by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER VIII.
THE ARTILLERY SETS TO WORK IN EARNEST.
Gavroche was surrounded, but he had no time to report anything, asMarius, shuddering, drew him on one side.
"What have you come to do here?"
"What a question?" the boy said; "and you, pray?"
And he gazed fixedly at Marius with his epic effrontery: his eyes weredilated by the proud brightness which they contained. It was with astern accent that Marius continued,--
"Who told you to return? I only trust that you have delivered my letterat its address."
Gavroche felt some degree of remorse in the matter of the letter; for,in his hurry to return to the barricade, he had got rid of it ratherthan delivered it. He was forced to confess to himself that he hadconfided somewhat too lightly in this stranger, whose face he had noteven been able to distinguish. It is true that this man was bareheaded,but that was not enough. In short, he reproached himself quietly forhis conduct, and feared Marius's reproaches. He took the simplestprocess to get out of the scrape,--he told an abominable falsehood.
"Citizen, I delivered the letter to the porter. The lady was asleep,and she will have the letter when she wakes."
Marius had two objects in sending the letter,--to bid Cosette farewelland save Gavroche. He was obliged to satisfy himself with one half ofwhat he wanted. The connection between the Bending of the letter and M.Fauchelevent's presence at the barricade occurred to his mind, and hepointed him out to Gavroche.
"Do you know that man?"
"No," said Gavroche.
Gavroche, in truth, as we know, had only seen Jean Valjean by night.The troubled and sickly conjectures formed in Marius's mind weredissipated. Did he know M. Fauchelevent's opinions? Perhaps he was arepublican; hence his presence in the action would be perfectly simple.In the mean while Gavroche had run to the other end of the barricade,crying, "My gun!" and Courfeyrac ordered it to be given to him.Gavroche warned "his comrades," as he called them, that the barricadewas invested, and he had found great difficulty in reaching it. Abattalion of the line, with their arms piled in the Little Truanderie,was observing on the side of the Rue du Petit Cygne; on the oppositeside the Municipal Guard occupied the Rue des Prêcheurs; while in frontof them they had the main body of the army. This information given,Gavroche added,--
"I authorize you to give them a famous pill."
Enjolras was in the mean while watching at his loop-hole with openears; for the assailants, doubtless little satisfied with thegun-shot, had not repeated it. A company of line infantry had come upto occupy the extremity of the street behind the gun. The soldiersunpaved the street, and erected with the stones a small low wall,a species of epaulement, only eighteen inches high, and facing thebarricade. At the left-hand angle of this work could be seen the headof a suburban column, massed in the Rue St. Denis. Enjolras, from hispost, fancied he could hear the peculiar sound produced by canisterwhen taken out of its box, and he saw the captain of the gun change hisaim and turn the gun's muzzle slightly to the left. Then the gunnersbegan loading, and the captain of the gun himself took the port-fireand walked up to the vent.
"Fall on your knees all along the barricade," Enjolras shouted.
The insurgents, scattered in front of the wine-shop, and who hadleft their posts on Gavroche's arrival, rushed pell-mell toward thebarricade; but ere Enjolras's order was executed, the discharge tookplace with the frightful rattle of a round of grape-shot; it wasone, in fact. The shot was aimed at the opening in the redoubt, andricochetted against the wall, killing two men and wounding three. Ifthis continued, the barricade would be no longer tenable, for thegrape-shot entered it. There was a murmur of consternation.
"Let us stop a second round," Enjolras said: and levelling hiscarbine he aimed at the captain of the gun, who was leaning over thebreech and rectifying the aim. He was a handsome young sergeant ofartillery, fair, gentle-faced, and having the intelligent look peculiarto that predestined and formidable arm which, owing to its constantimprovement, must end by killing war. Combeferre, who was standing byEnjolras's side, gazed at this young man.
"What a pity!" said Combeferre. "What a hideous thing such butchery is!Well, when there are no kings left there will be no war. Enjolras, youaim at that sergeant, but do not notice him. Just reflect that he is ahandsome young man; he is intrepid. You can see that he is a thinker,and these young artillerymen are well educated; he has a father,mother, and family; he is probably in love; he is but twenty-five yearsof age at the most, and might be your brother."
"He is so," said Enjolras.
"Yes," Combeferre added, "and mine too. Do not kill him."
"Let me alone. It must be."
And a tear slowly coursed down Enjolras's marble cheek. At the sametime he pulled the trigger and the fire flashed forth. The artillerymanturned twice on his heel, with his arms stretched out before him, andhis head raised as if to breathe the air, and then fell across thecannon motionless. His back could be seen, from the middle of which ajet of blood gushed forth; the bullet had gone right through his chest,and he was dead. It was necessary to bear him away and fill up hisplace, and thus a few minutes were gained.
