Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the sixtieth chapter of Les Miserables.

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>> Speaker A: Take a look, in the book and let's see

what we can find.

Take it chapter by chapter. One

fight at a time

so many adventures and mountains

we can climb

to give word for word, line by

line, one bite at a time.

>> Brie Carlisle: Welcome.

>> Brie Carlisle: To bite at a time books where we read you your favorite

classics, one byte at a time. my name is Bre

Carlisle and I love to read and wanted to share

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>> Brie Carlisle: Today well be continuing les miserable,

by Victor Hugo chapter

six sister simplice put to the

proof but at that moment

Fantine was joyous. She had passed a

very bad night. Her cough was

frightful. Her fever had doubled in

intensity. She had had dreams.

In the morning, when the doctor paid his visit, she was

delirious. He assumed an alarmed

look and ordered that he should be informed as soon as Monsieur

Madeleine arrived. All the morning she

was melancholy, said but little, and

laid plates in her sheets, murmuring the while in

a low voice calculations which seemed

to be calculations of distances.

Her eyes were hollow and staring.

They seemed almost extinguished at

intervals, then lighted up again and shone

like stars. It seems as though at

the approach of a certain dark hour, the light of heaven

fills those who are quitting the light of earth.

Each time that sister simplice asked her how she felt, she

replied, invariably, I, should like to see

Monsieur Madeleine some months

before this, at the moment when Fantine had just

lost her last modesty, her last

shame, and her last joy. She was the shadow

of herself now. She was the specter of

herself. Physical suffering had completed the

work of moral suffering. This creature of

five and 20 had a wrinkled brow, flabby

cheeks, pinched nostrils, teeth from which the gums

had receded, a leaden complexion, a

bony neck, prominent shoulder blades,

frail limbs, a clayey skin. And their golden

hair was growing out, sprinkled with gray. Alas.

Ah, how illness improvises old age.

At, midday, the physician returned, gave

some directions, inquired whether the mayor had made

his appearance at the infirmary, and shook his head.

Munster Madeleine usually came to see the invalid at

00 as, exactness is

kindness. He was exact about

30. Fantine began to be restless.

In the course of 20 minutes, she asked the nun more than ten

times, what time is it, sister?

00 struck at the third

stroke, Fantine sat up in bed. She, who could

in general, hardly turn over, joined her yellow, fleshless

hands in a sort of convulsive clap. And the nun

heard her utter one of those profound sighs which seemed to throw off

dejection. Then Fantine

turned and looked at the door. No

one entered. The door did not

open. She remained thus for a quarter of an

hour, her eyes riveted on the door,

motionless and apparently holding her breath.

The sister did not speak to her. The

clock struck a 03:15. Fantine

fell back on her pillow. She said nothing, but

began to plate the sheets once more. Half an

hour passed, then an hour.

No one came. Every time the clock

struck, Fantine started up and looked towards the

door, then fell back again.

Her thought was clearly perceptible, but

she uttered no name. She made no complaint.

She blamed no one. But she

coughed in a melancholy way. One,

would have said that something dark was descending upon her.

She was livid, and her lips were blue.

She smiled now and then.

00 struck. Then the sister heard her

say, very low and gently, he is wrong not to

come today. since I'm going away tomorrow.

Sister simplice herself was surprised at monster Madelines

delay. In the meantime, Fantine was

staring at the tester of her bed. She seemed

to be endeavoring to recall something.

All at once she began to sing in a voice as feeble as a

breath. The nun listened.

This is what Fantine was singing.

Lovely things we will buy as

we stroll the faubourgs through

roses are pink cornflowers are

blue I love my love

cornflowers are blue yestrin

the Virgin Mary came near my stove in a

broidered mantle clad and said to me,

here, hide neath my veil the child whom you one day

begged for me haste to the city.

by linen, by a needle, by thread.

Lovely things we will buy as we

stroll the faubourg through. Dear

holy virgin, beside my stove I have set a

cradle with ribbons decked. God may

give me his loveliest star. I prefer

the child thou hast granted me.

Madam, what shall I do with this linen?

Fine. Make of it clothes for thy newborn

babe. Roses are pink and

cornflowers are blue. I love my

love and cornflowers are blue.

Wash this linen. Wear in the

stream. Make of it soiling, not

spoiling, not a petticoat fair

with its bodice fine which I will embroider

and fill with flowers. Madam, the child is

no longer here. What is to be

done then? Make of it a winding sheet in

which to bury me. Lovely things

we will buy as we stroll the phobor

through. Roses are pink

cornflowers are blue I love my

love cornflowers are blue

this song was an old cradle romance. With

which she had in former days lulled her little Cosette to

sleep. And which had never recurred to her mind

in all the five years. During which she had been parted from her child.

She sang it in so sad a voice

into so sweet an air. That it was enough to make

anyone, even a nun, weep.

The sister, accustomed as she was to austerities, felt

a tearspring to her eyes. The

clock struck six. Fantine did

not seem to hear it. She no longer seemed to pay attention

to anything about her. Sister

Simplice sent a serving maid to inquire of the portress of the

factory. Whether the mayor had returned and if he would

not come to the infirmary soon. The

girl returned in a few minutes.

Fantine was still motionless and seemed absorbed in her

own thoughts. The servant informed Sister

simplice in a very low tone. That the mayor had set out that

morning before 06:00 in a little Tilbury,

harnessed to a white horse, cold as the weather

was. That he had gone alone without even a

driver. That no one knew what road he had

taken, that people said he had been seen to turn

into the road to Eris.

That others asserted that they had met him on the road to

Paris. That, when he went away he had been

very gentle, as usual. And that he had merely

told the portress not to expect him. That night,

while the two women were whispering together. With their backs turned

to fantines bed, the sister interrogating

the servant, conjecturing

Fantine with the feverish

vivacity of certain organic maladies. Which unite the free

movements of health with the frightful emaciation of

death, had raised herself to her knees in

bed. With her shriveled hands resting on the

bolster. And her head thrust through the opening of the curtains,

and was listening. All at once she

cried, you are speaking of Monsieur

Madeleine. Why are you talking so low?

What is he doing? Why does he not come?

Her voice was so abrupt and hoarse. That the two women thought

they heard the voice of a man. They wheeled round in a

frightening answer. Me. Cried

Fantine, the servant stammered.

The, portress told me that he could not come today.

Be calm, my child, said the

sister. Lie down again.

Fantine, without changing her attitude,

continued in a loud voice and with an accent that was both

imperious and heartrending. He cannot

come. Why not? You know the

reason. You are whispering it to each other there. I want to know

it. The servant maid hastened to say in the

nuns ear, say that hes busy with the city

council. Sister simplice blushed

faintly. for it was a lie that the maid had proposed to her.

On the other hand, it seemed to her that the mere communication

of the truth to the invalid. Would without doubt deal

her a terrible blow, and that this was a serious

matter. In Fantines present state, her

flesh did not last long. The sister

raised her calm, sad eyes to Fantine and said,

monsieur le Maire has gone away.

Fantine raised herself and crouched on her heels in the

bed. Her eyes sparkled.

Indescribable joy beamed from that melancholy

face. Gone. she cried.

He has gone to get Cosette.

Then she raised her arms to heaven, and her

white face became ineffable. Her lips

moved. She was praying in a low

voice. When her prayer was

finished, sister, she said,

I am willing to lie down again. I will do

anything you wish. I was naughty just now.

I beg your pardon for having spoken so loud. It

is very wrong to talk loudly. I know that well, my good

sister. But you see, I am very

happy. The good God is good.

Monsieur Madeleine is good. Just think, he

has gone to Montfermeil to get my little Cosette.

She lay down again with the nuns assistance,

helping the nun to arrange her pillow and kiss the little silver

cross which she wore on her neck and which sister

simplice had given her. My child,

said the sister, try to rest now and

do not talk anymore.

Fantine took the sisters hand in her moist hands, and the

latter was pained to feel that perspiration.

He set out this morning for Paris. In

fact, he need not even go through Paris. Montfermeier,

is a little to the left as you come thence. Do you

remember how he said to me yesterday when I spoke to him of

Cosette? Soon, soon.

He wants to give me a surprise, you know. He wanted

me to sign a letter. So that she could be taken from the

thenardiers. They cannot say anything, can they?

they will give back Cosette, for they have been paid. The

authorities will not allow them to keep the child. Since they received their

pay. Do not make signs to me that I must not

talk. Sister, I am extremely happy.

I am doing well. I m am not ill at all

anymore. I am going to see Cosette

again. I am even quite hungry.

It is nearly five years since I saw her last.

You cannot imagine how much attached one gets to children.

And then she will be so pretty. you will see.

If you only knew what pretty little rosy finger she

had in the first place. She will have very

beautiful hands. She had ridiculous hands when

she was only a year old. Like this. She must be

a big girl now. She is seven years

old. She is quite a young lady. I call her Cosette.

But her name is really Euphrasie.

>> Brie Carlisle: Stop.

>> Brie Carlisle: This morning I was looking at the dust on the chimney piece. And

I had a sort of idea come across me like that. That

I should see Cosette again soon. Mon dieu.

How wrong it is not to see ones children for years.

One ought to reflect that life is not eternal.

Oh, how good Monsieur le Maire is to go. It

is very cold.

It is true. He had on his cloak. At least

he will be here tomorrow, will he not? Tomorrow will be a

festival day. tomorrow morning, sister, you must

remind me to put on my little cap that has lace on it.

What a place that Montfermeil is. I

took that journey on foot once. It was very long for me.

But the diligences go very quickly. He'll be

here tomorrow with Cosette. How far is it from here

to Montfermeil? A sister who

had no idea of distances replied. oh, I think that

hell be here tomorrow. Tomorrow.

tomorrow, said Fantine, I shall see

Cosette tomorrow. You see, good sister of the good

God, that I am no longer ill.

>> Brie Carlisle: I am mad.

>> Brie Carlisle: I could dance if anyone wished it.

A person who had seen her a quarter of an hour previously. Would not

have understood the change. She was all rosy

now. She spoke in a lively and natural

voice. Her whole face was one

smile. Now and then she

talked. She laughed softly.

The joy of a mother is almost infantile.

Well, resumed the nun, now that you

are happy, mind me and do not talk

anymore. Fantine laid her head on

her pillow and said in a low voice,

yes, lie down again. Be

good, for you are going to have your child.

Sister simplice is right. Everyone here is

right. And then, without

stirring, without even moving her

head, she began to stare all about her with wide

open eyes and a joyous air, and she said nothing

more. The sister drew the curtains

together again, hoping that she would fall into a

doze. Between seven and 08:00

the doctor came, not hearing any

sound. He thought Fantine was

asleep, entered softly, and approached the bed on

tiptoe. He opened the curtains a little,

and by the light of the taper he saw fantines big eyes

gazing at him. She said to him,

shell be allowed to sleep beside me in a little bed,

will she not, sir? The doctor thought

that she was delirious. She added,

see, theres just room. The

doctor took sister simplice aside, and she explained

matters to him, that Monsieur Madeleine was

absent for a day or two, and that in their doubts they had not

thought it well to undeceive the invalid, who believed that the

mayor had gone to Montfermeil, that it was

possible after all, that her guess was correct.

The doctor approved. He returned to

fantines bed, and she went on. You

see, when she wakes up in the morning, I shall be able to

say good morning to her, poor kitten. And when

I cannot sleep at night, I can hear her asleep.

Her little gentle breathing will do me good.

Give me your hand, said the doctor.

She stretched out her arm and exclaimed with a

laugh, hold. In

truth, you did not know it. I am cured.

Cosette will arrive tomorrow. The

doctor was surprised. She was better.

The pressure on her chest had decreased, her

pulse had regained its strength. A sort of life

had suddenly supervened and reanimated this poor,

worn out creature. Doctor, she

went on, did the sister tell you that Monsieur

Lemaire has gone to get that mite of a child?

The doctor recommended silence and that all

painful emotions should be avoided. He

prescribed an infusion of pure chincona

and in case the fever should increase again during the night,

a calming potion. As he took

his departure, he said to the sister, she is

doing better. If good luck will that the mayor should

actually arrive tomorrow with the child who knows

their crises. So astounding. Great, Joy has been

known to arrest maladies I know well that this is

an organic disease and in an advanced state,

but all those things are such mysteries. We

may be able to save her.

Thank you for joining Byte at a time books today while we

read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlisle and I

hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of

le Miserable.

>> Brie Carlisle: Don't forget to sign up for our

newsletter@biteoutimebooks.com comma and check

out the shop. You can check out the show notes or

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>> Speaker A: Line by line, one bite at a time.