THE OLD MAN.
We will tell what had occurred. Enjolras and his friends were on the Bourdon Boulevard near the granaries at the moment when the dragoons charged, and Enjolras, Courfeyrac, and Combeferre were among those who turned into the Rue Bassompierre shouting, "To the barricades!" In the Rue Lesdiguières they met an old man walking along, and what attracted their attention was, that he was moving very irregularly, as if intoxicated. Moreover, he had his hat in his hand, although it had rained the whole morning, and was raining rather hard at that very moment. Courfeyrac recognized Father Mabœuf, whom he knew through having accompanied Marius sometimes as far as his door. Knowing the peaceful and more than timid habits of the churchwarden and bibliomaniac, and stupefied at seeing him in the midst of the tumult, within two yards of cavalry charges, almost in the midst of the musketry fire, bareheaded in the rain, and walking about among bullets, he accosted him, and the rebel of five-and-twenty and the octogenarian exchanged this dialogue:—
"Monsieur Mabœuf, you had better go home."
"Why so?"
"There is going to be a row."
"Very good."
"Sabre-cuts and shots, Monsieur Mabœuf."
"Very good."
"Cannon-shots."
"Very good. Where are you gentlemen going?"
"To upset the Government."
"Very good."
And he began following them, but since that moment had not said a word. His step had become suddenly firm, and when workmen offered him an arm, he declined it with a shake of the head. He walked almost at the head of the column, having at once the command of a man who is marching and the face of a man who is asleep.
"What a determined old fellow!" the students muttered; and the rumor ran along the party that he was an ex-conventionalist, an old regicide. The band turn into the Rue de la Verrerie, and little Gavroche marched at the head, singing at the top of his voice, which made him resemble a bugler. He sang:—
"Voici la lune qui paraît,
Quand irons-nous dans la forêt?
Demandait Charlot à Charlotte.
"Tou tou tou
Pour Chatou.
Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard et qu'une botte.
"Pour avoir bu de grand matin
La rosée à même le thym,
Deux moineaux étaient en ribotte.
"Zi zi zi
Pour Passy.
Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard et qu'une botte.
"Et ces deux pauvres petits loups,
Comme deux grives étaient soûls;
Un tigre en riait dans sa grotte.
"Don don don
Pour Meudon.
Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard et qu'une botte.
"L'un jurait et l'autre sacrait,
Quand irons-nous dans la forêt?
Demandait Charlot à Charlotte.
"Tin tin tin
Pour Pantin.
Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard et qu'une botte."
They proceeded towards St. Merry.
CHAPTER VI.
RECRUITS.
The band swelled every moment, and near the Rue des Billettes, a tall, grayish-haired man, whose rough bold face Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and Combeferre noticed, though not one of them knew him, joined them. Gavroche, busy singing, whistling, and shouting, and rapping the window-shutters with his pistol-butt, paid no attention to this man. As they went through the Rue de la Verrerie they happened to pass Courfeyrac's door.
"That's lucky," said Courfeyrac, "for I have forgotten my purse and lost my hat."
He left the band and bounded up-stairs, where he put on an old hat and put his purse in his pocket. He also took up a large square box of the size of a portmanteau, which was concealed among his dirty linen. As he was running down-stairs again his portress hailed him.
"Monsieur de Courfeyrac!"
"Portress, what is your name?" Courfeyrac retorted.
She stood in stupefaction.
"Why, you know very well, sir, that my name is Mother Veuvain."
"Well, then, if ever you call me M. de Courfeyrac again I shall call you Mother de Veuvain. Now speak; what is it?"
"Some one wishes to speak to you."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know."
"Where is he?"
"In my lodge."
"Oh, the devil!" said Courfeyrac.
"Why! he has been waiting for more than an hour for you to come in."
At the same time a species of young workman, thin, livid, small, marked with freckles, dressed in an old blouse and a pair of patched cotton-velvet trousers, who looked more like a girl attired as a boy than a man, stepped out of the lodge and said to Courfeyrac in a voice which was not the least in the world a feminine voice,—
"Monsieur Marius, if you please?"
"He is not here."
"Will he come in to-night?"
"I do not know."
And Courfeyrac added, "I shall not be in to-night."
The young man looked at him intently and asked,—
"Why not?"
"Because I shall not."
"Where are you going?"
"How does that concern you?"
"Shall I carry your chest for you?"
"I am going to the barricades."
"May I go with you?"
"If you like," Courfeyrac replied; "the street is free, and the pavement belongs to everybody."
And he ran off to join his friends again; when he had done so, he gave one of them the box to carry, and it was not till a quarter of an hour after that he noticed that the young man was really following them. A mob does not go exactly where it wishes, and we have explained that a puff of wind directs it. They passed St. Merry, and found themselves, without knowing exactly why, in the Rue St. Denis.