XXI
Victoria looked out the window---again. A week had passed since she and Javert had visited Jean Valjean's grave, and they had settled back into their familiar routine. Today, Javert would come to call on Victoria, and they would take tea in the garden. He was considerably late, and Victoria was concerned, although she needn't be. Her maid, Manon also waited anxiously. Victoria knew that the younger woman was also expecting her beau.
"Manon, you can go now. I won't be needing you this evening."
"But, your guest?" Manon replied tentatively. As much as she wanted to leave, Manon did not want to desert Victoria, considering how kind a mistress she had always been.
"We shall manage, dear---unless you do not wish to go?"
Manon smiled broadly. "Merci, Madame!" She left immediately. Victoria sighed. "Where could he be? He always sends a messenger when he's delayed!" After another quarter hour passed with no Javert nor any message, Victoria set off alone to meet him, in spite of Javert's repeated warnings against doing such a thing.
Javert was annoyed. He'd intended to stop just long enough at the jeweler's shop to buy a gift for Victoria. He wasn't accustomed to buying gifts for anybody, and hadn't anticipated the myriad selections, or the proprietor's propensity for idle chatter. He'd remained patient for as long as he could, then finally threatened to arrest the man for violations that would certainly surface were there to be a proper investigation. Fortunately, the proprietor was smart enough to complete the transaction quickly---and at a discount for good measure. Javert stuck the small parcel in his coat pocket. He observed the time, and realized he should have sent a message to Victoria, but it was too late to do so now, and he could only hope she would not be too angry with him. As he left the shop, Javert heard a commotion in the street.
Victoria had hired a fiacre that took her into the part of town not far from the police post and Javert's flat. She had intended to check both locations before quickly returning home to wait if he was not there. Two dirty, hungry looking little boys approached her, wanting money for something to eat. As she reached into her coat for a few sous, a rather unkempt young man snatched the threadbare pouch that the older boy was about to put the money in. "Stop! Thief!!" Victoria called. "Arrest that man!"
The man paused for a moment, then seeing no police or anyone who seemed to care, decided that Victoria was a much better mark than the little street urchins. "Ah, Mademoiselle, I am so sorry!" He said, sarcastically, throwing the pouch he'd stolen back at the boys. The older boy retrieved it, and grabbed his little brother's arm and they ran away. Before Victoria could run as well, the man grabbed her roughly and kissed her on the lips. She screamed. The man raised his hand to slap her, but was unable to do so, because his arm was being forcibly and painfully wrenched behind his back. He cried out in pain.
"You are under arrest. Do not make another sound," Javert hissed. "Or I shan't be responsible!"
He tightened his grip as he deftly cuffed the man, who had gone completely silent, in fear for his life.
"Javert!" Victoria cried. "I'm…I'm sorry!"
Javert looked at her scathingly, his steely eyes darkened to stormy gray. "We shall talk later. Now you must come with me and make your report."
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XXII
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