When work is abundant，when the country is rich and happy，the taxes are paid easily and cost the state nothing.It may be said，that there is one infallible thermometer of the public misery and riches，——the cost of collecting the taxes.In the course of seven years the expense of collecting the taxes had diminished three-fourths in the arrondissement of M.sur M.，and this led to this arrondissement being frequently cited from all the rest by M.de Villele，then Minister of Finance.
Such was the condition of the country when Fantine returned thither.No one remembered her.
Fortunately，the door of M.Madeleine's factory was like the face of a friend.
She presented herself there，and was admitted to the women's workroom.
The trade was entirely new to Fantine；she could not be very skilful at it，and she therefore earned but little by her day's work；but it was sufficient；the problem was solved；she was earning her living.
BOOK FIFTH.——THE DESCENT
Ⅷ MADAME VICTURNIEN EXPENDS THIRTY FRANCS ON MORALITY
When Fantine saw that she was making her living，she felt joyful for a moment.
To live honestly by her own labor，what mercy from heaven！
The taste for work had really returned to her.She bought a looking-glass，took pleasure in surveying in it her youth，her beautiful hair，her fine teeth；she forgot many things；she thought only of Cosette and of the possible future，and was almost happy.She hired a little room and furnished on credit on the strength of her future work——a lingering trace of her improvident ways.As she was not able to say that she was married she took good care，as we have seen，not to mention her little girl.
At first，as the reader has seen，she paid the Thenardiers promptly.As she only knew how to sign her name，she was obliged to write through a public letter-writer.
She wrote often，and this was noticed.
It began to be said in an undertone，in the women's workroom，that Fantine'wrote letters'and that'she had ways about her.'
There is no one for spying on people's actions like those who are not concerned in them.
Why does that gentleman never come except at nightfall？
Why does Mr.So-and-So never hang his key on its nail on Tuesday？
Why does he always take the narrow streets？Why does Madame always descend from her hackney-coach before reaching her house？
Why does she send out to purchase six sheets of note paper，when she has a'whole stationer's shop full of it？'etc.
There exist beings who，for the sake of obtaining the key to these enigmas，which are，moreover，of no consequence whatever to them，spend more money，waste more time，take more trouble，than would be required for ten good actions，and that gratuitously，for their own pleasure，without receiving any other payment for their curiosity than curiosity.
They will follow up such and such a man or woman for whole days；they will do sentry duty for hours at a time on the corners of the streets，under alley-way doors at night，in cold and rain；they will bribe errand-porters，they will make the drivers of hackney-coaches and lackeys tipsy，buy a waiting-maid，suborn a porter.
Why？
For no reason.A pure passion for seeing，knowing，and penetrating into things.A pure itch for talking.
And often these secrets once known，these mysteries made public，these enigmas illuminated by the light of day，bring on catastrophies，duels，failures，the ruin of families，and broken lives，to the great joy of those who have'found out everything，'without any interest in the matter，and by pure instinct.
A sad thing.
Certain persons are malicious solely through a necessity for talking.Their conversation，the chat of the drawing-room，gossip of the anteroom，is like those chimneys which consume wood rapidly；they need a great amount of combustibles；and their combustibles are furnished by their neighbors.
So Fantine was watched.
In addition，many a one was jealous of her golden hair and of her white teeth.
It was remarked that in the workroom she often turned aside，in the midst of the rest，to wipe away a tear.
These were the moments when she was thinking of her child；perhaps，also，of the man whom she had loved.
Breaking the gloomy bonds of the past is a mournful task.
It was observed that she wrote twice a month at least，and that she paid the carriage on the letter.
They managed to obtain the address：Monsieur，Monsieur Thenardier，inn-keeper at Montfermeil.The public writer，a good old man who could not fill his stomach with red wine without emptying his pocket of secrets，was made to talk in the wine-shop.In short，it was discovered that Fantine had a child.'She must be a pretty sort of a woman.'
An old gossip was found，who made the trip to Montfermeil，talked to the Thenardiers，and said on her return：
'For my five and thirty francs I have freed my mind.I have seen the child.'
The gossip who did this thing was a gorgon named Madame Victurnien，the guardian and door-keeper of every one's virtue.Madame Victurnien was fifty-six，and re-enforced the mask of ugliness with the mask of age.
A quavering voice，a whimsical mind.This old dame had once been young——astonishing fact！
In her youth，in'93，she had married a monk who had fled from his cloister in a red cap，and passed from the Bernardines to the Jacobins.She was dry，rough，peevish，sharp，captious，almost venomous；all this in memory of her monk，whose widow she was，and who had ruled over her masterfully and bent her to his will.She was a nettle in which the rustle of the cassock was visible.At the Restoration she had turned bigot，and that with so much energy that the priests had forgiven her her monk.
She had a small property，which she bequeathed with much ostentation to a religious community.She was in high favor at the episcopal palace of Arras.
So this Madame Victurnien went to Montfermeil，and returned with the remark，'I have seen the child.'
All this took time.
