I was back at six o’clock with the money. Cosette was safe at home. Fabantou greeted me wearing my overcoat and smiling meekly. I put eighty francs on the table. “For your rent and other immediate needs, Monsieur Fabantou,” I said. “We will talk about what else you need.” “May God reward you, most generous sir,” said Fabantou. He snatched the money off the table. I sat down. “How is the hurt child?” I asked. “Not well,” replied Fabantou. “She’s in great pain. Her sister took her to the hospital.” “Madame Fabantou seems much better,” I said, looking her way. She was standing at the door with her arms crossed. She looked as if she would not let me leave if I wanted to. “Oh, she’s very sick,” said Fabantou. “But you’d never know it. She’s so brave. She’s more than a woman—she’s an ox.” Madame Fabantou was pleased by her husband’s words. “You always say the nicest things to me, Monsieur Jondrette.” She smiled a shy smile. “Jondrette?”
