He covered with scorn，aversion，and disgust every one who had once crossed the legal threshold of evil.He was absolute，and admitted no exceptions.
On the one hand，he said，'The functionary can make no mistake；the magistrate is never the wrong.'
On the other hand，he said，'These men are irremediably lost.
Nothing good can come from them.'
He fully shared the opinion of those extreme minds which attribute to human law I know not what power of making，or，if the reader will have it so，of authenticating，demons，and who place a Styx at the base of society.
He was stoical，serious，austere；a melancholy dreamer，humble and haughty，like fanatics.
His glance was like a gimlet，cold and piercing.
His whole life hung on these two words：watchfulness and supervision.
He had introduced a straight line into what is the most crooked thing in the world；he possessed the conscience of his usefulness，the religion of his functions，and he was a spy as other men are priests.
Woe to the man who fell into his hands！
He would have arrested his own father，if the latter had escaped from the galleys，and would have denounced his mother，if she had broken her ban.
And he would have done it with that sort of inward satisfaction which is conferred by virtue.
And，withal，a life of privation，isolation，abnegation，chastity，with never a diversion.
It was implacable duty；the police understood，as the Spartans understood Sparta，a pitiless lying in wait，a ferocious honesty，a marble informer，Brutus in Vidocq.
Javert's whole person was expressive of the man who spies and who withdraws himself from observation.
The mystical school of Joseph de Maistre，which at that epoch seasoned with lofty cosmogony those things which were called the ultra newspapers，would not have failed to declare that Javert was a symbol.His brow was not visible；it disappeared beneath his hat：his eyes were not visible，since they were lost under his eyebrows：his chin was not visible，for it was plunged in his cravat：his hands were not visible；they were drawn up in his sleeves：and his cane was not visible；he carried it under his coat.But when the occasion presented itself，there was suddenly seen to emerge from all this shadow，as from an ambuscade，a narrow and angular forehead，a baleful glance，a threatening chin，enormous hands，and a monstrous cudgel.
In his leisure moments，which were far from frequent，he read，although he hated books；this caused him to be not wholly illiterate.This could be recognized by some emphasis in his speech.
As we have said，he had no vices.
When he was pleased with himself，he permitted himself a pinch of snuff.
Therein lay his connection with humanity.
The reader will have no difficulty in understanding that Javert was the terror of that whole class which the annual statistics of the Ministry of Justice designates under the rubric，Vagrants.The name of Javert routed them by its mere utterance；the face of Javert petrified them at sight.
Such was this formidable man.
Javert was like an eye constantly fixed on M.Madeleine.
An eye full of suspicion and conjecture.
M.Madeleine had finally perceived the fact；but it seemed to be of no importance to him.
He did not even put a question to Javert；he neither sought nor avoided him；he bore that embarrassing and almost oppressive gaze without appearing to notice it.
He treated Javert with ease and courtesy，as he did all the rest of the world.
It was divined，from some words which escaped Javert，that he had secretly investigated，with that curiosity which belongs to the race，and into which there enters as much instinct as will，all the anterior traces which Father Madeleine might have left elsewhere.He seemed to know，and he sometimes said in covert words，that some one had gleaned certain information in a certain district about a family which had disappeared.
Once he chanced to say，as he was talking to himself，'I think I have him！'Then he remained pensive for three days，and uttered not a word.It seemed that the thread which he thought he held had broken.
Moreover，and this furnishes the necessary corrective for the too absolute sense which certain words might present，there can be nothing really infallible in a human creature，and the peculiarity of instinct is that it can become confused，thrown off the track，and defeated.
Otherwise，it would be superior to intelligence，and the beast would be found to be provided with a better light than man.
Javert was evidently somewhat disconcerted by the perfect naturalness and tranquillity of M.Madeleine.
One day，nevertheless，his strange manner appeared to produce an impression on M.Madeleine.
It was on the following occasion.
BOOK FIFTH.——THE DESCENT
Ⅵ FATHER FAUCHELEVENT
One morning M.Madeleine was passing through an unpaved alley of M.sur M.；he heard a noise，and saw a group some distance away.He approached.
An old man named Father Fauchelevent had just fallen beneath his cart，his horse having tumbled down.
This Fauchelevent was one of the few enemies whom M.Madeleine had at that time.
When Madeleine arrived in the neighborhood，Fauchelevent，an ex-notary and a peasant who was almost educated，had a business which was beginning to be in a bad way.
Fauchelevent had seen this simple workman grow rich，while he，a lawyer，was being ruined.This had filled him with jealousy，and he had done all he could，on every occasion，to injure Madeleine.
Then bankruptcy had come；and as the old man had nothing left but a cart and a horse，and neither family nor children，he had turned carter.
The horse had two broken legs and could not rise.
The old man was caught in the wheels.
The fall had been so unlucky that the whole weight of the vehicle rested on his breast.
The cart was quite heavily laden.
Father Fauchelevent was rattling in the throat in the most lamentable manner.
They had tried，but in vain，to drag him out.
An unmethodical effort，aid awkwardly given，a wrong shake，might kill him.
