es man, thrown among the old junk, than that it should, to-day, wound the side of his country.
And then he fell to weeping bitterly.
This was horrible.
But what was he to do?
Live without Cosette he could not.
Since she was gone, he must needs die.
Had he not given her his word of honor that he would die?
She had gone knowing that; this meant that it pleased her that Marius should die.
And then, it was clear that she no longer loved him, since she had departed thus without warning, without a word, without a letter, although she knew his address!
What was the good of living, and why should he live now? And then, what! should he retreat after going so far? should he flee from danger after having approached it? should he slip away after having come and peeped into the barricade? slip away, all in a tremble, saying:
"After all, I have had enough of it as it is. I have seen it, that suffices, this is civil war, and I shall take my leave!"
Should he abandon his friends who were expecting him? Who were in need of him possibly! who were a mere handful against an army!
Should he be untrue at once to his love, to country, to his word?
Should he give to his cowardice the pretext of patriotism? But this was impossible, and if the phantom of his father was there in the gloom, and beheld him retreating, he would beat him on the loins with the flat of his sword, and shout to him: