The Count and the Convict

Life For Life

Edmond seethed with anger at the thought of the guilty spared with the innocent. He tried with great effort to compose himself and took his last sip of wine, dregs and all. The cup was not empty long before Madame Canard was sure to fill it, and Edmond thanked her with a forced blessing. When she had left he returned to Valjean's comment.

"Save the innocent . . ." Edmond said slowly. "Says the man that runs from justice, himself."

Valjean nodded mournfully. The accusation did not anger him, but he accepted it with quiet acquiescence to the charge.

"You counsel me to lay aside my justice," Edmond continued, his voice now more controlled. "But how can I, without harming the innocent as well. It is for the vindication of the innocent that I pursue them." Edmond moved his head to direct attention to Madame Canard. "Would you restrain justice and condemn the widow? I have been abused by these men that I follow, but they continue to abuse. No, Monsieur, justice cannot relent. There is no appeasing it without exacting someone's life."

Valjean nodded again, and again it was mournful. "Justice must be appeased. Life for life. Is there no hope for mercy?"  he said to himself in rhetorical fashion as if continuing the ongoing argument of his soul.   

Valjean continued.  "I run from a man like you, and only my life will he accept as payment for my sin. What can I give as a ransom for my life? What can I give as a ransom for my angel? All the money in France will not be enough." The questions were not meant to have an answer, for there was no solution to them in the mind of Valjean. "What would make you relent, Abbe Busoni?"

"Only the life of my enemy or my own life," Edmond flatly stated.

Valjean pushed back his white hair and thought of his pursuer, Inspector Javert. "These hands are strong. But not strong enough."  He raised them up, calloused, cracked and worn.  They were not the hands of a rich bourgeoisie.   

"With them, I have saved a life. With them, I could take one. Yet I will not.  Already I lay under the burden of guilt and the law. Would I take another burden onto my back?  The weight of it, these hands could not lift.  Like a cart loaded with sod, I may lift it to save another, but I could not lift it to save myself.  The weight of it would crush me."

Edmond found it difficult to dislike this man after seeing his sorrow. He saw the burden Valjean carried as if it were the cart he had spoken of pressing down on him. "Maybe there is such a thing as a changed nature. But there is no changing justice."  Edmond took a deep breath as if taking in a new thought.   "I am sorry for you, Monsieur Leblanc. Perhaps you could run to Italy, somewhere far from justice."

Valjean shook his head. "Is there anywhere you would not go to pursue the wicked? Is there anywhere in the world they could run from you?"

Edmond did not answer.

Valjean understood his silence. "I carry my guilt with me. I cannot leave it here."

"Then you must find someone to take the young girl from you before you are overtaken," Edmond advised.

"And how can I do that? She is the only thing that keeps me from becoming what I was. To give her up is to return to the darkness. To sacrifice myself to hell."

Edmond saw in Valjean an omen and a warning for his own future. The seed of a thought grew in his mind but he did not form it into words before Valjean did it for him.

"Abbe Busoni, I warn you. Do not go so far in your vengeance, that you become like me. Flee from becoming wicked yourself, or this burden will rest on you. And how can that justice be appeased?"

Edmond felt the sudden and commanding urge to escape the miserable inn.