The herd was not hostile



The next day Christophe came to pick up Olivier Jeannin with the city. Olivier was now healed; but he still felt that strange tiredness in his being; he would not be happy to leave, he had a vague sense of fear, he did not want to be among the people. His heart and spirit were strong; but the meat was weak. He usually teased the disgraceful crowd, everything that was rude and brutal; He knew well that he had been created helpless in life, unable to defend himself, even to defend himself: for as much as his own suffering, he was terrified of producing suffering to others. People who are sick in their bodies are combing more than others with physical pain, because they know it better and are less able to resist it, that their irritated imagination always looks closer to them and more bloody than others. Olivier was ashamed of the cowardice of his body, which was so opposed to his stoic will, and tried to make it disappear. But especially this morning, she was all over the other people’s embarrassment; he would have wanted to stay home, close his chamber for the whole day. Christophe barked her, scoffed, wanted all the way to go out, shake her awake from that sleep state: Olivier hadn’t been out for 10 days breathing fresh air. The friend wasn’t listening to Christoph now. Christophe said: who was so opposed to his stoic will and tried to make it disappear.

But especially this morning, she was all over the other people’s embarrassment; he would have wanted to stay home, close his chamber for the whole day. Christophe barked her, scoffed, wanted all the way to go out, shake her awake from that sleep state: Olivier hadn’t been out for 10 days breathing fresh air. The friend wasn’t listening to Christoph now. Christophe said: who was so opposed to his stoic will and tried to make it disappear. But especially this morning, she was all over the other people’s embarrassment; he would have wanted to stay home, close his chamber for the whole day. Christophe barked her, scoffed, wanted all the way to go out, shake her awake from that sleep state: Olivier hadn’t been out for 10 days breathing fresh air. The friend wasn’t listening to Christoph now. Christophe said: shake her awake from that sleep state: Olivier hadn’t been out for 10 days breathing fresh air. The friend wasn’t listening to Christoph now. Christophe said: shake her awake from that sleep state: Olivier hadn’t been out for 10 days breathing fresh air. The friend wasn’t listening to Christoph now. Christophe said:

– Well, I’m leaving without you. I’ll go see the first day of May. If you do not belong to me back tonight, so you can guess that I’m in jail.

Christophe left. On the stairs Olivier came from behind him. He didn’t want to let Christophe go alone.

Little people in the streets. Only a few female workers, a chunk of chest. Workers in their sanctuaries walking there looking idle. At the corners of the streets, _Metro_aseman, an underground rail gap, nearby police officers, staying hidden. The Luxembourg gates were closed. The air was still hazy and warm. For so long, there was no sunshine! They didn’t talk much, but felt deeply apart. Some word just referred to past, gentle memories. At one of them, they stopped to look at the barometer; it seemed to rise.

– Tomorrow I’ll get the sun, said Olivier.

They had come close to Cécile’s apartment. They were going to go in to see the child.

– Well, let’s go there on the way.

On the other side of the river they saw more people. Calm walkers, gowns, and Sunday’s restful faces; strikers with their children; idle workers. A couple of three had a red wild rose in their chest; they looked pretty tame: revolutionaries who forced themselves to stay calm; When they saw them, they felt that they were very temperate and optimistic and usually settled for even the smallest ones of happiness: when only on this holiday day was beautiful, or only moderate, they were grateful… did not know whom… to all that was around. They walked without haste, joyfully, admired the tree buds, the beautiful dresses of the little girls passing by; they proudly told each other:

– Not seeing somewhere well-dressed children anywhere in Paris.

Christophe mocked that predicted crowd… Suck good people!… He liked them while they threw a particle.

If they were farther away, a set of Zen. In the human stream, I dive into suspiciously-looking, stupid creatures, leaning on their faces, waiting for the moments of attack. The bottom was moving. Which step came thicker to thicker. Now it’s already shuffling and pregnant. As the bottom of the river emerges from its greasy surface with air bubbles, that general humming of the people already heard mutually summoning voices, whistles, streets shouts, and their increase could be guessed to what extent the rise of the bottom grouse had risen. At the end of the street, Aurélie’s restaurant roared like a mill shutter. The Nation broke down against the dam of the police and the military. In front of that barrier, it turned into a moving mass that shouted, whistled, sang, laughed, and rolled at any moment… the laughter of the people,

The herd was not hostile. It didn’t know what it wanted. And while waiting for it to be clear about the matter, it’s the funfair, – in its own way, nervous, drunk, nothing bad yet, – amusing the other by pushing others and enjoying being pushed by themselves, barking the policemen and each other. But gradually it accelerated. They were annoyed at the back, not seeing anything, and more dangerous when they themselves had no danger under the protection of the human shield. The number of people standing in the crowd became more and more painful as they became more intolerable between being crowded and inevitable; and the power of the stream increased their power to a hundredfold. And all, Kuta more tightly pressed against each other, were rolled out like a slate, knew in itself the chest of the flock and the hoods of the bow; they were as if they had all been one piece; and everyone was all, and every one as a polygonal giant. Blood rushed from time to time to the heart of that thousand-headed beast; the eyes turned angry, and the screams predicted murder. Some of those who stayed well hidden, in the third or fourth row, already started to rock. People looked at the windows of the houses: they were just as if they were in the noise; they exacerbated the crowd, and waited impatiently and hesitantly to shake the army firing. Blood rushed from time to time to the heart of that thousand-headed beast; the eyes turned angry, and the screams predicted murder. Some of those who stayed well hidden, in the third or fourth row, already started to rock. People looked at the windows of the houses: they were just as if they were in the noise; they exacerbated the crowd, and waited impatiently and hesitantly to shake the army firing. Blood rushed from time to time to the heart of that thousand-headed beast; the eyes turned angry, and the screams predicted murder. Some of those who stayed well hidden, in the third or fourth row, already started to rock. People looked at the windows of the houses: they were just as if they were in the noise; they exacerbated the crowd, and waited impatiently and hesitantly to shake the army firing.

Christophe opened the middle of that dense crowd with his elbows and kicked the way like a wedge. Olivier followed him. The living bastard opened, and let them go, and immediately closed after them. Christophe rejoiced. He had completely forgotten that he had thought it was impossible for him to continue to do so five minutes ago. He barely got his feet in the stream, so he captured him; he who was strange to this French nation and its demands immediately came to power; irrelevant to what the crowd wanted: it wanted; It is irrelevant where he went: he went, and pulled in the air of madness.

Olivier was pushed by his stream, but uncomfortably, clearly, without losing consciousness, a thousand times stranger than Christophe to the moods of his own people, to this passion, which, however, took him as if hawking a wreck. The disease had not only weakened him, but also made his ties to life less relaxed. How far he felt about being such people!… He couldn’t be drunk, his mind was completely free; even the smallest details sharpened to his mind. She looked at the joy of a girl’s golden neck, her pale and fine neck. And at the same time, he was disgusted by the smell that rose from the crowd of accumulated human bodies.

– Christophe, he asked.

Christophe didn’t listen.

– Christophe!

– What?

– Let’s go away.

– Are you afraid? said Christophe.

And he continued his journey. Olivier followed her with a sad smile on her lips.

A few steps away, in the most dangerous spot where the pent-up crowd was tight, like a wall, Olivier noticed a little boy on the roof of a newsstand. Emmanuel held the two grabs on top of the cloak and wagged in an uncomfortable position, looking over the laughter over the military wall; and then he turned to the people’s flock, looking like a triumphant. He invented Olivier Jeannin and created a glowing gaze on him; then he began to look again at the lower end of the street, the marketplace, and his eyes widened from hope, expectation…. – It was just coming … He wasn’t there alone. Many others waited for the miracle as he did. And when Olivier looked at Christophe, he saw that Christophe also waited.

Olivier called Emmanuel and told him to come down. Emmanuel was not heard and no longer looked at him. He had noticed Christophe’s friend with Jeannin. He seemed to be at risk of a riot; Partially to show Jeannin his courage, to partake in him that he was with Christophe.

Meanwhile, friends in the crowd saw some acquaintances, – there was a gold-plated Coquard, – he was definitely waiting for clashes, and watched with a blind eye when the cup would be in his cock, – a little later beautiful Bertha, ranging from rough bangs with his fellow friends and getting hired. He had succeeded in penetrating the forefront, and there he set the cops off his throat. Coquard came closer to Christoph. When he saw him, Christophe broke up again and started lynx as usual:

– What did I say? Nothing is coming today.

– Does not know! answered Coquard. Don’t go too close. It will soon get worse.

– What a lorua! exclaimed Christophe.

It was then that the Kyrasians, who were tired of getting stones, cleaned the mouth of the market; the middle cavalry departments were counting on the running leg. Immediately began the confusion. According to the Bible, the first came first. But they were not content to stay in that position for a long time. To compensate for their withdrawal, the raging refugees started shouting at their backslots: “The killers!” before any blow had happened to them. Bertha penetrated through the rows like a needle and smacked the glittering screams. He came to his companions; In the back of Coquard’s wide back, he pulled his breath, pushing him to Christophe, squeezing him from his arm, for fear or for some other reason, glancing at Olivier Jeannin, and screaming barking at his foe. Coquard took Christoph on his hand and said to him:

– Let’s go to Aurélie.

There was nothing but a step. Bertha had already gone to Graillot and some other workers. Christophe also came to the door, following Olivier. The street was convex. In front of the restaurant, across the whole scene, there were stairs with five six steps. Olivier breathed from relief as he got out of the crowd. But he was disgusted to get into the airy and thick air of the restaurant and to hear that damned herd talking. He said to Christoph:

– I’m going home.

– Go on, brother, Christophe answered; I’ll be coming soon.

– Don’t go back, it’s dangerous, Christophe.

– What’s up! exclaimed Christophe laughing.

And he stepped inside the restaurant.

Olivier already hit the street. One more step, and he got to a cross street that would have pulled out of the crowd. The little protector then reached his mind. He turned and looked where Emmanuel was. At the same time, he noticed the boy falling from his sight and staying in the ground, in the feet of the people; fleeing the army rushed over him; The rakes attacked the scene. Olivier did not slow down: he ran down the street and ran to Emmanuel for help. Some worker saw the danger he went to, saw the bare sabers, Olivier Jeannin, who reached his hand to lift the child out of the ground, saw them reappeared by both. He exclaimed, and in turn crashed into trouble. The other comrades followed her running leg. Others came from the restaurant again. And while they shout the crowd, more already in the restaurant past. Counterparties attacked as dogs attack each other. And the women standing on the stairs cried. In this way, Olivier, that aristocratic little bourgeoisie, started a fight that no one would have wanted less than he did.

Christophe crashed in the midst of the workers in the midst of a mess, and threw himself into it, without knowing what and who was the cause of it. He had no idea Olivier would be tangled into it. He thought his friend was far away, in complete safety. Impossible to see what happened in the riot. Each had a full job of watching his opponent. Olivier had disappeared into a whirlwind like a boat sinking into a storm. The sword, though not intended for him, had come to him on the left side of his chest; he went down to the ground; The herd stuck her in her legs. The mob had buried Christophe right at the other end of the battlefield. He was not at all angry; she gave herself a push and a heart to the joy of her heart, just like in the crowd of the rural market.

He did not think of the seriousness of the matter any more than that he said to the devout police who had caught him, and went with him to the hand:

– Can I ask a girl for a roll?

But when the other police jumped to Christophe’s neck, he shook himself like a wild boar, and he ran both of them with a pinch: he wasn’t going to let him catch himself. One of the opponents, the one who had escaped behind him, fell to his nose on the street. The other revealed his sword furiously. Christophe saw a pair of swords a few inches from his chest; he quickly escaped the impulse, grabbed the man’s wrist and tried to kick the gun out of his hand. He no longer understood anything; Until now, everything had been like him to play. They fought now, shrugging with resistance. Christophella had no time to apologize. He saw another in the eyes of a murderer; and the frenzy of murder arose in him. He saw him killed as a sheep. In a drastic rush he turned the sword in the opposite direction, police chest; he pushed it, felt he killed; and he did kill. And suddenly everyone in his eyes changed: he was like drunk, he got up.

The effect of its sound was indescribable. The crowd had reached the bloodshed. Suddenly it became a terrible beast. Everywhere was shot. Red flags appeared on the windows of the houses. And the old revolutionary habit of the Parisians immediately built a barrage. The street stones were torn off, the gas beams were torn down, the trees were cut off, the trams were poured into the street. He was placed in a tomb that had been built for months on Metro . Cast iron cages at the root of the trees were broken into pieces and used as throwing guns. Other weapons appeared in pockets and houses. There was no hour left, so a full rebellion raged around the block. And Christophe, who would not have known before, swung on the barrage and sang towards the mouth of the revolution, accompanied by dozens of voices.

Olivier had been taken to Aurélie. He was in an unconscious state. He had been placed in the back chamber on the bed. At the foot of the bed, there was a little humpback, stunned. Bertha had first suffered a great deal of pain: she thought somehow that Graillot was wounded and her first exclamation was when she saw Olivier Jeannin:

– How good! I thought of him as Leopold.

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