Léopoldine flutters up and down the stairs, tirelessly running, bouncing, and crouching at the last minute to break her fall. She fiddles with her sleeves, turning them inside and out as if to inspect the colors at the hems, then replaces them, only to take to the stairs again.
Finally, her mother shushes her. "Your brothers are resting."
Léopoldine acquiesces, hanging on the stair rail but not running. "Mama, when will my dress be ready?"
"In another month or two. You don't want to run all along the stairs in your nice new dress, now, do you?"
"No," she reluctantly admits.
Her mother nods. "Why don't you go rest a little. Father will be home soon, and then we can eat dinner."
Léopoldine slowly bounces down the stairs, eventually curling up with her book and making a great show about turning the pages very slowly and individually, presumably so as not to disturb the boys with the sound of ruffling through.
When Marius returns, his hair has become even more flustered than normal. Not quite forty, he has already skipped well past the dignified, soldiering look of his father, and he seems bound to become a second Gillenormand-hale, excitable, and unafraid to deride the zeitgeist should it deserve such scorn.
"And how are we?" he asks.
Cosette smiles. "The boys are ready to eat. The girls are, probably, as well; Léopoldine must have tired herself out running around the house."
"I have not," calls Léopoldine.
Marius smiles. "What have you been doing, then?"
"Reading my book. Father, am I really to get my own dress for First Communion?"
Marius gives Cosette a quick glance, who nods with eyes narrowed, before responding "Yes."
"Why do you ask?" says Cosette.
"Marguerite says that I will have to wear her old one because you don't want to buy another one."
"Your First Communion is a special day, you will have a new dress."
"Will you tell Marguerite she oughtn't tease?"
"Yes," says Marius, "but that's not your business, we'll take care of that ourselves. Why don't you go help your brothers wash up? It's almost time for dinner."
Léopoldine nods and wanders off.
"And how was work?" Cosette asks.
Marius blushes, throwing his hands up. "There is no work being done! I would say the usual, it is all 'is this a proper law' and 'what shall we do about it.'"
"There are worse problems to have."
"That is true." He pauses. "When is her First Communion?"
"Eastertide, Marius, you know that, and the dress will be ready."
"Easter is in April?"
"The twenty-third. Why?"
"We are to have elections!" Marius blurts, "the Constituent Assembly. I can hardly believe it."
Cosette takes his hand as he glances out a window, tilting her head against his neck. "There will be time, to come to believe."
He kisses her lightly, then turns. "Let's have this supper, then."
Beyond them, banners still fill the streets.