Sir?" he began again.
"Hey?" said Gavroche.
"What are rats?"
"They are mice."
This explanation reassured the child a little.
He had seen white mice in the course of his life, and he was not afraid of them. Nevertheless, he lifted up his voice once more.
"Sir?"
"Hey?" said Gavroche again.
"Why don''t you have a cat?"
"I did have one," replied Gavroche, "I brought one here, but they ate her."
This second explanation undid the work of the first, and the little fellow began to tremble again.
The dialogue between him and Gavroche began again for the fourth time:--
"Monsieur?"
"Hey?"
"Who was it that was eaten?"
"The cat."
"And who ate the cat?"
"The rats."
"The mice?"
"Yes, the rats."
The child, in consternation, dismayed at the thought of mice which ate cats, pursued:--
"Sir, would those mice eat us?"
"Wouldn''t they just!" ejaculated Gavroche.
The child''s terror had reached its climax.
But Gavroche added:--
"Don''t be afraid.
They can''t get in.
And besides, I''m here! Here, catch hold of my hand.
Hold your tongue and shut your peepers!"
At the same time Gavroche grasped the little fellow''s hand across his brother.
The child pressed the hand close to him, and felt reassured.
Courage and strength have these mysterious ways of communicating themselves.