ADIEU » LES MISÉRABLES | ✓

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

This time, when the gendarmes came, they were prepared. The trick was to jump into the crowd. To blend in, to disappear.

Still, Enjolras felt a deep sense of unease. As he shouldered his way past the people, he noticed that there were more gendarmes than usual. The last time, there had only been no more than five, and their intent was solely to disperse the gathering. This time, however, they held their guns aloft, ready to shoot on sight. 

They were in danger; all of them. 

We have a plan, Enjolras reassured himself. Claudine was to immediately return to the Musain Café on horseback the second she caught sight of the gendarmes, because the horse was after all the most prominent member of their little group. Those who weren't on the horse were to follow the crowd inconspicuously. To minimize suspicion, half would go to the Corinthe and half would go to the Musain.

But there was one thing he'd failed to take into account, and that was the chaos that ensued. Roused by his words and stunned by the sudden appearance of the gendarmes, the people started to panic. 

Much like excitement, panic could also spread. Enjolras felt the hysteria setting into his bones, clouding his thoughts. His heartbeat was deafening. His hands were trembling. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring the edges of everything he saw. For the first time, he briefly thought of the gypsies, and wondered if this was what they felt like when the gendarmes set fire to the Court of Miracles, when their world came crumbling down.

Suddenly, a burst of pain blossomed on his forehead. Someone had elbowed him hard by accident. Momentarily shocked by its intensity, his knees buckled and he fell.

A small pair of hands grasped him by the shoulders.

"Claudine," he bit out. "I'm fine. Follow the plan. Get back on your horse."

"Are you alright?" Was he just imagining things, or did she sound a little shaken? The grip on his shoulders tightened. 

"I'm fine," he repeated. She was just staring at him; her body still, but her blue eyes turbulent. Gunshots sounded, and sweaty bodies trampled past them in a frenzy. What was she doing? She was wasting time. "Go."

"No. I'm coming with you. I gave Marius the reins. He said he knows how to ride."

Enjolras's eyes widened incredulously. "And you believed him."

Claudine winced. "Well..."

Several things happened at that instant. From where he was, Enjolras could watch the whole scene unfold before his eyes, but it all happened too fast. Too fast for him to do anything. 

A bullet grazed Claudine's horse. She reared in terror. Pontmercy lost control of her. She brought down her hooves onto the ground, and one of them came into contact with the back of Claudine's head.

Horses were powerful creatures - Enjolras knew that for sure. Claudine's body lurched forward at the impact, and their heads collided painfully - but even that was incomparable to the sudden, unexplainable smarting of his heart. That was odd - Enjolras was sure that he had not sustained any injury to that organ whatsoever.

"I - I'm fine," Claudine groaned. 

She was alive and conscious. How she had taken that hard blow to her head and still be well enough to talk, he did not know - but they were not yet out of danger. He helped her up and together, they made their way out of the square.

___

It wasn't Enjolras who made Grantaire regret what he had done. It was, above all people, the pleasant and unassuming Feuilly.