Combeferre follows Joly's gaze.

"Oh," is all he can say. He puts a hand on Joly's shoulder.

"Oh, yes, of course! L'aigle!" Matelote laughs. "He was a cheeky one, he was. Of course I remember him. He and M. Joly and M. Grantaire, they'd come in together all the time, and drink their weight in wine. It was Joly who paid, though. His friends never had much money on them, especially not that aigle."