tion was again majestically taking
possession of France and saying to the world: "The sequel to-morrow!"
Enjolras was content. The furnace was being heated. He had at that
moment a powder train of friends scattered all over Paris. He composed,
in his own mind, with Combeferre's philosophical and penetrating
eloquence, Feuilly's cosmopolitan enthusiasm, Courfeyrac's dash,
Bahorel's smile, Jean Prouvaire's melancholy, Joly's science, Bossuet's
sarcasms, a sort of electric spark which took fire nearly everywhere at
once. All hands to work. Surely, the result would answer to the effort.
This was well. This made him think of Grantaire.

"Hold," said he to himself, "the Barriere du Maine will not take me far
out of my way. What if I were to go on as far as Richefeu's? Let us have
a look at what Grantaire is about, and see how he is getting on."

One o'clock was striking from the Vaugirard steeple when Enjolras
reached the Richefeu smoking-room.

He pushed open the door, entered, folded his arms, letting the door fall
to and strike his shoulders, and gazed at that room filled with tables,
men, and smoke.

A voice broke forth from the mist of smoke, interrupted by another
voice. It was Grantaire holding a dialogue with an adversary.

Grantaire was sitting opposite another figure, at a marble Saint-Anne
table, strewn with grains of bran and dotted with dominos. He was
hammering the table with his fist, and this is what Enjolras heard:--

"Double-six."

"Fours."

"The pig! I have no more."

"You are dead. A two."

"Six."

"Three."

"One."

"It's my move."

"Four points."

"Not much."

"It's your turn."

"I have made an enormous mistake."

"You are doing well."

"Fifteen."

"Seven more."

"That makes me twenty-two." [Thoughtfully, "Twenty-two!"]

"You weren't expecting that double-six. If I had placed it at the
beginning, the whole play would have been changed."

"A two again."

"One."

"One! Well, five."

"I haven't any."

"It was your play, I believe?"

"Yes."

"Blank."

"What luck he has! Ah! You are lucky! [Long revery.] Two."

"One."

"Neither five nor one. That's bad for you."

"Domino."

"Plague take it!"

BOOK SECOND.--EPONINE

CHAPTER I--THE LARK'S MEADOW

Marius had witnessed the unexpected termination of the ambush upon whose
track he had set Javert; but Javert had no sooner quitted the building,
bearing off his prisoners in three hackney-coaches, than