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The day was declining, there was not even a cat in the lane, the hour was propitious. Gavroche began the operation of scaling the hedge, then suddenly paused. Some one was talking in the garden. Gavroche peeped through one of the breaks in the hedge.
So that the sharpshooters of the line ranged on the outlook behind their paving-stone dike and the sharpshooters of the banlieue massed at the corner of the street suddenly pointed out to each other something moving through the smoke. At the moment when Gavroche was relieving a sergeant, who was lying near a stone door-post, of his cartridges, a bullet struck the body.
And thinking that the elder, who seemed to him the more worthy of his conversation, deserved some special encouragement and ought to be relieved from all hesitation to satisfy his appetite, he added, as be handed him the largest share: "Ram that into your muzzle." One piece was smaller than the others; he kept this for himself. The poor children, including Gavroche, were famished.
This allusion to the thunder, all the consequences of which Gavroche, in his character of a philosopher of the nineteenth century, accepted, was followed by a broad flash of lightning, so dazzling that a hint of it entered the belly of the elephant through the crack. Almost at the same instant, the thunder rumbled with great fury.
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.
An electric quiver shot through the whole barricade, and the sound of hands seeking their guns became audible. "Would you like my carbine?" said Enjolras to the lad. "I want a big gun," replied Gavroche. And he seized Javert's gun. Two sentinels had fallen back, and had come in almost at the same moment as Gavroche.
"Joie est mon caractere, "Joy is my character, C'est la faute a Voltaire; 'Tis the fault of Voltaire; Misere est mon trousseau, Misery is my trousseau, C'est la faute a Rousseau." 'Tis the fault of Rousseau." Thus it went on for some time. It was a charming and terrible sight. Gavroche, though shot at, was teasing the fusillade. He had the air of being greatly diverted.
"Well," said Gavroche, "what if I were to go and carry your letter to-morrow?" "It will be too late. The barricade will probably be blockaded, all the streets will be guarded, and you will not be able to get out. Go at once." Gavroche could think of no reply to this, and stood there in indecision, scratching his ear sadly.
He inquired of him: "What does Hercle mean?" Bahorel answered: "It means cursed name of a dog, in Latin." Here Bahorel recognized at a window a pale young man with a black beard who was watching them as they passed, probably a Friend of the A B C. He shouted to him: "Quick, cartridges, para bellum." "A fine man! that's true," said Gavroche, who now understood Latin.
The kittens were born in the early days of the great renown of Victor Hugo's 'Les Miserables, when everybody was talking of the new masterpiece, and the names of the personages in it were in every mouth. The two little male creatures were called Enjolras and Gavroche, and their sister received the name of Eponine.
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