Part 4 Book 14 Chapter 2 The Flag: Act Second

Since they had arrived at Corinthe, and had begun the construction of the barricade, no attention had been paid to Father Mabeuf. M. Mabeuf had not quitted the mob, however; he had entered the ground-floor of the wine-shop and had seated himself behind the counter. There he had, so to speak, retreated into himself. He no longer seemed to look or to think. Courfeyrac and others had accosted him two or three times, warning him of his peril, beseeching him to withdraw, but he did not hear them. When they were not speaking to him, his mouth moved as though he were replying to some one, and as soon as he was addressed, his lips became motionless and his eyes no longer had the appearance of being alive.

Several hours before the barricade was attacked, he had assumed an attitude which he did not afterwards abandon, with both fists planted on his knees and his head thrust forward as though he were gazing over a precipice. Nothing had been able to move him from this attitude; it did not seem as though his mind were in the barricade. When each had gone to take up his position for the combat, there remained in the tap-room where Javert was bound to the post, only a single insurgent with a naked sword, watching over Javert, and himself, Mabeuf. At the moment of the attack, at the detonation, the physical shock had reached him and had, as it were, awakened him; he started up abruptly, crossed the room, and at the instant when Enjolras repeated his appeal: "Does no one volunteer?" the old man was seen to make his appearance on the threshold of the wine-shop. His presence produced a sort of commotion in the different groups. A shout went up:--

"It is the voter! It is the member of the Convention! It is the representative of the people!"

It is probable that he did not hear them.

He strode straight up to Enjolras, the insurgents withdrawing before him with a religious fear; he tore the flag from Enjolras, who recoiled in amazement and then, since no one dared to stop or to assist him, this old man of eighty, with shaking head but firm foot, began slowly to ascend the staircase of paving-stones arranged in the barricade. This was so melancholy and so grand that all around him cried: "Off with your hats!" At every step that he mounted, it was a frightful spectacle; his white locks, his decrepit face, his lofty, bald, and wrinkled brow, his amazed and open mouth, his aged arm upholding the red banner, rose through the gloom and were enlarged in the bloody light of the torch, and the bystanders thought that they beheld the spectre of '93 emerging from the earth, with the flag of terror in his hand.

When he had reached the last step, when this trembling and terrible phantom, erect on that pile of rubbish in the presence of twelve hundred invisible guns, drew himself up in the face of death and as though he were more powerful than it, the whole barricade assumed amid the darkness, a supernatural and colossal form.

There ensued one of those silences which occur only in the presence of prodigies. In the midst of this silence, the old man waved the red flag and shouted:--

"Long live the Revolution! Long live the Republic! Fraternity! Equality! And Death!"

Those in the barricade heard a low and rapid whisper, like the murmur of a priest who is despatching a prayer in haste. It was probably the commissary of police who was making the legal summons at the other end of the street.

Then the same piercing voice which had shouted: "Who goes there?" shouted:--

"Retire!"

M. Mabeuf, pale, haggard, his eyes lighted up with the mournful flame of aberration, raised the flag above his head and repeated:--

"Long live the Republic!"

"Fire!" said the voice.

A second discharge, similar to the first, rained down upon the barricade.

The old man fell on his knees, then rose again, dropped the flag and fell backwards on the pavement, like a log, at full length, with outstretched arms.

Rivulets of blood flowed beneath him. His aged head, pale and sad, seemed to be gazing at the sky.

One of those emotions which are superior to man, which make him forget even to defend himself, seized upon the insurgents, and they approached the body with respectful awe.

"What men these regicides were!" said Enjolras.

Courfeyrac bent down to Enjolras' ear:--

"This is for yourself alone, I do not wish to dampen the enthusiasm. But this man was anything rather than a regicide. I knew him. His name was Father Mabeuf. I do not know what was the matter with him to-day. But he was a brave blockhead. Just look at his head."

"The head of a blockhead and the heart of a Brutus," replied Enjolras.

Then he raised his voice:--

"Citizens! This is the example which the old give to the young. We hesitated, he came! We were drawing back, he advanced! This is what those who are trembling with age teach to those who tremble with fear! This aged man is august in the eyes of his country. He has had a long life and a magnificent death! Now, let us place the body under cover, that each one of us may defend this old man dead as he would his father living, and may his presence in our midst render the barricade impregnable!"

A murmur of gloomy and energetic assent followed these words.

Enjolras bent down, raised the old man's head, and fierce as he was, he kissed him on the brow, then, throwing wide his arms, and handling this dead man with tender precaution, as though he feared to hurt it, he removed his coat, showed the bloody holes in it to all, and said:--

"This is our flag now."

自从他们来到科林斯并开始建造街垒以后，他们便没有怎么注意马白夫公公。马白夫公公却一直没有离开队伍。他走进酒店以后，便去坐在楼下那间厅堂的柜台后面。可以说，他在那里已经完全寂灭了。他仿佛已不再望什么，也不再想什么。古费拉克和另外几个人曾两次或三次走到他跟前，把当时的危险说给他听，请他避开，他却好象什么也没听见。没有人和他谈话时，他的嘴唇会频频启闭，好象是在对谁答话，在有人找他谈话时他的嘴唇却又完全不动，眼睛也好象失去了生命似的。在街垒受到攻击的几个小时以前，他便坐在那里，两个拳头抵在膝上，头向前伛着，仿佛是在望一个什么危崖深谷，几个钟头过去了，他一直保持这一姿势，没有改变过。任何事都不能惊动他，看来他的精神完全不在街垒里。后来每个人都奔向各自的战斗岗位，厅堂里只剩下了三个人：被绑在柱子上的沙威、一个握着军刀监视沙威的起义战士和他马白夫。当攻打开始、爆裂发生时，他的身体也受到了震动，仿佛已经醒过来了，他陡然立了起来，穿过厅堂，这时，安灼拉正重复他的号召，说：“没人愿去？”人们看见这老人出现在酒店门口。他的出现，使整个队伍为之一惊，并引起了一阵惊喊：“这就是那个投票人！就是那个国民公会代表！就是那个人民代表！”

也许他并没有听见。

他直向安灼拉走去，起义的人都怀着敬畏的心为他让出一条路，他从安灼拉手里夺过红旗，安灼拉也被他愣住了，往后退了一步，其他的人，谁也不敢阻挡他，谁也不敢搀扶他，他，这八十岁的老人，头颈颤颤巍巍，脚步踏踏实实，向街垒里那道石级，一步一步慢慢跨上去。当时的情景是那么庄严，那么伟大，以致在他四周的人都齐声喊道：“脱帽！”他每踏上一级，他那一头白发，干瘪的脸，高阔光秃满是皱纹的额头，凹陷的眼睛，愕然张着的嘴，举着旗帜的枯臂，都从黑暗步步伸向火炬的血光中，逐渐升高扩大，形象好不骇人。人们以为看见了九三年的阴灵，擎着恐怖时期的旗帜，从地下冉冉升起。

当他走上最高一级，当这战战兢兢而目空一切的鬼魂，面对一千二百个瞧不见的枪口，视死如归，舍身忘我，屹立在那堆木石灰土的顶上时，整个街垒都从黑暗中望见了一个无比崇高的超人形象。

所有的人都屏住了呼吸，只在奇迹出现时才会有那种沉寂。

老人在这沉寂中，挥动着那面红旗，喊道：

“革命万岁！共和万岁！博爱！平等和死亡！”

人们从街垒里听到一阵低微、急促、象个牧师匆匆念诵祈祷文似的声音。也许是那警官在街的另一头，做他的例行劝降工作。

接着，先头喊“口令？”的那尖利嗓子喊道：

“下去！”

马白夫先生，脸气白了，眼里冒着悲愤躁急的火焰，把红旗高举在头顶上，再一次喊道：

“共和万岁！”

“放！”那人的声音说。

第二次射击，象霰弹似的，打在街垒上。

老人的两个膝头往下沉，随即又立起，旗子从他手中滑脱了，他的身体，象一块木板似的，向后倒在石块上，直挺挺伸卧着，两臂交叉在胸前。

一条条鲜血，象溪水似的，从他身下流出来。他那衰老的脸，惨白而悲哀，仿佛仍在望天空。

起义的人全被一种不受人力支配的愤激心情所控制，甚至忘了自卫，他们在惊愕恐骇中齐向那尸体靠近。

“这些判处国王的人真是好样儿的！”安灼拉说。

古费拉克凑近安灼拉的耳边说：

“这句话是说给你一个人听的，因为我不愿泼冷水。但是这个人完全比得上那些判处国王的代表。我认识他。他叫马白夫公公。我不知道他今天是怎么一回事。但是他一向是个诚实的老糊涂。你瞧他的脑袋。”

“老糊涂的脑袋，布鲁图斯的心。”安灼拉回答说。

接着，他提高嗓子说：

“公民们！这是老一辈给年轻一代做出的榜样。我们迟疑，他挺身而出！我们后退，他勇往直前！让我们瞧瞧因年老而颤抖的人是怎样教育因害怕而颤抖的人的！这位老人在祖国面前可说是浩气凛然。他活得长久，死得光荣。现在让我们保护好他的遗体，我们每个人都应当象保护自己活着的父亲那样来保护这位死了的老人。让他留在我们中间，使这街垒成为铜墙铁壁。”

在这些话后面的是一阵低沉而坚决的共鸣声。

安灼拉蹲下去托起那老人的头，怯生生地在他的前额上吻了一下，随即又掰开他的手臂，轻柔谨慎、怕弄痛了死者似的，扶起他的身体，解下他的衣服，把那上面的弹孔和血迹一一指给大家看，并说道：

“现在，这就是我们的红旗了。”

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