CHAPTER II.
THE GAMIN THE ENEMY OF LAMPS.
How long did he remain there? What was the ebb and flow of thistragical meditation? Did he draw himself up? Did he remain bowed down?Had he been bent till he was broken? Could he recover himself and standagain upon something solid in his conscience? Probably he could nothave said himself. The street was deserted, and a few anxious citizenswho hurriedly returned home scarce noticed him, for each for himself isthe ride in times of peril. The lamplighter came as usual to light thelamp which was exactly opposite the door of No. 7, and went away. JeanValjean would not have appeared to be a living man to any one who mighthave examined him in this gloom, and he sat on his bench motionless,like a statue of ice. His despair had got beyond congelation. Thetocsin and vague stormy rumors could be heard, and in the midst ofall these convulsions of the bell blended with the riot, the clock ofSt. Paul struck the eleventh hour, solemnly and without hurrying; forthe tocsin is man, the hour is God. The passing of the hour producedno effect on Jean Valjean, and he did not stir. Almost immediatelyafter, however, a sudden detonation broke out in the direction of themarkets, followed by a second even more violent; it was probably thatattack on the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie which we have justseen repulsed by Marius. At this double discharge, whose fury seemedincreased by the stupor of the night, Jean Valjean started; he turnedin the direction whence the sound came, but then fell back on hisbench, crossed his arms, and his head slowly bent down again on hischest. He resumed his dark dialogue with himself.
All at once he raised his eyes, for there was some one in the street;he heard footsteps close to him, and by the light of the lamp heperceived a livid, young, and radiant face, in the direction of thestreet which runs past the Archives. It was Gavroche, who had justarrived from the Rue de la Chanvrerie; Gavroche was looking up inthe air, and appeared to be seeking. He saw Jean Valjean distinctly,but paid no attention to him. Gavroche, after looking up in the air,looked down on the ground; he stood on tiptoe, and felt the doors andground-floor windows; they were all shut, bolted, and barred. Afterexamining the fronts of several houses barricaded in this way, thegamin shrugged his shoulders, and then resumed his self-colloquy withhimself, thus, "By Jove!" Then he looked up in the air again. JeanValjean, who a moment previously in his present state of mind wouldneither have spoken to nor answered any one, felt an irresistibleimpulse to address this lad.
"My little boy," he said, "what is the matter with you?"
"Why, I'm hungry," Gavroche answered bluntly. And he added, "Littleyourself!"
Jean Valjean felt in his pocket and pulled out a five-franc piece. ButGavroche, who was a species of wagtail, and rapidly passed from onegesture to another, had just picked up a stone. He had noticed the lamp.
"Hilloh!" he said, "you have still got lights here. You are not actingrightly, my friends; that is disorderly conduct. Break it for me."
And he threw the stone at the lamp, whose glass fell with such a noisethat the citizens concealed behind their curtains in the opposite housecried, "There is '93!" The lamp oscillated violently and went out; thestreet suddenly became dark.
"That's it, old street," said Gavroche, "put on your nightcap." Then,turning to Jean Valjean, he said,--
"What do you call that gigantic monument which you have there at theend of the street? It's the Archives, isn't it? Let's pull down some ofthose great brutes of columns and make a tidy barricade."
Jean Valjean walked up to Gavroche.
"Poor creature!" he said in a low voice, and as if speaking to himself,"he is hungry."
And he placed the five-franc piece in his hand. Gavroche raised hisnose, amazed at the size of this double sou; he looked at it in thedarkness, and the whiteness of the double sou dazzled him. He wasacquainted with five-franc pieces by hearsay, and their reputation wasagreeable to him; he was delighted to see one so closely, and said,"Let us contemplate the tiger." He looked at it for some moments inecstasy; then, turning to Jean Valjean, he held out the coin to him,and said majestically,--
"Citizen, I prefer breaking the lamps. Take back your ferocious animal,for I am not to be corrupted. It has five claws, but can't scratch me."
"Have you a mother?" Jean Valjean asked.
Gavroche replied,--
"Perhaps more than you."
"Well," Jean Valjean continued, "keep that money for your mother."
Gavroche was affected. Moreover, he had noticed that the man who wasaddressing him had no hat on, and this inspired him with confidence.
"Really, then," he said, "it is not to prevent me breaking the lamps?"
"Break as many as you like."
"You are a worthy man," said Gavroche.
And he put the five-franc piece in one of his pockets. Then, withincreasing confidence, he added;--
"Do you belong to this street?"
"Yes; why?"
"Can you point me out No. 7?"
"What do you want at No. 7?"
Here the lad stopped, for he feared lest he had said too much. Heenergetically plunged his nails into his hair, and confined himself toanswering,--
"Ah, there it is."
An idea flashed across Jean Valjean's mind, for agony has lucidities ofthat nature. He said to the boy,--
"Have you brought me the letter which I am expecting?"
"You," said Gavroche, "you ain't a woman."
"The letter is for Mademoiselle Cosette, is it not?"
"Cosette?" Gavroche grumbled; "yes, I think it is that absurd name."
"Well," Jean Valjean continued, "you have to deliver the letter to me;so give it here."
"In that case, you must be aware that I am sent from the barricade?"
"Of course," said Jean Valjean.
Gavroche thrust his hand into another of his pockets, and produced asquare folded letter; then he gave the military salute.
"Respect for the despatch," he said; "it comes from the ProvisionalGovernment."
"Give it to me," said Jean Valjean.
Gavroche held the paper above his head.
"You must not imagine that it is a love-letter, though it is for awoman; it is for the people; we are fighting, and we respect the sex;we are not like people in the world of fashion, where there are lionsthat send poulets to camels."
"Give it to me."
"After all," Gavroche continued, "you look like an honest man."
"Make haste."
"Here it is."
And he handed the paper to Jean Valjean.
"And make haste, Monsieur Chose, since Mamselle Chosette is waiting."
Gavroche felt pleased at having made this pun. Jean Valjean added,--
"Must the answer be taken to St. Merry?"
"You would make in that way," Gavroche exclaimed, "one of thosepastries vulgarly called _brioches_ [blunders]. That letter comes fromthe barricade in the Rue de la Chanvrerie, and I am going back to it.Good-night, citizen."
This said, Gavroche went away, or, to speak more correctly, resumedhis birdlike flight to the spot whence he had escaped. He plungedagain into the darkness, as if there were a hole there, with the rigidrapidity of a projectile: the lane of l'Homme Armé became once againsilent and solitary. In a twinkling, this strange lad, who had shadowsand dreams within him, buried himself in the gloom of these rows ofblack houses, and was lost in it like smoke in darkness, and it mighthave been fancied that he was dispersed, had vanished, had not, a fewminutes after his disappearance, a noisy breakage of glass, and thesplendid echo of a lamp falling on the pavement, suddenly reawakenedthe indignant citizens. It was Gavroche passing along the Rue deChaume.