The old man stood up slowly, brushed off his cloak, and then greeted the tall, dark figure with an open palm.
"How much?" asked a low voice that was very fitting for such a person.
"Ten of those coins you have there," replied the old innkeeper. The innkeeper was a sly old codgerwho was called Thenardier by the localvillage folk .
"You better not try and swindle me," the low voice grew slightly threatening.
"N..no, of course not, never. I would never try and cheat you," the Thenardier's voice started out shaky, but then, hardened out, trying desperately not to show fear.
The man stared at the Thenardier for one long minute while the innkeeper tried to not fidget slightly under his calculating stare. The man seemed convinced, for he dropped the required ten coins into the innkeeper's hand, grabbed the small key that was offered, and made his way, silently up to his room.
Upon reaching his room, he glanced about quickly, silently taking in the shabby bed and the small, rickety chair and table in the corner. He walked in, set his sack and parcel down on the ground by the door, removed his cloak and shut the door behind him. As it shut the door made a high sound somewhere in between a squeak and a shriek, but the mysterious man didn't seem too bothered by it.
He made his way to the chair by the table and sat down carefully, as if he thought if he collapsed in, it too would collapse. He was close to collapse; anyone who looked closely at the man would see the lines under his eyes and wrinkles upon his forehead. It was if he had been through a great hardship, a trial of the body and most of all the soul and survived. It was clear that he had not survived his trial completely unharmed, for he moved with weariness, as if a great burden was placed upon his shoulders. He still remembered when he went through that trial, and the repercussions that it had, why he had been wandering all these long, hard years.
"Jacques," a young woman flew out of the rickety old house and strait at him, crying his name. The young woman could not have been more than twenty year of age and was fairly beautiful, not astonishingly so, but the beauty of her fiery spirit made up for that. Not to mention that Jacques thought she was the most beautiful creature on the earth.
Thrown out of his musing by the two arms flung around his neck he immediately picked her up and twirled her around until they both grew too dizzy to continue, and flopped down upon the soft grass. Immediately after they had both regained the full usage of their lungs the young woman started sprouting out questions.
"Why are you here? Has all threat of war dissipated? Are you here to stay? Can we finally get married?" she was finally silenced by a finger on her lips, followed by a barking laugh.
"Maria, slow down! Only one question at a time, please!" Jacques said amusement shining in his eyes. When he remembered the reason for his abrupt visit, he quickly sobered.
"Maria," he began slowly, trying to answer all her questions at once, "I'm here to tell you that Marius, Enjolras, Courfeyrac and the rest of the ABC club is planning to put up a barricade in the middle of Paris. We hope that this will force the National Guard to retreat. All of Paris will be called to our side! I can't tell you when, but our long awaited revolution is at hand." Tears welled up in Maria's eyes; she knew there was small probability of Jacques returning from the barricade. She quickly turned away; she couldn't bare to look at him any longer.
"I'm sorry Maria; I cannot abandon my friends in their time of need! You have to believe me, if I could, I would! I love you!" Jacques pleaded with the only person he could ever think about marrying.
"I know," she whispered softly, he looked into his eyes for the last time.
"I have to go. I should be thankful that they allowed me to come to you, to see you, this one last time." Jacques whispered, trying to take in everything about her.
"No, not 'one last time'," she said quietly but firmly, "you will come back to me."
"Then, till we meet again," he said, his voice shaky. He then turned quickly, mounted his horse, making sure he didn't look back, for he knew that if he did, he would never leave.
As he looked back on his choice, he knew he had made the wrong decision of fighting. He knew that the acknowledgement is half of correction. He had acknowledged the fact that it was wrong to depart his love, Maria, so now he was making the other half of the correction, or at least try.