These stinging words produced on Grantaire a singular effect, and it seemed as if he had received a glass of cold water in his face. He appeared suddenly sobered, sat down near the window, gazed at Enjolras with inexpressible tenderness, and said to him,—
"Let me sleep here."
"Go and sleep elsewhere," Enjolras cried.
But Grantaire, still fixing on him his tender and misty eyes, answered,—
"Let me sleep here till I die here."
Enjolras looked at him disdainfully.
"Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, thinking, wishing, living, and dying."
Grantaire replied in a grave voice,—
"You will see."
He stammered a few more unintelligible words, then his head fell noisily on the table, and—as is the usual effect of the second period of ebriety into which Enjolras had roughly and suddenly thrust him—a moment later he was asleep.