"We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. Up to this moment, hopes had been entertained of a respite, strong representations in his favour having been made in the highest quarter; but now that his fate seemed sealed, the curiosity of the sight-seeing public to behold him was redoubled. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. She felt the bedsprings coil as he moved from his seated position, entranced. She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant.
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