Passing The Torch
"Let us go, Cosette! The Lessards are waiting!" Ultime Fauchelevent exclaimed from the sitting room of their apartment in the Rue de l'Homme Armé. In her bedroom, Cosette was hunched in front of the mirror, hurriedly tucking some locks of hair inside her bonnet.
"One minute, Papa!" she answered. "Oh, God, the present!" she added, straightening her back and picking up her skirts to run towards the small table in the middle of the room. On top of it lay a package, wrapped rather clumsily and topped by a green hair ribbon. It seemed (or would have seemed, for no one was looking at it) as if Cosette herself had decorated it this way. She took the package and, with great care, as if it contained porcelain, hid it in her muff. Why was she hiding something from her father will be a mystery to everyone but her and Toussaint, who had assisted her in that little project. A bright and even mischievous smile lit the girl's face, but a shadow of sadness could be detected in her pupils.
It was Christmas Eve of 1831. Monsieur Fauchelevent had promised to visit the Lessard family with Cosette, taking with them Christmas delicacies cooked by Toussaint, ornaments and, as a surprise, presents for the three children and the baby. Fortuné Lessard had been fired two months ago from his job in a restaurant: the first time the Fauchelevents visited him, he also told them why. With no hints of regret or pride, only grimly calmed and slightly ashamed, he confessed that he had tried to steal bread from the kitchen to feed his family. He was discovered by his boss, who (thank goodness) didn't report him to the police, but still fired him. Monsieur Fauchelevent heard the story without moving a muscle, but his kind look revealed infinite sadness and comprehension. He did not scold Lessard for what he had done, or said anything else. He merely wrapped the children in wool blankets.
They came back to visit them many times and thanks to Fauchelevent, Fortuné found a new job. The family could not believe their luck.
Some time ago, Cosette had noticed that her father felt very touched by that time of the year. On Christmas Eve, she would always discover him looking at her, shaking his head softly, the corners of his mouth ever so slightly raised. Later he would stare into space as he always did when he became lost in the past.
For her, besides being the celebration of the birth of the Holy Child, Christmas was a time when everyone deserved to be happy, happier than in any day of the rest of the year. She did not remember any celebrations of it before her time in the convent, where she and the other schoolgirls made snow angels and snowmen; she ate pudding in the cabin of her father and uncle, and then attended the Messede Minuit. These were delicious memories that became a little more blurry every year and overlapped with new experiences. This Christmas of 1831 was an exception, and the first time that she didn't attend the Messe. Charity was more important.
Finally she emerged from her room, dressed in a green pelisse and with a crown of holly on her bonnet.
"Pardon the delay." she chirped upon seeing her father. "I could not tie my bonnet."
"It's nothing." he reassured her. "I just looked out the window, and the fiacre has arrived. Toussaint, take the food, please."
The old woman took several covered dishes which had been placed on the table and put them in a good sized basket, making sure that they were tightly closed. A soon as she was sure that his father was not looking, Cosette put the package on the box of presents and took it from the table.
The Lessards home was several blocks away, near the church of Saint-Jacques du Haut-Pas. It was a small shack, just one floor high, caught between two new buildings, and built of dark wood. The wind of December crept through numerous holes in the walls. They had a fireplace, contrary to many others in their condition, so the visitors also carried a good supply of logs. As the fiacre stopped in front of the house, they discovered several faces glued to the window. When they got out, the door opened and Madame Lessard came out of the house, carrying baby Ninon and surrounded by her other children.
"Merry Christmas, Monsieur Fauchelevent! Bless you!" she cried over the excited squeals of the little ones.
"Merry Christmas to you too, madame." he answered. "But I think it would be best to stay inside. We mustn't let the children catch a cold. "
"Oh, I know! But what could I do, they were desperate to greet you." she replied, smiling at how Emilien and Chantal, of ten and nine years old respectively, helped Toussaint with her basket. Caroline, of eight years old, ran towards Cosette and threw her arms around her neck after she left the present box in her housekeeper's now empty hands.
"Merry Christmas, Mam'selle Cosette!" she said, giving her a smile that showed a few missing teeth.
"You too, Caroline. How tall you are!" Cosette said.
"I have a gift for you." the girl confessed, suddenly shy.
"Really?" Cosette asked in surprise. "What is it?"
"A surprise." answered Caroline, taking her hand and guiding her to the shack. They were followed by the rest of the family, along with Monsieur Fauchelevent.
The aforementioned was, once more, lost in his thoughts. The girl who walked in front of him, not Caroline, but Cosette, smiled joyfully at the sight of holly wreaths and candles that adorned the now unrecognizable abode. A small Nativity scene rested on the mantel of the fireplace, along with a childish drawing depicting Père Noël, with long white beard, red tunic with the hood raised and Gui, the donkey, at his side. Fortuné greeted them warmly, but Fauchelevent only came out of his head to give him a handshake.
Another Christmas: with that one, they were eight. Eight Christmases spend with Cosette! Eight Christmases of complete joy! Eight years since they became father and daughter, and since then nothing had separated them. Now, remembering the little orphan who lay huddled in a corner of Thénardier's inn, playing with a piece of lead, he found it difficult to relate her to his beautiful daughter. To see her so happy while Petite Caroline gave her a handmade wicker basket, full of dried flowers, made his heart swell. And when they set the table for dinner and he watched her from the opposite side of the table, it occurred to him that her face was the Sun.
After an exemplary dinner, which consisted in turkey stuffed with chestnuts, oysters, white pudding and bûche de Noël, family and guests sat by the fireplace and, with no music, sang carols. Even Toussaint, despite her stammer, joined the chorus of Les Anges Dans Nos Campagnes, Mon Beau Sapin and finally and in a more reverent, calm tone; Dans Une Étable Obscure.
After the singing came the part of the night that Cosette had been anticipating.
Although the tradition said that children should receive their presents on December 25th, Monsieur Fauchelevent had decided giving those to them on Christmas Eve, for the next day he would be too busy visiting other families in need. They were not expensive or flashy gifts, but well-made toys and carefully painted wood figurines, coupled with elegant clothes for Sundays, but the children announced that they felt as the King's children. Their father and mother watched them from a corner, embraced and wiping more than one tear of happiness.
At midnight, when baby Ninon fell asleep and the rest of the family yawned, the round of farewells begun. Monsieur Fauchelevent bent down to stroke the heads of Emilien, Chantal and Caroline, who looked at him adoringly.
"We will come back for New Year's Eve." he promised. "I wish you the greatest happiness."
"Monsieur Fauchelevent." Fortuné answered. "The greatest happiness settled in this house as soon as you entered that door. We will always be more grateful than what I can express."
Meanwhile, Cosette walked towards corner where the now empty box of gifts had been left. With a radiant smile, she called her father.
"Papa! There is one present left!"
Upon the mention of another present, the children forgot their weariness and surrounded Cosette, squealing "Who is it for? Who?". Had they been puppies, one would have said that they wagged their tails in excitement.
"It's for ... Caroline." Cosette said, handing the package to the little girl.
Monsieur Fauchelevent considered the present from afar, puzzled.
"I do not remember buying that." he said. Cosette could not stop smiling.
"It is something I did." she explained. "Papa, do you remember what you told me last week? 'The best gifts are those that mean something for the one who gives them'. And... this gift, Papa, means a lot to me. A lot." she said. Her father thought he saw her lips trembling.
Caroline removed the ribbon, gently unwrapped the package, opened the box and discovered a gigantic doll. Her beautiful blonde hair shone, even in the small amount of light that the almost consumed candles provided. She uttered a gasp, and later, mute, stroked the rose colored silk dress.
Monsieur Fauchelevent felt a lump in his throat and a tear rolled down his cheek when he recognized the doll Catherine.
A long while later, when they reached the Rue de l'Homme Armé, the good man took advantage of the fact that Toussaint was washing the dishes to talk to his daughter in the living room.
"Cosette." he whispered.
She waited for him to continue, her blue eyes attentive.
However, Fauchelevent could not think of what to say. He opened his mouth a few times and nothing came out, only fragments of words that not even he understood. Finally, to avoid excessive talking (he felt too tired and overwhelmed with emotion for that), he took Cosette's head with both hands and kissed her hair.
"I'm very proud of you." he murmured.
Cosette smiled, his eyes moist, and hugged him.
"Merry Christmas, Papa."
"For you too, my angel."
Children have many gifts to give to parents that are far more valuable than what all the money on earth can buy, and that can make far happier than all the beautiful material goods of this planet.