The voice which had summoned Marius through the twilight to the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, had produced on him the effect of the voice of destiny.
He wished to die; the opportunity presented itself; he knocked at the door of the tomb, a hand in the darkness offered him the key. These melancholy openings which take place in the gloom before despair, are tempting.
Marius thrust aside the bar which had so often allowed him to pass, emerged from the garden, and said: 'I will go.
' Mad with grief, no longer conscious of anything fixed or solid in his brain, incapable of accepting anything thenceforth of fate after those two months passed in the intoxication of youth and love, overwhelmed at once by all the reveries of despair, he had but one desire remaining, to make a speedy end of all.
He set out at rapid pace. He found himself most opportunely armed, as he had Javert’s pistols with him. The young man of whom he thought that he had caught a glimpse, had vanished from his sight in the street.
Marius, who had emerged from the Rue Plumet by the boulevard, traversed the Esplanade and the bridge of the Invalides, the Champs-Élysées, the Place Louis XV. , and reached the Rue de Rivoli.
The shops were open there, the gas was burning under the arcades, women were making their purchases in the stalls, people were eating ices in the Café Laiter, and nibbling small cakes at the English pastry-cook’s shop.
Only a few posting-chaises were setting out at a gallop from the Hôtel des Princes and the Hôtel Meurice. Marius entered the Rue Saint-Honoré through the Passage Delorme.
There the shops were closed, the merchants were chatting in front of their half-open doors, people were walking about,