In the mean while an adventure had happened to Gavroche; after conscientiously stoning the lamp in the Rue du Chaume, he approached the Rue des Vieilles Haudriettes, and not seeing "a cat" there, found the opportunity excellent for striking up a song at the full pitch of his lungs. His march, far from being checked by the singing, became accelerated, and he sowed along the sleeping or terrified houses the following incendiary verses:—
"L'oiseau médit dans les charmilles,
Et prétend qu'hier Atala
Avec un Russe s'en alla.
Où vont les belles filles,
Lon la.
"Mon ami Pierrot, tu babilles,
Parce que l'autre jour Mila
Cogna sa vitre, et m'appela.
Où vont les belles filles,
Lon la.
"Les drôlesses sont fort gentilles,
Leur poison qui m'ensorcela
Griserait Monsieur Orfila.
Où vont les belles filles,
Lon la.
"J'aime l'amour et ses bisbilles,
J'aime Agnès, j'aime Paméla,
Lise en m'allumant se brûla.
Où vont les belles filles,
Lon la.
"Jadis, quand je vis les mantilles
De Suzette et de Zéila,
Mon âme à leurs plis se mêla.
Où vont les belles filles,
Lon la.
"Amour, quand, dans l'ombre où tu brilles,
Tu coiffes de roses Lola,
Je me damnerais pour cela.
Où vont les belles filles,
Lon la.
"Jeanne, à ton miroir tu t'habilles!
Mon cœur un beau jour s'envola;
Je crois que c'est Jeanne qui l'a.
Où vont les belles filles,
Lon la.
"Le soir, en sortant des quadrilles,
Je montre aux étoiles Stella,
Et je leur dis: 'Regardez-la.'
Où vont les belles filles,
Lon la."
Gavroche, while singing, was lavish of his pantomime, for gesture is the mainstay of a chorus. His face, an inexhaustible repertory of masks, made grimaces more convulsive and more fantastic than the mouths of a torn sheet in a stiff breeze. Unluckily, as he was alone and in the dark, this was neither seen nor visible. Much wealth is lost in this way. Suddenly he stopped short.
"We must interrupt the romance," he said.
His catlike eye had just distinguished inside a gateway what is called in painting an ensemble, that is to say, a being and a thing; the thing was a handcart, the being an Auvergnat sleeping inside it. The shafts of the cart were upon the pavement, and the Auvergnat's head leaned on the backboard of the truck. His body lay along this inclined plane, and his feet touched the ground. Gavroche, with his experience of the things of this world, recognized a drunkard: it was some street-corner porter who had drunk too much and was sleeping too much.
"Such is the use," Gavroche thought, "to which summer nights may be turned. The Auvergnat sleeps in his truck. I take the truck for the republic, and leave the Auvergnat for the monarchy."
His mind had just been illumined by this flash.
"That truck would be famous on our barricade!"
The Auvergnat was snoring. Gavroche gently pulled the truck behind and the Auvergnat in front, that is to say, by the feet, and in a second the porter was lying imperturbably flat on the pavement. The truck was liberated. Gavroche, accustomed constantly to face unexpected events, had always everything about him. He felt in one of his pockets and pulled out a scrap of paper and a piece of red pencil stolen from some carpenter. He wrote
République Française
Received this truck.