All day long，he buried himself in social questions，salary，capital，credit，marriage，religion，liberty of thought，education，penal servitude，poverty，association，property，production and sharing，the enigma of this lower world which covers the human ant-hill with darkness；and at night，he gazed upon the planets，those enormous beings.Like Enjolras，he was wealthy and an only son.
He spoke softly，bowed his head，lowered his eyes，smiled with embarrassment，dressed badly，had an awkward air，blushed at a mere nothing，and was very timid.
Yet he was intrepid.
Feuilly was a workingman，a fan-maker，orphaned both of father and mother，who earned with difficulty three francs a day，and had but one thought，to deliver the world.
He had one other preoccupation，to educate himself；he called this also，delivering himself.He had taught himself to read and write；everything that he knew，he had learned by himself.
Feuilly had a generous heart.
The range of his embrace was immense.
This orphan had adopted the peoples.As his mother had failed him，he meditated on his country.He brooded with the profound divination of the man of the people，over what we now call the idea of the nationality，had learned history with the express object of raging with full knowledge of the case.In this club of young Utopians，occupied chiefly with France，he represented the outside world.
He had for his specialty Greece，Poland，Hungary，Roumania，Italy.
He uttered these names incessantly，appropriately and inappropriately，with the tenacity of right.The violations of Turkey on Greece and Thessaly，of Russia on Warsaw，of Austria on Venice，enraged him.
Above all things，the great violence of 1772 aroused him.
There is no more sovereign eloquence than the true in indignation；he was eloquent with that eloquence.
He was inexhaustible on that infamous date of 1772，on the subject of that noble and valiant race suppressed by treason，and that three-sided crime，on that monstrous ambush，the prototype and pattern of all those horrible suppressions of states，which，since that time，have struck many a noble nation，and have annulled their certificate of birth，so to speak.All contemporary social crimes have their origin in the partition of Poland.
The partition of Poland is a theorem of which all present political outrages are the corollaries.
There has not been a despot，nor a traitor for nearly a century back，who has not signed，approved，counter-signed，and copied，ne variatur，the partition of Poland.When the record of modern treasons was examined，that was the first thing which made its appearance.
The congress of Vienna consulted that crime before consummating its own.
1772 sounded the onset；1815 was the death of the game.
Such was Feuilly's habitual text.This poor workingman had constituted himself the tutor of Justice，and she recompensed him by rendering him great.
The fact is，that there is eternity in right.
Warsaw can no more be Tartar than Venice can be Teuton.
Kings lose their pains and their honor in the attempt to make them so.
Sooner or later，the submerged part floats to the surface and reappears.
Greece becomes Greece again，Italy is once more Italy.
The protest of right against the deed persists forever.
The theft of a nation cannot be allowed by prescription.
These lofty deeds of rascality have no future.A nation cannot have its mark extracted like a pocket handkerchief.
Courfeyrac had a father who was called M.de Courfeyrac.
One of the false ideas of the bourgeoisie under the Restoration as regards aristocracy and the nobility was to believe in the particle.The particle，as every one knows，possesses no significance.But the bourgeois of the epoch of la Minerve estimated so highly that poor de，that they thought themselves bound to abdicate it.M.de Chauvelin had himself called M.Chauvelin；M.de Caumartin，M.Caumartin；M.de Constant de Robecque，Benjamin Constant；M.de Lafayette，M.Lafayette.
Courfeyrac had not wished to remain behind the rest，and called himself plain Courfeyrac.
We might almost，so far as Courfeyrac is concerned，stop here，and confine ourselves to saying with regard to what remains：'For Courfeyrac，see Tholomyes.'
Courfeyrac had，in fact，that animation of youth which may be called the beaute du diable of the mind.
Later on，this disappears like the playfulness of the kitten，and all this grace ends，with the bourgeois，on two legs，and with the tomcat，on four paws.
This sort of wit is transmitted from generation to generation of the successive levies of youth who traverse the schools，who pass it from hand to hand，quasi cursores，and is almost always exactly the same；so that，as we have just pointed out，any one who had listened to Courfeyrac in 1828 would have thought he heard Tholomyes in 1817.
Only，Courfeyrac was an honorable fellow.Beneath the apparent similarities of the exterior mind，the difference between him and Tholomyes was very great.
The latent man which existed in the two was totally different in the first from what it was in the second.
There was in Tholomyes a district attorney，and in Courfeyrac a paladin.
Enjolras was the chief，Combeferre was the guide，Courfeyrac was the centre.
The others gave more light，he shed more warmth；the truth is，that he possessed all the qualities of a centre，roundness and radiance.
Bahorel had figured in the bloody tumult of June，1822，on the occasion of the burial of young Lallemand.
