"Vive la Republique" cried a Monsieur Thenardier in the sewers.
It was true. This little revolution was making him a mint, all the rich little boys with their heads in the clouds. Dead and disowned so lots for him. Two more bodies fell down and the man practically raced over to them. When he reached the bodies he gasped, one a small boy who reminded him of a toddler who they had thrown out. He was an urchin, the criminal sighed, nothing worth taking exept… a lovely shiny medal on his chest.
"Mine thank you gavroche."
He moved onto the second body and drew back in horror…
It was Èponine. His little Èponine, his little girl.
"What a clever child you are Epona. It's good and clever to do that. We need his little wallet far more than he does. Remember that petite un."
Her hair was matted and filled with blood- her own blood from a gaping wound on her chest.
"Papa, why do we have to go to Paris? I'm happy here."
"Èponine, don't ask questions about important things. You're only a child. Idiot"
Why had he treated his 10 year old daughter like that? She hadn't known better had she? So many things unclear, so many things unknown.
Another few bodies fell down into the mess but he couldn't take his eyes from his child. She looked so peaceful in death, unlike in life. She had done so much for him over the years and he hadn't been able to repay her. So many robberies had been saved by her watching efforts. That worm Montparnasse had never been any good.
Thenardier gave in, grasped his little Epona and dragged her out the sewers with the little boy (the face was to similer to their families to be a coincidence) for a decent funeral.
It was the least he could do.
Gavroche – urchin
Petite un – little one