[Jean Valjean holds his voice quiet and aims his gaze at the altar; he disguises his work with the angle of his body and the sleeve of his coat. His hands are strong and nimble and his movements discreet, and so the thick ropes are no match.
To blend in with the crowd, he cries aloud:]
For the glory of our city!
[Yet his words lack the fiery conviction possessed by the crowd, and his countenance lacks the raw hatred worn by so many of the men and women present. Meanwhile, he has severed the ropes the bind the young man's wrists, and he drops to his knees to cut through those that bind his ankles. The crowd provides cover, but he shall have to work swiftly.]
no subject
[Jean Valjean holds his voice quiet and aims his gaze at the altar; he disguises his work with the angle of his body and the sleeve of his coat. His hands are strong and nimble and his movements discreet, and so the thick ropes are no match.
To blend in with the crowd, he cries aloud:]
For the glory of our city!
[Yet his words lack the fiery conviction possessed by the crowd, and his countenance lacks the raw hatred worn by so many of the men and women present. Meanwhile, he has severed the ropes the bind the young man's wrists, and he drops to his knees to cut through those that bind his ankles. The crowd provides cover, but he shall have to work swiftly.]