t paws, a cry of pain which arouses a desire to laugh, there is
the duck. Now, since poultry exists by the side of the bird, I do
not see why classic tragedy should not exist in the face of antique
tragedy."

Or chance decreed that Marius should traverse Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau
between Enjolras and Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac took his arm:--

"Pay attention. This is the Rue Platriere, now called Rue Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, on account of a singular household which lived in it sixty
years ago. This consisted of Jean-Jacques and Therese. From time
to time, little beings were born there. Therese gave birth to them,
Jean-Jacques represented them as foundlings."

And Enjolras addressed Courfeyrac roughly:--

"Silence in the presence of Jean-Jacques! I admire that man. He denied
his own children, that may be; but he adopted the people."

Not one of these young men articulated the word: The Emperor.
Jean Prouvaire alone sometimes said Napoleon; all the others said
"Bonaparte." Enjolras pronounced it "Buonaparte."

Marius was vaguely surprised. Initium sapientiae.

CHAPTER IV--THE BACK ROOM OF THE CAFE MUSAIN

One of the conversations among the young men, at which Marius was
present and in which he sometimes joined, was a veritable shock to his
mind.

This took place in the back room of the Cafe Musain. Nearly all the
Friends of the A B C had convened that evening. The argand lamp was
solemnly lighted. They talked of one thing and another, without passion
and with noise. With the exception of Enjolras and Marius, who held
their peace, all were haranguing rather at hap-hazard. Conversations
between comrades sometimes are subject to these peaceable tumults. It
was a game and an uproar as much as a conversation. They tossed words
to each other and caught them up in turn. They were chattering in all
quarters.

No woman was admitted to this back room, except Louison, the dish-washer
of the cafe, who passed through it from time to time, to go to her
washing in the "lavatory."

Grantaire, thoroughly drunk, was deafening the corner of which he had
taken possession, reasoning and contradicting at the top of his lungs,
and shouting:--

"I am thirsty. Mortals, I am dreaming: that the tun of Heidelberg has an
attack of apoplexy, and that I am one of the dozen leeches which will
be applied to it. I want a drink. I desire to forget life. Life is a
hideous invention of I know not whom. It lasts no time at all, and is
worth