Eponine didn't know how long she was standing there. All she knew was that the evening breeze was biting cold and the lamppost she was holding on could have frozen her hand right then and there. She just stared at the water below her, thinking how long it would take before she'd stop breathing. The dark waters looked inviting yet forbidding at the same time. Her heart wanted to finally jump off but her head wanted to step off the ledge. She wondered how cold the water would be. She imagined it would feel like a thousand pinpricks all over her body. Perhaps it would be so cold that she would catch her breath, but she doesn't know how to swim so she would just take in more water. That would hasten the process. Though the idea of dying slowly, painfully, and feeling every moment of it didn't seem attractive to her. But, well, what better way to end a cold and dark life than with a cold and dark death.
"Good evening, Mademoiselle. Fancy a swim?" piped a man's voice behind her.
She turned her head and saw a young gentleman in a greatcoat smiling at her. The glasses over his eyes seemed to make them shine brighter. She watched him walk to where she is. He rested his elbows on the ledge and looked down at the intimidating river.
"That's a long way down, isn't it? And a little too cold for a dip, don't you think?" He looked up at her again with the same gentle and sincere smile.
She did not need this right now. She didn't need nice, sweet, young gentlemen smiling at her, not when she is contemplating ending her own life. She looked at a point on the horizon to avoid his gaze. "Please go away, Monsieur. This is none of your business."
"You're right," he said, "a young lady jumping off a bridge into her certain death is none of my business. So, then, I will go away but, before I do, I want you to answer my question."
Eponine looked at him and immediately felt like she wanted to look away again because he was staring piercingly at her. She wanted to look away but at the same time she couldn't.
He looked hard at her, but his eyes still shone with gentleness. His voice was still soft and kind as he spoke. "What is a beautiful young girl such as yourself, with the rest of her life still ahead of her, doing standing on a ledge with the intent of ending her existence? Of all the things you could've done tonight, you chose to drown yourself. Why? What about all the things you could do tomorrow? Someone could be falling in love with you right now."
At that, she gave a scornful laugh. She looked accusingly at him, daring him to be the first to yield. But he wouldn't. His deep stare stole any word that could have come out of her mouth so, irritably, she put her gaze back on the dark horizon. "Fall in love? With me? Who would dare…?" She said that so quietly, more to herself than to him.
"I'm just saying," he went on amiably, so very irritatingly amiably. "How about this:" he proposed while getting a cigar from his pocket, "you get off that ledge and then we both figure that out." He took another stick out and offered it to her.
Eponine was angry now. How dare he mock her? She slapped his extended hand and made the offered cigar fall of the bridge into the darkness. They barely made out the tiny splash it made. He followed it with his eyes then gave a long, low whistle.
"That's a steep drop," he smiled at her.
That smile, that sweet, kind, sincere, earnest smile, changed her irritation to confusion. This annoyingly well-dressed and charming gentleman was toying with her mind.
"So, how about we get off that ledge?" he extended his arm again, very softly touching her index finger in a gentle coaxing gesture. "I go by Combeferre, by the way, if we had missed that out."
She didn't pull her hand away from his touch, but her face remained guarded. What does he think he's doing? How dare he swoop in and rescue her? How dare he try to save her, when there was nothing left to be saved?
No. She decided. I won't give you the satisfaction of thinking you saved me. I won't owe you anything.
Then, with the agility that one can only learn in the streets of Paris, she snatched her hand back, hopped to the other side of the lamppost, climbed off the ledge, then, without looking back, ran as fast as she could in the frost away from him. Away from the charming man with the sincere smile who saved her.