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His specialty was not to succeed in anything。
As an offset； he laughed at everything。 At five and twenty he was bald。
His father had ended by owning a house and a field； but he； the son； had made haste to lose that house and field in a bad speculation。
He had nothing left。 He possessed knowledge and wit； but all he did miscarried。 Everything failed him and everybody deceived him； what he was building tumbled down on top of him。
If he were splitting wood； he cut off a finger。
If he had a mistress； he speedily discovered that he had a friend also。
Some misfortune happened to him every moment； hence his joviality。
He said：
〃I live under falling tiles。〃 He was not easily astonished； because； for him； an accident was what he had foreseen； he took his bad luck serenely； and smiled at the teasing of fate； like a person who is listening to pleasantries。 He was poor； but his fund of good humor was inexhaustible。 He soon reached his last sou； never his last burst of laughter。 When adversity entered his doors； he saluted this old acquaintance cordially； he tapped all catastrophes on the stomach； he was familiar with fatality to the point of calling it by its nickname： 〃Good day； Guignon；〃 he said to it。
These persecutions of fate had rendered him inventive。
He was full of resources。
He had no money； but he found means； when it seemed good to him； to indulge in 〃unbridled extravagance。〃
One night； he went so far as to eat a 〃hundred francs〃 in a supper with a wench； which inspired him to make this memorable remark in the midst of the orgy：
〃Pull off my boots； you five…louis jade。〃
Bossuet was slowly directing his steps towards the profession of a lawyer； he was pursuing his law studies after the manner of Bahorel。
Bossuet had not much domicile； sometimes none at all。 He lodged now with one； now with another； most often with Joly。 Joly was studying medicine。
He was two years younger than Bossuet。
Joly was the 〃malade imaginaire〃 junior。
What he had won in medicine was to be more of an invalid than a doctor。
At three and twenty he thought himself a valetudinarian； and passed his life in inspecting his tongue in the mirror。
He affirmed that man bees magnetic like a needle； and in his chamber he placed his bed with its head to the south； and the foot to the north； so that； at night； the circulation of his blood might not be interfered with by the great electric current of the globe。
During thunder storms； he felt his pulse。
Otherwise； he was the gayest of them all。 All these young； maniacal； puny； merry incoherences lived in harmony together； and the result was an eccentric and agreeable being whom his rades； who were prodigal of winged consonants； called Jolllly 。 〃You may fly away on the four L's；〃 Jean Prouvaire said to him。＇23＇
＇23＇ L'Aile； wing。
Joly had a trick of touching his nose with the tip of his cane； which is an indication of a sagacious mind。
All these young men who differed so greatly； and who； on the whole； can only be discussed seriously； held the same religion：
Progress。
All were the direct sons of the French Revolution。
The most giddy of them became solemn when they pronounced that date：
'89。
Their fathers in the flesh had been； either royalists； doctrinaires； it matters not what； this confusion anterior to themselves； who were young； did not concern them at all； the pure blood of principle ran in their veins。
They attached themselves； without intermediate shades； to incorruptible right and absolute duty。
Affiliated and initiated； they sketched out the ideal underground。
Among all these glowing hearts and thoroughly convinced minds； there was one sceptic。
How came he there？
By juxtaposition。 This sceptic's name was Grantaire； and he was in the habit of signing himself with this rebus：
R。 Grantaire was a man who took good care not to believe in anything。
Moreover； he was one of the students who had learned the most during their course at Paris； he knew that the best coffee was to be had at the Cafe Lemblin； and the best billiards at the Cafe Voltaire； that good cakes and lasses were to be found at the Ermitage； on the Boulevard du Maine； spatchcocked chickens at Mother Sauget's； excellent matelotes at the Barriere de la Cunette； and a certain thin white wine at the Barriere du pat。
He knew the best place for everything； in addition； boxing and foot…fencing and some dances； and he was a thorough single…stick player。
He was a tremendous drinker to boot。 He was inordinately homely：
the prettiest boot…stitcher of that day； Irma Boissy； enraged with his homeliness； pronounced sentence on him as follows：
〃Grantaire is impossible〃； but Grantaire's fatuity was not to be disconcerted。
He stared tenderly and fixedly at all women； with the air of saying to them all：
〃If I only chose！〃 and of trying to make his rades believe that he was in general demand。
All those words：
rights of the people； rights of man； the social contract； the French Revolution； the Republic； democracy； humanity； civilization； religion； progress； came very near to signifying nothing whatever to Grantaire。
He smiled at them。 Scepticism； that caries of the intelligence； had not left him a single whole idea。
He lived with irony。
This was his axiom： 〃There is but one certainty； my full glass。〃
He sneered at all devotion in all parties； the father as well as the brother； Robespierre junior as well as Loizerolles。
〃They are greatly in advance to be dead；〃 he exclaimed。
He said of the crucifix：
〃There is a gibbet which has been a success。〃
A rover； a gambler； a libertine； often drunk； he displeased these young dreamers by humming incessantly： 〃J'aimons les filles； et j'aimons le bon vin。〃
Air：
Vive Henri IV。
However； this sceptic had one fanaticism。
This fanaticism was neither a dogma； nor an idea； nor an art； nor a science； it was a man：
Enjolras。
Grantaire admired； loved； and venerated Enjolras。 To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute m