Of Pears
September 15, 1830
Enjolras willed himself to be inconspicuous, at least for this day.
The tall blond student seated himself on a bench near the university, desperate to get some studying done before his comrades arrived. "Even if just to keep up the pretense of a student," he thought as he opened his textbook.
When he thought about it, he realized spent more time thinking and working with his fellow republicans-turned-revolutionaries than with his law textbooks. He considered himself lucky that his grades had not slipped so far; one mistake would send him back home to Nice, and he was not willing to risk his parents' ire.
He looked up just in time to see a barefooted gamin kicking stones around. His shirt was torn, and his long hair was plastered with mud. Judging by his size, he could not have been more than eight or nine years old.
The boy stopped at the sight of Enjolras staring at him. "What's the matter, M'sieur?" the child asked.
"Nothing. What are you doing?" the student said.
The boy grinned, showing a gap where one of his teeth had fallen out. "Waiting about for something. I haven't eaten lunch, or breakfast, or dinner, or lunch..." he said, looking enviously at a street vendor selling fruits, among them bright yellow pears.
The boy looked at Enjolras with wide eyes. "You would? Oh how now, that is nice, someone thinks the sous grow on trees!" he laughed as he ran along beside Enjolras.
The vendor gave the gamin a disdainful glance. "What does Monsieur want?" he asked, turning to Enjolras.
"Actually, you should ask him," Enjolras said, indicating the gamin.
"I want this one," the boy said, picking up the biggest pear.
"Done then," the vendor said gruffly as Enjolras handed over several coins.
The little gamin bit into his repast eagerly. "Merci, merci! Wait till my comrade Gavroche hears of this!" he said.
Enjolras bent down to look the child in the eye. "Haven't you got anywhere to go?" he asked.
The boy shrugged and wiggled his toes. "Non. Not really."
Enjolras nodded, forcing himself to acknowledge the reality of the gamin's situation. "Things won't change so easily..." he reminded himself. "You take care of yourself. What is your name?"
"Navet," the boy said before running off into an alley. The fruit vendor shook his head while Enjolras returned to his seat.