IN WHICH WE READ THE NAME OF THE MISTRESS OF ENJOLRAS.
Courfeyrac, seated on a stone by the side of Enjolras, continued to
insult the cannon, and each time that the gloomy shower of projectiles
which is called a grape-shot passed with its monstrous noise he greeted
it with an ironical remark.
"You are wasting your breath, my poor old brute, and I feel sorry for
you, as your row is thrown away. That is not thunder, but a cough."
And those around him laughed Courfeyrac and Bossuet, whose valiant
good-humor increased with danger, made up for the want of food, like
Madame Scarron, by jests, and as wine was short, poured out gayety for
all.
"I admire Enjolras," said Bossuet. "His temerity astonishes me. He
lives alone, which, perhaps, renders him a little sad; and Enjolras is
to be pitied for his greatness, which attaches him to widowhood. We
fellows have all, more or less, mistresses, who make us mad, that is
to say brave, and when a man is as full of love as a tiger the least
he can do is to fight like a lion. That is a way of avenging ourselves
for the tricks which our grisettes play us. Roland lets himself be
killed to vex Angelique, and all our heroism comes from our women. A
man without a woman is like a pistol without a hammer, and it is the
woman who makes the man go off. Well, Enjolras has no woman, he is not
in love, and finds means to be intrepid. It is extraordinary that a man
can be cold as ice and daring as fire."
Enjolras did not appear to listen; but any one who had been near him
might have heard him murmur, in a low voice, _Patria._ Bossuet laughed
again, when Courfeyrac shouted, "Here's something fresh."
And assuming the voice of a groom of the chambers who announces a
visitor, he added,---"Mr. Eight-Pounder."
In fact, a new character had come on the stage; it was a second
piece of artillery. The gunners rapidly got it into position by the
side of the first one, and this was the beginning of the end. A few
minutes later both guns, being actively served, were at work against
the barricade, and the platoon fire of the line and the suburban
National Guards supported the artillery. Another cannonade was audible
some distance off. At the same time that the two guns were furiously
assaulting the redoubt in the Rue de la Chanvrerie, two other pieces
placed in position, one in the Rue St. Denis, the other in the Rue
Aubry le Boucher, were pounding the St. Merry barricade. The four guns
formed a lugubrious echo to one another, the barks of the grim dogs of
war answered one another. Of the two guns now opened on the barricade
of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, one fired shell, the other solid shot.
The gun which fired the latter was pointed at a slight elevation, and
the firing was so calculated that the ball struck the extreme edge of
the crest of the barricades, and hurled the broken paying-stones on
the heads of the insurgents. This mode of fire was intended to drive
the combatants from the top of the redoubt, and compel them to close
up in the interior; that is to say, it announced the assault. Once the
combatants were driven from the top of the barricade by the cannon, and
from the windows of the public-house by the canister, the columns of
attack could venture into the street without being aimed at, perhaps
without even being seen, suddenly escalade the barricade, as on the
previous evening, and take it by surprise.
"The annoyance of these guns must be reduced," said Enjolras; and he
shouted, "Fire at the artillerymen!"
All were ready: the barricade, which had so long been silent, was
belted with flame; seven or eight rounds succeeded one another with
a sort of rage and joy; the street was filled with a blinding smoke,
and at the expiration of a few minutes there might be confusedly
seen through the mist, all striped with flame, two thirds of the
artillerymen lying under the gun-wheels. Those who remained standing
continued to serve the guns with a stern tranquillity, but the fire was
reduced.
"Things are going well," said Bossuet to Enjolras; "that is a success."
Enjolras shook his head, and replied,--
"Another quarter of an hour of that success, and there will not be ten
cartridges left in the barricade."
It appears that Gavroche heard the remark.