(no subject)
When the members of Les Amis de l'ABC had filed into the Musain's back room earlier that afternoon - one by one or in pairs, surreptitiously and without calling much attention to themselves - the small cafe had had few customers, little more than a couple men in the corner who were grumbling about the June heat and the oppressive look of the sky that proved rain would be coming soon. But when they all came out, in a larger group this time, some of them looking decidedly more somber, the Musain was already filling with life, at the names the drinkers and revelers who planned to spend the evening there already filling it.
Strange that none of them knew what the young men coming out of the back room now knew.
The news they had all been waiting for had finally reached them. Enjolras had been deep into evaluation of what resources were currently available, having heard a rumor of more munitions nearby, if they could risk getting them. Joly had rushed in, immediately followed by Courfeyrac, and before they could be chastised for his tardiness, Joly had managed to gasp between labored breaths that he brought news from the Hotel Dieu.
All eyes had turned towards him.
"General Lamarque died of cholera this morning."
The entire character of the meeting had changed. No longer did it matter what munitions they might still collect. No longer did they have time to recruit more supporters. Already whispers had begun that other groups in the city would be bringing muskets to the funeral the next day. People were furious, Courfeyrac said that he heard many were angry that this man who had fought for the People his whole life was to be given a funeral with the trappings of the state and monarchy. Half of Paris would be there tomorrow, and they would be ready to fight.
The meeting broke up soon after. There was work to be done, guns to count, word to pass on. As the students and workers filtered out of the back room and into the open cafe, some hurrying on their way and others lingering there, all were tense - with excitement, and expectation, and perhaps even fear.
Strange that none of them knew what the young men coming out of the back room now knew.
The news they had all been waiting for had finally reached them. Enjolras had been deep into evaluation of what resources were currently available, having heard a rumor of more munitions nearby, if they could risk getting them. Joly had rushed in, immediately followed by Courfeyrac, and before they could be chastised for his tardiness, Joly had managed to gasp between labored breaths that he brought news from the Hotel Dieu.
All eyes had turned towards him.
"General Lamarque died of cholera this morning."
The entire character of the meeting had changed. No longer did it matter what munitions they might still collect. No longer did they have time to recruit more supporters. Already whispers had begun that other groups in the city would be bringing muskets to the funeral the next day. People were furious, Courfeyrac said that he heard many were angry that this man who had fought for the People his whole life was to be given a funeral with the trappings of the state and monarchy. Half of Paris would be there tomorrow, and they would be ready to fight.
The meeting broke up soon after. There was work to be done, guns to count, word to pass on. As the students and workers filtered out of the back room and into the open cafe, some hurrying on their way and others lingering there, all were tense - with excitement, and expectation, and perhaps even fear.