"I presume that all of you consider me worthy of pity? Great God! when I think of what I was on the point of doing, I consider myself worthy of envy. Still, I should have preferred that all this had not taken place." He went out, and the door was closed as it had been opened, for men who do certain superior deeds are always sure of being served by some one in the crowd. Less than an hour after, the verdict of the jury acquitted Champmathieu, and Champmathieu, who was at once set at liberty, went away in stupefaction, believing all the men mad, and not at all comprehending this vision. BOOK VIII. THE COUNTERSTROKE. CHAPTER I. M. MADELEINE LOOKS AT HIS HAIR. Day was beginning to dawn. Fantine had passed a sleepless and feverish night, though full of bright visions, and towards morning fell asleep. Sister Simplice, who was watching, took advantage of this slumber to go and prepare a fresh dose of bark. The worthy sister had been for some time in the surgery, stooping over her drugs and bottles, and looking carefully at them on account of the mist which dawn spreads over objects. All at once she turned her head and gave a slight shriek. M. Madeleine had entered silently, and was standing before her. "Is it you, sir?" she exclaimed. He answered in a low voice,-- "How is the poor creature?" "Not so bad just at present, but she has frightened us terribly." She explained to him what had occurred, how Fantine had been very ill the previous day, but was now better, because she believed that he had gone to Montfermeil to fetch her child. The sister did not dare question him, but she could see from his looks that he had not been there. "All that is well," he said. "You did right in not undeceiving her." "Yes," the sister continued; "but now that she is going to see you, sir, and does not see her child, what are we to tell her?" He remained thoughtful for a moment. "God will inspire us," he said. "Still, it is impossible to tell a falsehood," the sister murmured in a low voice. It was now bright day in the room, and it lit up M. Madeleine's face. The sister raised her eyes by chance. "Good gracious, sir!" she exclaimed; "what can have happened to you? Your hair is quite white." "What!" he said. Sister Simplice had no mirror, but she took from a drawer a small looking-glass which the infirmary doctor employed to make sure that a patient was dead. M. Madeleine took this glass, looked at his hair, and said, "So it is." He said it carelessly and as if thinking of something else, and the sister felt chilled by some unknown terror of which she caught a glimpse in all this. He asked,-- "Can I see her?" "Will you not recover her child for her, sir?" the sister said, hardly daring to ask the question. "Of course; but it will take at least two or three days."