"Hilloh!" he said, "you have still got lights here. You are not acting rightly, my friends; that is disorderly conduct. Break it for me." And he threw the stone at the lamp, whose glass fell with such a noise that the citizens concealed behind their curtains in the opposite house cried, "There is '93!" The lamp oscillated violently and went out; the street suddenly became dark. "That's it, old street," said Gavroche, "put on your nightcap." Then, turning to Jean Valjean, he said,-- "What do you call that gigantic monument which you have there at the end of the street? It's the Archives, isn't it? Let's pull down some of those great brutes of columns and make a tidy barricade." Jean Valjean walked up to Gavroche. "Poor creature!" he said in a low voice, and as if speaking to himself, "he is hungry." And he placed the five-franc piece in his hand. Gavroche raised his nose, amazed at the size of this double sou; he looked at it in the darkness, and the whiteness of the double sou dazzled him. He was acquainted with five-franc pieces by hearsay, and their reputation was agreeable to him; he was delighted to see one so closely, and said, "Let us contemplate the tiger." He looked at it for some moments in ecstasy; then, turning to Jean Valjean, he held out the coin to him, and said majestically,-- "Citizen, I prefer breaking the lamps. Take back your ferocious animal, for I am not to be corrupted. It has five claws, but can't scratch me." "Have you a mother?" Jean Valjean asked. Gavroche replied,-- "Perhaps more than you." "Well," Jean Valjean continued, "keep that money for your mother." Gavroche was affected. Moreover, he had noticed that the man who was addressing him had no hat on, and this inspired him with confidence. "Really, then," he said, "it is not to prevent me breaking the lamps?" "Break as many as you like." "You are a worthy man," said Gavroche. And he put the five-franc piece in one of his pockets. Then, with increasing confidence, he added;-- "Do you belong to this street?" "Yes; why?" "Can you point me out No. 7?" "What do you want at No. 7?" Here the lad stopped, for he feared lest he had said too much. He energetically plunged his nails into his hair, and confined himself to answering,-- "Ah, there it is." An idea flashed across Jean Valjean's mind, for agony has lucidities of that nature. He said to the boy,-- "Have you brought me the letter which I am expecting?" "You," said Gavroche, "you ain't a woman." "The letter is for Mademoiselle Cosette, is it not?" "Cosette?" Gavroche grumbled; "yes, I think it is that absurd name." "Well," Jean Valjean continued, "you have to deliver the letter to me; so give it here." "In that case, you must be aware that I am sent from the barricade?" "Of course," said Jean Valjean. Gavroche thrust his hand into another of his pockets, and produced a square folded letter; then he gave the military salute.