Mutual Presents: Monday Matinee's Les Miserables- Part 4 #7.13

Sunday Showcase, highlighting some of the best audio storytelling found anywhere. All right here on the Mutual Audio Network. The following audiodrama is rated PG for parental guidance. Welcome back to Mutual Presents, I'm Jack Ward and this lucky thirteenth episode of season seven in the year of our lord 2026 brings back our Monday matinee feature from the Mutual Broadcasting System.

Wells in his extended and exclusive series for Mutual Or Le Miserables. This week we're locking the auditorium onto episode four and Cosette. Penny and I As always, your faithful servant, So long as these problems are not solved, so long as ignorance and poverty remain on earth. These words cannot be useless. These are the words which preface the fourth of seven broadcasts based on Victor Hugo's great novel, Le Miserab.

WOR and the Mutual Network present Orson Wells, distinguished young author, actor, and director, in an adaptation of the book which he has created, especially for radio. Each episode portrays some development in the progress of Jean Valjean. A role played by Orson Wells, who is also heard reading the narrative. Lame is at Abre, Part 4. The episode which is called Cosette.

Sean Valjan, you are a hardened criminal and a second offender. You are charged with concealing your identity and changing your name. How do you plead? Guilty. You are so found by this court. John Valjean, you are sentenced to hard labour in the galleys under the double chain for the rest of your life. The notebook of Inspector Javert, July 1823. I have caught Jean Valjean.

In a whole lifetime of service with the police, there is no entry in this book which has occasioned me so much satisfaction. I have caught Jean Valjean. I am affixing to this page an excerpt from a recent newspaper in Paris. Here it is, the Paris Journal, July 25th, 1823.

An old convict has been brought to trial called Jean Valjean. The circumstances are extraordinary. In the district of Montreux, a gentleman called Monsieur Madeleine had, in acknowledgement of his services, been appointed mayor, and as such, he was. was famed for his wisdom and his good works. But this man has been unmasked. The police authorities, thanks chiefly to the zeal of Inspector Chavert, have disclosed the true identity of Monsieur Madeleine. He is none other than the convict.

Jean Valjean. It appears that previous to his arrest this man had succeeded in withdrawing from his bank a sum amounting to more than 500,000 francs, which he had deposited there, and which it is said he had realized in his business. Since his return to the galleys, it has been impossible to discover where this money has been concealed. This is the end of the newspaper article. I think I can guess the motive of Jean Valjean concealing this money.

His hope of escape. And there's another matter. A child. Cosette. The child of the woman fourteen. It was this Fantine whom I apprehended on the street, and who Valjean, in the character of the mayor, protected from justice And in the compassion of one. criminal for another nursed through the illness from which she died. This child was abandoned at an early age to the care of some innkeeper. If I know Jean Valjean, the purpose of this money is the care of this child. I must find this corset.

November seventeenth, eighteen twenty three. Here is an excerpt from the Toulon Journal yesterday. A convict at work on board the galley ship Orion, on his return from rescuing a sailor, fell overboard and was drowned. His body has not been recovered. This man was registered under the number 9430, and his name is Jean Valjean. This finishes it. The case is closed. Jean Valjean est dead.

Tonight we are to consider the story of Corsett. Corsette. Fontine had left her at Montfermier with some innkeepers called the Tenadiers. The little Cosette, the child of Fontine. Jean Valjean had promised to care for Cosette. Javert never found her. Now who were these innkeepers? These Ternadiers? This man and this woman were cunning and rage married. A hideous and terrible pair.

Corsett was between them, undergoing their double pressure. Like a creature who was at the same time bruised by a millstone and lacerated with pincers. The man and woman had each a different way. Cossette was beaten unmercifully. That came from the woman. She went barefoot in winter. That came from the man. A ferocious mistress, a malignant master, a rascal of the subdued order.

Tanajay's code as an innkeeper is interesting. The duty of the innkeeper is to sell to the first comer. Food, rest, light fire, dirty linens, servants, fleas, and smiles, to charge for the open window, the closed window, the chimney corner, the sofa, the chair, the stool, the bench, the feather bed, the mattress, the straw bed.

To know how much the mirror is worn and to tax that, to make the traveller pay for everything, even to the flies that his dog eats. Corsett was their only servant. And this child of eight did the work of a full staff. She brushed, scrubbed, swept, ran errands, lifted heavy things, puny as she was. The moment the poor girl wearied in her back-breaking tasks, the huge figure of Madame Tanadier loomed above her, shrilling commands through the inn. What's that?

Conset Oh, there you are. Well, what have you been doing? Nothing as usual. You know we need more wood for the kitchen. Get it! There, that'll teach you to waste time. Christmas Eve. 1823. Pretty windows, candy booths, toy stores, parties and good things to eat. Little shoes at the fireplace for Father Christmas to fill. Christmas Eve. Festivity in the little town of Montfermiel. Extra work at the inn. Extra work for cossette. Yo! You watered my horse. Oh, yes.

He drank the whole bucket full of. Ah, that's a lie. He has a way of blowing off when he's not had water that I know well enough. Get some more water, Corsette. Excuse me. There is no water. Well then go get some. Where must she go for it? To the spring. But it's night. It's as black as an oven. Yes, it would take a cat to go along this path. Without a lantern tonight? She'll go.

Here, ma'amselle, I'll get a big blow for the bakers as you come back. Here's 15 sous. Yes, madame. Now get along with you. The child fled with her bucket, running as fast as she could. The night was cold and the spring was far away. Soon the gleam from the town disappeared and the darkness became thicker. It was no longer Maufermiel. It was open country.

Dark, terrifying country. The child's heart pounded at her ribs, with their ghosts moving in the trees. Time after time she faltered and started back towards the inn. But always there appeared to her the more dreadful spectre of Madame Thernadier. And she went on. At length she arrived at the spring. Cosette did not take time to breathe.

She felt in the darkness for a young oak which bent over the spring, found a branch, swung herself from it, bent down, and plunged the bucket in the water. In that movement, She did not notice that her apron pocket emptied itself into the spring. The fifteen soupies fell from her dress and dropped into the water. Cossette neither saw nor heard the coin fall. She was anxious to start back at once.

But the effort of filling the bucket had been so great that it was impossible for her to take a step. For on this night, this starless, terrifying Christmas night, that bucket was heavier than ever before. The woods were blacker. The wind was colder. The child tugged at the stooping weight and managed a few steps. Terror gripped her. Terror. Terror of something she couldn't see. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, one, two, three.

She had to go on. If only for a few steps at a time. She walked on, bending down like an old woman. The iron handle of the bucket was numbing and freezing her little wet hands. Madame would beat her. Madame would scream at her. Madame would whip her.

All at once, the weight of the bucket was gone. A hand had caught the handle and was carrying it easily. Corsette raised her head and saw a large, dark form beside her in the gloom. And she was not afraid. Oh, thank you, monsieur. My child, that's that's a heavy bucket you're carrying there. Yes, monsieur. Give it to me. I'll carry it for you. Here we are. It's very heavy indeed.

You're a little girl for such a big bucket. How old are you? Eight years. Have you come far this way? From the spring in the woods. Are you going for her? Oh, yes, monsieur. A good quarter of an hour from here. Little girl. Yes, monsieur. Have you no mother? I don't know, monsieur. I don't think I have. All the rest have one. For my part I have none. I don't believe I ever had any. What's your name? Cosette

Where do you live? At Montfermay. Is that where we're going? Yes, monsieur. Who is it that sent you out to the woods after water at this time of night? Madame Tenardier. Oh What does she do, Madame Tanadier? She is my mistress. She keeps the tavern. The tavern? Well. Well, I'm going there to lodge tonight. Show me the way. Monsieur, we are going there.

How far is the inn? We are close by it. Monsieur, may I take the bucket now? What for? Because if Madame Tenardier sees that if anybody else brought it for me, she will be. Christmas, my child. Amen. Oh, it's you, is it? Well, you've taken your time. Madame, here's the gentleman who's coming to lodge. What? Oh, Monsieur, come in. Have you a room? My brave man, I'm sorry, but I have nothing. Put me anywhere. In the garret or in the stable.

I would pay as if I had a room. Forty sous? Very well. Forty sous. In advance, I don't lodge poor people for less. I shall want some supper. If you're prepared to pay, monsieur, very well. Oh, I forgot the bread. Cosette! Cossette! Oh, madame, the baker was closed. You ought to have knocked. I did knock, madame, but he didn't open it. I'll find out tomorrow if that's true and if you're lying.

Well, give me back the fifteen sous. Come, don't you hear me? Have you lost it or did you steal it from me? Well I'm It's gone, madame. Forgive me, please, madame. Oh, so you lost it. It must have slipped from my pocket at the spring. Oh, madame, it won't ever happen again. I should say not. I'll teach you to lose my money. Where'd that win? No, no, madame, don't with me, please. Madame with me, madame. Madame.

I beg your pardon. But I just saw something fall out of the little girl's pocket and roll away. This may be it. Here it is. A twenty soup piece? Yes. Isn't that what you gave her? Why, yes. Yes, that's it. Corsette, don't ever let that happen again. Get to work. Now, monsieur, let me show you to your room.

Late that night, the stranger went to bed. Not in the stable as he had expected. This courtesy on the part of the tenant. A purpose behind it. purpose which the irritable Madame Tanadier could hardly understand. Fool What was in his head to protect that? To pretend she lost at 20 soupies. That slot I wouldn't give tensou for. It's very simple. It amused him. He has the right to do it if he can.

Why interfere as long as he has money? No matter what you say, I'm gonna kick Cosette out of doors tomorrow. You Up so soon, monsieur? Are you leaving us already? Yes, madame. I'm going away. Monsieur then has no business in Montfermier. No, no, I have not. Uh, do you do good business here, madame? So, so, monsieur. It is a very little place, as you see, and we have so many expenses. That little girl eats us out of house and home.

What little girl? Why, the little girl, you know, Corsettes. Well, madame. Suppose you were relieved of her. Corsettes? Oh, monsieur, take her, keep her, carry her, stuff, a drinker, eat her, and be blessed by all the saints. Agreed. Really? You will take her away? I will, immediately. Call the child. Could that?

Where is my bill? How much is it? Uh, here it is, monsieur. You owe us twenty-three francs. Ah, Tanaj, what news? He's going to take that bigger cossette off my hands. I shall go fetch her at once. Cosette! Uh, twenty-three francs. Powder, monsieur. There is an extra charge for your candle. That'll be two francs more. Oh, thank you, monsieur. As to the little girl, I must have some talk with you about that.

Your wife seems anxious enough to get rid of her? Uh that may be, monsieur. But I must say that I adore the girl. You wish to take our little uh cosette from us. I am afraid, monsieur, I cannot consent to that. It is true the child costs us money, it is true the child has faults, but we love her. We must all do something for God. After all, one does not give his child to the first traveller, you understand? I do not even know your name.

Now, if I were to see perhaps some paper you have, a passport, perhaps? Uh, Monsieur Tenadier, people do not take a passport to come five leagues from Paris. If I take Cosette, I take her. That is all. You will not know my name or my abode. You will not know where she goes. And my intention is that she shall never see you again in all her life. Do you agree? Yes or no? In that case, monsieur, I must have 1,500 francs. I was prepared for this. 1,500 francs.

There it is. Come along, dear. You're not frightened of me, are you? Here she is, monsieur. Wrap yourself up, child. It's cold. And we're going away. Wait, monsieur. My money. I've given you 1,500 francs, Monsieur Tener. You have your money. Come, cassette. What luck, husband? He has taken the little wretch, and we have fifteen hundred. Ah, don't be a fool. We might have had thousands. Why did he come here for the ugly brat? Who is he? In heaven's name, who is that man?

Who was that man? He was Jean Valjean. In his fall overboard from the Orion, the sea had been kind to him. The sea had hid him from the Galligards. The C which was supposed to have closed the case in Inspector's notebook. Number 9430 was very much alive. So Jean Valjean took Cossette away with him to Paris. Jean Valjean had never loved anyone.

He had never been father, lover, husband, or friend. To teach Cosette and to watch her playing was nearly all his life. And then he would talk to her about her mother and teach her to pray. It is very sweet, this grand and strange emotion of the heart in its first love. Poor old heart. So young. And for cassette? From the first day, everything that she felt in her being loved this kind old friend. She called him father and knew him by no other name.

Valjean Valjean was cautious. He never left the house in Paris by day. Keeping prudently to the infrequented side alleys of the neighborhood, he would walk sometimes an hour or two at nightfall. Now there was in that district an old beggar who sat crouched on the edge of a condemned well.

Those who were envious of this poor creature said he was in the pay of the police. He was an old church beetle of 75, who was always mumbling prayers. Jean Valjean never passed him without giving him a few pennies. One evening, toward the close of winter As he was passing that way, he noticed this beggar crouched in his usual place under the street lamp. The man, according to his custom, seemed to be praying and was bent over. Char Valjean walked up to him and put a piece of money in his hand.

The beggar suddenly raised his eyes and stared into his face. Then he quickly dropped his head. It was over in a moment. But Jean Valjean shuddered. It seemed to him that he had seen by the light of the street lamp not the calm, sanctimonious face of the old beetle, but a terrible and well-known countenance. Some instinct kept Jan Valjar from speaking. He gazed at the crouching figure. The same form, the same rags as on the other day. He told himself he was mad, and he hurried home.

See the bird in the tree. E H E. Corset. What is it, father? Quiet. It's someone in the hall, father. Who is then? Lie down, dear. And don't talk. He stopped, Father. He's just outside the door. Father, why are you blowing out the light? Father. Little one. You must go to sleep. Yes, father. But what does he want out there? Please. Please, Cosette. Yes, father.

Is he gone? Is he out there, father? Has he gone away? Put on your clothes, Cassette. Hurry. Yes, father. Where are we going? I don't know. I don't know. Are we going far? We're leaving Paris tonight. Has it something to do with that man in the hall, father? Father, what was he doing? Peking in? Do you know him? I know him. What's his name, father? His name is. Through the sleeping city.

Through the narrow silent streets, running, creeping, doubling, backing, describing a hundred sly patterns in the labyrinth of backcourts and alleys and passageways, ran these two hundred. Haunted beings, the old convict who had been a mayor of a city, the little child who had been a slave, frightened, breathless, unspeaking.

Fleeing the terrible policeman. Fleeing Javert. He came to a blind alley. There were high walls there. And to the left, at the corner where a street began, Jean Valjean saw a sentinel. He felt as if caught by a chain that was slowly winding up. At this moment a muffled and regular sound began to make itself heard at some distance. Soldiers. Jar Valjar saw the gleam of their bayonets.

They were coming towards him. They came slowly, stopping to examine the recesses of the walls, to search the entrances of doors and alleys. Javert led the way. There was only one thing possible. In the prison ships, the old convict had learned a strange art. The art of climbing without ladders or ropes, of supporting himself by the back of his neck, his shoulders, his hips, and his knees.

The art of raising himself straight up the right angle of a wall to the height of a sixth story. Jean Valjean looked up the wall and measured the distance with his eyes. About eighteen feet. The difficulty was Cossette. He needed a rope. Where could he find a rope? At midnight. On a deserted street. Then Jean Valjean saw the street lamp. Now at that time there were no gas lamps in the streets of.

The lamps were raised and lowered by cords. Traversing the street from one end to the other were these cords. The wheel on which the rope was wound was locked below the lantern in a little iron box. Jean Valjean sprang the bolt of this box, and an instant after was back at the side of Corsette. He had a rope. A half minute, and Jean Valjean was on the top of the wall. Another, and he'd pulled up Cosette. The next instant they were safe. Safe on the other side. He's got to be there!

Yes, Cosette. Can I talk now? Yes, little one. Father, where are we? What is this place? I don't know, my child. Father How long will it be till Javert finds us here? He won't find us here. Book of Inspector Javert, January 9, 1818. This is the anniversary of Jean Valjean's escape. This is the date of my failure.

This is the day when Jean Valjean eluded me and vanished almost before my eyes in a closed and guarded street. To think That this man is free, alive somewhere in the world and laughing at justice. But give justice time. I can wait. I have waited before. I can watch. Jean Valjeans my men. Someday I will catch him.

WOR and the Mutual Network have brought you part four of Victor Hugo's absorbing masterpiece, Le Miserab, the episode which was called Cosette. Orson Wells, distinguished young author, actor, and director, played the role of Jean Valjean, and was also heard reading the narrative passages which bound together the dramatic act. Assisting Mr. Wells were Martin Gable as Javert, Estelle Levy as Cossette, Agnes Moorhead, Ray Collins, William Johnstone, and Hiram Sherman.

Next Friday evening at 10 o'clock Eastern Daylight Saving Time, we shall present Le Mizerabl in its fifth phase, the episode which is called Mario. This is the Coast-to-Coast network of the Mutual Broadcasting System. And that's this week's Mutual Presents feature. The Mutual Audio Network brings the best of old time radio and modern audio theater to the world.

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