Les Miserables Page #11

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Show no mercy!

- Surrender!

- No mercy!

Watch for the Powder keg!

Run away or you'll blow up!

- Victory!

- Long live the Republic!

They ran away like rabbits!

Reload your weapons!

Tend to the wounded!

Without you, I'd be dead.

Bravo, Mr. Marius!

Mr. Marius...

Mr. Marius...

I'll take you. We'll fix you up.

I'm in too much pain.

Leave me here.

It's no use.

Stay with me.

I saw you throw yourself

in front of the musket.

Why did you do that?

Why?

I saw they were aiming at you,

I couldn't...

We will meet again.

Is it true?

Will we meet again?

Yes.

But if everyone

meets again up there,

it must be the same drama

as down here.

True.

I have a letter

for you in my blouse.

I found it on the bench.

I didn't want to give it to you.

But that's funny,

I can't see you unhappy.

Do you remember

when I gave you the address?

I asked you what you'd give me.

A kiss on New Year's Day.

But it's only June.

- Promise me...

- What?

- Promise?

- I promise.

When I'm dead,

you'll kiss me for real.

Yes.

I think I was a little bit

in love with you.

Eponine was laid to rest

next to Father Maboeuf,

and Gavroche understood

what family could be.

Immobile, Javert was waiting

for his fate to be sealed.

The dead

were lined up in the street.

There they were, next to

each other, made to get along,

but society had turned them

against one another.

Grantaire had managed

to find something to drink.

Gavroche was playing.

Marius was finishing a letter.

Will you do something for me?

Something? Anything!

I'd like you to deliver this letter.

It's too early for the post office.

Exactly. Miss Fauchelevent,

Rue de I'Homme Arm, number 7.

Right away.

"L'Homme Arm"?

I like it. The name fits.

Better leave my belt, it doesn't

look like a mailman's bag.

Rue de I'Homme Arm,

Jean Valjean wasn't sleeping.

He knew there was

fighting in Paris,

but that's not what was

keeping him awake.

He had ed the police,

but he sensed another danger

against which he felt powerless.

As soon as they arrived, Cosette

had retired to her bedroom.

She refused to have dinner.

"Beloved... To England...

Will die if I lose you."

Finally!

Does Miss Fauchelevent live here?

What do you want from her?

None of your business.

I need to see her.

You're bringing her a letter?

Can't you tell?

From the student?

You know Mr. Marius?

Yes, he's a friend.

I have to give it to her.

She's asleep now.

Give it to me, I'll give it

to her tomorrow.

Tomorrow's today.

There might be a reply.

Give it to me, I'll wake her up.

Hurry up, I have to go

back to the barricade.

Barricade?

What do you think we do

while you're all sleeping?

I'm waiting.

"My Beloved, farewell. I'm going

to die with my friends.

When the sun rises,

my soul will be near you."

Marius.

What if he kept the letter?

The man would die and

she would never know. Ever.

He only had to let it be.

"You'll forget him

and I'll keep you."

I think I fell asleep.

Is the young woman awake?

There's a reply, but I'll

take it myself. Lead me there.

It could be our last morning,

Enjolras.

- Any regrets?

- No.

Not of dying, but of killing.

Leave the officer for me.

What a shame to kill this young man.

He could be your brother.

He is.

Aim... Fire!

Soldiers, let's take this out.

Forward! To your bayonets!

Let's go, firemen!

- To your bayonets!

- Aim!

Fire!

- Don't step back!

- Hurry, it's started, over there.

Fire!

Cease-fire!

- Victory!

- Long live the Republic!

Another one of these victories

and we'll run out of bullets!

It is said that Gavroche

heard that sentence.

I was born in Nanterre,

'Tis the fault of Voltaire;

And not in Palaiseau

'Tis the fault of Rousseau.

Gavroche!

We have to change the Ministry,

'Tis the fault of Voltaire;

The cops and the dogs

'Tis the fault of Rousseau.

Come back!

Soldiers exaggerate,

'Tis the fault of Voltaire;

The sparrows are to blame,

'Tis the fault of Rousseau.

I'm not an owner,

'Tis the fault of Voltaire;

I'm a little bird,

'Tis the fault of Rousseau.

I have fallen to the earth,

'Tis the fault of Voltaire;

With my nose in the gutter

'Tis the fault of...

I got hit! Take the bullets.

Let's go!

- He's dead.

- Give him to me.

- Let's put him near the others.

- Where?

This way.

- What about Prouvaire?

- Taken prisoner.

Aim...

To France!

To the future!

It's Prouvaire.

Your friends have just been shot.

The last one alive

will break your head.

- You want me to do it?

- You?

Yes.

- Do you know him?

- Yes.

If you don't mind,

I'll take him outside.

Do as you will.

Your situation

is no better than mine.

You, here. It figures.

Get up.

Take your revenge.

You go first.

Attention!

At the ready!

A clasp-knife. You're right,

that suits you better.

There, you're free.

There's a palisade at the end

of the street. Go that way.

And if I come out alive, you'll find me

7, Rue de I'Homme Arm.

I don't understand.

You never understood anything.

So...

Aim!

Fire!

Reload!

Let's go, firemen!

To the bayonets!

Let's go! Forward!

- Fire!

- Bayonets!

Don't back down!

Don't back down!

No mercy!

Inside the wine shop!

Let's go inside the wine shop!

Go, go!

Axes! Bring axes!

Tear down the door!

- No more bullets. What do we do?

- Quick, the bottles!

Line up!

Wait!

I'm one of them.

You can't leave without me.

- Who are you?

- No one.

Aim...

Fire!

Stand down.

JEWELRY:

During the first riots,

the generous citizens had

opened the prison doors.

Along with the innocents,

the worst bandits came out.

Well, there!

This is my home.

I've been robbed.

Take him to the barracks!

I'm not a revolutionary.

I'm an honest man.

My hands are clean.

They don't smell like gunpowder.

- We'll see.

- Watch out, shots fired!

Well, this is bad.

A riot strengthens the government

it doesn't topple.

It tests the Army,

concentrates the bourgeoisie,

stretches the muscles of the police.

We only have to track the survivors.

Some might have fled

through the sewers.

But where will they go?

In 15 minutes, all the exits

will be covered.

The Army has patrols

at each collection point.

If fugitives go up the sewer lines,

they'll end up in the Catacombs.

No one ever came out of there.

If they go down,

they'll end up at the Seine.

Good.

Congratulations to our friend Javert

for escaping the insurrection.

But take care of

closing the gates yourself

and have them under surveillance.

Yes, sir, don't worry. We'll catch

them or they'll die like rats.

At the center of the city,

Jean Valjean had escaped the city.

He went from daylight to darkness,

from uproar to silence.

From thunderous explosions

to stagnant tomb.

The labyrinth had a thread:

its slope.

Following the slope would lead

to the river, to salvation.

Did you hear that?

Something's moving over there.

Hey, over there! We're the 6th line.

Sergeant Lachenal, 24th patrol.

You should be more careful.

You almost fired at us.

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