The Situation Becomes Aggravated — Les Misérables

The daylight was increasing rapidly. Not a window was opened, not a door stood ajar. It was the dawn but not the awaking. The end of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, opposite the barricade, had been evacuated by the troops. It seemed to be free, and presented itself to passers-by with a sinister tranquillity. The Rue Saint-Denis was as dumb as the avenue of Sphinxes at Thebes. Nothing is so mournful as this light in deserted streets. Nothing was to be seen, but there was something to be heard. A mysterious movement was going on at a certain distance. The critical moment was approaching. As on the previous evening, the sentinels had come in; but this time all had come. The barricade was stronger than on the occasion of the first attack. Since the departure of the five, they had increased its height still further. On the advice of the sentinel who had examined the Halles, Enjolras, for fear of a surprise in the rear, had the small gut of Mondetour lane barricaded. In this manner the redoubt, walled on three streets, was really almost impregnable. It is true that they were fatally hemmed in there. It had three fronts, but no exit. A fortress but a rat hole too, said Courfeyrac with a laugh.

Enjolras had about thirty paving-stones piled up near the door of the wine-shop. The silence was now so profound that he had each man resume his post of battle. An allowance of brandy was doled out to each. Nothing is more curious than a barricade preparing for an assault. Each man selects his place as though at the theatre. Left-handed men are precious. Many arrange to fight in a sitting posture. They wish to be at ease to kill, and to die comfortably. A barricade before the arrival of danger is chaos; in danger, it is discipline itself. Peril produces order. As soon as Enjolras had seized his double-barrelled rifle, all the rest held their peace. A series of faint, sharp noises resounded along the wall. It was the men cocking their guns. They no longer cherished any hope, but they had despair, the last weapon, which sometimes gives victory. To embark in death is sometimes the means of escaping a shipwreck. They had not long to wait. A clashing of chains, the uneasy jolting of a mass, the click of brass skipping along the pavement, a sort of solemn uproar, announced that some sinister construction of iron was approaching. The fixity of eye in all the combatants became ferocious. A cannon made its appearance.

Artillery-men were pushing the piece. Fire! shouted Enjolras. The whole barricade fired. An avalanche of smoke covered and effaced both cannon and men. When the cloud dispersed, the gun-crew had just finished rolling it slowly, correctly, without haste, into position facing the barricade. Not one of them had been struck. Bravo for the cannoneers! cried Bossuet. And the whole barricade clapped their hands. A formidable pair of jaws yawned on the redoubt. Come, merrily now, said Courfeyrac. After the fillip on the nose, the blow from the fist. The fusillade tries, the cannon takes. Combeferre, then Bossuet, talked of tin and rifling and of a ball that travels more slowly than light. Reload your guns, said Enjolras. How was the casing going to behave? Would they effect a breach? The anxiety in the redoubt was profound. The shot sped. Present! shouted a joyous voice. And Gavroche flung himself into the barricade just as the ball dashed against it. He came from the Rue du Cygne and had nimbly climbed over the auxiliary wall. Gavroche produced a greater sensation in the barricade than the cannon-ball. The ball buried itself in the mass of rubbish. At the most there was an omnibus wheel broken, and the old Anceau cart was demolished. On seeing this, the barricade burst into a laugh. Go on! shouted Bossuet to the artillerists.