[Enjolras may not have outwardly enjoyed many things in life, or even here for the most part, but a collection of books this immense certainly is one thing, or rather several of them, going by the number of volumes, that he is rather obviously enjoying. Of all things, there is a compilation of Rousseau on a shelf near enough to touch, and he's drawing out the leather volume almost lovingly, fingers tracing the lettering on the cover.]
So many things to read in here. I think that it would take a lifetime. And it would be well worth the lifetime too. I always wished in Paris that I had more time to devote to...
[There are some loose pages. folded newspapers by the looks of them tucked into the dead center of the book he's looking through, which fall to the floor the moment Enjolras opens the book. Bending to pick them up, he finds that they are more familiar than he'd thought.]
Oh, but these actually are dear friends of mine. I nearly died attempting to save this one. [He's explaining, showing Midii the front page and the date. July 27th, 1830.]
France... falls back into revolution by the act of the government itself... [Enjolras does not need to read the words, though they are not his own. He knew the situation, and the man who had written them so well, and had practically chained himself to the press that produced these words until he had been knocked unconscious himself. He does not quite allow himself the sentiment of tears, but there is something in his eyes that show that he is moved, regardless.]
...The legal regime is now interrupted, that of force has begun... in the situation in which we are now placed obedience has ceased to be a duty... It is for France to judge how far its own resistance ought to extend...
Armand Carrel. He taught me more in the two years I worked with him than anything I learned in school.
[And then, he's ducking his head a bit, realizing that dusty old newspapers are probably not to the best of everyone's interest.]
no subject
[Enjolras may not have outwardly enjoyed many things in life, or even here for the most part, but a collection of books this immense certainly is one thing, or rather several of them, going by the number of volumes, that he is rather obviously enjoying. Of all things, there is a compilation of Rousseau on a shelf near enough to touch, and he's drawing out the leather volume almost lovingly, fingers tracing the lettering on the cover.]
So many things to read in here. I think that it would take a lifetime. And it would be well worth the lifetime too. I always wished in Paris that I had more time to devote to...
[There are some loose pages. folded newspapers by the looks of them tucked into the dead center of the book he's looking through, which fall to the floor the moment Enjolras opens the book. Bending to pick them up, he finds that they are more familiar than he'd thought.]
Oh, but these actually are dear friends of mine. I nearly died attempting to save this one. [He's explaining, showing Midii the front page and the date. July 27th, 1830.]
France... falls back into revolution by the act of the government itself... [Enjolras does not need to read the words, though they are not his own. He knew the situation, and the man who had written them so well, and had practically chained himself to the press that produced these words until he had been knocked unconscious himself. He does not quite allow himself the sentiment of tears, but there is something in his eyes that show that he is moved, regardless.]
...The legal regime is now interrupted, that of force has begun... in the situation in which we are now placed obedience has ceased to be a duty... It is for France to judge how far its own resistance ought to extend...
Armand Carrel. He taught me more in the two years I worked with him than anything I learned in school.
[And then, he's ducking his head a bit, realizing that dusty old newspapers are probably not to the best of everyone's interest.]
I...sorry. There's me getting a bit carried away.