touched by Combeferre's words, shaken by Enjolras' order, touched
by Marius' entreaty, these heroic men began to denounce each other.--"It
is true," said one young man to a full grown man, "you are the father
of a family. Go."--"It is your duty rather," retorted the man, "you have
two sisters whom you maintain."--And an unprecedented controversy broke
forth. Each struggled to determine which should not allow himself to be
placed at the door of the tomb.

"Make haste," said Courfeyrac, "in another quarter of an hour it will be
too late."

"Citizens," pursued Enjolras, "this is the Republic, and universal
suffrage reigns. Do you yourselves designate those who are to go."

They obeyed. After the expiration of a few minutes, five were
unanimously selected and stepped out of the ranks.

"There are five of them!" exclaimed Marius.

There were only four uniforms.

"Well," began the five, "one must stay behind."

And then a struggle arose as to who should remain, and who should find
reasons for the others not remaining. The generous quarrel began afresh.

"You have a wife who loves you."--"You have your aged mother."--" You
have neither father nor mother, and what is to become of your three
little brothers?"--"You are the father of five children."--"You have a
right to live, you are only seventeen, it is too early for you to die."

These great revolutionary barricades were assembling points for heroism.
The improbable was simple there. These men did not astonish each other.

"Be quick," repeated Courfeyrac.

Men shouted to Marius from the groups:

"Do you designate who is to remain."

"Yes," said the five, "choose. We will obey you."

Marius did not believe that he was capable of another emotion. Still,
at this idea, that of choosing a man for death, his blood rushed back
to his heart. He would have turned pale, had it been possible for him to
become any paler.

He advanced towards the five, who smiled upon him, and each, with his
eyes full of that grand flame which one beholds in the depths of history
hovering over Thermopylae, cried to him:

"Me! me! me!"

And Marius stupidly counted them; there were still five of them! Then
his glance dropped to the four uniforms.

At that moment, a fifth uniform fell, as if from heaven, upon the other
four.

The fifth man was saved.

Marius raised his eyes and recognized M. Fauchelevent.

Jean Valjean had just entered the barricade.

He had arrived by way of Mond