She followed its direction, and saw that it was fixed on a crucifix which was nailed to the wall.
Thenceforth, M. Madeleine was transfigured in Fantine's eyes.
He seemed to her to be clothed in light.
He was absorbed in a sort of prayer. She gazed at him for a long time without daring to interrupt him. At last she said timidly:--
"What are you doing?"
M. Madeleine had been there for an hour.
He had been waiting for Fantine to awake.
He took her hand, felt of her pulse, and replied:--
"How do you feel?"
"Well, I have slept," she replied; "I think that I am better, It is nothing."
He answered, responding to the first question which she had put to him as though he had just heard it:--
"I was praying to the martyr there on high."
And he added in his own mind, "For the martyr here below."
M. Madeleine had passed the night and the morning in making inquiries.
He knew all now. He knew Fantine's history in all its heart-rending details.
He went on:--
"You have suffered much, poor mother.
Oh! do not complain; you now have the dowry of the elect.
It is thus that men are transformed into angels.
It is not their fault they do not know how to go to work otherwise.