Enjolras was a charming young man, who was capable of being terrible. He was angelically handsome. He was Antinous wild…He possessed the tradition of it as though he had been a witness…He had but one passion—the right; but one thought—to overthrow the obstacle…He hardly saw the roses, he ignored spring, he did not hear the carolling of the birds. He was severe in his enjoyments. He chastely dropped his eyes before everything which was not the Republic. He was the marble lover of liberty. His speech was harshly inspired, and had the thrill of a hymn. He was subject to unexpected outbursts of soul.
<b><p></b> <b></b> At the ABCs, Enjolras is sitting with Courfeyrac and Feuilly. Grantaire is drinking a bottle of wine while leaning on the piano and laughing with Marius and Joly...<p/><b>Enjolras:</b> Is he looking?<p/><b>Courfeyrac:</b> Nope. Not now.<p/><b>Feuilly:</b> *giggle*<p/><b>Enjolras:</b> what?</b> <p/><b>Feuilly:</b> Look at you! You just look as a silly teenager!<p/><b>Enjolras:</b> shut up! *blushes and look at Grantaire*<p/><b>Grantaire:</b> *look at Enjolras that's blushing and angry and giggles*<p/><b>Enjolras:</b> *blushes even more and look at Courfeyrac*<p/><b>Courfeyrac:</b> *laughs*<p/></p><p/></p>
Jean Prouvaire was a still softer shade…Jean Prouvaire was in love; he cultivated a pot of flowers, played on the flute, made verses, loved the people, pitied woman, wept over the child, confounded God and the future in the same confidence…His voice was ordinarily delicate, but suddenly grew manly…Above all, he was good.
He spoke softly, bowed his head, lowered his eyes, smiled with embarrassment, dressed badly, had an awkward air, blushed at a mere nothing, and was very timid.