Christmas Eve, 1829

It was December the 24th, 1829. Three months earlier, the younger Fauchelevent and his little charge, Cosette, departed from the Convent of the Perpetual Adoration and established residence at number fifty-five Rue Plumet. Although the younger Fauchelevent had had many reservations about this sudden relocation-the most pressing being his constant worry that his true identity as the wanted convict Jean Valjean would be discovered by the unrelenting Inspector Javert-he was still resolved that young Cosette should know some sort of life outside of the convent. Therefore, Jean Valjean pushed his fears aside and left as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

But thus far, much to Jean Valjean's chagrin, Cosette's life had changed very little. When she and her father first arrived at their new home, Cosette had expressed great interest in the overgrown and unused garden that surrounded the house. Unfortunately, it was winter and she could do no work outside until the ground thawed. This left her inside by herself most of the time. On occasion, Jean Valjean brought Cosette forth into the world for a short walk, or to give alms, but these sallies did not occur as frequently as she would have liked. Instead of spending all her days in the convent, she spent them in the Petite Maison.

This displeased Jean Valjean.

Not that he wished his daughter to roam about the streets of Paris, associating with God knows what kinds of people, no! Jean Valjean merely wanted to place a little whimsy into his daughter's life. He was afraid that after so many years of being stifled at the convent that she would grow sullen and withdrawn, like so many of the girls who had remained there and taken their vows.

And now it was December the 24th, 1829, and Jean Valjean had his chance.

Early in the afternoon, Jean Valjean ventured into the Petite Maison to look for Cosette. He found her sitting placidly in front of the fireplace sewing a bit of lace onto a doll's costume. He approached her.

"Hello, Cosette."

She looked up. "Hello, Papa," she replied.

Jean Valjean knelt down beside her. "What do you have there?" he asked.

Cosette held up a miniature riding cloak. Jean Valjean took it carefully ad inspected the child's work. "Lovely," he told her, handing it back to her. Beaming, the girl took it, and continued her sewing.

After a moment, Jean Valjean spoke again. "Are you looking forward to tomorrow, child?" he asked.

"Tomorrow is Christmas," Cosette answered.

"That's right," Jean Valjean agreed. "Tomorrow is Christmas. Are you looking forward to Christmas tomorrow?"

"No," said Cosette. "What is there to look forward to? We will just go to Mass like we do every Sunday, and then come home for supper. It's just a regular day, Papa."

Jean Valjean leaned in close to the girl, his blue eyes twinkling, and whispered in her ear, "Now, that's where you're wrong."

Surprised, Cosette's head snapped up, and she looked her father full in the face. "Whatever do you mean, Papa?" she asked, bewildered.

"Ah, child!" Jean Valjean sighed. "You must have forgotten, spending all of those years in the convent, cut off from the secrets of Christmas."

Cosette's face lit up. Her sewing forgotten, she asked eagerly, "Secrets! Why, what sorts of secrets!"

Now fully enjoying himself, Jean Valjean answered, "Think, Cosette. Think back to when you were young. Do you remember a man called Father Christmas?"

Cosette scrunched up her face, trying to recall the identity of this mysterious man. Finally, she said, "I only remember hearing his name." She looked embarrassed. "I don't remember much from when I was young."

"That is all right, Cosette. Would you like me to tell you of him?"

"Yes, please, Papa."

Jean Valjean began in a low voice, "Father Christmas is an ancient man who lives up in the wild Northern lands. He spends his days crafting toys of every shape, size and colour, and once every year, on Christmas Eve, he fills up a gigantic red sleigh, and flies through the sky, visiting all of the good little children of the world, and rewarding them for their obedience throughout the year."

"Oh, how wonderful!" Cosette exclaimed. "But Papa, what do all of the naughty children get?"

Jean Valjean smiled knowingly, and said solemnly, "Father Christmas has a companion, dark, terrible and cruel, named Father Whip, who accompanies Father Christmas every year on this journey. It is he who gives the naughty children what they deserve!"

Cosette shuddered. "How lucky I am to be good," she mused.

"Just as lucky for me, child."

"Papa, I think that I should like to meet this Father Christmas. Will he visit me tonight? When will he arrive?"

"He will visit you tonight, child, but you shall not see him, for he arrives late, late at night, after you are already asleep. He will leave his gifts for you spread out in a grand display in front of the fireplace. But only if you are good, and do not try to catch him, for Father Christmas is a secretive man, and he will not be pleased if you see him at work."

Cosette made a face. "He sounds like you, Papa," she remarked.

Jean Valjean laughed heartily. "Perhaps, perhaps," he said.

"Papa," said Cosette. "How does Father Christmas know what kinds of gifts I will like?"

Jean Valjean thought for a moment. "Well," he said. "Why don't you write him a letter? Then you can leave it in front of the fireplace along with a plate of cakes and a mug of cider, and then perhaps he will be extra kind to you."

"Do you think so, Papa?" Cosette asked.

"I know so."

Giddy, Cosette jumped up and threw her arms around Jean Valjean. "Oh, thank you for telling me all of this, Papa!" she exclaimed. "I will go do so, right now!" And off she ran, upstairs to her room, no doubt in search of a pencil and some paper.