this face, in which was displayed all that may be called the wickedness of good. CHAPTER IV. AUTHORITY RESUMES ITS RIGHTS. Fantine had not seen Javert since the day when the Mayor tore her out of his clutches, and her sickly brain could form no other thought but that he had come to fetch her. She could not endure his frightful face: she felt herself dying. She buried her face in her hands, and cried with agony,-- "Monsieur Madeleine, save me!" Jean Valjean--we will not call him otherwise in future--had risen, and said to Fantine in his gentlest, calmest voice,-- "Do not be alarmed: he has not come for you." Then he turned to Javert and said,-- "I know what you want." And Javert answered,-- "Come, make haste--" There was something savage and frenzied in the accent that accompanied these words; no orthographer could write it down, for it was no longer human speech, but a roar. He did not behave as usual, he did not enter into the matter or display his warrant. To him Jean Valjean was a sort of mysterious combatant, a dark wrestler with whom he had been struggling for five years, and had been unable to throw. This arrest was not a beginning but an end, and he confined himself to saying, "Come, make haste." While speaking thus, he did not advance: he merely darted at Jean Valjean the look which he threw out as a grapple, and with which he violently drew wretches to him. It was this look which Fantine had felt pierce to her marrow two months before. On hearing Javert's roar, Fantine opened her eyes again; but the Mayor was present, so what had she to fear? Javert walked into the middle of the room and cried,-- "Well, are you coming?" The unhappy girl looked around her. No one was present but the nun and the Mayor; to whom, then, could this humiliating remark be addressed? Only to herself. She shuddered. Then she saw an extraordinary thing,--so extraordinary that nothing like it had ever appeared in the darkest delirium of fever. She saw the policeman Javert seize the Mayor by the collar, and she saw the Mayor bow his head. It seemed to her as if the end of the world had arrived. "Monsieur le Maire!" Fantine screamed. Javert burst into a laugh,--that frightful laugh which showed all his teeth. "There is no Monsieur le Maire here." Jean Valjean did not attempt to remove the hand that grasped his collar; he said,-- "Javert--" Javert interrupted him: "Call me Monsieur the Inspector." "I should like to say a word to you in private, sir," Jean Valjean continued. "Speak up," Javert answered; "people talk aloud to me." Jean Valjean went on in a low voice,-- "It is a request I have to make of you." "I tell you to speak up." "But it must only be heard by yourself--" "What do I care for that? I am not listening!" Jean Valjean turned to him and said rapidly, and in a very low voice,-- "Grant me three days,--three days to go and fetch this unhappy woman's child! I will pay whatever you ask, and you can accompany me if you like."