Laertes listens to this recitation in silence, bearing witness to the names and lives of these dear strangers. He almost feels them close by, voices echoing from beyond the impassable gate--the high, strident tones of their calls for justice, the hush of their conspiracy; the ringing gladness of their laughter. He wishes he could take Enjolras's hand in his and hold it, offering mute comfort to his grief. "I wish I knew them," he says at last. "I hope I may, one day. Thy love for them is woven through every word."