Chapter 280 Two first joy

We know that Reiger de Mo often lived in Joli's dormitory.He has a dwelling like a bird has a branch.Two friends eat together, live together, live together.For them, everything is common, without exception.They are really inseparable.On the morning of June 5 they went to Corinth for lunch.Ruo Lizheng suffered from a severe cold and his nose was blocked, and Raigle also began to be infected.Raigle's clothes were worn out, but Jolie was well dressed. It was about nine o'clock in the morning when they reached Collins and opened the door. They went upstairs. Matrot and Gibblot receive them.

"Oysters and cheese and ham," said Reigle. They chose a table and sat down. The hotel was still empty, just the two of them. Gibblot knew Joly and Raigle, and put a bottle of wine on the table. While they were eating the first few oysters, a man's head stuck out from the mantle of the staircase, and said: "I was walking by here. I smelled brie in the street and it was so beautiful. I walked in." It was Grantaire who said that. Grantaire chose a round stool and sat in front of the table. Gibblot saw Grantaire coming and put two bottles of wine on the table. So there are three people.

"Are you going to drink the two bottles?" Reigle asked Grantaire. Grantaire replied: "Everyone is clever, but you are. Two bottles of wine never scare a man." The two had already started to eat, and Grantaire started to drink too.He drank half a bottle in one go. "I'm afraid there's a hole in your stomach?" Reigle said. "You do have one on your sleeve," Grantaire said. Then he drank another glass and said: "Honestly, Rieger, Master of Rites, your clothes are a bit too old." "Older is better," Reigle replied. "Because it's old, my clothes and I are at peace. It flexes with me, and it's never awkward. It's what I am, it's what I am." It looks like what I do, and it follows me. I only feel it when it’s hot. Old clothes are as considerate as old friends.”

"That's right," said Ruoli loudly, who began to join the conversation. "An old dress is an old (friend) friend." "Especially from someone with a blocked nose," Grantaire said. "Grantaire, did you come from the road just now?" Reigle asked. "no." "Joe and I saw the head of the funeral procession go by just now." "It was an amazing scene," Ruoli said. "It's such a quiet street!" exclaimed Reigle. "Who would have thought that Paris has been turned upside down? That's why this area was once full of convents! Dubuerre and Sauval have made lists, and the Abbe Le Boeuf. Around here, the streets used to be full of priests, like swarms of ants, some with shoes, some barefoot, some with shaved heads, some with beards, grizzled, black, white, Franciscans, Fraticelli, Capuchin, Carmelite, Augustinian the Younger, Augustinian the Major, Augustinian the Elder . . . filled the streets."

"Don't tell us about priests," Grantaire interrupted. "Talking about priests makes me tickle." Then he called out again: "Whoa! I swallowed a bad oyster. I'm going to have another bout of depression. The oysters are stinky, and the waitresses are ugly. I hate humans. I was just now in the Rue Richelieu, at the Passing the public library. Those books, just a heap of oyster shells, makes me want to throw up. How much paper! How much ink! How much messy manuscript! And it's all written in one stroke! Who the hell said that man is a two-legged animal without feathers? Besides, I also met a beautiful girl I knew, born as beautiful as spring, worthy of being called Flora, rejoicing and happy like an angel , this unlucky girl, because yesterday a pissed, hideously ugly bank boss took a fancy to her. My God! Women appreciate Lao Cai as much as Lily of the Valley, and cats chase mice as well as birds This frivolous girl, who not two months ago was living quietly in her little attic, sewing little brass rings with straps on to tights, what do you call that? Needlework. She had a A canvas couch, she was in front of a pot of flowers, she was happy. All of a sudden she became a bank proprietress. This transformation was completed last night. I met this happy victim again this morning. The terrible thing is , this little whore is as beautiful today as she was yesterday. From her face, there is no trace of the ugliness of her God of Wealth. Compared with women, roses have such a little advantage, or it can be said that they have such a little advantage. Said, the traces of the caterpillars on the roses are visible. Ah! There is no morality in this world. I testify with these things: myrtle as a symbol of love, laurel as a symbol of war, this stupid olive tree As a symbol of peace, the apple tree used its core to almost suffocate Adam, the fig tree, the ancestor of the skirt. As for the right of law, do you want to know what the right of law is? The Gauls wanted to occupy Cruz, and Rome protected Cruz , and questioned them what was wrong with Cruise for them? Brennus replied: 'Mistakes made by Alba, mistakes made by Fidina against you, mistakes made by the Eks, Volsk Mistakes done to you by the people, the Sabines. They live next to you. The Cruz live next to us, and like you we live in harmony with our neighbors. You took Alba, we will take Cruz Victis.' Rome said: 'You can't take Cruz.' Brennus took Rome. Then he cried: 'V Victis!' Such is the right. Ah! how many are there in this world? Birds of prey! How many eagles! I get goosebumps just thinking about it!"

He handed the glass to Joly, who filled it up for him, and then he took a long gulp, and then he said, hardly letting the glass of wine cut him off, and no one else noticed, not even himself: "Brenus who took Rome was an eagle, and the banker who took that flower girl was an eagle. There is no shame here, no shame there. So believe in nothing. Only one thing is sure: drink. Whether you Whatever your opinion, you should always treat thin cocks like Uri, or fat cocks like Galari, it doesn't matter, the drink matters. You and I talked about the boulevards, about the funeral procession, etc. God knows , is there another revolution? I am amazed at the poor way of the merciful God. He's going to lubricate the grooves of things all the time. It's stuck here, it won't work there. Come on, come on Revolution. The hands of a merciful God are always blackened with this dirty ointment. If I were in his place, I'd be simpler, I wouldn't wind up every moment, I'd be quick Leading mankind neatly, I will arrange human things like lace without breaking the yarn, I will not need any emergency measures, I will not put on any special programs. What you people call progress, Its operation depends on two engines: people and events. But, annoyingly, there are sometimes exceptions. For events and people, the usual team is not enough. There must be genius among the people, and there must be revolutions in the events. Major Accidents are the law, the order of things cannot be omitted, and you need only look at the appearance of those comets to believe that heaven itself needs actors to perform. Giant star. What a strange star, with a huge tail. Caesar died because of it. Brutus stabbed him, and God sent him a comet. Suddenly there was a northern light, A revolution, a great man, Ninety-Three written in big letters, the mighty Napoleon, the comet of 1811 on the top of the billboard. Ah! What a wonderful sky-blue billboard, full of unexpected events Flaming light! Bang! Bang! The sight is unprecedented. Lift up your eyes, wandering people. The stars in the sky and the drama in the world are all disordered. Good God, it's too much, but it's not enough. These means, which look grand, are in fact poor. My friends, God has run out of things. A revolution, what does this prove? Proves that God is at his wit's end. He will come to him once. Coup, because there needs to be a connection between the present and the future, because he, God, has no way to connect the two ends. It turns out that my estimate of the Lord's wealth was correct, just look at the upper and lower worlds so much uncomfortable , there is so much poverty, miserliness, poverty, and embarrassment in heaven and earth, as long as a bird that does not eat a grain of corn sees me, who does not have a hundred thousand livres annuity , just look at the fate of this weary human being, and even the fate of the princes and nobles with the rope-the Prince of Condé was hanged, just look at the winter, which is nothing else, it Just a crack in the zenith to let the cold wind blow in, just look at the brilliant golden purple that shines on the hill in the morning and there are so many of them.Ragged clothes, look at the dew that pretends to be pearls, the frost and snow that imitate jade chips, look at this fragmented human being and patchwork plot, and the sun has so many black spots, and the moon has so many holes, Famine and cold plague everywhere, I suspect, God is not rich.He doesn't look bad, it's true, but I don't think he can handle it.And he makes a revolution, like a businessman with an empty cash-box throws a ball.Do not judge the gods by their appearance.All I see under this golden sky is a poor universe.There are also failures in the creation of the world.That's why I feel unhappy in my heart.You see, today is June 5th, and it is almost dark. Since this morning, I have been waiting for the dawn.But it's not daylight until now, and I bet it won't be daylight all day today.A low-paid clerk got the clock wrong.Yes, everything is upside down, nothing matches each other, the old world is completely crippled, and I'm on the side of the opposition.Everything is a mess.The universe loves to tease people, like children, they want everything but get nothing, they don't want everything but everything.Anyway, I'm pissed off.Besides, Reiger de Mew, the bald man, made me sad when I saw him.I am ashamed to think that I am the same age as this weakling.However, I only criticize, I do not insult.The universe is still the universe.I speak here with no malice and a clear conscience.Eternal Father, please accept my high regards, Yours sincerely.what!I proclaim to every saint of Olympus and every god of heaven that I should not have been a Parisian, that is to say, always like a shuttlecock, to and fro between two rackets, He fell into the crowd of idlers, and then fell into the crowd of mischievous people!I should have been a Turk, as I was in Mr. Doctrine's dream, watching all the beautiful erotic dances of oriental girls performing those wonderful erotic dances of Egypt, or I should have been a peasant in Bosch, or I would have been in the court of the noble lady. To be a Venetian nobleman in the midst of his entourage, or a German princely prince, to supply half the infantry to the German Commonwealth, and to hang his socks on the fence, that is to say, on the frontier!This is my original destiny!Yes!I said, be a Turk, and I won't change my words.I don't understand why people always have bad intentions when they mention the Turks. Muhammad has his good side. We should respect the founder of the fairy cave and the beauty paradise!Don't insult Islam, it's the only religion equipped with heaven!Having said that, I strongly advocate cheers.The world is one big stupid thing.It is said that all these fools are about to fight again. In the summer when all flowers are blooming, they could take a beautiful woman on their arms and go to the freshly cut wheat straw in the field to breathe the fragrance of tea in the vast world, but they will fight each other , His nose was bruised and his face was swollen!Really, too many stupid things are done.I saw a broken lantern in a thrift store just now, and it reminded me: it's time to light up humanity.Yes, I am sad again!What a disgrace to swallow an oyster whole and a revolution!I'm going to be downcast again.Ah!The dreadful old world!People in this world are always colluding with each other, bullying each other, ruining each other, killing each other, there is no way! "

Grantaire babbled and babbled for a long time, followed by a fit of coughing, and it deserved it. "As for the revolution," said Joly, "it seems beyond doubt that Bar(mar)us is in love." "Who do you love, do you know?" Raigle asked. "have no idea." "have no idea?" "I really don't know." "The love of Marius!" exclaimed Grantaire, "it's easy to imagine. Marius is a mist, and he may have found a vapor. Marius is a poet type. A poet is a poet." Madman. God Apollo. Marius and his Mary, or his Maria, or his Mariette, or his Maryon, that should be a couple of funny lovers. I can imagine that What's the matter. So much love that I forgot to kiss. On the earth, pure and icy, in the infinite, they are two. They are two sentient souls. They both sleep in the stars."

Grantaire was about to drink his second bottle of wine, and maybe babble, when a stranger emerged from the square hole at the top of the stairs.This is a boy less than ten years old, dressed in rags, small in stature, yellow-skinned, protruding mouth, flexible eyes, unusually thick hair, dripping with rain, with a happy expression. The boy obviously didn't know the three people, but he didn't hesitate to ask Raigel de Mew as soon as he came up: "You are M. Bossuet, aren't you?" "That's my alias," Reigle replied. "What do you want me for?" "Well, a tall yellow-haired man on the boulevard said to me: 'Do you know Madam Hucheroup?' I said: 'Yes, the old man's widow in Machang Street.' And he said to me: 'You Go there, go there and find M. Bossuet, and tell him, I want you to tell him: ABC.' He's joking with you, isn't he? He gave me ten sous."

"Joe Lee, lend me ten sous," said Raigle, and turning to Grantaire, "Grantaire, lend me ten sous." Reigle gave the boy the twenty sous he had borrowed. "Thank you, sir," said the kid. "What's your name?" Raigle asked. "My name is Little Carrot, and I'm a friend of Gavroche's." "You stay with us," Raigle said. "Come to lunch with us," Grantaire said. The boy replied: "No, I'm in the parade, I'm the one calling down Poliniac." He took a big step back with one foot, the gesture of highest salute, and turned away.

After the child left, Grantaire started talking again: "It's a pure bacon. There are many kinds of bacon. The bacon of the notary is called Tiaogouwa, the bacon of the cook is called casserole, the bacon of the bakery is called the stove hood, the bacon of the servant The wild child of the sailor is called the water ghost, the wild child of the soldier is called the little hoof, the wild child of the oil painter is called the little sloppy, the wild child of the merchant is called the runner, the wild child of the courtier is called the footman, and the king's The wild child is called the prince, and the wild child of the gods and ghosts is called the elf."

At this time, Reigle was thoughtful, and he whispered: "ABC, that is, Lamarque's burial." "That so-called tall man with yellow hair must be Enjolras, he sent someone to notify you." Grantaire said. "Shall we go?" asked Bossuet. "It's raining," Ruoli said, "I swear, I'll jump into the big pit with me, but I won't do it in the rain. I don't want to report (catch) a cold." "I'll just stay here," Grantaire said. "I think it's better to have lunch than deliver the coffin." "So we'll all stay," Reigle went on, "well, let's keep drinking. Besides we can miss the funeral, but we won't miss the riot." "Ah! Riot, I have a share." Ruo Li shouted. Reiger rubbed his hands again and again: "We must make up a lesson about the Revolution of 1830. That Revolution really made the people uncomfortable." "Your revolution seems to me almost dispensable," said Grantaire. "I don't dislike the present government. It's a crown lined with a cotton cap. The king's scepter One end held an umbrella. Today's weather reminds me that Louis-Philippe's scepter can be used in two ways. He can extend the royal end against the people, and the other end Umbrellas open against God." It was dark in the hall, and a dark cloud blocked all the light.There was no one in the hotel or on the street, and everyone went to "watch the fun". "Is it noon or midnight?" cried Bossuet. "I can't see anything. Guibrot, bring the lamp." Grantaire frowned, only drinking. "Enjolras despises me," he said in his mouth. "Enjolras has thought: Joly is sick, Grantaire is drunk. He sent the radish for Bossuet. If he will come." Look for me, I will go with him. Enjolras is wrong, bad luck for him! I will not go to his funeral." Having thus decided, Bossuet, Joly, and Grantaire no longer intended to leave the hotel.It was almost two o'clock in the afternoon, and the table they were lying on was covered with empty wine bottles and two candles were burning, one in a completely green copper candlestick, the other in a cracked carafe. in the mouth of the bottle.Grantaire leads Joly and Bossuet to the cup, and Bossuet and Joly lead Grantaire back to the joy. After noon, Grantaire was beyond the range of wine, which can help people daydream, but the taste is ordinary.For the serious drinker, wine can only be good, not bad.There are good and evil magics that make people sleepy, but wine has only good magic powers.Grantaire is a desperate, drunken alcoholic.When the ferocious and captivating darkness appeared in front of his eyes, not only could he not let it go, but he blindly succumbed.He put down the wine bottle, then picked up the beer glass.Beer mugs are a bottomless pit.He had neither opium nor marijuana at hand, and to put his mind into that drowsy state, he invoked that formidable drink of schnapps, stout, and absinthe, so that Drunk to the point of fascination, people do not know.The so-called lead of the soul is composed of the strength of the three kinds of wines: beer, brandy and absinthe.These are three dark pools where the butterflies in the heavens once drowned, and turned into three silent mad monsters in a thin layer of mist that resembled bat wings: Nightmare, Night Charm, The god of death, hovering over the head of the sleeping goddess. Grantaire wasn't that drunk yet, not even close.He couldn't have been happier at the time, and Bossuet and Joly joined in the fun.They clink glasses frequently.Grantaire gesticulated, expressing his whims and strange theories clearly and powerfully. He clenched his fist with his left hand and rested it on his knee in a stately manner. On the round stool, holding a glass full of wine in his right hand, he gave the following solemn instructions to the stout maid Matlot: "Open all the doors of the palace! Let everyone enter the French Academy and have the right to hug Madam Huchereau! Cheers." Turning to Madam Huchereau, he called again: "The ancient woman who has been regarded as sacred in the past generations, please come here and let me pay my respects to you!" Jo Lee also shouted: "Ba(ma) Trott, Gibblott, don't give Grantaire any more wine. He eats too much money. Since this morning, he has reported (recklessly) swallowing Two francs ninety-five centimes dropped." Grantaire continued: "Who, without my permission, plucked the stars from the sky and put them on the table as candles?" Bossuet, drunk as he was, was able to maintain his composure. He sat on the open window sill, letting the rain soak his back, and stared at his two friends. Suddenly he heard a clamor and running behind him, and some shouted "Arm!" He turned his head and saw a large group of people advancing on the Rue Saint-Denis at the corner of the Rue de la Despots. Go, Enjolras with a rifle in his hand, Gavroche with a pistol, Feuilly with a saber, Courfeyrac with a sword, Jean Prouvel, A blunderbuss, Combeferre, a musket, Bahorey, a carbine, and a host of men with weapons and a menacing crowd following them. The length of Machang Street was not much longer than the range of a carbine.Bossuet immediately folded his hands together, made a megaphone, put them over his mouth, and shouted: "Courfeyrac! Courfeyrac! Hello!" Courfeyrac heard the shout, saw Bossuet, and took a few steps towards the Rue de la Machang, calling: "What do you want?" "Where are you going?" was answered. "To build barricades," replied Courfeyrac. "Come here! This location is good! Let's build it here!" "That's true, Reigle," said Courfeyrac. With a wave of Courfeyrac's hand, the whole gang poured into the Rue Machang.