MORTUUS PATER FILIUM MORITURUM EXPECTAT.
Marius rushed out of the barricade, and Combeferre followed him; but it
was too late, and Gavroche was dead. Combeferre brought in the hamper
of cartridges, and Marius the boy. Alas! he thought he was requiting
the son for what the father had done for his father; but Thénardier had
brought in his father alive, while he brought in the lad dead. When
Marius re-entered the barricade with Gavroche in his arms, his face was
deluged with blood, like the boy's; for at the very instant when he
stooped to pick up Gavroche, a bullet had grazed his skull, but he had
not noticed it. Courfeyrac took off his neckcloth and bound Marius's
forehead; Gavroche was deposited on the same table with Mabœuf,
and the black shawl was spread over both bodies; it was large enough
for the old man and the child. Combeferre distributed the cartridges
which he had brought in, and they gave each man fifteen rounds to fire.
Jean Valjean was still at the same spot, motionless on his bench. When
Combeferre offered him his fifteen cartridges he shook his head.
"That is a strange eccentric," Combeferre said in a whisper to
Enjolras. "He manages not to fight inside this barricade."
"Which does not prevent him from defending it," Enjolras answered.
"Heroism has its original characters," Combeferre resumed.
And Courfeyrac, who overheard him, said,--
"He is a different sort from Father Mabœuf."
It is a thing worth mentioning, that the fire which struck the
barricade scarce disturbed the interior. Those who have never passed
the tornado of a warfare of this nature cannot form any idea of the
singular moments of calmness mingled with these convulsions. Men
come and go, they talk, they jest, they idle. A friend of ours heard
a combatant say to him, in the midst of the grape-shot, "It is like
being at a bachelor's breakfast here." The redoubt in the Rue de la
Chanvrerie, we repeat, appeared internally most calm; and all the
incidents and phases were, or would shortly be, exhausted. The position
had become from critical menacing, and from menacing was probably about
to become desperate. In proportion as the situation grew darker an
heroic gleam more and more purpled the barricade. Enjolras commanded
it in the attitude of a young Spartan, devoting his bare sword to the
gloomy genius, Epidotas. Combeferre, with an apron tied round him, was
dressing the wounded. Bossuet and Feuilly were making cartridges with
the powder-flask found by Gavroche on the dead corporal, and Bossuet
was saying to Feuilly, "We are soon going to take the diligence for
another planet." Courfeyrac, seated on the few paving-stones which he
had set aside near Enjolras, was preparing and arranging an entire
arsenal--his sword-cane, his gun, two hostler-pistols, and a club--
with the ease of a girl setting a small what-not in order. Jean
Valjean was silently looking at the wall facing him, and a workman was
fastening on his head, with a piece of string, a broad-brimmed straw
bonnet of Mother Hucheloup's, "for fear of sun-strokes," as he said.
The young men of the Aix Cougourde were gayly chatting together, as if
desirous to talk patois for the last time: Joly, who had taken down
Widow Hucbeloup's mirror, was examining his tongue in it; while a few
combatants, who had discovered some nearly mouldering crusts of bread
in a drawer, were eating them greedily. Marius was anxious about what
his father would say to him.