Heaven wheels above you, displaying to you her eternal glories, and still your eyes are on the ground. –Dante.
"Just look at that haze," Jehan said, gazing out the window of Bahorel's flat. "The clouds are already providing us with smoke upon this day of predicted revolt, while the sun comes through in bursts like the light of our ideals."
Bahorel gave him a look. "Come on, Prouvaire. Help me with this ammunition, or we'll not get to the funeral in time."
Jehan didn't even turn. "Bahorel, you never care about being on time. Surely you can spare me a few moments now?"
"That's for classes," Bahorel reminded him. "Classes which I aim to fail just often enough to stay in Paris without ever becoming a lawyer. When it comes to the possibility of a riot, you shall see me there as soon as I get the chance—now come! You may poeticize about the sky as we walk."
Walking meant outside, and outside meant a fuller view of the sky, so Jehan consented. They hid as many cartridges as they could in the pockets of their coats, waistcoats, and trousers, then grabbed their other supplies and prepared for the funeral—an argument ensued over the appropriateness of Bahorel's red waistcoat, but in the end they compromised by putting a black mourning band around his hat, and dashed out the door.
"See there?" Jehan called out after Bahorel, who was charging up the street at an impossible pace. "A dappled day. A day when light goes to pick a fight with darkness and obscurity and—oh, why won't you listen? It's just like what we're going off to do!"
"I'd rather do it than think about it," Bahorel called back over his shoulder, a grin tempering his words.
"You can do both easily enough! –Slow…down!"
Bahorel came to a stop, waiting for his much-shorter friend to catch up with him, and they made their way to a vantage point for watching the funeral procession. It began to rain as they waited, but Jehan nevertheless started scribbling away with pencil and paper. Eventually he looked up, meeting Bahorel's eyes.
"I wish you would understand," he said. "I wish you would see. The entire sky is embroiled in revolution today, and is full of meaning for the course our lives will take today."
Bahorel rested a hand on Jehan's shoulder. "You know I am not the sort of fellow who stares at the sky and derives from it some grand thought about the meaning of life," he said. "I derive my thoughts on the meaning of life from life itself, and life alone."
"That sky is part of your life," said Jehan, folding his arms. "If you wish to experience life fully, you have no license to ignore it."
"Actually," Bahorel said, "I'm fairly sure I have license to, if I want. I don't see any reason that ignoring the sky would be missing from my list of rights and freedoms. Will I have to include it for you when I write them out? 'Bahorel has a right to ignore the sky.'"
"Heaven wheels above you," Jehan told him indignantly, "displaying to you her eternal glories, and still your eyes are on the ground!"
"The ground is covered in paving stones to rip up," said Bahorel, "and I find riots to be of much greater interest than extended metaphors. Don't quote Dante at me."
Jehan raised his eyebrows, stared resolutely at the sky, and resolved to hide as many Dante quotes in today's conversation as he possibly could.