2044 Les Miserables
street. Twenty cartouches for Gavroche meant a provision
of cartridges for the barricade.
The smoke in the street was like a fog. Whoever has be-
held a cloud which has fallen into a mountain gorge between
two peaked escarpments can imagine this smoke rendered
denser and thicker by two gloomy rows of lofty houses. It
rose gradually and was incessantly renewed; hence a twi-
light which made even the broad daylight turn pale. The
combatants could hardly see each other from one end of the
street to the other, short as it was.
This obscurity, which had probably been desired and
calculated on by the commanders who were to direct the
assault on the barricade, was useful to Gavroche.
Beneath the folds of this veil of smoke, and thanks to
his small size, he could advance tolerably far into the street
without being seen. He rifled the first seven or eight car-
tridge-boxes without much danger.
He crawled flat on his belly, galloped on all fours, took
his basket in his teeth, twisted, glided, undulated, wound
from one dead body to another, and emptied the cartridge-
box or cartouche as a monkey opens a nut.
They did not dare to shout to him to return from the bar-
ricade, which was quite near, for fear of attracting attention
to him.
On one body, that of a corporal, he found a powder-
flask.
‘For thirst,’ said he, putting it in his pocket.
By dint of advancing, he reached a point where the fog of
the fusillade became transparent. So that the sharpshooters