Chapter 2 Fantine

Now we meet Fantine. She is young and beautiful, and in love with a man in Paris. But she has no family, and no money. For Fantine, this is the love of her life; for the man in Paris, it is just a summer of love.
Men are not kind to women. They have their fun, and then they walk away. The man in Paris goes home to his rich family, and leaves poor Fantine with a child, a little girl called Cosette. Fantine must find work, but how?
Fantine has a child but no husband, and a woman without a husband is nothing. Worse than nothing. People are not kind to a woman with a child but no husband. They turn their faces away, they close their doors, they say, ‘There’s no work here for a woman like you.’

Fantine loves her daughter dearly, but what can she do? So, in 1818, in a village near Paris, she leaves her little daughter with Monsieur and Madame Thénardier. They ask for seven francs a month. Fantine pays the money, holds her daughter in her arms for the last time, and leaves. She takes the road for her home town of Montreuil, and tears are running down her face. There is misery in her heart. Poor Fantine. Poor Cosette.
In Montreuil Fantine finds work in a factory. This is the factory of Monsieur Madeleine, an important man in the town, and very rich. Everybody likes him, because he is a good man. He is kind to his workers, he helps people, and his factory gives many jobs to the townspeople.
But who is he, this Monsieur Madeleine? Where did he come from? He arrived in Montreuil at the end of 1815, but nobody knows his family, or anything about him.

Fantine sent money every month to the Thénardiers. They were not good people, and they used the money for their own daughters. Poor little Cosette was a hungry, dirty, unloved child. She worked all day – she cleaned the house, she carried water, she washed the clothes. But Fantine knew nothing of this, and she worked long hours to make money for Cosette.
The next year the Thénardiers asked for twelve francs a month; the year after that, they wanted fifteen francs.
Then Fantine lost her job at the factory, because the women did not like her.
‘She has a child, in a village somewhere near Paris.’
‘Yes, and where’s her husband? She doesn’t have one!’
‘We don’t want that kind of woman here. She must go.’
Fantine found work making shirts. It was hard work for little money. She was often ill, with a small dry cough.
The Thénardiers wrote again: ‘Your daughter needs a warm dress for winter. Send ten francs at once.’

Fantine did not have ten francs. She thought long and hard, and went to the barber in the town. She took off her hat, and her golden hair fell down her back.
‘That’s beautiful hair,’ said the barber.
‘What can you give me for it?’
‘Ten francs.’
‘Then cut it off.’
She sent the money to the Thénardiers. ‘My daughter’s not cold now,’ she thought. ‘She’s wearing my hair.’
Soon another letter came from the Thénardiers: ‘Send one hundred francs, or Cosette must leave our house.’
A hundred francs! How can a poor woman get that kind of money? There was only one way.

One cold winter evening, outside a restaurant in the centre of Montreuil, a woman walked up and down. There was snow on the ground, but the woman wore an evening dress, with flowers in her hair. Some young men came out of the restaurant, saw her, and began to call her bad names. They laughed and shouted, but the woman did not look at them. Then, one young man took some snow and put it down the back of the woman’s dress.
The woman was Fantine. She gave a cry, turned, and hit the young man’s face with her hands. People came to watch, laughing.
A tall policeman arrived, took the woman by the arm, and pulled her away. ‘Come with me,’ he said.
This policeman was Inspector Javert. He was new to Montreuil, and he was a hard man. To him, the law was the only important thing in life, and he hated criminals.

The law in France at that time was not kind to women like Fantine. Javert took Fantine to the office of police.
‘You hit a man in the street, and that’s a crime,’ he told her. ‘You’re getting six months.’
‘Six months in prison?’ Fantine cried. ‘No! I’m not a bad woman, Monsieur, please! I must work, I need the money for my little daughter. Please, please don’t send me to prison!’ She fell to the floor, crying.
‘Take her away,’ Javert said to a policeman.
‘One moment, please,’ said a new voice.
Everybody turned to look at the door, and there stood the good, the great Monsieur Madeleine. He was an important man in Montreuil.

‘Inspector,’ he said. ‘I was outside the restaurant too, and I can tell you the true story. The young man began the fight, and this poor woman’ – he looked at Fantine on the floor – ‘must go free. She did nothing wrong.’
‘The woman is a criminal,’ said Javert angrily. ‘She—’
‘She must go free,’ said Monsieur Madeleine. ‘Ask the other people at the restaurant. We all saw the same thing.’
Fantine stood up slowly. She began to cough, a hard dry noise. Monsieur Madeleine took her arm gently.
‘My dear child, you are not well,’ he said.
Javert’s cold eyes stared at Monsieur Madeleine.
‘Do I know you from somewhere?’ he said. ‘Were you ever at Toulon?’
Monsieur Madeleine looked at him. His face did not change, but his eyes were suddenly very watchful. ‘No, I don’t know Toulon,’ he said.

Monsieur Madeleine took Fantine to the little hospital in Montreuil. She lay in bed, and coughed and coughed. Monsieur Madeleine listened to her sad story, and the next day he sent money to the Thénardiers.
‘Now, you must get better,’ he told Fantine. ‘Cosette needs you.’
But Fantine did not get better. She was now very ill, and five days later the doctor spoke to Monsieur Madeleine.
‘Does she have a child, this poor woman?’ he said.
‘Yes, a small daughter.’
‘You must bring the child here – soon.’
Monsieur Madeleine went to sit by Fantine’s bed.

‘Monsieur Madeleine’ – cough, cough – ‘you are so’ – cough, cough – ‘kind to me. I want to see my daughter, one last time. Please can you’ – cough, cough, cough – ‘bring Cosette to me? Please, Monsieur!’
Monsieur Madeleine took her hand. ‘Of course I can,’ he said gently, ‘and then—’
The door of the room suddenly opened behind him, and Fantine cried out, ‘No! No!’
Monsieur Madeleine looked round quickly. Inspector Javert came into the room, with four policemen.
‘Jean Valjean, prisoner at Toulon, I am arresting you,’ Javert said. ‘After you left the prison, you stole money from a child in Toulon. You are still a thief, and now you must go to prison for life.’
Fantine sat up in bed. ‘No!’ she cried. ‘Cosette …!’
Monsieur Madeleine stood up slowly. ‘Inspector, give me three days,’ he said. He was a big man, much bigger than Javert. ‘Three days, to bring this poor woman’s child to her before she dies. Then you can take me.’