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Marius raised his voice to say: ‘I know him.’
As far as Marius was concerned, this attitude of M. Fau-
chelevent was comforting, and, if such a word can be used
for such impressions, we should say that it pleased him. He
had always felt the absolute impossibility of addressing that
enigmatical man, who was, in his eyes, both equivocal and
imposing. Moreover, it had been a long time since he had
seen him; and this still further augmented the impossibility
for Marius’ timid and reserved nature.
The five chosen men left the barricade by way of Mon-
detour lane; they bore a perfect resemblance to members of
the National Guard. One of them wept as he took his leave.
Before setting out, they embraced those who remained.
When the five men sent back to life had taken their
departure, Enjolras thought of the man who had been con-
demned to death.
He entered the tap-room. Javert, still bound to the post,
was engaged in meditation.
‘Do you want anything?’ Enjolras asked him.
‘Javert replied: ‘When are you going to kill me?’
‘Wait. We need all our cartridges just at present.’
‘Then give me a drink,’ said Javert.
Enjolras himself offered him a glass of water, and, as Jav-
ert was pinioned, he helped him to drink.
‘Is that all?’ inquired Enjolras.
‘I am uncomfortable against this post,’ replied Javert.
‘You are not tender to have left me to pass the night here.
Bind me as you please, but you surely might lay me out on a
table like that other man.’