Preliminary Gayeties — Les Misérables

Laigle de Meaux lived more with Joly than elsewhere. He had a lodging, as a bird has one on a branch. On the morning of the 5th of June they went to Corinthe to breakfast. Joly was stuffed up; Laigle's coat was threadbare. It was about nine o'clock when they opened the door. The wine-shop was empty. Oysters, cheese, and ham, said Laigle. A head appeared at the hatchway. I am passing by. I smell from the street a delicious odour of Brie. I enter. It was Grantaire. At the sight of him Gibelotte placed two bottles on the table. That made three. Two bottles never yet astonished a man. The others had begun by eating; Grantaire began by drinking. Your coat is old, he told Laigle. I should hope so, Laigle said. Old coats are just like old friends. They had just seen the head of the procession pass. How quiet this street is, exclaimed Laigle. Who would suspect that Paris was turned upside down?

Grantaire swallowed a bad oyster and hypochondria took him. He would not talk of monks. He hated the human race. A girl he knew had been virtuous in an attic two months ago and was a bankeress this morning, as pretty as yesterday, the financier not showing in her face. There is but one reality: drink. Is there going to be another revolution? God keeps greasing the groove of events. He gives a revolution as a tradesman whose money-box is empty gives a ball. Creation is bankrupt. That is why I am discontented. It is the 4th of June, it is almost night, I have been waiting for daylight, it has not come. Then a boy less than ten, ragged, yellow, hair drenched with rain, addressed himself to Laigle. Are you Bossuet? A tall blonde fellow on the boulevard said: Tell him from me, A B C. He gave me ten sous. Navet, Gavroche's friend. I belong in the procession. I am the one to shout Down with Polignac. Laigle reflected. A B C, that is to say: the burial of Lamarque. The tall blonde, said Grantaire, is Enjolras, who is sending you a warning. Shall we go? It is raining, said Joly. I shall stay here, said Grantaire. I prefer a breakfast to a hearse. Conclusion: we remain. Besides, we might miss the funeral without missing the riot.

The room went dark. Large clouds finished the extinction of daylight. Is it midday or midnight? Gibelotte, fetch a light. Grantaire muttered that Enjolras disdained him. It was to Bossuet that he sent Navet. If he had come for me, I would have followed him. So much the worse. I won't go to his funeral. By two o'clock the table was covered with empty bottles. Two candles burned, one in a green copper candlestick, the other in the neck of a cracked carafe. Grantaire had abandoned wine for the beerglass, then for that mixture of brandy, stout, and absinthe which produces the most terrible of lethargies. He had not yet reached that phase. He was tremendously gay. He hurled solemn words at Matelote and asked who had been unhooking the stars without his permission and putting them on the table in the guise of candles. Bossuet sat on the sill of the open window, wetting his back in the falling rain. All at once he heard a tumult behind him, hurried footsteps, cries of To arms. He saw, at the end of the street, Enjolras passing, gun in hand, and Gavroche with his pistol, and the whole armed rabble. Courfeyrac! Hohée! What do you want? Where are you going? To make a barricade. Well, here! This is a good place! Make it here! That's true, Aigle, said Courfeyrac. And at a signal the mob flung themselves into the Rue de la Chanvrerie.