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Les Miserables - Volume 1 - Book 5 - Chapter 5
Episode 4428th May 2024 • Bite at a Time Books • Bree Carlile
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Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the forty-fourth chapter of Les Miserables.

Come with us as we release one bite a day of one of your favorite classic novels, plays & short stories. Bree reads these classics like she reads to her daughter, one chapter a day. If you love books or audiobooks and want something to listen to as you're getting ready, driving to work, or as you're getting ready for bed, check out Bite at a Time Books!

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

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what we can find.

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Take it chapter by chapter. One

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fight M at a time.

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>> Brie Carlisle: So.

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>> Speaker A: Many adventures and mountains

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we can climb

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to give word for word, line by

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line, one bite at a time.

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>> Brie Carlisle: Welcome to bite at a time books where we read you your

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

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Bre Carlisle and I love to read and wanted to

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share my passion with listeners like you. If you

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show notes, but also our website,

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our show, including to our Patreon to

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support the show, and YouTube, where we have special

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behind the narration of the episodes were part

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of the byte at a Time Books productions network. If

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youd also like to hear what inspired your favorite classic

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authors to write their novels and what was going

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on in the world at the time, check out the bite at a time

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books behind the story podcast. Wherever you

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listen to podcasts, please note,

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while we try to keep the text as close to the original as

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possible, some words have been changed

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to honor the marginalized communities whove identified the

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words as harmful and to stay in alignment

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with byte at a time books brand.

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>> Brie Carlisle: Values today well be

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continuing.

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Les Miserable, by Victor Hugo

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chapter five Vague flashes on the

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horizon little by

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little, and in the course of time

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all this opposition subsided. There

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had at first been exercised against Monsieur Madeleine

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in virtue of a sort of law which all those who

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rise must submit to blackening

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in calumnies. Then they grew to be

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nothing more than ill nature, then

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merely malicious remarks. Then even this

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entirely disappeared. Respect became

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complete, unanimous,

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cordial. And towards

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1821, the moment arrived when the word

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Monseigne le Mer was pronounced at m sur

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m with almost the same accent as Monsignor the bishop had been

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pronounced in d in 1815.

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People came from a distance of ten leagues around to consult

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Monsieur Madeleine. He put an end

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to differences. He prevented lawsuits,

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he reconciled enemies. Everyone took

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him for the judge, and with good reason. It

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seemed as though he had for his soul the book of the natural

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law. It was like an epidemic of

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veneration, which in the course of six or

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seven years, gradually took possession of the whole district.

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One single man in the town, in the

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arrondissement, absolutely escaped this

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contagion. And whatever Father Madeleine

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did remained his opponent, as though a sort of

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incorruptible and imperturbable instinct kept him on

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the alert and uneasy. it seems, in fact, as though there

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existed in certain men a veritable bestial

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instinct, though pure and upright,

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like all instincts, which creates antipathies and

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sympathies, which fatally separates one

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nature from another nature, which does not

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hesitate, which feels no disquiet,

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which does not hold its peace. And which never belies

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itself clear in its obscurity.

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infallible, imperious, intractable,

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stubborn to all counsels of the intelligence and to

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all the dissolvents of reason. And which, in whatever

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manner destinies are arranged, secretly

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warns the man dog of the presence of the man cat

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and the man fox of the presence of the man lion.

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It frequently happened that when Monsieur Madeleine was

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passing along a street, calm,

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affectionate, surrounded by the blessings of all,

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a man of lofty stature, clad in an iron

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grey frock coat, armed with a heavy cane and

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wearing a battered hat, turned round abruptly

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behind him and followed him with his eyes until he

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disappeared with folded arms and a slow

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shake of the head and his upper lip raised

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in company with his lower to his nose, a

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sort of significant grimace which might be

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translated by, what is that man after all?

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I certainly have seen him somewhere. In any case, I am

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not his dupe. This person,

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grave with a gravity which was almost menacing,

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was one of those men who, even when only seen by a

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rapid glimpse, arrest the spectators

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attention. His name was

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Javert, and he belonged to the police.

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At M. Sur m he exercised the unpleasant but

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useful functions of an inspector. He

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had not seen Madeleines beginnings. Javert

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owed the post which he occupied to the protection of Monsieur

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Chaboulier, the secretary of the minister of

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state, Count Inglis, then

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prefect of police at Paris. When Javert

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arrived at M. Sur M, the fortune of the great manufacturer was

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already made, and Father Madeleine had become

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Monsieur Madeleine. Certain police

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officers have a peculiar physiognomy

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which is complicated with an air of baseness mingled

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with an air of authority. Javert possessed

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this physiognomy minus the baseness.

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It is our conviction that if souls are visible to the

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eyes, we should be able to see distinctly that

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strange thing, that each one individual of the human race

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corresponds to someone of the species of the animal

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creation. And we could easily recognize

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this truth, hardly perceived by the thinker,

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that from the oyster to the eagle, from the pig to

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the tiger. All animals exist in

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man. And that each one of them is in a man.

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Sometimes even several of them at a time.

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Animals are nothing else than the figures of our virtues. And

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our vices. Straying before our eyes the

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visible phantoms of our souls. God shows

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them to us in order to induce us to reflect.

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Only since animals are mere shadows. God

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has not made them capable of education in the full sense of the

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word. What is the use? On

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the contrary, are souls being realities. And having a

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goal which is appropriate to them? God has bestowed on

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them intelligence. That is to say, the

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possibility of education. Social

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education, when well done. Can always draw from

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a soul. Or whatever sort it may be the utility which

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it contains. This, be, it

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said, is, of course, from the restricted point of view of the terrestrial life.

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Which is apparent. And without prejudging the profound

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question. Of the anterior or ulterior personality of

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the beings which are not man. The visible

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eye in no wise authorizes the thinker to deny the

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latent eye.

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having made this reservation, let us pass on

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now. If the reader will admit for a moment with us.

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That in every man there is one of the animal species of

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creation. It will be easy for us to say what there

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was in police officer Javert. The

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peasants of Asturias are convinced that in

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every litter of wolves. There is one dog which

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is killed by the mother. Because otherwise, as he grew up, he

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would devour the other little ones.

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Give to this dog, son of a wolf, a human

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face, and the result will be Javert.

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Javert had been born in prison of a fortune

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teller. Whose husband was in the galleys.

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As he grew up, he thought that he was outside the pale

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of society, and he despaired of ever re entering

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it. He observed that society

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unpardoningly excludes two classes of

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men. Those who attack it and those who

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guard it. He had no choice except between these

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two classes. At the same time, he

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was conscious of an indescribable foundation of rigidity,

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regularity and probity. Complicated, with

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an inexpressible hatred for the race of bohemians. Whence he

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was sprung, he entered the pleas.

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He succeeded. There. At 40 years of

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age, he was an inspector. During his

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youth, he had been employed in the convict establishments of the

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south. Before proceeding further, let

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us come to an understanding. As to the words

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human face. Which we have just applied to

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Javert. The human face of Javert.

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Consisted of a flat nose with two deep

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nostrils. Towards which enormous whiskers ascended on

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his cheeks. One felt ill at

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ease when he saw these two forests in these two caverns for

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the first time. When Javert

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laughed and his laugh was rare and

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terrible. His thin lips parted and

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revealed to view not only his teeth but his

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gums. And around his nose there formed a flattened

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and savage fold as on the muzzle of a wild

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beast. Javert,

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Sirius was a watchdog when he left. He

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was a tiger as, for.

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>> Brie Carlisle: The rest he had very little skull.

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>> Brie Carlisle: And a great deal of jaw. His hair concealed his

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forehead and fell over his eyebrows. Between

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his eyes there was a permanent central frown, like an

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imprint of wrath. His gaze was

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obscure, his mouth pursed up and

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terrible his air that of ferocious

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command. this man was composed of two very

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simple and two very good sentiments

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comparatively. But he rendered them almost bad

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by dint of exaggerating them. Respect for

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authority, hatred of rebellion. And in

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his eyes, murder, robbery, all

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crimes are only forms of rebellion.

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He, enveloped in a blind and profound faith. Everyone

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who had a function in the state from the prime minister

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to the rural policeman. He covered with

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scorn, aversion and disgust everyone who had

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once crossed the legal threshold of evil. He was

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absolute and admitted no exceptions.

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On the one hand, he said, the functionary can make no

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mistake. The magistrate is never the wrong.

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On the other hand, he said, these men

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are irremediably lost. Nothing good can come from

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them. He fully shared the opinion of those

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extreme minds which attribute to human law, I know not

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what power of making or if the reader will have

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it so, of authenticating demons and

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who plays the sticks at the base of society.

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He was stoical, serious,

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austere, a melancholy

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dreamer, humble and haughty like

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fanatics. His glance was like a

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gimlet, cold and piercing.

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His whole life hung on these two words,

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watchfulness and supervision. He had

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introduced a straight line into what is the most crooked thing in the

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world. He possessed the conscience of his

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usefulness, the religion of his functions.

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And he was a spy, as other men are priests.

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Oh, to the man who fell into his hands. He would have

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arrested his own father if the latter had escaped from the

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galleys and would have denounced his mother if she had broken her

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ban. And they would have done it with that sort of

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inward satisfaction which is conferred by virtue

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and withal. A life of privation,

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isolation, abnegation, chastity. With

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never a diversion. It was implacable

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duty. The police understood

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as the Spartans understood Sparta. A pitiless

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lying in wait, a ferocious honesty.

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A marble informer. Brutus and

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Vidocq. Javerts whole person

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was expressive of the man who spies and who withdraws himself

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from observation. The mystical school of

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Joseph de Maistre, which at that epoch

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seasoned with lofty cosmigny. Those things which

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were called the ultra newspapers would not have failed to

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declare that Javert was a symbol. His brow

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was not visible, it disappeared beneath his

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hat. His eyes were not visible, since they were lost

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under his eyebrows. His chin was not visible, for

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it was plunged in his cravat. His hands were not

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visible, they were drawn up in his sleeves. And his

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cane was not visible. He carried it under his

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coat. But when the occasion presented itself,

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there was suddenly seen to emerge from all this shadow

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as from an ambuscade. A narrow and angular

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forehead, a baleful glance, a

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threatening chin, enormous hands and a monstrous

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cudgel. In his leisure months, which were

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far from frequent, he read. Although he

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hated books, this caused him to be not

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wholly illiterate. This could be recognized by

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some emphasis in his speech. As we have said,

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he had no vices. When he was pleased with

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himself, he permitted himself a pinch of snuff.

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Therein lay his connection with humanity.

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The reader will have no difficulty in understanding that

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Javert was the terror of that whole class which the

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annual statistics of the ministry of justice

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designates under the rubric. Vagrants.

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The name of Javert routed them by its mere

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utterance. The face of Javert petrified them at

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sight. Such was this formidable

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man. Javert was like an eye

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constantly fixed on Monsieur Madeleine. An

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eye full of suspicion and conjecture.

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Monsieur Madeleine had finally perceived the fact,

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but it seemed to be of no importance to him.

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He did not even put a question to Javert. He

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neither sought nor avoided him. He bore

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that embarrassing and almost oppressive gaze without appearing to

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notice it. He treated Javert with ease

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and courtesy, as he did all the rest of the world.

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It was divined from some words which escaped Javert that

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he had secretly investigated with that curiosity,

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which belongs to the race and into which there enters

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as much instinct as will all the anterior

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traces which Father Madeleine might have left elsewhere.

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He seemed to know, and he sometimes

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said in covert words that, someone had

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gleamed certain information in a certain district about

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a family which had disappeared once he chanced

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to say, as he was talking to himself, I think I have him.

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Then he remained pensive for three days and

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uttered not a word. It seemed that the

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thread which he thought he held had broken,

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moreover. And this furnishes the necessary

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corrective for the too absolute sense which certain words

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might present. There can be nothing really infallible

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in a human creature, and the peculiarity of

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instinct is that it can become confused,

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thrown off the track and defeated. Otherwise,

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it would be superior to intelligence, and the beast

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would be found to be provided with better light than man.

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Javert was evidently somewhat

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disconcerted by the perfect naturalness and tranquility of

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Monsieur Madeleine one day.

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Nevertheless, his strange manner appeared to produce an

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impression on Monsieur Madeleine. It was on the

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following occasion.

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Thank you for joining bite at a time books today while

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we wrote a.

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>> Brie Carlisle: Bite of one of your favorite classics.

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>> Brie Carlisle: Again, my name is Bree Carlisle, and I

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hope you come back tomorrow, for the next bite of

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le Miserable.

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>> Brie Carlisle: dont forget to sign up for our

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newsletter@byteoutatimebooks.com, comma, and

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

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or our website, byteadittimebooks.com,

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for the rest of the links for our show. Wed love

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to hear from you on social media as well.

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>> Speaker A: Take it chapter by chapter, one

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at a time

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so many adventures and

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mountains we can climb

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take your word for word line by

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line m one bite at a time.

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