“ Mr. Marius, are you there?”

“Yes.”

“ Mr. Marius,” went on the voice, “your friends are waiting for you at the barricade of the Rue de la Chanvrerie.”

This voice was not wholly unfamiliar to him. It resembled the hoarse, rough voice of Éponine. Marius hastened to the gate, thrust aside the movable bar, passed his head through the aperture, and saw someone who appeared to him to be a young man, disappearing at a run into the gloom.

M. Mabeuf