Chapter 2: A Sister's Sacrifice
They were both silent for a few moments. Then, Éponine said coldly "You've gone too far this time, Papa."
He snorted. "My sweet 'Ponine, the day I go too far is the day I end up with a bullet right here." He pointed to between his eyebrows.
"That means nothing, except that the past two years have been remarkably lucky for you. But you won't have any luck if you plan on...bringing Azelma to Lena Ferrant." Her tone savagely indicated that "bringing" was not the word she had in mind.
"Oh?" Asked Thenardier sardonically, raising an eyebrow. "And why is that?"
"Because Lena Ferrant is the most monstrous creature in Paris!" Éponine ejaculated. "And I'm taking your cronies into account when I say that! That...woman would sell her own mother to her customers for a night if she could, and for a year if she felt she could make a better profit. That bordello of hers, The Sailor of Brittany, is a very passage into a hell, and if a young girl-like 'Zelma- isn't careful, she'll end up on a riverboat with her clothes off in the middle of the night!"
Papa's lip curled. "I didn't say anything about a riverboat."
Éponine swore under her breath.
"No," she said coldly. "But you know exactly what I mean when I mention it."
"I do." Thenardier said, and he sat down in his chair, looking at her mutely.
She should have gone back to the subject at hand, Azelma, but now that that night had been brought up, she couldn't let it go. Éponine walked to the desk and leaned over it, her eyes filled with anger. "You told me I'd be taken care of. Looked after, for once in my life. You knew what was going to happen in the end, and you. Didn't. Tell me."
"Yes, and I've apologized for that, 'Ponine, many times." Her father said, as casually as though he were apologizing for not getting her a new dress she wanted. "In hindsight, I do admit it's something I've come to regret. But it had to be done. It was that, or starve."
Éponine laughed bitterly. "As if that's not we're doing that now? Don't get high and mighty with me, Monsieur 'holier-than thou'. Ever since you lost the inn, all you've done is drag us deeper into your pits of evil, Papa. My brother's run away, two others have been sold off and my sister is on the verge of experiencing the same nightmare you've put me through; you would sell your daughter to a brothel just to pay off a debt. That's when it's time. Someone has to protect this family, from the man who protects this family."
"And that's going to be you?" Thenardier sneered. "Then tell me, 'Ponine; how do you plan on stopping me?"
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. To be truthful, she didn't have any type of plan. She'd barely been thinking when she'd decided to speak out against her father. How was she going to save Azelma from Ferrant and her ilk?
She thought it over. There was only one way, and if she wanted to protect her sister, she had to take it.
So Éponine said, "I'll make a deal with you."
Her father leaned forward, interested. Thenardier was by no means immune to gambling, and if there was anything he loved more than money, it was quick, easy money.
"If I make the amount of money you owe Claquesous in three days at Madame Ferrant's, on my own, then you can never, ever sell Azelma to that awful place."
Thenardier grinned. "A hundred francs in three days? 'Ponine, are you sure you want to make that wager?"
"I'm sure."
"Very well then. And if you lose?"
She took a deep breath. It was too late to back out now. "Then Azelma's yours." She said, trying to keep her voice expressionless. Before he could question her, she held out her hand. "Well, what do you say?" She asked quickly.
Thenardier was silent for a moment. Then he smiled, showing his tobacco-stained teeth. "We have a deal." And he shook her hand.
Éponine withdrew. She felt dizzy and stunned all of a sudden, as though she'd just fallen from a great height and landed on her feet, unsure of the ground of beneath her.
"We start out for the Sailor in an hour, 'Ponine. Best prepare yourself."
She nodded. Then she ran out the door to see Azelma.
Azelma was waiting for her on the other side, her eyes wide. "What's going on?" She asked.
Even that small question reassured Éponine of her duty to do this. Azelma was still young, and despite her harsh conditions, quite innocent; it was as thought that sweet, petty child of the Montfermeil inn had gone through life aging too fast without gaining any of the burdens of adulthood. And if Éponine-who'd lost her innocence long ago, on that riverboat-could keep her that way for just a little while longer, she would certainly pay the price, even if this was it.
"Good news." She said happily. "You're not going to be brought to Madame Ferrant?"
"Who's Madame Ferrant?"
Éponine smiled, and stroked her sister's hair gently. "Someone I pray you'll never have to meet."