Author's note: Please keep in mind I have not read the book nor seen the musical. I have only seen the film. This story is therefore constructed with the film in mind.
Adele, Celestine and other minor characters are my own invention and I do not pretend to own any of the other characters or the plot.
The streets were mostly empty tonight, the beggars and thieves knew their customers would be driven indoors by the heavy rain and so had not lined the streets as usual around dusk. Instead, most had accumulated in the local public house owned by the Desrosiers. Adéle assumed her ally and fellow revolutionary Grantaire would be in there this evening enjoying the extra company. A social drinker, Grantaire narrowly escaped being typecast in the Drunk stereotype by being a student and from a wealthy background but had he been born of a lower class, he'd have been an alcoholic panhandler and Adéle knew it and, at times, resented it.
It was not fair, she thought, that such men who shared the traits of common scum in the gutter could unfairly escape their penance through extraordinary wealth. That money could separate like-minded people who should certainly be destined for the same fate. Money, she thought, was a tool used for escape and if only she had any, she could escape her sordid and desperate lifestyle.
Adéle pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she passed the pub, shrinking back into the shadows cast by a bright moon on an otherwise dark night that gave a light which bounced off the buildings and reflected in growing puddles. Flinching as an elderly drunk made a grab for her, she ignored his slurred jeer.
"Oi, lovely lady! How much?" Adéle didn't look back. Apart from idly wondering whether her new dress made her look like a whore, she otherwise didn't notice the man. Used to the leering drunks around the neighbourhood, the women of Paris who frequented the dark alleys at night knew who to expect and prepared for it. The lonesome drunk - no threat but tiresome, the thief - always better to carry no possessions and stick to the best lit streets, prostitutes who were largely uninterested in a solitary young women apart from to whistle at them if their pimps were looking to hire and finally revolutionists. These last group of people came under no strict definition and could on the whole, be anyone. Typically though, they tended to be male, middle class students travelling alone or in pairs and moving in a hurried fashion.
Adéle thought she saw such an individual up ahead but slowed down for fear she was mistaken. Central Paris could be a dangerous place to be walking alone at night and so she was glad when the familiar shape of the wine shop at the intersection of the rue de la Chanverrerie and the rue Mondétour loomed into view.
"Adéle! You made it safely!" Madame Huchloup turned and hugged her young friend before ushering her in. The woman had been sitting alone in the dark shop with only a solitary candle to see by. She had been keeping watch and held the keys to the locked front door.
"The girls are upstairs. We've got a good turnout tonight," the large woman smiled. Her rosy cheeks were visible even in the low light. Resuming her post, she indicated that Adéle should move on upstairs and her manner suggested she should do so quickly. But Adéle hesitated.
"And master Enjolras? Is he... Will he be stopping by tonight?" The other woman smiled kindly yet Adéle felt her face grow hot.
"I don't know my dear. But I do know master Enjolras values the contributions made by yourself, and of course, the other girls. Now go one, hurry up!"
Adéle moved up the stairs, following a beam of light that feel across the dark, wooden staircase from underneath a closed door. Steps creaked underfoot audibly in the quiet space. Knocking once, she opened the door and stepped into a room bustling with women.
"Adéle!"
"Mademoiselle Adéle!"
"Adéle, come sit by me. I have spared you a piece of cloth." Adéle moved through the throng of women and seated herself beside her closest friend Célestine who was busy beavering away at a sewing coloured ribbons for revolutionaries to decorate themselves with. Other women paused in their conversations, nodding to her or calling out greetings. She smiled at each one. The room was not a large one and had few pieces of furniture to embellish it. A large oak table that easily sat eight people was the locus of the place to which the women were milling around. Extra chairs had been pulled up and Adéle counted twelve women chatting and sewing about her. An excellent turnout she reasoned. To think some nights only herself, Célestine and Enjolras sat sewing. Secretly, those nights were her favourites.
Bows and coloured fabric his the table's surface. A pile of decorative pins in the middle grew as women added their finished articles to it. "These are beautiful," Adéle remarked, picking one up and turning it over. The piece of cloth bore the French colours and was sewn into a circular shape. The nearest girls smiled at hearing her compliment and one passed her a needle. Soon Adéle was hard and work, picking and sewing until her fingers ached.
The women chatted and laughed as they set to work. They were making ribbon corsages for the l'ABC's party. Most of the women had no idea what the party represented and simply did the work they were asked for a sum in return. Few, like Adéle, Célestine and Madame Huchloup knew the true meaning behind it. And the danger.
"Oh but did you see him? Earlier this evening setting off on his way to the pub!"
"For shame! A man of his age and status! Yes, Grantaire's activities will mostly likely get himself in trouble. No man so partial to a drink can hold himself so high for long!" Women murmured in sympathy.
"It's a wonder Enjolras still keeps him." Adéle looked up at the mention of the name.
"Oh, Combeferre persuades him to, you know that. He's second to Enjolras in this little escapade and counts his members carefully."
"Well know we've no business in these boy's politics," announced an older woman at the end of the table. She stared at the gossipers reproachfully. "Tis none of our concern, they pay us well enough."
"But what is their politics?" Asked a curious young woman, pointedly ignoring her older colleague and glancing up and down the table. The response was mixed. Some women glanced back in common bemusement, afraid to offer an answer, others looked down and busied themselves. Célestine nudged Adéle, but carefully and unseen. Adéle spoke up.
"Master Enjolras is a clever man and holds great philosophies," hesitating, the look in her friend's eyes encouraged her to go on, "and if any of you are curious as to what his party might stand for, what they want to achieve, how they want to help us, the poor, then perhaps..."
"...perhaps you'll join us tomorrow," added Célestine, "perhaps you'll meet with us here again tomorrow night, same time, and meet the revolutionaries." She whispered the final word, drawing deep breaths from her listeners. But to the girl's disappointment, their colleagues looked down. Célestine sighed but Adéle pushed on.
"Mademoiselles, s'il vous plaît, they need our support. They are fighting for us, for freedom and if we cannot help - will not help ourselves, who will? How can we expect others to help us if we do not stand behind them?"
"We did not ask-" began the older woman but her words failed her as the door swung gently open and Enjolras himself stood supporting his companion, Grantaire. Grantaire was swaying slightly and hiccupped as Enjolras first spoke.
"Well said Adéle. Ladies, thank you for your aid tonight. Madame Huchloup holds your wages, she is downstairs by the door." He paused to lay a groggy Grantaire against a wall.
"Those of you who may wish to learn more about the people's party are welcome to stay longer tonight, by all means." Wood scraped on wood as the table cleared. The final ribbons were tossed on the pile as the women gathered their belongings and sidled out. Only Adéle and Célestine remained.
"They are scared, they have children," Adéle pardoned but Enjolras only grimaced.