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    Summary

    He was calm and composed when he made his report on the grave mistake he had committed, although once or twice, a deep sigh escaped him. He did not spare himself despite the melancholy thought that this would be the last day, the last hour, that he would wear the uniform that had once been all he had aspired to. He omitted none of his many sins. His hurt pride and humiliation at how the magistrate had handled the case of the prostitute. His preposterous suspicions, fed by the hurt pride. The letter sent to the Prefecture, and the answer he had received.
    Silently, he held out the letter at last, a wordless entreaty to take the weight of the law from his shoulders that during the last hour had grown too weak to bear the weight they had been so long accustomed to. “You see, Monsieur. It must be done. Do with me as you please; it is just.” 

    Punish me, Monsieur le Maire fic, because there is never enough of that. Javert has made a grave mistake. The Mayor thinks that he needs to learn control.

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