“Two at one shot,” he said. And turning toward Enjolras gently, he said to him, “Will you permit it?” Enjolras shook his hand with a smile. That smile was not finished before the report was heard. Enjolras, pierced by eight bullets, remained back up against the wall as if the bullets had nailed him there. Except that his head was titled. Grantaire, struck down, collapsed at his feet.