Chapter 284 six waiting
What did they do while they were waiting?
We should speak out because this is history.
When men are making bullets and women are making bandages, when a big iron pot is still steaming over the fire, filled with molten tin and lead, ready to be poured into bullet molds, when sentries stand guard on the barricades with weapons Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Jean Prouvier, Feuillet, Bossuet, Joly, Bahoret, and several others, invited each other to gather, while Enjolras, absorbed in his attention, went round the sentries. Together, just like the classmates would talk to each other on peaceful days, sitting in a corner of the hotel that has become a bomb shelter, only two steps from the fort they built, and loading their bullets. With the guns leaning against the backs of their chairs, the group of handsome young men began to read some love poems.
What poem?These:
, but has no impression at all, And Lamenai, also can't compare with you;
Such a moment, such an environment, the recollection of various past events in his youth, the stars that began to twinkle in the sky, the desolate and dead streets, and the imminent ordeal, all of which made Jean Prouvel, a tender and melancholy man, These lines, chanted by the poet in a low voice, add a layer of melancholy charm. At this moment a colored paper lantern was lit in the little barricade, and a waxed torch was lit in the big barricade.This kind of torch, we already know, comes from the suburbs of Saint-Antoine, and it is the kind of torch that is lit in front of the carriage every year on Fat Tuesday when people wearing masks crowded into the carriage and marched towards the La Gourdie district. The torch was placed in a wind-shielding cage blocked on three sides by stones, so that the light of the torch was like a spotlight, shooting all on the red flag.The streets and barricades were still in darkness, and all that could be seen was the horribly bright red flag. The light of the torches added an indescribably hideous purple color to the vermilion of the flag.
, but has no impression at all, And Lamenai, also can't compare with you;
Such a moment, such an environment, the recollection of various past events in his youth, the stars that began to twinkle in the sky, the desolate and dead streets, and the imminent ordeal, all of which made Jean Prouvel, a tender and melancholy man, These lines, chanted by the poet in a low voice, add a layer of melancholy charm. At this moment a colored paper lantern was lit in the little barricade, and a waxed torch was lit in the big barricade.This kind of torch, we already know, comes from the suburbs of Saint-Antoine, and it is the kind of torch that is lit in front of the carriage every year on Fat Tuesday when people wearing masks crowded into the carriage and marched towards the La Gourdie district. The torch was placed in a wind-shielding cage blocked on three sides by stones, so that the light of the torch was like a spotlight, shooting all on the red flag.The streets and barricades were still in darkness, and all that could be seen was the horribly bright red flag. The light of the torches added an indescribably hideous purple color to the vermilion of the flag.