第二百七十六章 六 新兵
队伍边走边扩大。到了便门街附近，有个人，高个子，头发花白，气宇不凡，古费拉克、安灼拉和公白飞都注意到他的粗犷大胆，但并不认识他，他也加入进来。伽弗洛什只顾唱着、吹着口哨、哼着，跑着，用那支没有撞针的手枪的枪托敲着商店的护板，根本没去理会这个人。
在玻璃厂街上，他们正巧走在古费拉克家的大门口。
“恰好，”古费拉克说，“我忘了带钱袋，帽子也丢了。”
他离开队伍，三步并作两步跑上他住的阁楼。他取了一顶旧帽子和钱包。也取了一个相当大的方盒子，像一个大旅行箱那么大，藏在他的脏衣服堆里。
他跑着下楼时，女门房叫住他：
“古费拉克先生！”
“门房太太，您姓什么？”
门房发愣了。
“您知道得很清楚呀，我是看门的，我姓弗旺妈妈。”
“好吧，要是您再叫我古费拉克先生，我就叫您德·弗旺妈妈。现在，说吧，什么事？您要干吗？”
“有个人要跟您说话。”
“谁呀？”
“我不认识。”
“在哪儿？”
“在我的门房里。”
“活见鬼！”古费拉克说。
“那人等您回来已等了一个多小时了。”女门房说。
与此同时，一个瘦弱、苍白、矮小、年轻、一脸雀斑的工人模样的小伙子，穿一件破罩衫，一条满是补丁的灯芯绒裤子，与其说像男人，倒不如说像女扮男装，他从门房走出来，对古费拉克说话，那声音却一点也不像女人：
“马吕斯先生，请问？”
“他不在。”
“今晚会回来吗？”
“我不知道。”
古费拉克又说：
“我嘛，我是不会来的了。”
那年轻人两眼直盯着他，说：
“为什么？”
“没为什么。”
“您要去哪儿？”
“关你什么事？”
“您要我替您拎这箱子吗？”
“我要去街垒。”
“您要我跟您一道去吗？”
“随你便！”古费拉克回答，“街上是公共的，人行道属于大家。”
说完，他拔腿跑着去追他的朋友们去了。追上后，他把箱子交给他俩中的一个扛。只过了一刻钟，他果然又看到了那个年轻人跟在后面。
群众并不总是走它要去的地方。我们说过，一阵风就能把他们刮走。他们走过了圣梅里教堂，不知不觉就到了圣德尼街。
The band augmented every moment. Near the Rue des Billettes, a man of
lofty stature, whose hair was turning gray, and whose bold and daring
mien was remarked by Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and Combeferre, but whom
none of them knew, joined them. Gavroche, who was occupied in singing,
whistling, humming, running on ahead and pounding on the shutters of
the shops with the butt of his triggerless pistol; paid no attention to
this man.
It chanced that in the Rue de la Verrerie, they passed in front of
Courfeyrac’s door.
“This happens just right,” said Courfeyrac, “I have forgotten my purse,
and I have lost my hat.”
He quitted the mob and ran up to his quarters at full speed. He seized
an old hat and his purse.
He also seized a large square coffer, of the dimensions of a large
valise, which was concealed under his soiled linen.
As he descended again at a run, the portress hailed him:—
“Monsieur de Courfeyrac!”
“What’s your name, portress?”
The portress stood bewildered.
“Why, you know perfectly well, I’m the concierge; my name is Mother
Veuvain.”
“Well, if you call me Monsieur de Courfeyrac again, I shall call you
Mother de Veuvain. Now speak, what’s the matter? What do you want?”
“There is some one who wants to speak with you.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is he?”
“In my lodge.”
“The devil!” ejaculated Courfeyrac.
“But the person has been waiting your return for over an hour,” said
the portress.
At the same time, a sort of pale, thin, small, freckled, and youthful
artisan, clad in a tattered blouse and patched trousers of ribbed
velvet, and who had rather the air of a girl accoutred as a man than of
a man, emerged from the lodge and said to Courfeyrac in a voice which
was not the least in the world like a woman’s voice:—
“Monsieur Marius, if you please.”
“He is not here.”
“Will he return this evening?”
“I know nothing about it.”
And Courfeyrac added:—
“For my part, I shall not return.”
The young man gazed steadily at him and said:—
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Where are you going, then?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“Would you like to have me carry your coffer for you?”
“I am going to the barricades.”
“Would you like to have me go with you?”
“If you like!” replied Courfeyrac. “The street is free, the pavements
belong to every one.”
And he made his escape at a run to join his friends. When he had
rejoined them, he gave the coffer to one of them to carry. It was only
a quarter of an hour after this that he saw the young man, who had
actually followed them.
A mob does not go precisely where it intends. We have explained that a
gust of wind carries it away. They overshot Saint-Merry and found
themselves, without precisely knowing how, in the Rue Saint-Denis.
