"I'm fine," Enjolras answered curtly.
"Right," Combeferre grunted, but then he concentrated on his patient, the nearly unconscious drunkard. "Your color isn't good," he said to Grantaire, who half-grinned through his dirt.
"Took you long enough," he breathed.
"Quiet, Jerôme!" Combeferre checked Grantaire's pulse again, counting carefully. He didn't let his worry show on his face. Knowing that Enjolras was hovering over his shoulder didn't help either. "Enjolras, could you fetch some water from the public well?" Anything to get him out from underfoot.
"With what?" Enjolras asked.
"I don't care," Combeferre snapped. "Use your hat." Grantaire lay still. He pinched the man's cheek hard. Grantaire flinched. "Don't do that!"
"Do what?"
The clatter of running boots drew his attention. Was Enjolras back so quickly? "Combeferre! Gendarmes! We have to leave right now!"
"What? We can't-"
But Enjolras was beside him now and pulling Grantaire from the bushes. The drunkard groaned but when his legs were free of the confining branches, he pushed himself upright. They divided his weight between them and sprinted for the waiting cabriolet.
"Drive," Enjolras ordered the driver. The man clucked to the horse between the poles. Before they'd exited the square, a stream of police flooded the area. The driver meekly obeyed Enjolras' anxious orders to turn every few streets.
Eventually Combeferre was thoroughly lost, and his patient had lapsed back into semi-consciousness. "Where are we going?" the medical student asked quietly.
"I don't know."
"Well, make up your mind soon," Combeferre said. He removed Grantaire's cravat and used it to mop the beads of moisture from the man's face. "He should be in a bed."
Enjolras did not answer. Eventually, he directed the cab to stop in front of a livery stable he'd spotted. From the ground, he thrust 20 francs into the driver's hand. "Take them wherever they need to go." He moved to Combeferre's side. "Take him to the hospital if you must. I'll settle it with you when I return."
But as he turned to the stable, he spied a pair of patrolling gendarmes walking purposefully toward the cab. "Damn. I can't let them have you."
"What makes you think they want us?"
Enjolras shrugged. "Instinct? Hurry! Help me with Grantaire." He hauled himself back into the cab and pulled Grantaire to his feet with brute strength. And exasperated Combeferre steadied them both as Enjolras lifted the man into his arms and staggered again to the street. Combeferre stepped down from behind, belatedly grabbing his bag and Grantaire's hat.
He led the way into the dim stable, thankful that Enjolras had no breath to spare for invective. The man's strength amazed him. Enjolras was taller than Combeferre but thinner, so he didn't know where he hid his muscles. Combeferre never would have attempted to lift the dead weight of the fainting drunkard. Even though his steps were heavy, Enjolras cradled the man gently, cushioning him from the bumps.
"Right," Combeferre grunted, but then he concentrated on his patient, the nearly unconscious drunkard. "Your color isn't good," he said to Grantaire, who half-grinned through his dirt.
"Took you long enough," he breathed.
"Quiet, Jerôme!" Combeferre checked Grantaire's pulse again, counting carefully. He didn't let his worry show on his face. Knowing that Enjolras was hovering over his shoulder didn't help either. "Enjolras, could you fetch some water from the public well?" Anything to get him out from underfoot.
"With what?" Enjolras asked.
"I don't care," Combeferre snapped. "Use your hat." Grantaire lay still. He pinched the man's cheek hard. Grantaire flinched. "Don't do that!"
"Do what?"
The clatter of running boots drew his attention. Was Enjolras back so quickly? "Combeferre! Gendarmes! We have to leave right now!"
"What? We can't-"
But Enjolras was beside him now and pulling Grantaire from the bushes. The drunkard groaned but when his legs were free of the confining branches, he pushed himself upright. They divided his weight between them and sprinted for the waiting cabriolet.
"Drive," Enjolras ordered the driver. The man clucked to the horse between the poles. Before they'd exited the square, a stream of police flooded the area. The driver meekly obeyed Enjolras' anxious orders to turn every few streets.
Eventually Combeferre was thoroughly lost, and his patient had lapsed back into semi-consciousness. "Where are we going?" the medical student asked quietly.
"I don't know."
"Well, make up your mind soon," Combeferre said. He removed Grantaire's cravat and used it to mop the beads of moisture from the man's face. "He should be in a bed."
Enjolras did not answer. Eventually, he directed the cab to stop in front of a livery stable he'd spotted. From the ground, he thrust 20 francs into the driver's hand. "Take them wherever they need to go." He moved to Combeferre's side. "Take him to the hospital if you must. I'll settle it with you when I return."
But as he turned to the stable, he spied a pair of patrolling gendarmes walking purposefully toward the cab. "Damn. I can't let them have you."
"What makes you think they want us?"
Enjolras shrugged. "Instinct? Hurry! Help me with Grantaire." He hauled himself back into the cab and pulled Grantaire to his feet with brute strength. And exasperated Combeferre steadied them both as Enjolras lifted the man into his arms and staggered again to the street. Combeferre stepped down from behind, belatedly grabbing his bag and Grantaire's hat.
He led the way into the dim stable, thankful that Enjolras had no breath to spare for invective. The man's strength amazed him. Enjolras was taller than Combeferre but thinner, so he didn't know where he hid his muscles. Combeferre never would have attempted to lift the dead weight of the fainting drunkard. Even though his steps were heavy, Enjolras cradled the man gently, cushioning him from the bumps.