The startled bandits dashed at the weapons, which they had thrown into corners at the moment of their attempted escape; and in less than a second these seven men, formidable to look at, were grouped in a posture of defence,--one with his pole-axe, another with his key, a third with his life-preserver, the others with crowbar, shears, and hammer, and Thénardier with his knife in his fist. The woman picked up an enormous paving-stone which lay in the angle of the room and served her daughter as a footstool. Javert restored his hat to his head, and walked into the room with folded arms, his cane hanging from his wrist, and his sword in his scabbard.
"Halt!" he shouted; "you will not leave by the window but by the door, which is not so unhealthy. You are seven and we are fifteen, so do not let us quarrel like water-carriers, but behave like gentlemen."
Bigrenaille drew a pistol from under his blouse, and placed it in Thénardier's hand, as he whispered,--
"It is Javert, and I dare not fire at that man. Dare you?"
"I should think so," Thénardier answered.
Thénardier took the pistol and aimed at Javert; the Inspector, who was only three paces from him, looked at him fixedly, and contented himself with saying,--
"Don't fire, for the pistol won't go off."
Thénardier pulled the trigger; there was a flash in the pan.
"Did I not tell you so?" Javert remarked.
Bigrenaille threw his life-preserver at Javert's feet. "You are the Emperor of the devils, and I surrender."
"And you?" Javert asked the other bandits.
"That is all right; I begged you to behave like gentlemen."
"I only ask one thing," Bigrenaille remarked,--"that my tobacco may n't be stopped while I'm in solitary confinement."
Then he turned and shouted, "You can come in now!"
A squad of police, sword in hand, and agents armed with bludgeons and sticks, rushed in at Javert's summons, and bound the robbers. This crowd of men, scarce illumined by the candle, filled the den with shadows.
"Just come this way!" a voice shouted, which was not that of a man, but of which no one could have said, "It is a woman's voice." Mother Thénardier had intrenched herself in one of the angles of the window, and it was she from whom this roar had come. The police and the agents fell back; she had thrown off her shawl and kept her bonnet on: her husband, crouching behind her, almost disappeared under the fallen shawl, and she covered him with her body, while raising the paving-stone above her head with both hands, like a giantess about to heave a rock.