From the first of these alighted Thames, or, as he must now be styled, the Marquis de Chatillon. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. Already Cosette was her chosen friend. ‘If you care for me at all, shoot me.
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