He was stiff with cold；he had eaten nothing since the night before；he vaguely recalled his other nocturnal trip in the vast plain in the neighborhood of D——，eight years previously，and it seemed but yesterday.
The hour struck from a distant tower；he asked the boy：——
'What time is it？'
'Seven o'clock，sir；we shall reach Arras at eight；we have but three leagues still to go.'
At that moment，he for the first time indulged in this reflection，thinking it odd the while that it had not occurred to him sooner：that all this trouble which he was taking was，perhaps，useless；that he did not know so much as the hour of the trial；that he should，at least，have informed himself of that；that he was foolish to go thus straight ahead without knowing whether he would be of any service or not；then he sketched out some calculations in his mind：that，ordinarily，the sittings of the Court of Assizes began at nine o'clock in the morning；that it could not be a long affair；that the theft of the apples would be very brief；that there would then remain only a question of identity，four or five depositions，and very little for the lawyers to say；that he should arrive after all was over.
The postilion whipped up the horses；they had crossed the river and left Mont-Saint-Eloy behind them.
The night grew more profound.
BOOK SEVENTH.——THE CHAMPMATHIEU AFFAIR
Ⅵ SISTER SIMPLICE PUT TO THE PROOF
But at that moment Fantine was joyous.
She had passed a very bad night；her cough was frightful；her fever had doubled in intensity；she had had dreams：
in the morning，when the doctor paid his visit，she was delirious；he assumed an alarmed look，and ordered that he should be informed as soon as M.Madeleine arrived.
All the morning she was melancholy，said but little，and laid plaits in her sheets，murmuring the while，in a low voice，calculations which seemed to be calculations of distances.Her eyes were hollow and staring.
They seemed almost extinguished at intervals，then lighted up again and shone like stars.It seems as though，at the approach of a certain dark hour，the light of heaven fills those who are quitting the light of earth.
Each time that Sister Simplice asked her how she felt，she replied invariably，'Well.
I should like to see M.Madeleine.'
Some months before this，at the moment when Fantine had just lost her last modesty，her last shame，and her last joy，she was the shadow of herself；now she was the spectre of herself.
Physical suffering had completed the work of moral suffering.
This creature of five and twenty had a wrinkled brow，flabby cheeks，pinched nostrils，teeth from which the gums had receded，a leaden complexion，a bony neck，prominent shoulder-blades，frail limbs，a clayey skin，and her golden hair was growing out sprinkled with gray.Alas！how illness improvises old-age！
At mid-day the physician returned，gave some directions，inquired whether the mayor had made his appearance at the infirmary，and shook his head.
M.Madeleine usually came to see the invalid at three o'clock.As exactness is kindness，he was exact.
About half-past two，Fantine began to be restless.
In the course of twenty minutes，she asked the nun more than ten times，'What time is it，sister？'
Three o'clock struck.
At the third stroke，Fantine sat up in bed；she who could，in general，hardly turn over，joined her yellow，fleshless hands in a sort of convulsive clasp，and the nun heard her utter one of those profound sighs which seem to throw off dejection.Then Fantine turned and looked at the door.
No one entered；the door did not open.
She remained thus for a quarter of an hour，her eyes riveted on the door，motionless and apparently holding her breath.
The sister dared not speak to her.
The clock struck a quarter past three.Fantine fell back on her pillow.
She said nothing，but began to plait the sheets once more.
Half an hour passed，then an hour，no one came；every time the clock struck，Fantine started up and looked towards the door，then fell back again.
Her thought was clearly perceptible，but she uttered no name，she made no complaint，she blamed no one.
But she coughed in a melancholy way.One would have said that something dark was descending upon her.She was livid and her lips were blue.
She smiled now and then.
Five o'clock struck.
Then the sister heard her say，very low and gently，'He is wrong not to come to-day，since I am going away to-morrow.'
Sister Simplice herself was surprised at M.Madeleine's delay.
In the meantime，Fantine was staring at the tester of her bed.She seemed to be endeavoring to recall something.
All at once she began to sing in a voice as feeble as a breath.
The nun listened.This is what Fantine was singing：——'Lovely things we will buy
As we stroll the faubourgs through.
Roses are pink，corn-flowers are blue，
I love my love，corn-flowers are blue.
'Yestere'en the Virgin Mary came near my stove，in a broidered mantle clad，and said to me，Here，hide'neath my veil the child whom you one day begged from me.
Haste to the city，buy linen，buy a needle，buy thread.'
'Lovely things we will buy
As we stroll the faubourgs through.
'Dear Holy Virgin，beside my stove I have set a cradle with ribbons decked.
God may give me his loveliest star；I prefer the child thou hast granted me.
Madame，what shall I do with this linen fine？'——Make of it clothes for thy new-born babe.'
'Roses are pink and corn-flowers are blue，
I love my love，and corn-flowers are blue.
'Wash this linen.'——Where？'——In the stream.
Make of it，soiling not，spoiling not，a petticoat fair with its bodice fine，which I will embroider and fill with flowers.'——Madame，the child is no longer here；what is to be done？'——Then make of it a winding-sheet in which to bury me.'
'Lovely things we will buy
As we stroll the faubourgs through，
Roses are pink，corn-flowers are blue，
I love my love，corn-flowers are blue.'
