Chapter Nine: The Morning of June 5th, 1832
It was ten o'clock in the evening on June 4th. Grantaire was in his apartment, as was usual at this time. Except today, he had company.
Across from him sat Monsieur Dubois, and in the room next door was Gavroche with his two little friends.
'I should get going,' the old man said, getting up with difficulty. 'With what is happening tomorrow, I suppose this is our last chance to get any sleep.'
'Stay the night here, Monsieur. I have a spare room with a bed in it, and from here we can quickly join the action.'
'That does seem logical. Thank you for your hospitality.'
Grantaire went into the next room to check on the young boys. They were all curled up on the bed, both younger boys asleep on either of Gavroche's shoulders.
The gamin looked up and spoke to Grantaire in a gentle voice, not to wake his 'children'.
'Why have you taken us in tonight?'
The real reason was so that Grantaire could keep a close eye on Gavroche. He was the one who decided the boy should be the horseman, but on deeper reflection, he realised Gavroche would want to join them at the barricades, risking his life. He knew there was no way of convincing Gavroche to stay, so he wanted to at least keep an eye on him and try to protect him.
'Oh… I thought you might not know where to go and when, so I can show you tomorrow and tell you what your cue is. And I have space here, so it makes no sense to make you and your friends starve on the street when I can help.'
'Thank you, Grantaire.' Gavroche was grateful, but still regarded him with a suspicious eye. 'I can manage on my own, though. I've never moved in with any of the others. And this is just for tonight, anyway. I only said yes because of them.' He flicked his head at the smaller boys.
'Goodnight, Gavroche.' Grantaire shut the door and realised he had nowhere to sleep. Looking around the apartment he saw a bottle of wine unopened on the table.
'Well then,' he muttered to himself, 'wine shall be my mattress'.
Grantaire was woken up by the sound of Dubois getting out of bed. The old man was somehow able to wake up when he needed to, while Grantaire had always used an alarm clock.
He quickly splashed some water on his face and tried to look as if he hadn't spent the whole night on the floor.
'I should wake Gavroche up!' he said, darting into the room next door. As he opened the door he almost collided with Gavroche, who looked well rested and cheerful.
'Shush, you'll wake the boys up,' he whispered, and walked past Grantaire. 'Are we leaving now?'
'Well…' Grantaire considered what to do. Mobile phones made arrangements much easier. 'It will probably be a while before anything happens, but I suppose I could leave you with the others and then meet Joly and Bossuet, as I had arranged. I think they will be in the Musain. Yes, we didn't arrange where to meet yesterday and that would be the obvious meeting spot. Let's go!'
Grantaire left, preceded by Gavroche and followed by Dubois. The Musain was indeed very close, so even going at the old man's speed they made it there in less than five minutes. Gavroche was obviously very excited and impatient, but he managed to keep quiet. Once they reached the door, Gavroche sprinted up the steps.
Inside, there were more people than usual. They were all standing over maps, making last minute plans. Enjolras stood out immediately, having some serious-looking conversation with two others Grantaire did not know.
'Ah, Grantaire!' Courfeyrac grinned as he caught sight of the man. 'And little Gavroche!'
Even amidst the noise of the crowd, a distinct "I'm not so little" was heard.
'And you are, Monsieur?'
Jehan had joined them.
'This, Courfeyrac, is Monsieur Dubois. He owns the archives and is a good friend of Monsieur Mabeuf.'
The men shook hands.
Jehan steered Grantaire towards Enjolras.
'I suppose you are going to join Joly and Bossuet at the Corinthe?'
'Yes. Would you- would you like to come with us?' Grantaire smiled invitingly.
'Well, I… Why not?'
'Ok, I'll just let Enjolras know about Gavroche.'
They went up to Enjolras and, both of them too shy to interrupt, waited until he turned his attention to them.
'Yes?'
'I've brought Gavroche with me. Is it alright to leave him here? Will they tell him what to do?'
'Yes, we've been waiting for him. Where are you going?'
'I arranged to meet Joly and Bossuet in the Corinthe.'
'Ah, yes. For "breakfast"'.
'You can't start a revolution on an empty stomach.' Grantaire smiled and walked away.
'But apparently you can on a head full of wine,' Enjolras muttered as they retreated and shook his head.
By the time they got to the Corinthe, it was ten past nine, so Grantaire was only slightly late. Upon finding no one downstairs, they went up to the first floor and found that their friends were the only customers there.
They were sitting at a table, with oysters, cheese, ham and a bottle of wine. They hadn't noticed Grantaire so he spoke up.
'I was passing. I smelt in the street a delicious odour of Brie cheese. I have come in.'
'Grantaire, we were expecting you!' Bossuet said, an oyster in his mouth.
'Add Jehan, our friend the boet!' Joly added. 'Whad a bleasant surbrise!' Joly, with a stopped up head, sounded quite similar to Bossuet with his mouth full.
As Grantaire and Jehan sat down, Fricassee placed three more bottles on the table. Grantaire claimed two of these.
'Are you going to drink those two bottles?' Laigle asked.
'That is my intention.'
Joly, Bossuet and Jehan started to eat, while Grantaire began to drink. In under a minute, half a bottle of wine was gone.
'Have you a hole in your stomach?' Laigle continued to question Grantaire.
'You surely have one in your elbow,' Grantaire replied, but did not comment further on the state of Bossuet's coat.
Suddenly, he noticed something strange. All the bottles had gone from the table, except for Joly and Bossuet's empty bottle and the one he held in his hand.
'Where has all the wine gone?' He was confused and horrified at the same time.
Prouvaire was not making eye contact. Grantaire narrowed his eyes and bored into Jehan until he had to look up.
'Was it you?'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' he said unconvincingly.
'I'm warning you…'
Anger flashed in Jehan's eyes for a second, and his tone became much more assertive.
'You should not be drinking this.' Abruptly, he sprang forward and snatched Grantaire's bottle out of his clutch. He tipped it over and the other three watched in shock as the blood-red contents of it poured out onto the floor.
Before anyone could say anything more, a small boy of less than ten years, evidently a gamin addressed Bossuet.
'Are you Monsieur Bossuet?' He asked.
'That is my nickname,' Bossuet answered. 'What do you want of me?'
'This is it. A big light-complexioned fellow on the boulevard said to me: Do you know Mother Hucheloup? I said: Yes, Rue de la Chanvrerie, the widow of the old man. He said to me: Go there. You will find Monsieur Bossuet there, and you will tell him from me: A-B-C. It is a joke that somebody is playing on you, isn't it? He gave me ten sous.'
'Joly, lend me ten sous,' said Laigle, and turning towards Grantaire: 'Grantaire, lend me ten sous.' He knew there was no point in asking Prouvaire as he rarely carried any money on him. Bossuet handed the twenty sous to the gamin.
'Thank you, monsieur.'
'What is your name?'
'Navet, Gavroche's friend.'
'Stop with us,' Laigle said.
'Breakfast with us,' Grantaire said.
'I can't,' the boy answered, 'I am with the procession, I am the one to cry "Down with Polignac"'.
He scraped his foot on the ground as he turned away and left.
The previous situation resumed.
'What the hell, Jehan? That is a waste of good wine,' Grantaire shook his head.
'But we have waited for this so long. You would have passed out and missed everything.'
'Whatever,' Grantaire waved his hand dismissively. 'Fine, I will not have any more. I will be painfully aware of the whole thing.'
Meanwhile, Bossuet was thinking of the boy's message.
'A-B-C, that is to say: Lamarque's funeral.'
'The big light-complexioned man,' Grantaire said, 'is Enjolras, who sent to notify you.'
'Ob course that's what notice,' Joly rolled his eyes.
'Shall we go?' Bossuet asked.
'It raids,' Joly said, 'I have sword to go through fire, dot water. I dod't wadt to catch cold.'
'I prefer breakfast to a hearse,' Grantaire remarked.
'Wait!' Jehan called out. 'Why don't you want to take part? This is history, you said so yourself.' He lowered his voice in case Fricassee or Chowder could overhear them. 'You of all people should be interested. This is your only chance to see what it was really like, something you read about in history books.'
'Why are you so authoritative lately?' Grantaire groaned. 'You're right, though. Of course you're right. Well, my friends, finish up and let's go.'
Grantaire was left with Jehan staring at him.
'Enjolras despises me,' he said to Jehan.
'How so?' Jehan was confused.
'He didn't know you were with us. He said Joly is sick. Grantaire is drunk. It was to Bossuet that he sent Navet. If he had come for me I would have decided to follow him of my own accord.'
'But… you were drunk… You were going to drink four times as much as you have.'
'Then Enjolras is right,' Grantaire admitted sadly. 'Come on, let's go and see this procession'.
