And pointing out to the elder one the straw mat on which he was lying, which was very thick and admirably made, he added,—
"That belonged to the giraffe."
After a pause he continued,—
"The beasts had all those things, and I took them from them; they were not at all angry, for I told them that I wanted them for the elephant."
There was another interval of silence, after which he continued, "You climb over walls and snap your fingers at the Government."
The two lads gazed with a timid and stupefied respect at this intrepid and inventive being, a vagabond like them, isolated like them, weak like them, who had something admirable and omnipotent about him, who appeared to them supernatural, and whose face was composed of all the grimaces of an old mountebank, mingled with the simplest and most charming smile.
"Then, sir," the elder lad said timidly, "you are not afraid of the policemen?"
Gavroche limited himself to answering,—
"Brat! we don't say 'policemen,' we say 'slops.'"
The younger had his eyes wide open, but said nothing; as he was at the edge of the mat, the elder being in the centre, Gavroche tucked in the coverlet around him as a mother would have done, and raised the mat under his head with old rags, so as to make him a pillow. Then he turned to the elder boy,—