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vard near the washerwomen? How the birds sang! That was
a long time ago. You gave me a hundred sous, and I said to
you: ‘I don’t want your money.’ I hope you picked up your
coin? You are not rich. I did not think to tell you to pick it
up. The sun was shining bright, and it was not cold. Do you
remember, Monsieur Marius? Oh! How happy I am! Every
one is going to die.’
She had a mad, grave, and heart-breaking air. Her torn
blouse disclosed her bare throat.
As she talked, she pressed her pierced hand to her breast,
where there was another hole, and whence there spurted
from moment to moment a stream of blood, like a jet of
wine from an open bung-hole.
Marius gazed at this unfortunate creature with profound
compassion.
‘Oh!’ she resumed, ‘it is coming again, I am stifling!’
She caught up her blouse and bit it, and her limbs stiff-
ened on the pavement.
At that moment the young cock’s crow executed by little
Gavroche resounded through the barricade.
The child had mounted a table to load his gun, and was
singing gayly the song then so popular:—
“En voyant Lafayette, “On beholding Lafayette,
Le gendarme repete:— The gendarme repeats:—
Sauvons nous! sauvons nous! Let us flee! let us flee!
sauvons nous!’ let us flee!Eponine raised herself and listened; then she