Kabanata Kabanata 310 · THE SHOT WHICH MISSES NOTHING AND KILLS NO ONE

The assailants’ fire continued. Musketry and grape-shot alternated, but

without committing great ravages, to tell the truth. The top alone of

the Corinthe façade suffered; the window on the first floor, and the

attic window in the roof, riddled with buckshot and biscaïens, were

slowly losing their shape. The combatants who had been posted there had

been obliged to withdraw. However, this is according to the tactics of

barricades; to fire for a long while, in order to exhaust the

insurgents’ ammunition, if they commit the mistake of replying. When it

is perceived, from the slackening of their fire, that they have no more

powder and ball, the assault is made. Enjolras had not fallen into this

trap; the barricade did not reply.

At every discharge by platoons, Gavroche puffed out his cheek with his

tongue, a sign of supreme disdain.

“Good for you,” said he, “rip up the cloth. We want some lint.”

Courfeyrac called the grape-shot to order for the little effect which

it produced, and said to the cannon:

“You are growing diffuse, my good fellow.”

One gets puzzled in battle, as at a ball. It is probable that this

silence on the part of the redoubt began to render the besiegers

uneasy, and to make them fear some unexpected incident, and that they

felt the necessity of getting a clear view behind that heap of

paving-stones, and of knowing what was going on behind that impassable

wall which received blows without retorting. The insurgents suddenly

perceived a helmet glittering in the sun on a neighboring roof. A

fireman had placed his back against a tall chimney, and seemed to be

acting as sentinel. His glance fell directly down into the barricade.

“There’s an embarrassing watcher,” said Enjolras.

Jean Valjean had returned Enjolras’ rifle, but he had his own gun.

Without saying a word, he took aim at the fireman, and, a second later,

the helmet, smashed by a bullet, rattled noisily into the street. The

terrified soldier made haste to disappear. A second observer took his

place. This one was an officer. Jean Valjean, who had re-loaded his

gun, took aim at the newcomer and sent the officer’s casque to join the

soldier’s. The officer did not persist, and retired speedily. This time

the warning was understood. No one made his appearance thereafter on

that roof; and the idea of spying on the barricade was abandoned.

“Why did you not kill the man?” Bossuet asked Jean Valjean.

Jean Valjean made no reply.