I do not own anyone here. It's all Victor Hugo's doing. I was just playing with an LMFFI story generator, and this came up.
The Bridge
October 2, 1831
I hear them pass over us everyday. These people in this God-forsaken city forget so easily. I doubt any of my old acquaintances here in Paris would remember that I once was the farthest thing from destitute.
Of course, if I came out from under this bridge, covered with mud as my clothes have always been of late, I know no one would recognize me.
Tonight, it is dark and cold, and I am left here to 'watch and wait' for my daughters to come back. I haven't seen Eponine in two days, since she last went off with Montparnasse and some of the other men in his gang. Azelma hasn't been here since breakfast...three days ago. She said she knew someplace to get something. Before I could stop her, however, she'd already gone off.
"Let that brat be. She's starting to whine too much," Nicolas said when I tried to go after her. I would have slapped him for it, if Eponine hadn't been watching.
There is little food left wrapped up in my old shawl: half a loaf of hard black bread, and what appears to be an onion. I do hope that my girls can bring back a little for our next meal. Even if I do not eat tonight, what is left is hardly enough for even one of them.
I hear footsteps over me, but this time they are slow, as if the person is passing is far from being in a hurry. The steps are light and steady; perhaps it is Azelma who is coming down here? However, I hear another stronger set of footsteps slightly behind hers.
I pause and wonder who she's brought with her. Montparnasse perhaps? If that's the case, where is Eponine? I go to the 'entrance' of our little nook under the bridge and peer out into the night.
"Ah, there you are, Maman!" the high yet rather scratched voice of my Azelma greets me. I notice the young man standing behind her; tall but with golden hair that seems to shine in the dim glow from a streetlamp. I have never seen him before. His face is pale yet smooth, and his eyes seem to be bright even in this gloom. He looks to be a little older than Eponine and Montparnasse, and judging by his rather expensive clothing, he must be a student at the university.
"You do not mean to say, mademoiselle, that you actually live here?" he asks my daughter slowly, as if he cannot believe what he is seeing. I am surprised by his voice; he sounds older than he looks.
"We live here, Monsieur. For lack of any place to go," I say as I step out to meet them. Azelma bows her head slightly as if she is ashamed of this fact, but her companion just looks at me with wonder. He reminds me a little of the young men I knew before I met Nicolas; wide-eyed, and handsome. Still, unlike them, this boy standing before me is so serious.
"Madame, how long have you been staying there?" he asks me seriously. Now, I can see his eyes more clearly; they are deep and seem to see things I and my Azelma cannot. What startles me however is how blue they are, even in the darkness.
"Two months, but what can we do? The way things are going, with my daughters so young and my husband always out, there is little I can help doing," I reply, forcing as much venom as I can into my voice. I know he pities us; he thinks he is only being a gentleman by seeing my child home 'safely', but what he does not know is that he is merely scorning me. Boys like him merely glance at girls like her and their mothers like me.
However, he does not seem to know this, or if he does, he makes no sign of it. "Some day, soon hopefully, they will," he says softly. "Will you be fine, mademoiselle?" he asks Azelma.
She smiles at him, almost as sweetly as she would have if she were a little girl again. "Oui, unless there is any more you can do for us, m'sieur. And thank you for helping me get back here," she says. I would pinch her ear if he wasn't here; clearly she is a little taken by him.
"Very well then," he says. "Good evening, Madame," he says politely to me as he heads out back towards the street. Strangely, he is not running as if trying to get away from here. Rather, he is walking slowly, as if he is thinking.
Azelma tugs my arm. "What?" I ask her.
She shows me the louis d'ors in her hand and I'm sure my jaw drops with surprise. "It's good for tonight, and tomorrow, isn't it, Maman?"
I nod at her, still in disbelief at what I'm seeing. "More than that. Where did you get those?"
Azelma points outside. "I saw him when I was looking for coins, actually, he almost bumped into me, as if he didn't know I was there. Well, we talked a bit. He's a terribly nice young man, even with odd ideas! Most others would've run if they knew I was a streetgirl!"
I pat her head affectionately. "Clever girl," I tell her, knowing that it just might not be the last time we'll be seeing that man who brought her back here.