3.V.1.17. MORTUUS PATER FILIUM MORITURUM EXPECTAT
MARIUS dashed out of the barricade, Combeferre followed
him. But he was too late. Gavroche was dead. Combeferre
brought back the basket of cartridges; Marius bore the
child.
"Alas!" he thought, "that which the father had done for
his father, he was requiting to the son; only, Thenardier had
brought back his father alive; he was bringing back the child
dead."
When Marius re-entered the redoubt with Gavroche in his
arms, his face, like the child, was inundated with blood.
At the moment when he had stooped to lift Gavroche, a
bullet had grazed his head; he had not noticed it.
Courfeyrac untied his cravat and with it bandaged Marius'
brow.
They laid Gavroche on the same table with Mabeuf, and
spread over the two corpses the black shawl. There was
enough of it for both the old man and the child.
Combeferre distributed the cartridges from the basket
which he had brought in.
This gave each man fifteen rounds to fire.
Jean Valjean was still in the same place, motionless on
his
stone post. When Combeferre offered him his fifteen cartridges,
he shook his head.
"Here's a rare eccentric," said Combeferre in a low voice
to Enjolras. "He finds a way of not fighting in this barricade."
"Which does not prevent him from defending it," responded
Enjolras.
"Heroism has its originals," resumed Combeferre.
And Courfeyrac, who had overheard, added:
"He is another sort from Father Mabeuf."
One thing which must be noted is, that the fire which was
battering the barricade hardly disturbed the interior. Those
who have never traversed the whirlwind of this sort of war can
form no idea of the singular moments of tranquillity mingled
with these convulsions. Men go and come, they talk, they
jest, they lounge. Some one whom we know heard a combatant
say to him in the midst of the grape-shot: "We are
here as at a bachelor breakfast." The redoubt of the Rue de
la Chanvrerie, we repeat, seemed very calm within. All mutations
and all phases had been, or were about to be, exhausted.
The position, from critical, had become menacing, and, from
menacing, was probably about to become desperate. In proportion
as the situation grew gloomy, the glow of heroism empurpled
the barricade more and more. Enjolras, who was
grave, dominated it, in the attitude of a young Spartan
sacrificing his naked sword to the sombre genius,
Epidotas.
Combeferre, wearing an apron, was dressing the wounds:
Bossuet and Feuilly were making cartridges with the powder-flask
picked up by Gavroche on the dead corporal, and Bossuet
said to Feuilly: "We are soon to take the diligence for another
planet"; Courfeyrac was disposing and arranging on some
paving-stones which he had reserved for himself near Enjolras,
a complete arsenal, his sword-cane, his gun, two holster
pistols, and a cudgel, with the care of a young girl setting a
small dunkerque in order. Jean Valjean stared silently at
the wall opposite him. An artisan was fastening Mother
Hucheloup's big straw hat on his head with a string, "for fear
of sun-stroke," as he said. The young men from the Cougourde
d'Aix were chatting merrily among themselves, as though
eager to speak patois for the last time. Joly, who had taken
Widow Hucheloup's mirror from the wall, was examining his
tongue in it. Some combatants, having discovered a few
crusts of rather mouldy bread, in a drawer, were eagerly
devouring
them. Marius was disturbed with regard to what his
father was about to say to him.