If he is not drunk, I shall say to him:
`Come and drink a bout while the Bon Coing [the Good Quince] is open.'
I carry him off, I get him drunk,-- it does not take long to make Father Mestienne drunk, he always has the beginning of it about him,--I lay him under the table, I take his card, so that I can get into the cemetery again, and I return without him.
Then you have no longer any one but me to deal with.
If he is drunk, I shall say to him:
`Be off; I will do your work for you.'
Off he goes, and I drag you out of the hole."
Jean Valjean held out his hand, and Fauchelevent precipitated himself upon it with the touching effusion of a peasant.
"That is settled, Father Fauchelevent.
All will go well."
"Provided nothing goes wrong," thought Fauchelevent.
"In that case, it would be terrible."
BOOK EIGHTH.--CEMETERIES TAKE THAT WHICH IS COMMITTED THEM
CHAPTER V
IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO BE DRUNK IN ORDER TO BE IMMORTAL
On the following day, as the sun was declining, the very rare passers-by on the Boulevard du Maine pulled off their hats to an old-fashioned hearse, ornamented with skulls, cross-bones, and tears. This hearse contained a coffin covered with a white cloth over which spread a large black cross, like a huge corpse with drooping arms. A mourning-coach, in which could be seen a priest in his surplice, and a choir boy in his red cap, followed.
Two undertaker's men in gray uniforms trimmed with black walked on the right and the left of the hearse.