Gavroche roused and sat up:
“Ay,” said he, “he has been paid his wage or would not be drunk.... And he is near the river.... What a death, my comrade, to go out of the world with a full skin!... Some rogues have all the luck.... Come.”
CHAPTER LXXVIII
Wherein our Hero scatters some Pages of the Indifferent Wisdom of the Ages to the even more Indifferent Gulls
In the black night, Noll stood on the bridge at the end of the Boule Miche. The cathedral loomed sombrely amid the darkness.
But the darkness was resonant with the promise of a mighty music.
The youth had awakened.
A load was fallen from him.