The reader has, no doubt, understood, without necessitating a lengthy
explanation, that Jean Valjean, after the Champmathieu affair, had been
able, thanks to his first escape of a few days’ duration, to come to
Paris and to withdraw in season, from the hands of Laffitte, the sum
earned by him, under the name of Monsieur Madeleine, at
Montreuil-sur-Mer; and that fearing that he might be recaptured,—which
eventually happened—he had buried and hidden that sum in the forest of
Montfermeil, in the locality known as the Blaru-bottom. The sum, six
hundred and thirty thousand francs, all in bank-bills, was not very
bulky, and was contained in a box; only, in order to preserve the box
from dampness, he had placed it in a coffer filled with chestnut
shavings. In the same coffer he had placed his other treasures, the
Bishop’s candlesticks. It will be remembered that he had carried off
the candlesticks when he made his escape from Montreuil-sur-Mer. The
man seen one evening for the first time by Boulatruelle, was Jean
Valjean. Later on, every time that Jean Valjean needed money, he went
to get it in the Blaru-bottom. Hence the absences which we have
mentioned. He had a pickaxe somewhere in the heather, in a hiding-place
known to himself alone. When he beheld Marius convalescent, feeling
that the hour was at hand, when that money might prove of service, he
had gone to get it; it was he again, whom Boulatruelle had seen in the
woods, but on this occasion, in the morning instead of in the evening.
Boulatreulle inherited his pickaxe.
The actual sum was five hundred and eighty-four thousand, five hundred
francs. Jean Valjean withdrew the five hundred francs for himself.—“We
shall see hereafter,” he thought.
The difference between that sum and the six hundred and thirty thousand
francs withdrawn from Laffitte represented his expenditure in ten
years, from 1823 to 1833. The five years of his stay in the convent had
cost only five thousand francs.
Jean Valjean set the two candlesticks on the chimney-piece, where they
glittered to the great admiration of Toussaint.
Moreover, Jean Valjean knew that he was delivered from Javert. The
story had been told in his presence, and he had verified the fact in
the _Moniteur_, how a police inspector named Javert had been found
drowned under a boat belonging to some laundresses, between the Pont au
Change and the Pont-Neuf, and that a writing left by this man,
otherwise irreproachable and highly esteemed by his superiors, pointed
to a fit of mental aberration and a suicide.—“In fact,” thought Jean
Valjean, “since he left me at liberty, once having got me in his power,
he must have been already mad.”