|
THE FONTIS
Jean Valjean found himself in the presence of a fontis.
This sort of quagmire was common at that period in the subsoil
of the Champs-Elysees, difficult to handle in the hydraulic works
and a bad preservative of the subterranean constructions, on account
of its excessive fluidity.
This fluidity exceeds even the inconsistency of the sands
of the Quartier Saint-Georges, which could only be conquered by
a stone construction on a concrete foundation, and the clayey
strata, infected with gas, of the Quartier des Martyrs, which
are so liquid that the only way in which a passage was effected
under the gallery des Martyrs was by means of a cast-iron pipe.
When, in 1836, the old stone sewer beneath the Faubourg Saint-Honore,
in which we now see Jean Valjean, was demolished for the purpose
of reconstructing it, the quicksand, which forms the subsoil of
the Champs-Elysees as far as the Seine, presented such an obstacle,
that the operation lasted nearly six months, to the great clamor
of the dwellers on the riverside, particularly those who had hotels
and carriages.
The work was more than unhealthy; it was dangerous.
It is true that they had four months and a half of rain, and
three floods of the Seine.
The fontis which Jean Valjean had encountered was caused by
the downpour of the preceding day.
The pavement, badly sustained by the subjacent sand, had given
way and had produced a stoppage of the water.
Infiltration had taken place, a slip had followed. The dislocated
bottom had sunk into the ooze.
To what extent? Impossible to say.
The obscurity was more dense there than elsewhere. It was
a pit of mire in a cavern of night.
Jean Valjean felt the pavement vanishing beneath his feet.
He entered this slime.
There was water on the surface, slime at the bottom.
He must pass it.
To retrace his steps was impossible. Marius was dying, and
Jean Valjean exhausted.
Besides, where was he to go?
Jean Valjean advanced.
Moreover, the pit seemed, for the first few steps, not to
be very deep.
But in proportion as he advanced, his feet plunged deeper.
Soon he had the slime up to his calves and water above his
knees.
He walked on, raising Marius in his arms, as far above the
water as he could. The mire now reached to his knees, and the
water to his waist. He could no longer retreat.
This mud, dense enough for one man, could not, obviously,
uphold two.
Marius and Jean Valjean would have stood a chance of extricating
themselves singly.
Jean Valjean continued to advance, supporting the dying man,
who was, perhaps, a corpse.
The water came up to his arm-pits; he felt that he was sinking;
it was only with difficulty that he could move in the depth of
ooze which he had now reached.
The density, which was his support, was also an obstacle.
He still held Marius on high, and with an unheard-of expenditure
of force, he advanced still; but he was sinking. He had only his
head above the water now and his two arms holding up Marius.
In the old paintings of the deluge there is a mother holding
her child thus.
He sank still deeper, he turned his face to the rear, to escape
the water, and in order that he might be able to breathe; anyone
who had seen him in that gloom would have thought that what he
beheld was a mask floating on the shadows; he caught a faint glimpse
above him of the drooping head and livid face of Marius; he made
a desperate effort and launched his foot forward; his foot struck
something solid; a point of support.
It was high time.
He straightened himself up, and rooted himself upon that point
of support with a sort of fury.
This produced upon him the effect of the first step in a staircase
leading back to life.
The point of support, thus encountered in the mire at the
supreme moment, was the beginning of the other water-shed of the
pavement, which had bent but had not given way, and which had
curved under the water like a plank and in a single piece.
Well built pavements form a vault and possess this sort of
firmness.
This fragment of the vaulting, partly submerged, but solid,
was a veritable inclined plane, and, once on this plane, he was
safe.
Jean Valjean mounted this inclined plane and reached the other
side of the quagmire.
As he emerged from the water, he came in contact with a stone
and fell upon his knees.
He reflected that this was but just, and he remained there
for some time, with his soul absorbed in words addressed to God.
He rose to his feet, shivering, chilled, foul-smelling, bowed
beneath the dying man whom he was dragging after him, all dripping
with slime, and his soul filled with a strange light.
|
