Lesgle, watching Courfeyrac's path, sighs exaggeratedly. "Ah, look at him, reveling in his freedom. While we, poor captives, must huddle together, weeping for our lost liberty."

He looks very weepy, yes, as he consoles himself by nudging Joly for a piece of croissant. "--As my grandmother used to say, Javert," --he clears his throat for oratory-- "Many hands make light work. Now, granted, some of us are a bit diminished in the hand department, but there's quite a few of us who aren't. Never fear, good spy, we'll see your horses fed! And your reports filed! And--what else do you do, anyway?"