Then he picked up his basket, replaced the cartridges which had fallen from it, without missing a single one, and, advancing towards the fusillade, set about plundering another cartridge-box. There a fourth bullet missed him, again. Gavroche sang:

Je ne suis pas notaire,

C’est la faute à Voltaire;

Je suis un petit oiseau,

C’est la faute à Rousseau.

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