Chapter Four

1830

"Before I conclude, I would like to address one final rumor that has spread like wildfire among the citizens of Paris," General Lamarque said, projecting loudly enough so that all in the town square could hear him. "There has been talk of recruitment for the formation of a rebellious group."

Inspectors Javert, Saccharine, Christoph, and Smythe eyed the enraptured crowd for any signs of trouble. The last time General Lamarque spoke before a crowd, a fight had broken out in the back, resulting in the arrival of the quartet of inspectors to break up the madness before it spread.

They knew, however, that this speech would not in any way instigate a riot. Lamarque was asked to deliver a speech to the people of Paris deterring them from forming such groups, and if the rabblerousers knew what was good for them, they could not make a single sound of protest against Lamarque's words. After all, the people's man's words were highly praised among the citizens.

General Lamarque surprised them by adding, "While I find the public creation of a rebellious group against the King unwise, I do not find it unlawful."

The citizens murmured and looked at each other in confusion.

"Rather, it is a sign that our world must change, whether the King likes it or not. If these revolutionaries choose to form a civilized group and fight in order to be heard, then so be it." General Lamarque's gaze swept over every citizen's face standing near his makeshift stage before continuing. "The people have been suffering from poverty, illness, and starvation. It does not go unnoticed by the wealthy and royal. It goes ignored, but not unseen, and I believe that it is high time to change that."

His words were met with round of applause.


She rolled her eyes as the so-called "people's man" concluded his speech with the national motto of France. She did not disagree with his words, but found them unfounded; how would a rich man like General Lamarque understand the impoverished? She could not believe him for the life of her.

She had heard the leader of the forming revolutionary group speak, and he spoke similarly; he was all pretty words strung together into sentences that made him sound like he knew what it was like to always have an achingly empty feeling in his stomach, when in actuality he had never gone hungry a single night in his life.

With that thought, Eponine Thenardier reached out and swiped a few francs from the pocket of an unsuspecting citizen, who was repeating the motto with the crowd. She scurried away before he could notice, using her years of experience and tiny size to her advantage. Once she was safe and away from the inspectors skulking near the back of the crowd, she counted her money.

Four francs. Nine francs in total was all she had gotten that day, and she still had to meet Gavroche at his elephant statue to give him enough money for supper and buy herself a drink at the Musain. Her father would have to make do with six francs.

Although she found General Lamarque to be a poor spokesperson for the people of Paris, she couldn't help but look enviously at his enormous house near the square. It was like a castle in one of the fantasy books she'd stolen from the bookshop her unrequited love worked at. There was no doubt in her mind that it was filled with beautiful but useless trinkets, pictures of the past-generation Lamarques, and servants willing to do whatever he thought up.

The iron-wrought gates surrounding his estate towered over Eponine, but she knew that she could climb over with little difficulty. It was easy for her to determine which places she could rob; years of thievery and crime had done that to her.

However, she would never rob General Lamarque. He may have a large estate bursting with trinkets that would pay for a week's worth of bread, but he didn't have a family, and that fact alone deterred her from looting his home.

Why would an old man like General Lamarque, the proclaimed voice of the people, purchase a large house with gates at least ten feet tall? He had no enemies - as far as Eponine knew, anyway - and no family to care for, so why did he own this particular place?

Eponine peered up at the three windows facing the town square. The inside of his home was hidden away by thick tricolor curtains. The topmost window, however, had a set of bars mounted over the glass. As she watched, the curtain at thatwindow opened, and a small face appeared for a brief moment.

Eponine was taken aback when she saw that the face was peering dowAnd I'm fine with getting somethingn at her with curious eyes. She stumbled backwards and bumped into a grisette.

"Why, I never-!" The grisette scowled at her. "Filthy child of the street."

Eponine glared at the departing lady before turning back to the house. The curtains were drawn again. She glanced back at the square and noticed that Lamarque was speaking to the inspectors.

If Lamarque was there, who was in his house?


The cafe Musain had never been more lively. Overworked grisettes, humble dandies, and occasional bourgeoisie spoke heatedly of Lamarque's latest speech over bottles of wine that the owner, a beautiful woman named Musichetta Galle, fetched from the downstairs cellar. Although the first floor was always packed through the weekends, Musichetta never allowed people to venture to the cafe's second floor. The cafe's opening times were always strange, too; two years prior, when Musichetta first inherited the cafe from her sickly father, the opening time had changed from nine in the morning to six in the evening. The change had caused the Musain to initially lose a great deal of money, but Musichetta seemed not to care.

Since four in the afternoon, the second floor of the Musain was also bustling. The group just up the stairs consisted of young men who were fresh out of their university classes or jobs, and they were about to hold a very important meeting. Most of the men had known each other beforehand, but several were newcomers who drifted off to the side with their pints while the others joked and waited for the meeting to start.

However, there was one thing that was stopping them from beginning.

"I assure you, Enjolras," Courfeyrac assured the frustrated leader. "Marius will be here soon. He's only ever tardy for good reason."

Enjolras sighed heavily. "Fifteen minutes, Charles," he said, addressing his friend by his first name for the first time in years. "If he is not here by then I will have no choice but to begin in his absence."

Courfeyrac nodded. "Did you hear General Lamarque's speech this morning?" he asked out of distraction.

"Indeed." Enjolras glanced at the pamphlet he'd gotten printed at a shop near Montmartre that supported the cause. "Jean Lamarque had proven to be our greatest supporter, as well as the only government official who will heed to the needy."

"Precisely," Gregoire Combeferre, Enjolras' childhood friend, added from his seat across the table. "With his backing, we might see a new France sooner than we anticipated."

Enjolras nodded. "But that's beside the point, Courfeyrac. Fourteen minutes."


It was nearing six o'clock, and Marius Pontmercy was becoming more flustered with each passing second. In any moment, the meeting that Courfeyrac had invited him to would start, and he would miss it in favor of working on his translations. The owner of the book shop he'd been employed in two months prior was running late coming back from the market, and Marius had been left to watch over the shop in the meanwhile. He swallowed hard and pretended that he had not been eyeing the clock when two old men and a young girl walked into the shop.

"I will be right here if you need me, Annemarie," Percival said, sitting down on the shop's comfiest armchair.

The young girl nodded. "Javert, would you care to help me find a book?"

Marius looked up at the name of the local inspector. It was the usually intimidating man in his imposing blue uniform, but he looked relaxed rather than stern. If Marius was not seeing it right before him, he would not believe that the ruthless Inspector Javert could possibly smile, but that was precisely what he was doing.

"I might have a few recommendations," Javert said, nodding at Annemarie. He led her to a shelf and skimmed the titles until he found the novels he had thought she would like.

"Thank you," Annemarie said, turning the books in her hands around to inspect them. She glanced up and smiled kindly at Marius, whose gaze flittered away from her just as quickly as it had landed.

The arrival of the owner gave Marius the opportunity to leave. His disgruntled boss grumbled something about the baker's incompetence as he handed Marius his wages, and then the university student was off.

Not even a minute after the door closed behind Marius, it opened again. A young lady with plaited blonde hair nervously stepped inside the shop. She made a beeline for the first shelf she saw, hoping that it contained religious works.

Just as the girl realized that she was standing before the poetry, a voice from behind startled her. "What are you looking for?"


Ever since Lamarque had made the arrangement for her to leave the estate every Friday, he had slowly warmed up to the young girl. He had even procured a beautiful butterfly painting for her sixteenth birthday, which he had bought during one of his many excursions to the more obscure towns. She had grown up before his eyes from a girl who spoke nonsense about flowers to a young lady who was always interested in hearing about his day. He only ever saw her twice a week at the most, but she never failed to listen to his tales of previous arrests. Annemarie was notably interested in his story of the prisoner 24601, especially because Javert was still in hot pursuit of the man.

Still, Javert was quite fond of Lamarque's adopted daughter. He always brought her a treat from her favourite patisserie before taking her out with her tutor, and he was more lenient towards her constant cravings for freedom and independence.

Upon the other young lady's entrance into the shop, Annemarie saw an opportunity and took it. With one imploring look to her guardians, she went to the girl and struck up a conversation. Javert could only watch in amusement as Annemarie chatted animatedly with the reluctant blonde.

"I'm looking for a copy of the Bible," the blonde lady said. "My Papa's copy has been damaged by a candle."

Annemarie grinned. "I know where you could get one," she said proudly, leading the blonde to a shelf all the way across the shop. "I've been here so many times, I can remember where everything is."

The blonde sighed dreamily. "I wish I had that sort of freedom."

Annemarie laughed. "I hardly call my situation 'freedom'. My Papa only allows me out on Fridays, and only for three hours." She pulled a copy of the scripture off of the shelf and handed it over.

The blonde turned the book around in her hand. "The only reason I was allowed out today was because my Papa could not stop me. He's fallen ill, and I've just been grocery shopping for him." She gestured to the bags she'd left by the door.

Annemarie nodded empathetically. "My name is Annemarie."

The blonde seemed unsure for a moment, but eventually replied, "And I'm Cosette. It is nice to finally meet someone who understands."

"We could meet again," Annemarie said as Cosette paid. "I could come here again next Friday."

Cosette frowned. "I do not know if my Papa would allow me to leave again."

"Surely you must purchase groceries again by then," Annemarie said. "Judging by your purchases, you will have enough to last a week, which will give you an excuse to return."

Cosette thought hard for a moment. "Perhaps," she said slowly, "I could persuade him to come with me if he feels better, and I could convince him to let us stop by here for a minute. If he does not feel better by then, I will come anyway."

Annemarie's smile widened. "That sounds good, Cosette. My father doesn't let me out until after supper, so I could come by around six o'clock. Would that be all right with you?"

Cosette beamed at the prospect of a friend, even though it meant disobeying her father's wishes. She had not a single friend in her entire life, and she was sure that her father would not mind if she went about it correctly.

"Yes, Annemarie," she said. "We shall see each other soon." And with that, Cosette Fauchelevent exited the shop.

After Cosette had disappeared from view, Annemarie turned excitedly to her guardians. "Did you hear that? I have a friend!"

Percival stood. "Perhaps it is time for us to purchase your books and leave," he said seriously.

Javert walked over to the pair. "We could stop by the patisserie on the way back," he said.

Once the books were paid for, and Annemarie was walking ahead of the two, Javert rounded on Percival.

"She is only trying to make friends," Javert said softly, so as to not alert the young girl that they were speaking of her. "You need not be so strict."

Percival scoffed. "You're one to talk of strictness. Her father is trying to keep her away from the impurity of the world. She is not supposed to be 'making friends' with every child she sees. Also, did you see the way the man working there leered at her? Sprinted out like a wild animal once the owner returned, too. I'm not even sure if he was really employed there. I'm certain that Jean will not be pleased if he hears of what has happened tonight. Perhaps we should not allow her to go to the book shop next Friday."

"They are two little girls wanting to be friends," Javert said. "It's not a crime, Percival. I would know if it were."

"Little girls?" Percival snorted. "She is sixteen! She will soon be wanting a young man's attention. She will want a suitor eventually, and then what?"

"That is what happens with all girls," Javert responded, "and General Lamarque must be aware of that already. In fact, he must have a list of young men he considers worthy enough for her."

Percival ground his teeth together. "He's trying to shield her away from the impurities of the world. He told me so when he employed me that he would not allow her to associate with people he didn't approve of, but he would never compile a list of young men to have her hand. I daresay that he is detaining her to a life not dissimilar to a nun's. Sometimes I disagree with the arrangement she has been given, but unlike you I will not allow her to breach her father's rules. She will not be going to that book shop on Friday, and that's final."

"You have no power to ban her from that shop," Inspector Javert said. "If Lamarque asks, she behaved just as well as we expected with no problems. If I hear that you have said otherwise, there will be consequences. I'm sure you've heard what I'm capable of, Monsieur Scott."


One minute before Enjolras was due to initiate the first meeting, Marius ran up the stairs and promptly collapsed into a chair. Enjolras eyed the panting new arrival before turning to give Courfeyrac a displeased look. Courfeyrac shrugged and moved to sit next to his friend.

Once the group had quieted down, Enjolras used his chair to hoist himself onto the table.

"Welcome," he stated, "to the first meeting of Les Amis de l'ABC."