CHAPTER VII.

  THE SITUATION BECOMES AGGRAVATED.

  Day grew rapidly, but not a window opened, not a door was ajar; it wasthe dawn, not an awaking. The end of the Rue de la Chanvrerie opposedto the barricade had been evacuated by the troops, as we stated; itappeared to be free and open for passers-by with sinister tranquillity.The Rue St. Denis was dumb as the Avenue of the Sphinxes at Thebes;there was not a living being on the square, which a sunbeam whitened.Nothing is so melancholy as this brightness of deserted streets;nothing could be seen, but something could be heard, and there was amysterious movement at a certain distance off. It was evident that thecritical moment was arriving, and, as on the previous evening, thevedettes fell back, but this time all of them did so. The barricadewas stronger than at the prior attack, for since the departure of thefive it had been heightened. By the advice of the vedette who had beenwatching the region of the Halles, Enjolras, through fear of a surprisein the rear, formed a serious resolution. He barricaded the smallpassage of the Mondétour Lane, which had hitherto remained free, andfor this purpose a further portion of the street was unpaved. In thisway the barricade, walled in on three sides,--in front by the Rue dela Chanvrerie, on the left by the Rue du Cygne, and on the right bythe Rue Mondétour,--was truly almost impregnable, but it is true thatthey were fatally enclosed within it. It had three fronts but no issue,it was a fortress but a mouse-trap, as Courfeyrac said with a smile.Enjolras had some thirty paving-stones piled up by the door of the inn."They dug up more than enough," said Bossuet. The silence was now soprofound in the direction whence the attack must come, that Enjolrasordered all his men to return to their fighting-posts, and a ration ofbrandy was distributed to each man.

  Nothing is more curious than a barricade preparing for an assault;every man chooses his place, as at the theatre. They crowd, elbow, andshoulder one another, and some make stalls of paving-stones. Here anangle of the wall is in the way, and it is avoided; there is a redanwhich may offer protection, and they seek shelter in it. Left-handedmen are precious, for they take places inconvenient for others. Manyarrange so as to fight seated, for they wish to be at their ease tokill, and comfortable in dying. In the fatal war of June, 1848, aninsurgent, who was a wonderful marksman, and who fought from a terracedroof, had a Voltaire easy-chair carried there, and was knocked overin it by a volley of grape-shot. So soon as the chief has given thesignal for action all disorderly movements cease; there is no longerany sharp-shooting, any conversations or asides: all that minds containconverges, and is changed into the expectation of the assailant. Abarricade before danger is a chaos, in danger discipline, for perilproduces order. So soon as Enjolras had taken his double-barrelledgun, and placed himself at a species of parapet which he reserved forhimself, all were silent; a quick, sharp crackling ran confusedly alongthe wall of paving-stones; it was the muskets being cocked. However,the attitudes were haughtier and more confident than ever, for anexcess of sacrifice is a consolidation, and though they no longer hadhope, they had despair,--despair, that last weapon, which at timesgives victory, as Virgil tells us. Supreme resources issue from extremeresolutions. To embark on death is at times the means of escaping theshipwreck, and the cover of the coffin becomes a plank of salvation.As on the previous evening, all their attention was turned upon theend of the street, which was now lighted up and visible. They had notlong to wait ere the movement began again, distinctly in the directionof St. Leu, but it did not resemble the sound of the first attack. Arattling of chains, the alarming rolling of a heavy weight, a clangof bronze leaping on the pavement, and a species of solemn noise,announced that a sinister engine was approaching; there was a tremorin the entrails of these old peaceful streets, pierced and built forthe fruitful circulation of interests and ideas, and which are not madefor the monstrous rolling of the wheels of war. The fixity of the eyesturned toward the end of the street became stern, as a cannon appeared.The gunners pushed the gun on; the limber was detached, and two mensupported the carriage, while four were at the wheels; others followedwith the tumbril, and the lighted match could be seen smoking.

  "Fire!" shouted Enjolras.

  The whole barricade burst into a flame, and the detonation wasfrightful; an avalanche of smoke covered and concealed the gun andthe men. A few seconds after the cloud was dispersed, and the gun andthe men reappeared; the gunners were bringing it up to the front ofthe barricade, slowly, correctly, and without hurry; not one had beenwounded. Then the captain of the gun, hanging with his whole weighton the breech to elevate the muzzle, began pointing the gun with thegravity of an astronomer setting a telescope.

  "Bravo for the artillery!" cried Bossuet.

  And all the men at the barricade clapped their hands. A moment afterthe gun, standing in the very centre of the street across the gutter,was in position, and a formidable mouth yawned at the barricade.

  "Come, we are going to be gay," said Courfeyrac. "Here is thebrutality; after the fillip the blow with the fist The army isextending its heavy paw toward us, and the barricade is going to beseriously shaken. The musketry-fire feels, and the cannon takes."

  "It is an eight-pounder of the new pattern in bronze," Combeferreadded. "Those guns, if the proportion of ten parts of tin to onehundred of copper is exceeded, are liable to burst, for the excess oftin renders them too soft. It thus happens that have holes and cavitiesin the vent, and in order to obviate this danger and be able to load,it would perhaps be advisable to revert to the process of the 14thcentury, circling and reinforcing the gun with a series of steel rings,without any welding from the breech to the trunnions. In the mean whilethey remedy the defect as well as they can, and they manage to discoverwhere the holes are in the vent of the gun by means of a searcher; butthere is a better method in Gribeauval's movable star."

  "In the 16th century," Bossuet observed, "guns were rifled."

  "Yes," Combeferre replied; "that augments the ballistic force, butlessens the correctness of aim. At short distances the trajectory hasnot all the desirable rigidness, the parabola is exaggerated, thepath of the projectile is not sufficiently rectilinear for it to hitintermediate objects, though that is a condition of fighting whoseimportance grows with the proximity of the enemy and the precipitationof the firing. This defective tension of the curve of the projectilein rifled cannon of the 16th century emanated from the weakness of thecharge; weak charges for such engines are imposed by the ballisticnecessities, such, for instance, as the preservation of the carriage.After all, the cannon, that despot, cannot do all that it wishes, andstrength is a great weakness. A cannon-ball goes only six hundredleagues an hour, while light covers seventy thousand leagues persecond. This is the superiority of Jesus Christ over Napoleon."

  "Reload your guns," said Enjolras.

  In what manner would the revetment of the barricade behave against acannon-ball? Would a breach be formed? That was the question. Whilethe insurgents were reloading their guns the artillerymen loaded thecannon. The anxiety within the redoubt was profound; the shot wasfired, and the detonation burst forth.

  "Present!" a joyous voice cried.

  And at the same time as the cannon-ball struck the barricade, Gavrochebounded inside it. He came from the direction of the Rue du Cygne,and actively clambered over the accessory barricade which fronted thelabyrinth of the Little Truanderie. Gavroche produced greater effect atthe barricade than the cannon-ball did; for the latter was lost in theheap of rubbish. It had broken a wheel of the omnibus, and finished theold truck, on seeing which the insurgents burst into a laugh.

  "Persevere!" cried Bossuet to the gunners.