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anything about it. In the midst of the uproar, Bossuet all at
once terminated some apostrophe to Combeferre, with this
date:—
‘June 18th, 1815, Waterloo.’
At this name of Waterloo, Marius, who was leaning his
elbows on a table, beside a glass of water, removed his wrist
from beneath his chin, and began to gaze fixedly at the au-
dience.
‘Pardieu!’ exclaimed Courfeyrac (“Parbleu’ was fall-
ing into disuse at this period), ‘that number 18 is strange
and strikes me. It is Bonaparte’s fatal number. Place Louis
in front and Brumaire behind, you have the whole destiny
of the man, with this significant peculiarity, that the end
treads close on the heels of the commencement.’
Enjolras, who had remained mute up to that point, broke
the silence and addressed this remark to Combeferre:—
‘You mean to say, the crime and the expiation.’
This word crime overpassed the measure of what Mari-
us, who was already greatly agitated by the abrupt evocation
of Waterloo, could accept.
He rose, walked slowly to the map of France spread out
on the wall, and at whose base an island was visible in a
separate compartment, laid his finger on this compartment
and said:—
‘Corsica, a little island which has rendered France very
g reat.’
This was like a breath of icy air. All ceased talking. They
felt that something was on the point of occurring.
Bahorel, replying to Bossuet, was just assuming an at-