The band augmented every moment. Near the Rue des Billettes, a man of lofty stature, whose hair was turning gray, and whose bold and daring mien was remarked by Courfeyrac, Enjolras,and Combeferre, but whom none of them knew, joined them. Gavroche, who was occupied in singing, whistling, humming, running on ahead and pounding on the shutters of the shops with the butt of his triggerless pistol; paid no attention to this man.
It chanced that in the Rue de la Verrerie, they passed in front of Courfeyrac's door.
"This happens just right," said Courfeyrac, "I have forgotten my purse, and I have lost my hat."
He quitted the mob and ran up to his quarters at full speed. He seized an old hat and his purse.
He also seized a large square coffer, of the dimensions of a large valise, which was concealed under his soiled linen.
As he descended again at a run, the portress hailed him:--
"Monsieur de Courfeyrac!"
"What's your name, portress?"
The portress stood bewildered.
"Why, you know perfectly well, I'm the concierge; my name is Mother Veuvain."
"Well, if you call me Monsieur de Courfeyrac again, I shall call you Mother de Veuvain. Now speak, what's the matter? What do you want?"
"There is some one who wants to speak with you."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know."
"Where is he?"
"In my lodge."
"The devil!" ejaculated Courfeyrac.
"But the person has been waiting your return for over an hour," said the portress.
At the same time, a sort of pale, thin, small, freckled, and youthful artisan, clad in a tattered blouse and patched trousers of ribbed velvet, and who had rather the air of a girl accoutred as a man than of a man, emerged from the lodge and said to Courfeyrac in a voice which was not the least in the world like a woman's voice:--
"Monsieur Marius, if you please."
"He is not here."
"Will he return this evening?"
"I know nothing about it."
And Courfeyrac added:--
"For my part, I shall not return."
The young man gazed steadily at him and said:--
"Why not?"
"Because."
"Where are you going, then?"
"What business is that of yours?"
"Would you like to have me carry your coffer for you?"
"I am going to the barricades."
"Would you like to have me go with you?"
"If you like!" replied Courfeyrac. "The street is free, the pavements belong to every one."
And he made his escape at a run to join his friends. When he had rejoined them, he gave the coffer to one of them to carry. It was only a quarter of an hour after this that he saw the young man, who had actually followed them.
A mob does not go precisely where it intends. We have explained that a gust of wind carries it away. They overshot Saint-Merry and found themselves, without precisely knowing how, in the Rue Saint-Denis.
队伍越走越壮大。到皮埃特街时，一个头发花白的高大个子加入了他们的行列，古费拉克、安灼拉、公白飞，都注意到他那粗犷大胆的容貌，但是没有人认识他。伽弗洛什忙着唱歌，吹口哨，哼调子，走在前面领路，并用他那支没有撞针的手枪的托子敲打那些商店的板窗，没有注意那个人。
进入玻璃厂街，他们从古费拉克的门前走过。
“正好，”古费拉克说，“我忘了带钱包，帽子也丢了。”
他离开队伍，三步当两步地跑到他楼上的屋子里。他拿了一顶旧帽子和他的钱包。他又从一些穿脏了的换洗衣服堆里拿出一只相当大的、有一只大提箱那么大的方匣子。他跑到楼下时，看门女人叫住他。
“德·古费拉克先生！”
“门房太太，您贵姓？”古费拉克顶撞她说。
一下把那看门女人搞傻了。
“您知道的嘛，我是看大门的，我叫富旺妈妈。”
“好，如果您再叫我做德·古费拉克先生，我就要叫您德·富旺妈妈。现在，您说吧，有什么事？有什么话要说？”
“有个人找您。”
“谁？”
“我不知道。”
“在哪儿？”
“在门房里。”
“见鬼！”古费拉克说。
这时，从门房里走出一个工人模样的小伙子，瘦小个子，皮色枯黄，还有斑点，穿一件有洞的布褂子，一条两旁都有补丁的灯芯绒裤子，不象男人，象个穿男孩衣服的女孩，说起话来，天晓得，一点也不象女人的声音。这小伙子问古费拉克说：
“请问马吕斯先生在吗？”
“不在。”
“今晚他会回来吗？”
“我不知道。”
古费拉克又加上一句：
“我是不会回来的了。”
那小伙子定定地望着他，问道：
“为什么？”
“因为。”
“您要去什么地方？”
“这和你有什么相干？”
“您肯让我给您背这匣子吗？”
“我要去街垒呢。”
“您能让我跟您一道去吗？”
“随你便，”古费拉克回答说，“街上谁都可以走。街面上的石块是大家的。”
他随即一溜烟跑去追他那些朋友了。赶上他们，他把匣子交给他们中的一个背着。足足过了一刻钟以后他果然发现那小伙子真跟在他们后面来了。
队伍不一定想去哪里就去哪里。我们已经说过，它是让一阵风吹着跑的。他们走过了圣美里，也不知怎么就走到了圣德尼街。