The insurgents placed a president, a head of state, in the Palais-Royal on June 15th, 1832, now called the Palais-Présidentiel. The once magnificent palace was simplified to a labyrinth of headquarters for Sénateurs, Conseillers, and members of Le Cabinet du Président, on the first floor. On the second floor was the new president's private study and living quarters; plain rooms with little decoration or color.
But the young president was a man of the people, having fought for them those seemingly distant days in early June, and intended to stay one.
"If I do not live like my fellow ressortissants," he had said as revolutionaries met, "how can they expect me to govern them justly?"
Though, the young president was not a favorite among the older members of the New National Convention. He was too wild, they claimed; that if another country, such as England, were to taunt them ever-so slightly, that young "citoyen Enjolras" would declare war immediately.
To Enjolras' disappointment, however, everything became easy and peaceful. He was mostly visiting hospitals, parishes, and schools, witnessing the improvements set upon by himself and the other members of the New Republic. His friend Combeferre had brought about a new and astounding notion of "free healthcare", and with Enjolras' approval, old palaces from the July Monarchy, and the ancien regime, were being converted into hospitals; the best doctors from Paris and other major cities being sent to them. And older hospitals were being expanded; patients were now kept two-to-a-room, with a nurse to each. Combeferre himself had become the head physician in Paris, being called "Combeferre the Good" by the poor and rich alike.
Enjolras himself oversaw education, with assistance from Courfeyrac, who was quite exuberant when visiting upstart schools in small villages, run, most usually, by pretty young women. Enjolras chastised him every time they went, but the message didn't seem to sink in. Courfeyrac was a lover of many things, and most definitely an lover of women.
Monsieur le Président, however, was not. He had not a preference to either grisette nor bourgeoisie, for to him, they did not exist. His mistress was Patria, and now, he found, he could serve her dutifully.
But boredom is never a good thing in the masculine mind, as Enjolras learned in mid-September. France was thriving; his job was merely a chore that was simple. He started retiring at eight; an odd time for a man who was used to staying up all hours, studying or writing. The skills which won him his seat weren't needed, and Enjolras wasn't sure what to do with himself.
He had tried consulting Combeferre; but the Good Doctor had grown much too busy to take time out of his day to help his friend. Enjolras took to talking long walks in an attempt to pass time, but he discovered he didn't get much joy from the task.
Finally feigning desperation, he went to Courfeyrac.
The Secrétaire d'État was more than happy to help his dear friend.
"Enjolras, could you tell me the last time you went to a ballet or an opera?" He inquired.
"I'm afraid I could not."
"Ah! That is the problem, I suspect. You have denied yourself the treats of the culture you were born to for so long, that you lack the skill to find entertainment. Don Giovanni is playing tonight at the Theatre-Francais. The managers did promise you a box whenever you wished to have one. Why not take in an opera this evening, mon ami?"
"Courfeyrac, I mustn't. There are still many citizens who could not affo-"
"And there are many citizens who can afford it and do not go. There you sit, Enjolras, with the money and opportunity to go, yet you refuse. Many people would gladly take your place. Be grateful, my friend." Courfeyrac stated.
"Would there be any other way for me to spend my time?" Enjolras asked hastily; he loathed operas, and did not want to spend the evening listening to people bellow at him in Italian.
"Well, there is one... But you will not like it."
"What is that?"
"Women." Courfeyrac was blunt with his words, answering his friend's question as if it were the simplest one in the world.
"Courfeyrac," Enjolras sighed. "Do you even how ridiculous that notion of my chasing women sounds? You are unbelievable, my friend. I must go. If I do not show up for my supper in ti-"
Just as Enjolras rose from his seat, the Procureur général, Marius Pontmercy, entered the room, holding a stack of papers. Enjolras knew what they contained; they were execution papers. Marius placed the papers down on the edge of Courfeyrac's desk, his signature along the line where he was supposed to sign.
"Are those for that no-good professor?" Enjolras inquired. Courfeyrac nodded as he dipped his favorite pen in a jar of cobalt colored ink.
"The very same." Courfeyrac's loopy, elegant handwriting marked the papers.
"Send them along as soon as you can. I'll enjoy signing them."
Courfeyrac entered Enjolras' study, holding the papers. Enjolras took them, reading over them before pulling out his favorite jar of red ink; one of his few indulgences he had allowed himself throughout the years. His scrawled writing looked pathetic next to the well-penned signatures of Courfeyrac and Marius, but his was the most important one. HIS was the one that made this document official.
The papers were returned to Marius to be taken to the prison for the "no-good professor" to hear before being executed. Then they would be read aloud to the crowds as he climbed the scaffolding. Enjolras had planned to attend the execution of the man, but had decided against it. Even though in the previous century, memories of Robespierre and the Reign of Terror echoed too loudly at things like that; his presence would just cause those thoughts to register even more.
"Enjolras?" Courfeyrac drew the young man from his thoughts as he entered. "I have reserved you a box at the theatre for tonight. Will you be attending?"
"Yes," Enjolras decided. "Some cultural indulgence won't ruin me in the eyes of the people, I suppose."
"Finally!" Jehan exclaimed, appearing behind Courfeyrac. "You will ADORE this opera! I am sure of it!"
Hey look! I wrote a serious chapter! With Jehan! Yay!
So, here's a bit of an explanation:
I've been wanting to revisit the character of Jacqueline Duvall, from Apollo and Athena, for quite some time. And, I've been wanting to write a scenario where Enjolras' revolution succeeds, so... Ta da! Jackie will be appearing later, and be... Different from her original self. This is a new Jacqueline, FYI.
And I based the new government off of the US Gov't, because... Well, at the time, it was probably one of the few democracies out there, and the only true reference point. So yeah.