"Yes."
"Take it. Leave the barricade at once,"—Gavroche began scratching his ear anxiously,—"and to-morrow morning you will deliver it at its address No. 7, Rue de l'Homme Armé."
The heroic lad replied,—
"Well, but during that time the barricade will be attacked, and I shall not be here."
"The barricade will not be attacked again till daybreak, according to all appearances, and will not be taken till to-morrow afternoon."
The new respite which the assailants granted to the barricade was really prolonged; it was one of those intermissions frequent in night-fights, which are always followed by redoubled obstinacy.
"Well," said Gavroche, "suppose I were to deliver your letter to-morrow morning?"
"It will be too late, for the barricade will probably be blockaded, all the issues guarded, and you will be unable to get out. Be off at once."
Gavroche could not find any reply, so he stood there undecided, and scratching his head sorrowfully. All at once he seized the letter with one of those bird-like movements of his.
"All right," he said.