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This is what it was, in fact. The charge had been aimed at the cut in the redoubt, and had there rebounded from the wall; and this terrible rebound had produced two dead and three wounded. If this were continued, the barricade was no longer tenable. The grape-shot made its way in. A murmur of consternation arose. "Let us prevent the second discharge," said Enjolras.
A rover, a gambler, a libertine, often drunk, he displeased these young dreamers by humming incessantly: "J'aimons les filles, et j'aimons le bon vin." Air: Vive Henri IV. However, this sceptic had one fanaticism. This fanaticism was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science; it was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras.
In the meantime, in the space of a few minutes, twenty iron bars had been wrenched from the grated front of the wine-shop, ten fathoms of street had been unpaved; Gavroche and Bahorel had seized in its passage, and overturned, the dray of a lime-dealer named Anceau; this dray contained three barrels of lime, which they placed beneath the piles of paving-stones: Enjolras raised the cellar trap, and all the widow Hucheloup's empty casks were used to flank the barrels of lime; Feuilly, with his fingers skilled in painting the delicate sticks of fans, had backed up the barrels and the dray with two massive heaps of blocks of rough stone.
He had but one idea now, to die; and he did not wish to be turned aside from it, but he reflected, in his gloomy somnambulism, that while destroying himself, he was not prohibited from saving some one else. He raised his voice. "Enjolras and Combeferre are right," said he; "no unnecessary sacrifice. I join them, and you must make haste. Combeferre has said convincing things to you.
Enjolras was a charming young man, who was capable of being terrible. He was angelically handsome. He was a savage Antinous. One would have said, to see the pensive thoughtfulness of his glance, that he had already, in some previous state of existence, traversed the revolutionary apocalypse. He possessed the tradition of it as though he had been a witness.
The whole barricade hastened up, then all ranged themselves in a circle at a distance, feeling that it was impossible to utter a word in the presence of the thing which they were about to behold. Le Cabuc, vanquished, no longer tried to struggle, and trembled in every limb. Enjolras released him and drew out his watch. "Collect yourself," said he. "Think or pray. You have one minute."
When there were no longer any of the leaders left alive, except Enjolras and Marius at the two extremities of the barricade, the centre, which had so long sustained Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet, Feuilly and Combeferre, gave way.
"What hideous things these butcheries are! Come, when there are no more kings, there will be no more war. Enjolras, you are taking aim at that sergeant, you are not looking at him.
There are some among you who have families, mothers, sisters, wives, children. Let such leave the ranks." No one stirred. "Married men and the supporters of families, step out of the ranks!" repeated Marius. His authority was great. Enjolras was certainly the head of the barricade, but Marius was its savior. "I order it," cried Enjolras. "I entreat you," said Marius.
"A fortress but a rat hole too," said Courfeyrac with a laugh. Enjolras had about thirty paving-stones "torn up in excess," said Bossuet, piled up near the door of the wine-shop. The silence was now so profound in the quarter whence the attack must needs come, that Enjolras had each man resume his post of battle. An allowance of brandy was doled out to each.