Sublime Madness of the Soul
A small contribution for Barricade Day 2015 stemming from an article I read yesterday when I read the phrase: Reinhold Niebuhr, as Cone points out in his book, labeled this capacity to defy the forces of repression “a sublime madness in the soul.”
Summary: In the quiet of the night before Lamarque’s funeral, Enjolras and Combeferre talk by the window of the Corinthe.
The sky was bleeding already.
Enjolras stands by the open window in the back room of the Corinthe, hand resting on the ledge as he looks out. The sun sinks lower, casting shadows streaked with gold across the rooftops of Paris, red streaking the sky and dripping down at the edges, the mixture turning the sky a shade of burnt orange. There is a hush before him and a silence behind him until he hears footsteps cracking through it, determined but decidedly friendly. He feels Combeferre’s presence beside him before he even looks over, and when he does, the sight of his dear friend’s face stills his trembling heart.