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Jan. 13th, 2013 03:01 pmThe voice that comes over the barricade is the same as the one from the night before, but the taunting can no longer be written off as lies.
“You at the barricade listen to this: the people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance, no chance at all. Why throw your lives away?”
As the realization of what he already knew sinks in, he turns to his comrades. “Let us die facing our foes. Make them bleed while we can!” It is all they can do and no more than they must.
“Make 'em pay through the nose!”
“Make 'em pay for every man!”
They are with him then, and the weight of all their deaths will be on his shoulders. It is a burden he will take with the gravity it deserves. He is still their leader, after all. “Let others rise to take our place. Until the earth is free!”
Over the barricade they go, dropping like flies, falling under the boot of oppression. He will fight with every last breath, for the people who will not fight for themselves.
In the end, there is no one left but him and Grantaire, in the window of the wine shop where he had met with them all so many times. He looks to the man next to him and thinks how he never thought to have died next to Grantaire of all people. He holds their banner in his hand and there is the sound of two shots fired, and two bodies hang from the window, red flag soaking in their blood as it waves over the street.
“You at the barricade listen to this: the people of Paris sleep in their beds. You have no chance, no chance at all. Why throw your lives away?”
As the realization of what he already knew sinks in, he turns to his comrades. “Let us die facing our foes. Make them bleed while we can!” It is all they can do and no more than they must.
“Make 'em pay through the nose!”
“Make 'em pay for every man!”
They are with him then, and the weight of all their deaths will be on his shoulders. It is a burden he will take with the gravity it deserves. He is still their leader, after all. “Let others rise to take our place. Until the earth is free!”
Over the barricade they go, dropping like flies, falling under the boot of oppression. He will fight with every last breath, for the people who will not fight for themselves.
In the end, there is no one left but him and Grantaire, in the window of the wine shop where he had met with them all so many times. He looks to the man next to him and thinks how he never thought to have died next to Grantaire of all people. He holds their banner in his hand and there is the sound of two shots fired, and two bodies hang from the window, red flag soaking in their blood as it waves over the street.
