Formerly I should never have spoken as I have just done; so many misfortunes have happened to me, that I sometimes do not know what I am saying. I understand you; you fear the emotion.
I will wait as long as you like, but I swear to you that it would not have harmed me to see my daughter.
I have been seeing her; I have not taken my eyes from her since yesterday evening.
Do you know? If she were brought to me now, I should talk to her very gently. That is all.
Is it not quite natural that I should desire to see my daughter, who has been brought to me expressly from Montfermeil? I am not angry.
I know well that I am about to be happy.
All night long I have seen white things, and persons who smiled at me. When Monsieur le Docteur pleases, he shall bring me Cosette. I have no longer any fever; I am well.
I am perfectly conscious that there is nothing the matter with me any more; but I am going to behave as though I were ill, and not stir, to please these ladies here. When it is seen that I am very calm, they will say, `She must have her child.'"
M. Madeleine was sitting on a chair beside the bed.
She turned towards him; she was making a visible effort to be calm and "very good," as she expressed it in the feebleness of illness which resembles infancy, in order that, seeing her so peaceable, they might make no difficulty about bringing Cosette to her.
But while she controlled herself she could not refrain from questioning M. Madeleine.
"Did you have a pleasant trip, Monsieur le Maire?
Oh! how good you were to go and get her for me!
Only tell me how she is. Did she stand the journey well?
Alas! she will not recognize me. She must have forgotten me by this time, poor darling!
Children have no memories.
They are like birds.
A child sees one thing to-day and another thing to-morrow, and thinks of nothing any longer. And did she have white linen?
Did those Thenardiers keep her clean? How have they fed her?
Oh! if you only knew how I have suffered, putting such questions as that to myself during all the time of my wretchedness.
Now, it is all past.
I am happy.
Oh, how I should like to see her!
Do you think her pretty, Monsieur le Maire?
Is not my daughter beautiful?
You must have been very cold in that diligence! Could she not be brought for just one little instant?
She might be taken away directly afterwards.
Tell me; you are the master; it could be so if you chose!"
He took her hand.
"Cosette is beautiful," he said, "Cosette is well. You shall see her soon; but calm yourself; you are talking with too much vivacity, and you are throwing your arms out from under the clothes, and that makes you cough."
In fact, fits of coughing interrupted Fantine at nearly every word.
Fantine did not murmur; she feared that she had injured by her too passionate lamentations the confidence which she was desirous of inspiring, and she began to talk of indifferent things.
"Montfermeil is quite pretty, is it not?