Chapter 298 Two wild children are hostile to street lights

How long has he been like this?What were the ups and downs of those harrowing meditations?Has he pulled himself together?Has he crouched?Has he been crushed to a broken waist?Will he still stand upright and find a solid footing on his conscience?There are probably countless in his own mind. That street is deserted.Occasionally a few restless bourgeois, anxious to get home, barely saw him.Everyone looks out for himself in times of crisis.As usual, the lamplighter lit the lamp installed directly opposite Gate No. 7 and left.Jean Valjean stayed in the shadows, and if anyone watched him, he would feel that he was not alive.He sat on the parapet by the gate, motionless as if frozen to death.Disappointment can freeze a person.People heard bells calling for armed resistance, and faintly heard the noise of drums like a storm.In the midst of the frantic beating of bells and the tumult of human voices, the clock of St. Paul's Church strikes eleven o'clock solemnly and soothingly. The alarm bell is the voice of man, and the clock is the voice of God.Jean Valjean, insensible to the passage of time, sat still.At this moment there was suddenly a loud explosion from the side of the vegetable market, followed by a second explosion, more violent than the first, probably the one we saw first and repelled by Marius. Attack on the barricade in Machang Street.The two consecutive shots, which took place in the dead of night, seemed so violent that Jean Valjean was startled. He stood up, faced the direction from which the sound came, and fell on the parapet again, arms folded, His head slowly dropped to his chest again.

Again he had a sad conversation with himself. He suddenly raised his eyes and heard the sound of someone walking nearby on the street. In the light of the street lamp, he saw a thin yellow boy happily walking from the street leading to the Museum of Historical Relics. Gavroche had just reached the Rue des Armées. Gavroche looked around with his head raised, as if looking for something.He clearly saw Jean Valjean, but ignored him. After looking up for a while, Gavroche looked down again. He tiptoed to feel the doors and the windows facing the street. The doors and windows were all closed, bolted, and locked. He tried five or six times to prevent them from being tightly closed. Behind the door and window, the wild child shrugged and said this sentence:

"To hell with it!" Then he looked up again. Before that, Jean Valjean, in his state of mind, could neither say a word nor answer a word to anyone.At this time, he couldn't hold back, and took the initiative to talk to the child. "Son," he said, "what do you want?" "I want something to eat, I'm hungry," Gavroche answered unequivocally.He added, "Old boy." Jean Valjean drew a five-franc piece from his waistcoat pocket. Gavroche, like a wagtail with quick and changing movements, has picked up a stone from the ground.He had already noticed the street lamp.

"Hey," he said, "you've got lanterns burning here. You're out of order, my friend. It's a breach of order. Break it down." He picked up a stone and threw it at the street lamp, and the glass on the lamp shattered, and several bourgeois living in the opposite house stuck their heads out from under the curtains and shouted, "The 1993 episode is here again!" The street lamp shook violently and went out.The street suddenly became pitch black. "That's it, old Rue de Corruption," said Gavroche, "and put on your nightcap." Then turning to Jean Valjean, he said:

"What do you call that building at the end of the street? The Museum of Historical Relics, don't you? Its big and thick stone pillars need to be cleaned a little for me to make a good barricade." Jean Valjean went up to Gavroche, and whispered to himself: "Poor boy, he's hungry." He put the hundred-sou piece in his hand. Gavroche raised his nose, a little surprised at how big the coin would be, and looked at the big sous in the darkness, whose white light dazzled his eyes.He had heard that there was such a five-franc coin, and he had longed for it, and was delighted to see one.He said, "Let me see the tiger up here."

After scrutinizing it with rapture, he turned again to Jean Valjean, handed him the money, and said solemnly: "Boss, I still like to smash street lamps. Take back you tiger. I will never be corrupted by others. This thing has five claws, but it can't catch me." "Have you a mother?" asked Jean Valjean. "Maybe more than yours." "Well," continued Jean Valjean, "you will leave this money to your mother." Gavroche felt touched.And he had just noticed that the man he was talking to had no hat, which added to his liking for him. "Really!" said he, "isn't it to prevent me from smashing a lamp?"

"You can smash whatever you like." "You are an honest man," said Gavroche. He then stuffed the five francs worth of money into his pocket. His sense of trust strengthened, and he asked again: "Do you live in this street?" "Yes, why do you ask?" "Will you tell me where number seven is?" "What do you ask number seven for?" The child did not speak.Afraid he would say too much, he thrust his fingernails into his hair and answered only this: "Ah! Nothing." Jean Valjean was moved.Anxiety often sharpens the mind.He said to the boy:

"I'm waiting for a letter. Are you here to deliver it?" "You?" said Gavroche, "you are not a woman." "The letter is for Mademoiselle Cosette, is it not?" "Cosette?" muttered Gavroche, "yes, I think so, such a ridiculous name." "Then," continued Jean Valjean, "it is I who must give her the letter. You give it to me." "In that case, you must know that I was sent from the barricades." "Of course," said Jean Valjean. Gavroche thrust his fist into another pocket, from which he drew a sheet of paper folded in four.

He then gave a military salute. "Salute to this document," he said. "It was issued by the Provisional Government." "Give it to me," said Jean Valjean. Gavroche held the paper above his head. "Don't you think it's a love letter. It's written to a woman, but for the people. We men fight and respect women. We don't give pullet hens to camels like those dudes lion." "Give me." "Indeed," continued Gavroche, "you seem to me to be an honest man." "Give it to me quickly." "take it."

So saying he handed the paper to Jean Valjean. "You have to hand it in early, Mr. Cosett, because Miss Cosett is waiting." Gavroche felt quite proud of his ability to coin such a word. Jean Valjean continued: "The reply should be sent to Saint-Merry?" "You are talking nonsense," exclaimed Gavroche. "This letter comes from the barricades of the Rue de las Mills. I shall be returning there. Good night, citizen." Having said this, Gavroche departed, or rather, like a bird out of its cage, flew away in the direction from which it had come first.At the speed of the shells, he disappeared in the darkness again, as if he had punched a hole through the black shadow, and the small warrior street returned to silence and desolation again, this strange child who seemed to be made of shadows and dream souls , In the blink of an eye, it disappeared into the mist among the dark houses lined up, and disappeared in the night like a wisp of smoke.He seemed to have completely disappeared, but after a few minutes, a crisp sound of broken glass and falling street lamps woke up the angry bourgeois gentlemen again.Gavroche was passing the Rue Stubble.