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Quote by Victor Hugo

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Les Misérables

Victor Hugo's 'Les Misérables' is an epic narrative that delves into the lives of various characters, including Jean Valjean, a former convict seeking redemption, and Fantine, a woman struggling in poverty. The story is rich in historical detail and moral complexity, offering a profound examination of society's flaws and the resilience of the human spirit. more

Author

Victor Hugo
Victor Hugo

Victor Hugo, a French romantic poet, novelist, and playwright, was born on February 26, 1802, and died on May 22, 1885. He is considered one of the greatest writers in French literary history, known for his profound humanistic concerns and rich imagination. more

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“What about me?’ said Grantaire. ‘I’m here.’ ‘You?’ ‘Yes, me.’ ‘You? Rally Republicans! You? In defence of principles, fire up hearts that have grown cold!’ ‘Why not?’ ‘Are you capable of being good for something?’ ‘I have the vague ambition to be,’ said Grantaire. ‘You don’t believe in anything.’ ‘I believe in you.’ ‘Grantaire, will you do me a favour?’ ‘Anything. Polish your boots.’ ‘Well, don’t meddle in our affairs. Go and sleep off the effects of your absinthe.’ ‘You’re heartless, Enjolras.’ ‘As if you’d be the man to send to the Maine gate! As if you were capable of it!’ ‘I’m capable of going down Rue des Grès, crossing Place St-Michel, heading off along Rue Monsieur-le-Prince, taking Rue de Vaugirard, passing the Carmelite convent, turning into Rue d’Assas, proceeding to Rue du Cherche-Midi, leaving the Military Court behind me, wending my way along Rue des Vieilles-Tuileries, striding across the boulevard, following Chaussée du Maine, walking through the toll-gate and going into Richefeu’s. I’m capable of that. My shoes are capable of that.’ ‘Do you know them at all, those comrades who meet at Richefeu’s?' ‘Not very well. But we’re on friendly terms.’ ‘What will you say to them?’ ‘I’ll talk to them about Robespierre, of course! And about Danton. About principles.’ ‘You?’ ‘Yes, me. But I’m not being given the credit I deserve. When I put my mind to it, I’m terrific. I’ve read Prudhomme, I’m familiar with the Social Contract, I know by heart my constitution of the year II. “The liberty of the citizen ends where the liberty of another citizen begins.” Do you take me for a brute beast? I have in my drawer an old promissory note from the time of the Revolution. The rights of man, the sovereignty of the people, for God’s sake! I’m even a bit of an Hébertist. I can keep coming out with some wonderful things, watch in hand, for a whole six hours by the clock.’ ‘Be serious,’ said Enjolras. ‘I mean it,’ replied Grantaire. Enjolras thought for a few moments, and with the gesture of a man who had come to a decision, ‘Grantaire,’ he said gravely, ‘I agree to try you out. You’ll go to the Maine toll-gate.’ Grantaire lived in furnished lodgings very close to Café Musain. He went out, and came back five minutes later. He had gone home to put on a Robespierre-style waistcoat. ‘Red,’ he said as he came in, gazing intently at Enjolras. Then, with an energetic pat of his hand, he pressed the two scarlet lapels of the waistcoat to his chest. And stepping close to Enjolras he said in his ear, ‘Don’t worry.’ He resolutely jammed on his hat, and off he went.”

“But, sceptic that he was, he had one fanatical devotion, not for an idea, a creed, an art or a science, but for a man — for Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras. The anarchic questioner of all beliefs had attached himself to the most absolute of all that circle of believers. Enjolras had conquered him not by any force of reason but by character. It is a not uncommon phenomenon. The sceptic clinging to a believer is something as elementary as the law of complementary colours. We are drawn to what we lack. No one loves daylight more than a blind man. The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad has its eyes upturned to Heaven, and for what? — to watch the flight of the birds. Grantaire, earthbound in doubt, loved to watch Enjolras soaring in the upper air of faith. He needed Enjolras. Without being fully aware of it, or seeking to account for it himself, he was charmed by that chaste, upright, inflexible, and candid nature. Instinctively he was attracted to his opposite. His flabby, incoherent, and shapeless thinking attached itself to Enjolras as to a spinal column. He was in any case a compound of apparently incompatible elements, at once ironical and friendly, affectionate beneath his seeming indifference. His mind could do without faith, but his heart could not do without friendship: a profound contradiction, for affection in itself is faith. Such was his nature. There are men who seem born to be two-sided. They are Pollux, Patrocles, Nisus, Ephestion. They can live only in union with the other who is their reverse side; their name is one of a pair, always preceded by the conjunction "and"; their lives are not their own; they are the other side of a destiny which is not theirs. Grantaire was one of those, the reverse side of Enjolras. Truly the satellite of Enjolras, he formed one of that circle of young men, went everywhere with them and was only happy in their company. His delight was to see those figures moving amid the mists of wine, and they bore with him because of his good humour. Enjolras, the believer, despised the sceptic and soberly deplored the drunkard. His attitude towards him was one of pitying disdain. Grantaire was an unwelcome Ephestion. But, roughly treated though he was by Enjolras, harshly repulsed and rejected, he always came back, saying of him: "What a splendid statue!”

“Анжольрас, стоявший с ружьем в руке на гребне заграждения, поднял свое прекрасное строгое лицо. Анжольрас, как известно, был из породы спартанцев и пуритан. Он умер бы при Фермопилах вместе с Леонидом и сжег бы Дрохеду вместе с Кромвелем. – Грантер! – крикнул он. – Пойди куда-нибудь, проспись. Здесь место опьянению, а не пьянству. Не позорь баррикаду. Эти гневные слова произвели на Грантера необычайное впечатление. Ему словно выплесну-ли стакан холодной воды в лицо. Он, казалось, сразу протрезвился, сел, облокотился на стол возле окна, с невыразимой кротостью взглянул на Анжольраса и сказал: – Позволь мне поспать здесь. – Ступай для этого в другое место! – крикнул Анжольрас. Но Грантер, не сводя с него нежного и мутного взгляда, проговорил: – Позволь мне тут поспать, пока я не умру. Анжольрас презрительно взглянул на него. – Грантер! Ты неспособен ни верить, ни думать, ни хотеть, ни жить, ни умирать. – Вот ты увидишь, – серьезно сказал Грантер. Он пробормотал еще несколько невнятных слов, потом его голова тяжело упала на стол, и мгновение спустя он уже спал, что довольно обычно для второй стадии опьянения, к которому его резко и безжалостно подтолкнул Анжольрас.”