Chapter 282 Four Tries to Comfort the Widow of Hucheroup

Bahore looked dreamily at the barricade, and he exclaimed: "This street can be said to be topless! Very good!" Courfeyrac also damaged the hotel to some extent, while trying to comfort the widow who was the hostess of the hotel. "Madame Huchereau, didn't you complain that day that Guibrot shook a rug at your window, and you were notified and fined?" "Yes, my good Monsieur Courfeyrac. Ah! my God, will you also pile my table on top of your rubbish? For the rug, and for the garret that fell into the street." The government has already fined me a hundred francs for a pot of flowers, and you still want to treat my things like this? It’s outrageous!"

"Yes! Madam Huchereau, we are avenging you." After listening to this explanation, Madam Hucheroup seemed to be unable to understand what compensation she had received.Once upon a time, there was an Arab woman who was slapped by her husband. She went to complain to her father and clamored for revenge. She said, "Dad, my husband insulted you. You should take revenge." Her father asked, "Which side of your face did he slap you?" "The left." Then her father slapped her on the right side of her face and said, "You should be satisfied now. Go and treat your husband Said, he beat my daughter, and I beat his wife." Madam Huchereau felt just as satisfied at this moment.

The rain has stopped.Here are some new fighters.Some of the workmen brought with them useful things hidden under their blouses: a keg of gunpowder, a basket containing bottles of sulfuric acid, two or three carnival torches, a basket of paper left over from the three kings' pilgrimage lantern.The holiday was celebrated only recently on May 1st.It is said that these war supplies were supplied by a grocer named Beban in the suburbs of Saint-Antoine.The only street lamp on Rue de la Machang, facing the street lamps on Rue Saint-Denis far away, and all the street lamps on the nearby streets—Rue Mondedu, Rue Swan, Rue Missionary Friars, and Rue Dahuaziwo were all turned on. Lost.

Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac direct everything.At this time two barricades were being erected at the same time, both leaning against Corinth, forming a quadratic shape; the larger one blocking the Rue Machang, and the smaller one blocking the Rue Mondedu on the other side of the Rue Swan.The small one was very narrow, made only of barrels and paving stones, and there were about fifty workmen in it, about thirty of whom had rifles, for they had borrowed all the weapons from an arms store on the way. up. There is nothing more peculiar and bizarre than this kind of team.One wore a knee-length tunic with a saber and two long pistols, another wore a shirt, a round-brimmed hat, and a leather gourd-shaped box of gunpowder hung by his side, and a third wore a A breastplate of nine layers of vellum, and a weapon of the kind used by harness makers.One shouted: "Let's kill them to the last! Let's die on the point of our bayonets!" This man did not have a bayonet.The other wore over his riding jacket a National Guardsman belt, a square leather box for bullets, with a decoration on the lid, and a piece of red woolen cloth with the words "Public Order" embossed on it. .Lots of rifles with unit numbers on them, few hats, absolutely no ties, lots of bare arms, a few spears.And to this there were people of all ages and faces, pale youths, bronzed dockers.All the people are chasing after each other, helping each other, and talking at the same time, looking forward to possible opportunities, saying that there will be reinforcements around three o'clock in the morning, saying that a wing will definitely respond, saying that the whole of Paris will move .Thrilling topics contain joy from the heart.These people are like brothers, and they don't know each other's names.There is a grandeur in great peril: the spirit it fires of fraternity between strangers.

A fire was lit in the kitchen.They put the tin utensils in the hotel: jugs, spoons, forks, etc. into a mold and melted them to make bullets.They work while drinking.The table was littered with sealed tin bottles, buckshot, and glasses.Madam Huslut, Matlot and Gibrot all had different abnormal states due to terror, some became stupid, some were out of breath, and some were awakened by fright. They stayed in the room with the table In the hall, old cloths were being torn to make bandages, and they were helped by three men of the insurrection, three merry men with long hair and beards, who picked up the strips with the fingers of the weavers, and shake them.

The tall man whom Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Enjolras had noticed when they first joined the procession at the corner of the Rue Piette was working at the barricade, and was doing his part.Gavroche worked at the Grand Fortress.As for the young man who had waited at Courfeyrac's door and asked him about M. Marius, he disappeared about the time the stagecoach was overturned. Gavroche was so happy that he seemed to fly with excitement, and he took the initiative to do the work of encouraging and agitating.He went back and forth, climbed up and down, and climbed up again, making a lot of noise and sparks.He seemed to be there to encourage everyone.Does he have a baton?Yes, certainly: his poverty; has he got wings?There is, there must be: his joy.Gavroche was a whirlwind.People see his image at any time, and hear his voice everywhere.He fills space and is always there.He was almost the embodiment of a thrill, and without him there was no pause.The massive barricade felt him sitting on its hips.He unnerves the idle, excites the idle, cheers the weary, inspires the pondering, cheers up one lot, excites another, excites another, sets everyone to action Get up, poke at a college student, take a bite at a worker, stay here for a while, stop there for a while, then move on to another place, fly above the noise and energy, jump from group to group , chattering, buzzing and flying, driving the whole team, just like a fly on a huge revolutionary carriage.

From his thin arms the perpetual activity, from his feeble lungs the restless clamor: "Come on! I need stones! I want barrels! I want these things! Where can I get them? Get me a basket of limestone to plug this hole for me. It's too small, your barricades. You have to build them." Higher. Lift everything up, throw up, throw up. Pull that house down. A barricade, a tea party for Mama Gibb. There's a glass door here, you see." This made the workers roar. "A glass door, what's your glass door for, little potato?" "How wonderful you are!" retorted Gavroche. "There's a glass door in the barricade. It's very useful. Of course it can't prevent people from attacking, but it can prevent people from taking it down. When you steal apples, don't you ever climb the wall with the bottom of the glass bottle? Is there a glass door, the calluses on the feet of those National Guardsmen who try to climb the barricades will be scratched. Good God! Glass is a sinister thing. Really, comrades, you are too lacking Rich imagination!"

Besides, the thought of his pistol without a firing pin flared up.He went from one question to another, demanding, "A rifle. I want a rifle. Why won't you give me a rifle?" "Here's a rifle!" said Courfeyrac. "Hey!" retorted Gavroche, "why not? I had one in 1830, when we fell out with Charles X!" Enjolras shrugged. "Wait until the adults have it before distributing it to the children." Gavroche turned to him proudly and replied: "If you die before me, I'll take your gun." "Wild child!" said Enjolras.

"Young man!" said Gavroche. A dandy wandering the streets diverts their attention. Gavroche called to him: "Come to us, young man! Why, don't you intend to do something for the old country?" Playboy quickly slipped away.