[Masterpiece Les Miserables] Paris Sparks

"Grantaire!" Jehan greeted the self-drinking person at the table with a smile, and sat down beside him. "What, you're the only one today? Cole and Combeferre aren't here?"

Grantaire shrugged and gestured to the empty tables and chairs on both sides. "I can ask you the same thing. What about Feuilly, don't you often hang out together?"

"I met Feuil on the way here. He'll be here in about a minute. Has Combeferre got a new roommate? I guess he's bringing a new roommate today."

"God help, his roommate isn't another stupid idealist," Grantaire grumbled as he unscrewed the bottle, "Cole's passion has a place to stay, and he's drawing He has a way. If there is another person who wants to change the world and fight for human peace, I can’t stand it——Fuilly’s lofty ideals are enough for everyone here.”

Re'an didn't comment on this, but smiled tolerantly. "Didn't you always get along with Combeferre's friends? Cole too, and Jolly he brought yesterday. I think his new roommate too—"

But Grantaire's bottle fell to the floor with a thud, splashing the wine far and wide.With a low cry, Re'an bent down and got under the table, picked up the bottle, and put it back on the corner of the table. "Fortunately it didn't break." He said, looking around for a rag to wipe his hands. "Grantaire?"

Grantaire didn't notice him at all, he didn't even seem to notice that he dropped a bottle, he just sat up straight - his back was as straight as a javelin, Jehan had never seen him sit like this Straight - staring at the door with wide eyes.Re'an looked up in confusion, and then his eyes lit up.

Combeferre was entering the door, talking in a low voice to a young man who was at his side, who was astonishingly handsome.The young man was as handsome as a god, with tight lips and a serious and awe-inspiring expression. His full head of blond hair showed a rich amber color under the dim light of the tavern.

"Combeferre!" exclaimed Jehan joyfully, rising to his feet.Combeferre led the young man towards them, and introduced them: "This is Jean, the poet; this is Grantaire, the painter. Friends, this is my dear friend, Enjolras."

Enjolras nodded politely and held out his hand to him.Re'an stretched out his hand, only to realize that his hand was still wet, and immediately withdrew his hand blushing.Combeferre gave him his handkerchief, smiling, and wiped his hands, and they shook hands.

Then Enjolras turned to Grantaire.His eyes fell on the wine bottles on the table, and on the stains of wine splashed three steps away on the floor, he frowned, but still reached out his hand to Grantaire.Grantaire looked at him with affectionate, obsessed eyes, and squeezed his hand tightly.He was still sitting upright, as if he had been nailed to the broken stool.

"Ah, hello, hello, Apollo!" said he, "no, or Orestes! You are a Greek, and you should have a Greek name. What a beautiful face." I bet painters will scramble to get your portrait, and I am no exception. Handsome youths are privileged. This face should appear at high society banquets, wrapped in hypocrisy and lies, in the flowers Accept the applause in the illusion. Why did you come into such a tavern, Apollo?"

Enjolras frowned even tighter.He withdrew his hand, gave Grantaire a stern look, then looked at Combeferre.Combeferre understood what he meant very well: if Enjolras hadn't met Collins for the first time today and met his friends for the first time, he would probably have directly commented, "I'm afraid there is something wrong with this man's mind."

"Grantaire, I think you're drunk. Every time you're half drunk you start talking nonsense and babbling." Combeferre said with a smile, pulling Enjolras to sit down at the table.

"I'm drunk! When am I not drunk? I live by wine. I'm going to drown myself in it. People deceive themselves with lies and ideals. I deceive myself with alcohol. I'm more noble than them, because Foolish glory kills, but wine doesn't. Wine is the only great invention in this wretched world, praise alcohol! Do I admire England? Do I admire France? France? Why? For Paris? Caesar is stupid Yes, Napoleon is also stupid, the only great man in the world is the man who invented wine, he makes people close their eyes, so that they can't see the true face of this meaningless world."

"It's your freedom to drown yourself in alcohol. But you can't insult others." Enjolras seriously reproached.

"Ha! I insulted someone else. Who did I insult?" Grantaire asked back, two blobs of red on his overly protruding cheekbones, making his ugly features even more comical, and he used as if Looking at Enjolras with feverish eyes, "Did I insult you, Apollo?"

Combeferre could almost hear Enjolras gritting his teeth. "My name is not Apollo."

"Have I insulted you? I will never insult you. I love you, this is what I decided at the first sight of you. How many fans can you get by virtue of your appearance!"

"You judged my value based on my appearance alone. If this is not an insult to me, I don't know what kind of insult you have in mind." Enjolras replied coldly.

"Okay, Grantaire, shut up!" A loud laugh came from behind, and a huge slap hit Grantaire's shoulder, causing his straight back to collapse immediately a cut.The man who photographed him was wearing a fringed waistcoat and looked bored. "My name is Bahore," he said, reaching out to Enjolras over Grantaire's shoulder, and Enjolras stood up and shook his hand.

Bahore sat down on the last vacant stool, so that the little table was full. "I heard Grantaire say that he wants a painter. I wish he didn't! I don't know anything about painting. What are you good at, new friend?"

"I dare not say what I am good at—especially when Combeferre is by my side," said Enjolras, glancing sideways at his friend, "but I hope to come here and learn some revolutionary ideas. "

"Ah, revolution!" said Bahorey enthusiastically, "revolution is a good thing!"

They chatted together almost immediately, like a few drops of water colliding and merging instantly.Bahorey was a joking and difficult man, who felt that there was nothing lovelier than a riot but a revolution, and he was always ready to smash a pane of glass, dig a paving stone in a street, and destroy another. The government, in order to see the consequences.Naturally, Combeferre disagreed with many of his points of view, Enjolras mostly listened quietly, and occasionally asked sharp questions; Jehan sat aside, looked at them with a smile, sometimes wrote something in his notebook, probably It is the inspiration for a new poem, and sometimes a sentence or two is whispered with a shy smile.

Grantaire sits aside.Throughout the night, he didn't say another word, just drank bottle after bottle, looking at Enjolras with misty eyes.Every time Enjolras caught his gaze, he always returned a stern stare, but it didn't seem to affect Grantaire in the slightest. He watched Enjolras quietly and listened to his discussion until he passed out. at the table.

But overall, their discussions were enjoyable.No argument was useless, no attack was malicious, and several people complemented and perfected each other's logic in the debate.They did not disperse until late at night, but not very late, because Enjolras and Combeferre had classes the next day—they were people who respected knowledge and did not miss classes casually. .Rean and Bahore also parted ways. "Don't worry about Grantaire! He's a regular visitor here, and Master Huchellu usually lets him sleep here until the next day." Bahore told them.

"Cole didn't come today," said Combeferre thoughtfully, as they walked side by side on the night-soaked road. "It's strange that he didn't come on Thursday either. He usually comes on Thursdays and Saturdays." here."

"Is there something wrong with him?" Enjolras asked.

"None of us knows the situation in his family—in fact, the friends we make here don't ask each other about family or background, unless we talk about it ourselves. After all, only common interests are the most important. Maybe he Is my sister sick? I remember he mentioned that my sister is not in good health."

Enjolras nodded. "Common interests?" he asked instead, contemptuously in his voice, "Grantaire?"

Combeferre shook his head helplessly. "His paintings are still very good."

"To be fair, I've only seen this side of him, so please correct me if I'm being too harsh on him—but I think his paintings are probably the only thing of value in this man." Ann said Jorra.

"You are a good, brilliant, idealistic man," said Combeferre mildly, "but there are always less than perfect people. The world is made up of mediocre people."

"A mediocre man who can do his own thing is still valuable." Enjolras said disgustedly.

Combeferre shook his head, but did not continue to persuade him.

It turns out that it is impossible to make Enjolras like Grantaire.It is impossible even for Enjolras to have the slightest positive comment on him-Grantaire is a man full of doubts and world-weariness, he laughs at bright ideals, justice, revolution, and is full of sarcasm for everything in the world. Every word that came out of his mouth made Enjolras hate him more.But as long as Grantaire doesn't talk too much, he can barely tolerate him enjoying himself by the side.

Enjolras quickly made his acquaintance with all of Combeferre's friends, and more than that, he seemed to have quickly become famous among all the workers and students of Collins: he seemed born with a power to be looked up to.The only thing that worried them was that Cole hadn't been seen since Enjolras arrived in Paris.As time passed, Combeferre had almost forgotten the idea of ​​asking Enjolras to talk to Cole, and instead worried about his situation—he even asked Feuilly to ask the female workers in the literacy class .Feuilly asked the female worker named Anne who was mentioned by Cole, and the other party only told him that Cole was fine, and refused to say anything else.

This situation has continued for more than a month.When Combeferre and Enjolras walked into Collins one day when the weather was getting colder, they were almost surprised to find Cole sitting at the table—and surprise followed.He hurried over to ask him how he was, but Cole stepped forward with a smile and said, "You are here at last—Combeferre, Enjolras! I've been listening to the worship service for half an hour, and the pastor didn't use his words when he preached. What spell did you put on him, Enjolras?"

"If someone has put a spell on him, I, more than anyone, hope that the spell will be broken soon." Enjolras said.

"Why, what's wrong with one more person adoring you?" Cole asked with a smile.He had lost a lot of weight, wrapped in an empty overcoat, and looked extremely thin, but his eyes were bright, and he looked quite happy.

Enjolras snorted softly: "It's still free! Who he worships is his business, I would rather he has nothing to do with me, and let me be quiet."

Grantaire took a sip of his drink and said nothing.And Cole opened his eyes slightly and looked at him for a while. "Enjolras," he said softly and softly, "sometimes you are really ruthless."

Combeferre, standing beside him, clearly saw the slight movement of the corners of Enjolras' mouth.For a moment, it looked like he was about to speak up.

But in the end he said nothing about it.