arricade at the very moment when,
without any doubt, it was again the object of their aim, was simply
death. The bravest hesitated to pronounce his own condemnation. Enjolras
himself felt a thrill. He repeated:--

"Does no one volunteer?"

CHAPTER II--THE FLAG: ACT SECOND

Since they had arrived at Corinthe, and had begun the construction of
the barricade, no attention had been paid to Father Mabeuf. M. Mabeuf
had not quitted the mob, however; he had entered the ground-floor of the
wine-shop and had seated himself behind the counter. There he had, so to
speak, retreated into himself. He no longer seemed to look or to think.
Courfeyrac and others had accosted him two or three times, warning him
of his peril, beseeching him to withdraw, but he did not hear them.
When they were not speaking to him, his mouth moved as though he were
replying to some one, and as soon as he was addressed, his lips became
motionless and his eyes no longer had the appearance of being alive.

Several hours before the barricade was attacked, he had assumed an
attitude which he did not afterwards abandon, with both fists planted
on his knees and his head thrust forward as though he were gazing over a
precipice. Nothing had been able to move him from this attitude; it did
not seem as though his mind were in the barricade. When each had gone
to take up his position for the combat, there remained in the tap-room
where Javert was bound to the post, only a single insurgent with a naked
sword, watching over Javert, and himself, Mabeuf. At the moment of the
attack, at the detonation, the physical shock had reached him and had,
as it were, awakened him; he started up abruptly, crossed the room,
and at the instant when Enjolras repeated his appeal: "Does no one
volunteer?" the old man was seen to make his appearance on the threshold
of the wine-shop. His presence produced a sort of commotion in the
different groups. A shout went up:--

"It is the voter! It is the member of the Convention! It is the
representative of the people!"

It is probable that he did not hear them.

He strode straight up to Enjolras, the insurgents withdrawing before him
with a religious fear; he tore the flag from Enjolras, who recoiled in
amazement and then, since no one dared to stop or to assist him, this
old man of eighty, with shaking head but firm foot, began slowly to
ascend the staircase of paving-stones arranged in the barricade. This
was so melancholy and so