Dani

“However, this sceptic had one fanaticism. This fanaticism
was neither a dogma, nor an idea, nor an art, nor a science;
it was a man: Enjolras. Grantaire admired, loved, and venerated
Enjolras. To whom did this anarchical scoffer unite
himself in this phalanx of absolute minds? To the most absolute.
In what manner had Enjolras subjugated him? By
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his ideas? No. By his character. A phenomenon which is
often observable. A sceptic who adheres to a believer is as
simple as the law of complementary colors. That which we
lack attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man.
The dwarf adores the drum-major. The toad always has his
eyes fixed on heaven. Why? In order to watch the bird in its
flight. Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch
faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste,
healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid nature charmed him,
without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea
of explaining it to himself having occurred to him. He admired
his opposite by instinct. His soft, yielding, dislocated,
sickly, shapeless ideas attached themselves to Enjolras as to
a spinal column. His moral backbone leaned on that firmness.
Grantaire in the presence of Enjolras became some
one once more. He was, himself, moreover, composed of
two elements, which were, to all appearance, incompatible.
He was ironical and cordial. His indifference loved. His
mind could get along without belief, but his heart could not
get along without friendship. A profound contradiction; for
an affection is a conviction. His nature was thus constituted.
There are men who seem to be born to be the reverse, the
obverse, the wrong side. They are Pollux, Patrocles, Nisus,
Eudamidas, Ephestion, Pechmeja. They only exist on condition
that they are backed up with another man; their name
is a sequel, and is only written preceded by the conjunction
and; and their existence is not their own; it is the other side
of an existence which is not theirs. Grantaire was one of
these men. He was the obverse of Enjolras”
― Hugo