the time to read M. Paul de Kock''s romances.
And besides, the light might pass through the cracks of the porte-cochere, and all the bobbies need to do is to see it."
"And then," remarked the elder timidly,--he alone dared talk to Gavroche, and reply to him, "a spark might fall in the straw, and we must look out and not burn the house down."
"People don''t say `burn the house down,''" remarked Gavroche, "they say `blaze the crib.''"
The storm increased in violence, and the heavy downpour beat upon the back of the colossus amid claps of thunder. "You''re taken in, rain!" said Gavroche.
"It amuses me to hear the decanter run down the legs of the house.
Winter is a stupid; it wastes its merchandise, it loses its labor, it can''t wet us, and that makes it kick up a row, old water-carrier that it is."
This allusion to the thunder, all the consequences of which Gavroche, in his character of a philosopher of the nineteenth century, accepted, was followed by a broad flash of lightning, so dazzling that a hint of it entered the belly of the elephant through the crack. Almost at the same instant, the thunder rumbled with great fury. The two little creatures uttered a shriek, and started up so eagerly that the network came near being displaced, but Gavroche turned his bold face to them, and took advantage of the clap of thunder to burst into a laugh.