While the two women were whispering with their backs turned to Fantine, the sister questioning, and the servant conjecturing, Fantine, with the feverish vivacity of certain organic maladies which blend the free movements of health with the frightful weakness of death, had knelt in bed, with her two clenched hands supported by the pillow, and listened with her head thrust between the curtains. All at once she cried,-- "You are talking about M. Madeleine: why do you whisper? What is he doing, and why does he not come?" Her voice was so loud and hoarse that the two women fancied it a man's voice, and they turned round in alarm. "Answer!" Fantine cried. The servant stammered,-- "The portress told me that he could not come to-day." "My child," the sister said, "be calm and lie down again." Fantine, without changing her attitude, went on in a loud voice and with an accent at once imperious and heart-rending,-- "He cannot come: why not? You know the reason. You were whispering it to one another, and I insist on knowing." The servant hastily whispered in the nun's ear, "Tell her that he is engaged at the Municipal Council." Sister Simplice blushed slightly, for it was a falsehood that the servant proposed to her. On the other hand it seemed to her that telling the patient the truth would doubtless deal her a terrible blow, and this was serious in Fantine's present condition. The blush lasted but a little while: the sister fixed her calm sad eye on Fantine, and said,-- "The Mayor is gone on a journey." Fantine rose and sat up on her heels, her eyes sparkled, and an ineffable joy shone on her sad face. "He has gone to fetch Cosette," she exclaimed. Then she raised her hands to heaven, and her lips moved: she was praying. When she had finished she said, "My sister, I am willing to lie down again and do everything you wish: I was naughty just now. I ask your pardon for having spoken so loud, for I know that it was wrong, good sister; but, look you, I am so happy. God is good, and M. Madeleine is good: only think, he has gone to Montfermeil to fetch my little Cosette." She lay down again, helped the nun to smooth her pillow, and kissed a little silver cross she wore on her neck, and which Sister Simplice had given her. "My child," the sister said, "try to go to sleep now, and do not speak any more."