This fanaticism was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science; it was a man:
Enjolras.
Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated Enjolras. To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite himself in this phalanx of absolute minds?
To the most absolute.
In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him?
By his ideas?
No. By his character. A phenomenon which is often observable.
A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors.
That which we lack attracts us.
No one loves the light like the blind man. The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad always has his eyes fixed on heaven.
Why?
In order to watch the bird in its flight. Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras.
That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him.
He admired his opposite by instinct.
His soft, yielding, dislocated, sickly, shapeless ideas attached themselves to Enjolras as to a spinal column.
His moral backbone leaned on that firmness. Grantaire in the presence of Enjolras became some one once more. He was, himself, moreover, composed of two elements, which were, to all appearance, incompatible.
He was ironical and cordial. His indifference loved.
His mind could get along without belief, but his heart could not get along without friendship. A profound contradiction; for an affection is a conviction. His nature was thus constituted.
There are men who seem to be born to be the reverse, the obverse, the wrong side.
They are Pollux, Patrocles, Nisus, Eudamidas, Ephestion, Pechmeja.