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Updated: May 31, 2025
The water was dripping from his hair. Guelemer addressed him: "Are you a man, young 'un?" Gavroche shrugged his shoulders, and replied: "A young 'un like me's a man, and men like you are babes." "The brat's tongue's well hung!" exclaimed Babet. "The Paris brat ain't made of straw," added Brujon. "What do you want?" asked Gavroche. Montparnasse answered: "Climb up that flue."
"Yes, yes," said Brujon, "it must be looked up." In the meanwhile, none of the men seemed to see Gavroche, who, during this colloquy, had seated himself on one of the fence-posts; he waited a few moments, thinking that perhaps his father would turn towards him, then he put on his shoes again, and said: "Is that all? You don't want any more, my men? Now you're out of your scrape. I'm off.
At the apparition of Eponine, the other five, that is to say, Claquesous, Guelemer, Babet, Brujon, and Montparnasse had noiselessly drawn near, without precipitation, without uttering a word, with the sinister slowness peculiar to these men of the night. Some indescribable but hideous tools were visible in their hands.
The guardian entered, Brujon was put in a solitary cell for a month, but they were not able to seize what he had written. The police learned nothing further about it. What is certain is, that on the following morning, a "postilion" was flung from the Charlemagne yard into the Lions' Ditch, over the five-story building which separated the two court-yards.
This flue, then much damaged and full of cracks, has since fallen, but the marks of it are still visible. It was very narrow. "One might get up by the help of that," said Montparnasse. "By that flue?" exclaimed Babet, "a grown-up cove, never! it would take a brat." "A brat must be got," resumed Brujon. "Where are we to find a young 'un?" said Guelemer. "Wait," said Montparnasse.
An escape had been planned between Babet, Brujon, Guelemer, and Thenardier, although Thenardier was in close confinement. Babet had arranged the matter for his own benefit, on the same day, as the reader has seen from Montparnasse's account to Gavroche. Montparnasse was to help them from outside.
This is what Brujon had written the night before. In spite of male and female searchers, Babet managed to pass the note on from La Force to the Salpetriere, to a "good friend" whom he had and who was shut up there. This woman in turn transmitted the note to another woman of her acquaintance, a certain Magnon, who was strongly suspected by the police, though not yet arrested.
Robbers do not interrupt their profession because they are in the hands of justice. They do not let themselves be put out by such a trifle as that. To be in prison for one crime is no reason for not beginning on another crime. They are artists, who have one picture in the salon, and who toil, none the less, on a new work in their studios. Brujon seemed to be stupefied by prison.
Showers mingled with thunder shook the doors on their hinges, and created in the prison a terrible and opportune uproar. Those of the prisoners who woke, pretended to fall asleep again, and left Guelemer and Brujon to their own devices. Brujon was adroit; Guelemer was vigorous.
Seven or eight minutes elapsed, eight thousand centuries to Thenardier; Babet, Brujon, and Guelemer did not open their lips; at last the gate opened once more, and Montparnasse appeared, breathless, and followed by Gavroche. The rain still rendered the street completely deserted. Little Gavroche entered the enclosure and gazed at the forms of these ruffians with a tranquil air.
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