Grantaire's hand twitches around his glass, a flinch confined to the wrist.

"You're an ingrate, Enjolras," he blurts out.

If a poor man only has two francs give -- two francs of the old adulterated currency, say, worn and shot through with base metals -- still, should he be scorned for offering it? It's little enough, but it's an earnest offering, all the same.