1984 Les Miserables
drink. He interdicted wine, and portioned out the brandy.
They had found in the cellar fifteen full bottles hermet-
ically sealed. Enjolras and Combeferre examined them.
Combeferre when he came up again said:—‘It’s the old stock
of Father Hucheloup, who began business as a grocer.’—
‘It must be real wine,’ observed Bossuet. ‘It’s lucky that
Grantaire is asleep. If he were on foot, there would be a good
deal of difficulty in saving those bottles.’—Enjolras, in spite
of all murmurs, placed his veto on the fifteen bottles, and,
in order that no one might touch them, he had them placed
under the table on which Father Mabeuf was lying.
About two o’clock in the morning, they reckoned up
their strength. There were still thirty-seven of them.
The day began to dawn. The torch, which had been
replaced in its cavity in the pavement, had just been extin-
guished. The interior of the barricade, that species of tiny
courtyard appropriated from the street, was bathed in shad-
ows, and resembled, athwart the vague, twilight horror, the
deck of a disabled ship. The combatants, as they went and
came, moved about there like black forms. Above that ter-
rible nesting-place of gloom the stories of the mute houses
were lividly outlined; at the very top, the chimneys stood
palely out. The sky was of that charming, undecided hue,
which may be white and may be blue. Birds flew about in it
with cries of joy. The lofty house which formed the back of
the barricade, being turned to the East, had upon its roof a
rosy reflection. The morning breeze ruffled the gray hair on
the head of the dead man at the third-story window.
‘I am delighted that the torch has been extinguished,’