Thenceforth, M. Madeleine was transfigured in Fantine’s eyes. He seemed to her to be clothed in light. He was absorbed in a sort of prayer. She gazed at him for a long time without daring to interrupt him. At last she said timidly:⁠—

“What are you doing?”

M. Madeleine had been there for an hour. He had been waiting for Fantine to awake. He took her hand, felt of her pulse, and replied:⁠—

“How do you feel?”

“Well, I have slept,” she replied; “I think that I am better. It is nothing.”

He answered, responding to the first question which she had put to him as though he had just heard it:⁠—

“I was praying to the martyr there on high.”