Here lies Blondeau，Blondeau the Nose，Blondeau Nasica，the ox of discipline，bos disciplinae，the bloodhound of the password，the angel of the roll-call，who was upright，square exact，rigid，honest，and hideous.God crossed him off as he crossed me off.''
Marius resumed：——
'I am very sorry——'
'Young man，'said Laigle de Meaux，'let this serve you as a lesson.In future，be exact.'
'I really beg you a thousand pardons.'
'Do not expose your neighbor to the danger of having his name erased again.'
'I am extremely sorry——'
Laigle burst out laughing.
'And I am delighted.
I was on the brink of becoming a lawyer.This erasure saves me.
I renounce the triumphs of the bar.I shall not defend the widow，and I shall not attack the orphan.No more toga，no more stage.
Here is my erasure all ready for me.It is to you that I am indebted for it，Monsieur Pontmercy.I intend to pay a solemn call of thanks upon you.
Where do you live？'
'In this cab，'said Marius.
'A sign of opulence，'retorted Laigle calmly.
'I congratulate you.You have there a rent of nine thousand francs per annum.'
At that moment，Courfeyrac emerged from the cafe.
Marius smiled sadly.
'I have paid this rent for the last two hours，and I aspire to get rid of it；but there is a sort of history attached to it，and I don't know where to go.'
'Come to my place，sir，'said Courfeyrac.
'I have the priority，'observed Laigle，'but I have no home.'
'Hold your tongue，Bossuet，'said Courfeyrac.
'Bossuet，'said Marius，'but I thought that your name was Laigle.'
'De Meaux，'replied Laigle；'by metaphor，Bossuet.'
Courfeyrac entered the cab.
'Coachman，'said he，'hotel de la Porte-Saint-Jacques.'
And that very evening，Marius found himself installed in a chamber of the hotel de la Porte-Saint-Jacques side by side with Courfeyrac.
BOOK FOURTH.——THE FRIENDS OF THE A B C
Ⅲ MARIUS'ASTONISHMENTS
In a few days，Marius had become Courfeyrac's friend.
Youth is the season for prompt welding and the rapid healing of scars.Marius breathed freely in Courfeyrac's society，a decidedly new thing for him.
Courfeyrac put no questions to him.
He did not even think of such a thing.
At that age，faces disclose everything on the spot.
Words are superfluous.
There are young men of whom it can be said that their countenances chatter.
One looks at them and one knows them.
One morning，however，Courfeyrac abruptly addressed this interrogation to him：——
'By the way，have you any political opinions？'
'The idea！'said Marius，almost affronted by the question.
'What are you？'
'A democrat-Bonapartist.'
'The gray hue of a reassured rat，'said Courfeyrac.
On the following day，Courfeyrac introduced Marius at the Cafe Musain.Then he whispered in his ear，with a smile：
'I must give you your entry to the revolution.'
And he led him to the hall of the Friends of the A B C.He presented him to the other comrades，saying this simple word which Marius did not understand：
'A pupil.'
Marius had fallen into a wasps'-nest of wits.
However，although he was silent and grave，he was，none the less，both winged and armed.
Marius，up to that time solitary and inclined to soliloquy，and to asides，both by habit and by taste，was a little fluttered by this covey of young men around him.
All these various initiatives solicited his attention at once，and pulled him about.The tumultuous movements of these minds at liberty and at work set his ideas in a whirl.
Sometimes，in his trouble，they fled so far from him，that he had difficulty in recovering them.He heard them talk of philosophy，of literature，of art，of history，of religion，in unexpected fashion.
He caught glimpses of strange aspects；and，as he did not place them in proper perspective，he was not altogether sure that it was not chaos that he grasped.On abandoning his grandfather's opinions for the opinions of his father，he had supposed himself fixed；he now suspected，with uneasiness，and without daring to avow it to himself，that he was not.The angle at which he saw everything began to be displaced anew.A certain oscillation set all the horizons of his brains in motion.An odd internal upsetting.
He almost suffered from it.
It seemed as though there were no'consecrated things'for those young men.
Marius heard singular propositions on every sort of subject，which embarrassed his still timid mind.
A theatre poster presented itself，adorned with the title of a tragedy from the ancient repertory called classic：
'Down with tragedy dear to the bourgeois！'cried Bahorel.
And Marius heard Combeferre reply：——
'You are wrong，Bahorel.
The bourgeoisie loves tragedy，and the bourgeoisie must be left at peace on that score.Bewigged tragedy has a reason for its existence，and I am not one of those who，by order of AEschylus，contest its right to existence.There are rough outlines in nature；there are，in creation，ready-made parodies；a beak which is not a beak，wings which are not wings，gills which are not gills，paws which are not paws，a cry of pain which arouses a desire to laugh，there is the duck.Now，since poultry exists by the side of the bird，I do not see why classic tragedy should not exist in the face of antique tragedy.'
Or chance decreed that Marius should traverse Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau between Enjolras and Courfeyrac.
Courfeyrac took his arm：——
'Pay attention.
This is the Rue Platriere，now called Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau，on account of a singular household which lived in it sixty years ago.
This consisted of Jean-Jacques and Therese.From time to time，little beings were born there.
Therese gave birth to them，Jean-Jacques represented them as foundlings.'
And Enjolras addressed Courfeyrac roughly：——
'Silence in the presence of Jean-Jacques！I admire that man.He denied his own children，that may be；but he adopted the people.'
Not one of these young men articulated the word：
The Emperor.Jean Prouvaire alone sometimes said Napoleon；all the others said'Bonaparte.'
Enjolras pronounced it'Buonaparte.'
Marius was vaguely surprised.
