„Je nádhernej, co?" Combeferre sebou cukl. Podíval se na Grantaira, který se stále díval kamsi do prázdna. I tak viděl, jak se jeho oči lesknou něčím, co u něj ještě neviděl. Zmatenost? Smutek? Osamělost? Ten pohled se mu nelíbil. Až moc mu připomínal sebe. Takhle vypadal pokaždé, když se podíval do zrcadla a myslel na Enjolrase. Combeferre se najednou zasmál. Jeho nádherný, hrdelní smích se roznesl tichem. Zakroutil hlavou, odhodil kus cigarety na zem, zašlápl ji a rukou naznačil, že chce další. „Jak dlouho?"

"He's beautiful, right?" Combeferre winced. He looked at Grantaire, who was still looking somewhere in the void. Even so, he could see his eyes glitter with something he hadn't seen before. Confusion? Sadness? Loneliness? He didn't like the look. He reminded him too much of himself. This is how he looked every time he looked in the mirror and thought of Enjolras. Combeferre suddenly laughed. His gorgeous laugh echoed through the silence. He shook his head, dropped a piece of the cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and grab another one. "How long?"