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-Élysées, 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-Honoré, in which we now see Jean
Valjean, was demolished for the purpose of reconstructing it, the
quicksand, which forms the subsoil of the Champs-Élysées 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 watershed 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.