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Brujon, after having passed a month in the punishment cell, had had time, in the first place, to weave a rope, in the second, to mature a plan.
Thenardier thrust out his head a very little. "Quick!" said Montparnasse, "have you the other end of the rope, Brujon?" "Yes." "Knot the two pieces together, we'll fling him the rope, he can fasten it to the wall, and he'll have enough of it to get down with." Thenardier ran the risk, and spoke: "I am paralyzed with cold." "We'll warm you up." "I can't budge."
"With this rope," said Babet. "And fasten it," continued Brujon. "To the top of the wall," went on Babet. "To the cross-bar of the window," added Brujon. "And then?" said Gavroche. "There!" said Guelemer. The gamin examined the rope, the flue, the wall, the windows, and made that indescribable and disdainful noise with his lips which signifies: "Is that all!"
And passing them in review with a glance of a Frederick II. at a Potsdam parade, he said to the three "chimney-builders": "Good day, Bigrenaille! good day, Brujon! good day, Deuxmilliards!" Then turning to the three masked men, he said to the man with the meat-axe: "Good day, Gueulemer!" And to the man with the cudgel: "Good day, Babet!" And to the ventriloquist: "Your health, Claquesous."
About a week after these measures had been taken, one night, as the superintendent of the watch, who had been inspecting the lower dormitory in the Batiment-Neuf, was about to drop his chestnut in the box this was the means adopted to make sure that the watchmen performed their duties punctually; every hour a chestnut must be dropped into all the boxes nailed to the doors of the dormitories a watchman looked through the peep-hole of the dormitory and beheld Brujon sitting on his bed and writing something by the light of the hall-lamp.
Don't get mad, come with us, let's go drink a bottle of old wine together." "One doesn't desert one's friends in a scrape," grumbled Montparnasse. "I tell you he's nabbed!" retorted Brujon. "At the present moment, the inn-keeper ain't worth a ha'penny. We can't do nothing for him. Let's be off. Every minute I think a bobby has got me in his fist."
So that in less than a week from that time, as Brujon and Babet met in the circle of La Force, the one on his way to the examination, the other on his way from it: "Well?" asked Brujon, "the Rue P.?" "Biscuit," replied Babet. Thus did the foetus of crime engendered by Brujon in La Force miscarry.
"Nous n' sommes pas le jour de l'an, "This isn't New Year's day A becoter papa, maman." To peck at pa and ma." Eponine turned to the five ruffians. "Why, it's Monsieur Brujon. Good day, Monsieur Babet. Good day, Monsieur Claquesous. Don't you know me, Monsieur Guelemer? How goes it, Montparnasse?" "Yes, they know you!" ejaculated Thenardier. "But good day, good evening, sheer off! leave us alone!"
"There's a man up there whom you are to save," resumed Montparnasse. "Will you?" began Brujon again. "Greenhorn!" replied the lad, as though the question appeared a most unprecedented one to him. And he took off his shoes.
Before any sound had reached the watcher, who was sleeping in the grated cell which opened into the dormitory, the wall had, been pierced, the chimney scaled, the iron grating which barred the upper orifice of the flue forced, and the two redoubtable ruffians were on the roof. The wind and rain redoubled, the roof was slippery. "What a good night to leg it!" said Brujon.
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