business which was beginning to be in a bad way. Fauchelevent had seen this simple workman grow rich, while he, a lawyer, was being ruined. This had filled him with jealousy, and he had done all he could, on every occasion, to injure Madeleine. Then bankruptcy had come; and as the old man had nothing left but a cart and a horse, and neither family nor children, he had turned carter. The horse had two broken legs and could not rise. The old man was caught in the wheels. The fall had been so unlucky that the whole weight of the vehicle rested on his breast. The cart was quite heavily laden. Father Fauchelevent was rattling in the throat in the most lamentable manner. They had tried, but in vain, to drag him out. An unmethodical effort, aid awkwardly given, a wrong shake, might kill him. It was impossible to disengage him otherwise than by lifting the vehicle off of him. Javert, who had come up at the moment of the accident, had sent for a jack-screw. M. Madeleine arrived. People stood aside respectfully. “Help!” cried old Fauchelevent. “Who will be good and save the old man?” M. Madeleine turned towards those present:— “Is there a jack-screw to be had?” “One has been sent for,” answered the peasant. “How long will it take to get it?” “They have gone for the nearest, to Flachot’s place, where there is a farrier; but it makes no difference; it will take a good quarter of an hour.” “A quarter of an hour!” exclaimed Madeleine. It had rained on the preceding night; the soil was soaked. The cart was sinking deeper into the earth every moment, and crushing the old carter’s breast more and more. It was evident that his ribs would be broken in five minutes more. “It is impossible to wait another quarter of an hour,” said Madeleine to the peasants, who were staring at him. “We must!” “But it will be too late then! Don’t you see that the cart is sinking?” “Well!” “Listen,” resumed Madeleine; “there is still room enough under the cart to allow a man to crawl beneath it and raise it with his back. Only half a minute, and the poor man can be taken out. Is there any one here who has stout loins and heart? There are five louis d’or to be earned!” Not a man in the group stirred. “Ten louis,” said Madeleine.