And the two children followed him as they would have done an archbishop, and left off crying. Gavroche led them along the Rue St. Antoine, in the direction of the Bastille, and while going off took an indignant and retrospective glance at the barber's shop. "That whiting has no heart," he growled; "he's an Englishman." A girl, seeing the three walking in file, Gavroche at the head, burst into a loud laugh. This laugh was disrespectful to the party. "Good day, Mamselle Omnibus," Gavroche said to her. A moment after the hair-dresser returning to his mind, he added,-- "I made a mistake about the brute; he is not a whiting, but a snake. Barber, I'll go and fetch a locksmith, and order him to put a bell on your tail." This barber had made him aggressive; as he stepped across a gutter, he addressed a bearded portress, worthy to meet Faust on the Brocken, and who was holding her broom in her hand,-- "Madame," he said to her, "I see that you go out with your horse." And after this he plashed the varnished boots of a passer-by. "Scoundrel!" the gentleman said furiously. Gavroche raised his nose out of the shawl. "Have you a complaint to make, sir?" "Yes, of you," said the gentleman. "The office is closed," Gavroche remarked. "I don't receive any more complaints to-day." As he went along the street he noticed a girl of thirteen or fourteen, shivering in a gateway, in such short petticoats that she showed her knees. But the little girl was beginning to get too tall a girl for that. Growth plays you such tricks, and the petticoat begins to become short when nudity grows indecent. "Poor girl," said Gavroche, "she hasn't even a pair of breeches. Here, collar this." And taking off all the good wool which he had round his neck he threw it over the thin violet shoulders of the beggar-girl, when the muffler became once again a shawl. The little girl looked at him with an astonished air, and received the shawl in silence. At a certain stage of distress a poor man in his stupor no longer groans at evil, and gives no thanks for kindness. This done,-- "B-r-r!" said Gavroche, colder than Saint Martin, who, at any rate, retained one half his cloak. On hearing this "Brr," the shower, redoubling its passion, poured down; those wicked skies punish good actions. "Hilloh!" Gavroche shouted, "what's the meaning of this? It is raining again. Bon Dieu! if this goes on, I shall withdraw my subscription." And he set out again. "No matter," he said as he took a glance at the beggar-girl crouching under her shawl, "she's got a first-rate skin." And, looking at the clouds, he cried,--"Sold you are!" The two children limped after him, and as they passed one of those thick close gratings which indicate a baker's, for bread, like gold, is placed behind a grating, Gavroche turned round. "By the bye, brats, have you dined?" "We have had nothing to eat, sir, since early this morning," the elder answered.