CHAPTER III.
JUST INDIGNATION OF A BARBER.
The worthy barber who had turned out the two children for whom Gavrochehad opened the elephant's paternal intestines, was at this moment inhis shop, engaged in shaving an old legionary who had served underthe Empire. The barber had naturally spoken to the veteran about theriot, then about General Lamarque, and from Lamarque they had come tothe Emperor. Hence arose a conversation between the barber and thesoldier which Prudhomme, had he been present, would have enriched witharabesques, and entitled, "A dialogue between a razor and a sabre."
"How did the Emperor ride, sir?" the barber asked.
"Badly. He did not know how to fall off, and so he never fell off."
"Had he fine horses? He must have had fine horses!"
"On the day when he gave me the cross I noticed his beast. It was awhite mare. It had its ears very far apart, a deep saddle, a fine headmarked with a black star, a very long neck, prominent knees, projectingflanks, oblique shoulders, and a strong crupper. It was a little abovefifteen hands high."
"A fine horse," said the barber.
"It was His Majesty's beast."
The barber felt that after this remark a little silence was befitting;then he went on,--
"The Emperor was wounded only once, I believe, sir?"
The old soldier replied, with the calm and sovereign accent of the manwho has felt wounds,--
"In the heel, at Ratisbon. I never saw him so well dressed as on thatday. He was as clean as a halfpenny."
"And you, sir, I suppose, have received sword-wounds?"
"I," said the soldier; "oh, a mere flea-bite. I received two sabre-cutson my neck at Marengo; I got a bullet in my right arm at Jena, anotherin the left hip at Jena; at Friedland a bayonet-thrust,--there; at theMuskowa seven or eight lance-prods, never mind where; at Lützen, apiece of shell carried off a finger, and--oh, yes! at Waterloo a bulletfrom a case-shot in my thigh. That's all."
"How glorious it is," the barber exclaimed, with a Pindaric accent, "todie on the battle-field! On my word of honor, sooner than die on a bedof disease, slowly, a bit every day, with drugs, cataplasms, clysters,and medicine, I would sooner have a cannon-ball in my stomach!"
"And you're right," said the soldier. He had scarce ended ere afrightful noise shook the shop; a great pane of glass was suddenlysmashed, and the barber turned livid.
"Good Lord!" he cried, "it is one."
"What?"
"A cannon-ball."
"Here it is."
And he picked up something which was rolling on the ground; it was apebble. The barber ran to his broken pane, and saw Gavroche flyingat full speed towards the Marché St. Jean. On passing the barber'sshop Gavroche, who had the two lads at his heart, could not resistthe desire of wishing him good-evening, and threw a stone through hiswindow.
"Just look," the barber yelled, who had become blue instead of livid,"he does harm for harm's sake. What had I done to that villain?"