雨果 悲惨世界 英文版1-第123部分

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　　This　delay　and　the　halt　at　the　Carrefour　Rollin　to　consult　with　his　agents　came　near　causing　him　to　lose　the　trail。　He　speedily　divined；　however；　that　Jean　Valjean　would　want　to　put　the　river　between　his　pursuers　and　himself。
　　He　bent　his　head　and　reflected　like　a　blood…hound　who　puts　his　nose　to　the　ground　to　make　sure　that　he　is　on　the　right　scent。
　　Javert；　with　his　powerful　rectitude　of　instinct；　went　straight　to　the　bridge　of　Austerlitz。　A　word　with　the　toll…keeper　furnished　him　with　the　information　which　he　required：
　　〃Have　you　seen　a　man　with　a　little　girl？〃　〃I　made　him　pay　two　sous；〃　replied　the　toll…keeper。　Javert　reached　the　bridge　in　season　to　see　Jean　Valjean　traverse　the　small　illuminated　spot　on　the　other　side　of　the　water；　leading　Cosette　by　the　hand。　He　saw　him　enter　the　Rue　du　Chemin…Vert…Saint…Antoine；　he　remembered　the　Cul…de…Sac　Genrot　arranged　there　like　a　trap；　and　of　the　sole　exit　of　the　Rue　Droit…Mur　into　the　Rue　Petit…Picpus。　He　made　sure　of　his　back　burrows；　as　huntsmen　say；　he　hastily　despatched　one　of　his　agents；　by　a　roundabout　way；　to　guard　that　issue。　A　patrol　which　was　returning　to　the　Arsenal　post　having　passed　him；　he　made　a　requisition　on　it；　and　caused　it　to　acpany　him。　In　such　games　soldiers　are　aces。
　　Moreover；　the　principle　is；　that　in　order　to　get　the　best　of　a　wild　boar；　one　must　employ　the　science　of　venery　and　plenty　of　dogs。
　　These　binations　having　been　effected；　feeling　that　Jean　Valjean　was　caught　between　the　blind　alley　Genrot　on　the　right；　his　agent　on　the　left；　and　himself；　Javert；　in　the　rear；　he　took　a　pinch　of　snuff。
　　Then　he　began　the　game。
　　He　experienced　one　ecstatic　and　infernal　moment；　he　allowed　his　man　to　go　on　ahead；　knowing　that　he　had　him　safe；　but　desirous　of　postponing　the　moment　of　arrest　as　long　as　possible；　happy　at　the　thought　that　he　was　taken　and　yet　at　seeing　him　free；　gloating　over　him　with　his　gaze；　with　that　voluptuousness　of　the　spider　which　allows　the　fly　to　flutter；　and　of　the　cat　which　lets　the　mouse　run。
　　Claws　and　talons　possess　a　monstrous　sensuality；　the　obscure　movements　of　the　creature　imprisoned　in　their　pincers。　What　a　delight　this　strangling　is！
　　Javert　was　enjoying　himself。
　　The　meshes　of　his　net　were　stoutly　knotted。　He　was　sure　of　success；　all　he　had　to　do　now　was　to　close　his　hand。
　　Acpanied　as　he　was；　the　very　idea　of　resistance　was　impossible；　however　vigorous；　energetic；　and　desperate　Jean　Valjean　might　be。
　　Javert　advanced　slowly；　sounding；　searching　on　his　way　all　the　nooks　of　the　street　like　so　many　pockets　of　thieves。
　　When　he　reached　the　centre　of　the　web　he　found　the　fly　no　longer　there。
　　His　exasperation　can　be　imagined。
　　He　interrogated　his　sentinel　of　the　Rues　Droit…Mur　and　Petit…Picpus；　that　agent；　who　had　remained　imperturbably　at　his　post；　had　not　seen　the　man　pass。
　　It　sometimes　happens　that　a　stag　is　lost　head　and　horns；　that　is　to　say；　he　escapes　although　he　has　the　pack　on　his　very　heels；　and　then　the　oldest　huntsmen　know　not　what　to　say。　Duvivier；　Ligniville；　and　Desprez　halt　short。
　　In　a　disfiture　of　this　sort；　Artonge　exclaims；　〃It　was　not　a　stag；　but　a　sorcerer。〃　Javert　would　have　liked　to　utter　the　same　cry。
　　His　disappointment　bordered　for　a　moment　on　despair　and　rage。
　　It　is　certain　that　Napoleon　made　mistakes　during　the　war　with　Russia；　that　Alexander　mitted　blunders　in　the　war　in　India；　that　Caesar　made　mistakes　in　the　war　in　Africa；　that　Cyrus　was　at　fault　in　the　war　in　Scythia；　and　that　Javert　blundered　in　this　campaign　against　Jean　Valjean。
　　He　was　wrong；　perhaps；　in　hesitating　in　his　recognition　of　the　exconvict。
　　The　first　glance　should　have　sufficed　him。　He　was　wrong　in　not　arresting　him　purely　and　simply　in　the　old　building；　he　was　wrong　in　not　arresting　him　when　he　positively　recognized　him　in　the　Rue　de　Pontoise。
　　He　was　wrong　in　taking　counsel　with　his　auxiliaries　in　the　full　light　of　the　moon　in　the　Carrefour　Rollin。　Advice　is　certainly　useful；　it　is　a　good　thing　to　know　and　to　interrogate　those　of　the　dogs　who　deserve　confidence；　but　the　hunter　cannot　be　too　cautious　when　he　is　chasing　uneasy　animals　like　the　wolf　and　the　convict。
　　Javert；　by　taking　too　much　thought　as　to　how　he　should　set　the　bloodhounds　of　the　pack　on　the　trail；　alarmed　the　beast　by　giving　him　wind　of　the　dart；　and　so　made　him　run。　Above　all；　he　was　wrong　in　that　after　he　had　picked　up　the　scent　again　on　the　bridge　of　Austerlitz；　he　played　that　formidable　and　puerile　game　of　keeping　such　a　man　at　the　end　of　a　thread。　He　thought　himself　stronger　than　he　was；　and　believed　that　he　could　play　at　the　game　of　the　mouse　and　the　lion。
　　At　the　same　time；　he　reckoned　himself　as　too　weak；　when　he　judged　it　necessary　to　obtain　reinforcement。
　　Fatal　precaution；　waste　of　precious　time！　Javert　mitted　all　these　blunders；　and　none　the　less　was　one　of　the　cleverest　and　most　correct　spies　that　ever　existed。
　　He　was；　in　the　full　force　of　the　term；　what　is　called　in　venery　a　knowing　dog。　But　what　is　there　that　is　perfect？
　　Great　strategists　have　their　eclipses。
　　The　greatest　follies　are　often　posed；　like　the　largest　ropes；　of　a　multitude　of　strands。
　　Take　the　cable　thread　by　thread；　take　all　the　petty　determining　motives　separately；　and　you　can　break　them　one　after　the　other；　and　you　say；　〃That　is　all　there　is　of　it！〃　Braid　them；　twist　them　together；　the　result　is　enormous：
　　it　is　Attila　hesitating　between　Marcian　on　the　east　and　Valentinian　on　the　west；　it　is　Hannibal　tarrying　at　Capua；　it　is　Danton　falling　asleep　at　Arcis…sur…Aube。
　　However　that　may　be；　even　at　the　moment　when　he　saw　that　Jean　Valjean　had　escaped　him；　Javert　did　not　lose　his　head。　Sure　that　the　convict　who　had　broken　his　ban　could　not　be　far　off；　he　established　sentinels；　he　organized　traps　and　ambuscades；　and　beat　the　quarter　all　that　night。
　　The　first　thing　he　saw　was　the　disorder　in　the　street　lantern　whose　rope　had　been　cut。　A　precious　sign　which；　however；　led　him　astray；　since　it　caused　him　to　turn　all　his　researches　in　the　direction　of　the　Cul…de…Sac　Genrot。　In　this　blind　alley　there　were　tolerably　low　walls　which　abutted　on　gardens　whose　bounds　adjoined　the　immense　stretches　of　waste　land。　Jean　Valjean　evidently　must　have　fled　in　that　direction。
　　The　fact　is；　that　had　he　penetrated　a　little　further　in　the　Cul…de…Sac　Genrot；　he　would　probably　have　done　so　and　have　been　lost。
　　Javert　explored　these　gardens　and　these　waste　stretches　as　though　he　had　been　hunting　for　a　needle。
　　At　daybreak　he　left　two　intelligent　men　on　the　outlook；　and　returned　to　the　Prefecture　of　Police；　as　much　ashamed　as　a　police　spy　who　had　been　captured　by　a　robber　might　have　been。　


BOOK　SIXTH。LE　PETIT…PICPUS　
CHAPTER　I
　　NUMBER　62　RUE　PETIT…PICPUS
　　Nothing；　half　a　century　ago；　more　resembled　every　other　carriage　gate　than　the　carriage　gate　of　Number　62　Rue　Petit…Picpus。　This　entrance；　which　usually　stood　ajar　in　the　most　inviting　fashion；　permitted　a　view　of　two　things；　neither　of　which　have　anything　very　funereal　about　them；a　courtyard　surrounded　by　walls　hung　with　vines；　and　the　face　of　a　lounging　porter。
　　Above　the　wall；　at　the　bottom　of　the　court；　tall　trees　were　visible。
　　When　a　ray　of　sunlight　enlivened　the　courtyard；　when　a　glass　of　wine　cheered　up　the　porter；　it　was　difficult　to　pass　Number　62　Little　Picpus　Street　without　carrying　away　a　smiling　impression　of　it。
　　Nevertheless；　it　was　a　sombre　place　of　which　one　had　had　a　glimpse。
　　The　threshold　smiled；　the　house　prayed　and　wept。
　　If　one　succeeded　in　passing　the　porter；　which　was　not　easy；　which　was　even　nearly　impossible　for　every　one；　for　there　was　an　open　sesame！　which　it　was　necessary　to　know；if；　the　porter　once　passed；　one　entered　a　little　vestibule　on　the　right；　on　which　opened　a　staircase　shut　in　between　two　walls　and　so　narrow　that　only　one　person　could　ascend　it　at　a　time；　if　one　did　not　allow　one's　self　to　be　alarmed　by　a　daubing　of　canary　yellow；　with　a　dado　of　chocolate　which　clothed　this　staircase；　if　one　ventured　to　ascend　it；　one　crossed　a　first　landing；　then　a　second；　and　arrived　on　the　first　story　at　a　corridor　where　the　yellow　wash　and　the　chocolate…hued　plinth　pursued　one　with　a　peaceable　persistency。　Staircase　and　corridor　were　lighted　by　two　beautiful　windows。　The　corridor　took　a　turn　and　became　dark。
　　If　one　doubled　this　cape；　one　arrived　a　few　paces　further　on；　in　front　of　a　door　which　was　all　the　more　mysterious　because　it　was　not　fastened。
　　If　one　opened　it；　one　found　one's　self　in　a　little　chamber　about　six　feet　square；　tiled；　well…scrubbed；　clean；　cold；　and　hung　with　nankin　paper　with　green　flowers；　at　fifteen　sous　the　roll。
　　A　white；　dull　light　fell　from　a　large　window；　with　tiny　panes；　on　the　left；　which　usurped　the　whole　width　of　the　room。
　　One　gazed　about；　but　saw　no　one；　one　listened；　one　heard　neither　a　footstep　nor　a　human　murmur。　The　walls　were　bare；　the　chamber　was　not　furnished；　there　was　not　even　a　chair。
　　One　looked　again；　and　beheld　on　the　wall　facing　the　door　a　quadrangular　hole；　about　a　foot　square；　with　a　grating　of　interlacing　iron　bars；　black；　knotted；　solid；　which　formed　squares　I　had　almost　said　meshesof　less　than　an　in