Author's Note:

Hey :)

So, this is my first English story, even though it's not my first fanfiction, but until now I wrote only in German. :3

So, please, don't excuse any spelling mistakes or grammar errors, but show me, if you find some... I'd be really glad if you would help me. And any ...well, basically bizarre formulations - I'd be happy to change them :)

Please review, if you like the story :) It's always very motivating, if you know, people like your story...:)

Well, I definetely use that little 'if' to often... so, just tell me your opinion, I'd love to hear it!

Yeah, and well, I broke this chapter down into two, because the first one was just too long. Enjoy anyways!

Love,
Catharina 3

Chapter I.

Katherine had taken the man to target, which her father had chosen for today. He really looked promising.
The bourgeoisie's face seemed very young, but his stiff gait betrayed his true age. Katherine guessed him to be in his late forties. Just some curls of his dark hair peeked out from under his shiny black hat, his face was clean and obviously freshly shaven. He wore a long black coat, it was a cold winter, below, and the tips of his leathery shoes peeped out. In one hand he swung a cane; in the other he held a paper bag. The odor flowing out revealed that there was fresh bread.
He walked past the alley where Katherine remained hidden, but as he went on, she left her ambush and followed him initially unremarkable. Her gaze rested on the slightly protruding coat pocket of the lord - where she suspected his wallet.
She followed him into the crowded marketplace. Even from a distance she saw her father and her brother, who stood in their posts. As soon as she entered the crowd she almost lost sight of them. Between the many people she had to reach up to the top to see the two - she was not very tall.

But even between all the citizens she only reached up to the nose, she could hear the low whistle of the piccolo - the signal for the realization of the plan. She remained close to the heels of the man, always fixing on his hat, which stood out from the crowd. And then she was already pushed towards his back, the task of her brother. She stumbled against the man and skillful reached into his coat. She had been right. Her fingers immediately wrapped around a full purse. She drew it out and handed it discreetly to her passing father's hand.

"Excuse-moi, monsieur." Politely, she apologized to the man, pretending it had been n accident, but he nodded anyway and then sullenly continued his way shuffling.
Katherine sighed with relief. He hadn't noticed anything.

But instead of returning home to celebrate the victory, like her father and her brother probably did, Katherine backed down into the lonelier streets of Toulon. Her destination was a soot-smeared wall, where especially young people often left exuberant expressions and sayings.
Katherine indeed loved this place, because of its silence, because of its abandonment. Here were no children throwing stones at her when she walked by, any adult threatening to call the police, no young students making fun of her worn-out clothes.
Katherine had no friends in Toulon, nobody. At home, it was no better: her father, the former wealthy merchant trader Monsieur Dupont had his entire hope for the future in his son; the firstborn daughter was more of a plague. It had always been that way, in the dark-haired girl he hadn't seen anything useful, but when the mother of the ten and twelve year old children had died, anger and grief added to the father's moods. Katherine had spent the last seven years as a scapegoat. Her brother made a mistake, but was called to account; the money ran out, she received the blows. From her father's last tantrum she still wore some scars on the face.

The lord's wallet had fed the little family well for a little while, but the fact that Monsieur Dupont had to pay off numerous debts, everything was already gone two months later.
So they set up a new plan and in the morning mist of a February day they huddled together in an alley, placed so that they had a clear view of the entrance to the library. Several times a day, wealthy gentlemen crossed this place and exactly someone like this, Monsieur Dupont hoped to rob.
Katherine could feel this unpleasant feeling of excitement spreading through her when the first gentleman, wearing a coat, trousers and a frock coat, crossed the square. For a second she stood there stiffly, but receiving a painful poke in the ribs from her father, she remembered, what to do. Immediately she took her role, knelt down and played the injured girl. With apparently severe pain she whimpered and made a suffering face.
"Monsieur, monsieur." Monsieur Dupont playing frantically ran out on the square towards the bourgeoisie. He turned around immediately, obviously worried about Monsieur Dupont's agitated demeanor. "Monsieur," he repeated again and then, breathing heavily, stopped in front of the Lord. "It's about my daughter ... she ... she injured her foot. We have to carry her home, but I can't do alone. "
The lord understood the request. He nodded and then followed Monsieur Dupont.
Katherine was still kneeling with a suffering face on the ground; her brother had hidden like their plan scheduled. Her performance seemed to be convincing, the lord immediately comforted her. "Does it hurt, my child?" He asked maternal and stroke her dark hair.
"Well, if you could take her feet? "Monsieur Dupont begged and the lord gently picked up her legs.
It was the moment in which Katherine's brother left his hiding place and crept up behind the lord, trying to steal his money, as his face went pale "Pol ... Police!" He stammered and immediately the lord turned around. He instantly understood, what was going on. He let go of Katherine's legs. She crashed on the floor and this time, she really whimpered in pain.
Her father had let go of her, too and while she was still lying on the ground, Monsieur Dupont and his son already began to run.
Katherine had no view for the lord, even though, as kind as he was, she felt sorry for him. She got up and sprinted away. Behind her, she could already hear the cops' calls and their heavy footsteps. She accelerated and turned from into a small run-down street, where she remained hidden behind a cart, crouching on the ground, eyes still free to see the empty square. "Seeing and hearing, the most important thing," Monsieur Dupont had always said and although Katherine sincerely detested him, she knew he had been right.
And then she saw the coppers, storming the square, behind them the crimson-with- rage lord. Katherine scanned the area for her father and brother, but couldn't spot their dark tufts in the pale morning light.

And yet - there was a rattling sound like a metal bucket falling over and the police men launched in the direction the noise had come from. Katherine's frightful anticipation was right - only a short time later they dragged Monsieur Dupont and Katherine's brother by the collar on the court to present them to the robbed lord.
"Those two, Monsieur?" One of the policemen asked and the lord nodded, his face grim. His expression showed satisfaction and gratification and all of a sudden, Katherine's sympathy disappeared.
She stifled a startled gasp as the main cop made a quick decision.
"Put them to jail - for a week, a month, a year. I don't care. "He turned a last time to the lord."These were all of 'em?"
For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten Katherine indeed, even fifty yards away from her hiding place she could see his grin fading as he remembered. "No. There was another girl. She can't be far."
Katherine held her breath again. She began praying while she helplessly watched her father and her brother being dragged away. They did not defend themselves.
God must've heard Katherine's prayer as the remaining men of the police sensed her trail in the wrong direction.
Once they entered into an opposite lane and were out of sight and earshot, Katherine left her hiding place and hurried home.

There were unprofitable days for Katherine. After the last unsuccessful raid she couldn't find a single coin around the house. She was afraid of trying again, scarcely dared to leave the house. She prayed for her father to not reveal their whereabouts in prison.
On the third day she was still sitting with an empty stomach in the small hut that served as the Dupont family's home. Restless and agitated, she continued further searches around the house, desperate about finding something to eat or a little money - although she had sifted every room several times. She opened every drawer in the miserable furniture, felt in every nook and controlled the straw-filled corners that served as their beds. She went through the stacks of paper on her father's desk when she stopped on a letter.
It was addressed to Monsieur René Grantaire, Paris. The envelope was already paid, the stamp clearly emblazoned on the front. Katherine tried to bear her mind why that name seemed so familiar.
But she couldn't remember. There was no face she brought into relation with the name, and she knew nothing of any relatives.
For a while they sat there brooding, the unopened envelope in her hands. Respect to her father and the fear of his reaction had initially discouraged her from reading the letter, but as the day was drawing into evening outside the windows and the impatient growl of her stomach grew louder, she finally tore it open with a single motion.
She only had to read the first line.
Dearest nephew ...
Yes, that surely sounded a lot like her father, wanting their relative's money. Much more, however, the image of a dark-haired youth appeared in her mind, a grin on the sun tanned face, the eyes dark and sparkling. Of course she knew him, Grantaire, her cousin with the crazy humor, even though it was new to her, that he lived in Paris. Well, they hadn't had contact for several years. She felt bad that she had not come to him immediately.
It was the next morning, which brought her the crazy idea. Maybe it was the memory of a promise.
It was summer when she had met Grantaire the last time. That year, she had been thirteen years old, it was shortly after her mother's death. She had gotten on well with the slightly older cousin - and she finally told him about the torture coming from her father. He hadn't taken the whole thing very seriously, but then he had stroked her hair and said:"If things ever should be too bad, Riquiqui, then you'll just come at my house."
Katherine did not hesitate. It was time to honor the promise spoken so many years ago.
After all, her family was sitting in jail and who knee how long they would remain there? And what would happen then? She would continue her life equally dismal, depending on the loss of others. And as she would never get out of her filthy rags, certainly there would be no one to marry her, so she could escape this life. Monsieur Dupont would doubtlessly expulse poor Katherine on the dirty streets of Toulon.
So she grabbed the few things she possessed and then left without a last look back. She certainly wouldn't miss it.

In a market in another part of town – at her area, she did not dare, of fear that the local police would recognize her - she exchanged two cups, which she had taken a precaution, in coins, and at noon she finally boarded the coach to Paris .
In her life, Katherine had never been outside of Toulon - the world she entered, was exciting and new. She sat at the window of the coach, the view of the fields, watching undeveloped land pass.
For the first time in her life she felt free. No longer had the constant threat of her father lasted on her and she hoped to leave the life of charity and rags behind.
By one hand, uncomfortable, but then again even jerking she slowly began to get tired. Finally, her head fell against the wall of the carriage, and she fell into a fitful sleep.