Adjoining the Halles, in a decrepit neighborhood of labyrinthine and somber streets, we find the Rue de la Chanvrerie. One end is blocked by a row of tall houses in which the ancient Corinth wine shop is located. The street would be a dead end if it were not for a narrow passage, the Rue Mondétour, which leads out of it. Inexplicably, since the food is poor, the wine atrocious, and the decor rudimentary, the Corinth has become the hangout of the Friends of the A.B.C.
On June 5, two inseparable friends, Laigle (Bossuet) and Joly, are having lunch at the Corinth. They are joined by Grantaire, who takes his nourishment in liquid form. Indifferent to the trouble brewing outside, he is earnestly trying to do justice to two bottles of wine. Alcohol proves to be a melancholy muse, and he rambles on wryly about the imperfections of man and God. "I hate mankind," he avers. Books are a proliferation of trivia. Women sacrifice their virtue to greed. Brutal self-interest governs international relations. God is an unimaginative creator who must forever correct his work through revolutions, great men, and assassinations. The universe is a shabby place and everything is going wrong.
After his sweeping condemnation, Grantaire attacks his second bottle. He is about to launch into another diatribe when a nine-year-old urchin brings Laigle a cryptic message from Enjolras: "A.B.C." It is his invitation to Lamarque's funeral. But the three companions prefer wine to politics and at two in the afternoon their table is strewn with empty bottles. Grantaire especially is drinking with a vengeance. He has replaced wine with a potent mixture of brandy, stout, and absinthe. Suddenly a tumult interrupts the drunken conversation. Through the window Bossuet spots Enjolras and his armed men looking for a place to erect a barricade. He suggests the space in front of the Corinth. The location is strategically perfect.
