“Jesus!” said Marguerite, “what is the matter with you, Fantine?”

“Nothing,” replied Fantine. “Quite the contrary. My child will not die of that frightful malady, for lack of succor. I am content.”

So saying, she pointed out to the spinster two napoleons which were glittering on the table.

“Ah! Jesus God!” cried Marguerite. “Why, it is a fortune! Where did you get those louis d’or?”

“I got them,” replied Fantine.

At the same time she smiled. The candle illuminated her countenance. It was a bloody smile. A reddish saliva soiled the corners of her lips, and she had a black hole in her mouth.

The two teeth had been extracted.

She sent the forty francs to Montfermeil.