Chapter IV. The Queen Of Heart

Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?
You been out riding fences for so long now
Oh, you're a hard one
I know that you got your reasons
These things that are pleasing you
Can hurt you somehow

(Desperado, The Eagles)


"Hmm. Wooden plates. Wooden spoons." Éponine poked her head into the cupboard, examining the place Patron-Minette had assigned to her. Babet had been somewhat upset at her slacking off. That motherfucker, she mouthed, touching the bruise that was dangerously darkening under the bang on her forehead.

"There is nothing of value here." She sighed. Éponine swiftly moved to another room. Maybe they don't like fancy utensils and plates. Ah, now we're talking, she purred, carefully lifted what appeared to be an exquisite antique lamp sitting on top of a dressing table. Éponine kept on looking for something more valuable, but the room was rather simple and chaste, with the exception of the lamp. She opened the closet hoping to find some sort of fashion collection, but contrary to her assumption, there were only two satin dresses and three taffeta nightgowns.

"Émilie?" Éponine heard a silvery voice coming from the front door. "Émilie I thought you went home?"

Shit, she muttered under her breath and ran towards the window. Éponine swiftly kicked her foot outside the window and jumped while maintaining her grip on the edge. The room luckily wasn't that high above the ground so Éponine let go of her grip and landed on a bush. It's not like my dress is new or anything, she thought as she observed some holes in her dress, obviously caused by the thorns. Straightening up her back, Éponine flattened her dress and was about to leave the garden when out the corner of her eyes, blond curls flashed under the sunlight.

What. The hell? Éponine gasped as she turned around. There, standing at the window, pure as the fresh snow, bright as the sun, was the object of Marius's affection, Miss Puffy Sleeves. The girl was gazing out into the garden, but since Éponine's dress was so dirty she blended easily into her surroundings.

Well then. Éponine sighed. Marius, I found her.

What now? She thought when she slowly climbed out the fence and made her way home. Obviously I made a promise. I should go tell him.

But I don't want him to find Puffy Sleeves. Not yet. She wanted Marius alone for herself. She knew the moment he found Puffy Sleeves would be the end for her chance to be with Marius. Not that she had much chance either. It just…Was it too much to ask for a bit more chance?

Éponine closed her eyes and shook her head. She tried to imagine Marius's face if she ever told him the news. Already, images of freckled nose, crinkled eyes and a broad smile flooded her mind. Éponine unconsciously smiled and brought a hand to her face.

Yes, it would make him most happy. Shouldn't that be enough? Does my petty happiness matter enough to get in the way of his?

No, she decided. If it makes Marius happy, it will also make me happy. Marius matters more. It doesn't matter how I feel, and I already made a promise that I would do anything to make him happy.


Two days later she led Marius to Puffy Sleeves' place and observed as they met and slowly made conversation.

"My name is Marius Pontmercy."

"And mine is Cosette."

Cosette? Éponine gasped as her body slowly sank onto the ground. That little brat who used to hang around back in Monfermeil? The dirty miserable little brat that Maman used to boss around until it was purchased away?

Oh, she laughed bitterly, my my my. How ironic. Look who was pampered and who was miserable like a rag now. Éponine walked away and could not stop laughing. Dear God high above, is this how you punish me for mistreating her back then? Is it really necessary? Have sufferings not been enough to repay for childish ignorance?

It would be so easy to hate Cosette right now, she thought. The little brat, stealing Marius away from her. That alone should be enough to make Éponine want to tear Cosette into thousand pieces. Not to mention that the positions were completely reversed now. The shame made Éponine's face burned with heat.

Yet despite her effort, despite all logical rational reasons, when it came down to it somehow Éponine could not bring herself to hate Cosette. She kept thinking of how sad Cosette used to look, of how hopelessness used to fill her wide blue eyes. She kept thinking of the small figure struggling to lift the broomstick that was too big for her, of that dirty bundle of rags that the child used as a doll, carried in her hand and sang tenderly to it. Of Maman's cruel, ruthless words to the child that sometimes made even Éponine and Azelma cringe. Now that those words were being inflicted upon her, Éponine fathomed deeply what it must have felt like to be young Cosette. Yet somehow the little child turned out to be fine, robust even. Her eyes were warm and kind, her face round and sweet, her cheeks glowed with a healthy radiance, her voice clear and silvery – nothing like Éponine's raspy voice obviously resulted from cheap brandy. And undoubtedly, from the way her eyes had lighted up when Marius looked into them, from the way Marius had been absolutely, completely mesmerized with every word she said; Éponine could only conclude that the abuse young Cosette had received during childhood bore little effect on older Cosette. What a wonder, how that wretched child had turned out to be so fine and happy.

As long as he is happy, I am happy, she kept repeating to herself, knowing that she was only lying. A thousand daggers were stabbing into her heart. Éponine kept telling herself that her face was wet from the rain, the rain only, that it didn't taste salty. She thought about how large Marius's hands were on her small waist, how warm and firm his arms were when he pulled her into a hug. She smiled, but everything in front of her became more and more blurry until she could only make out small flickering lights dancing in the rain.

It's just the rain, just the rain. Right? Proud Éponine, strong Éponine, fierce Éponine would never cry. She hadn't let herself cry for years, ever since that night when Montparnasse took away her maidenhood, when she vowed to keep her heart close and guarded, when she swore that nobody would ever see her vulnerable.

I love him. God I love him so. But only on my own.


I should probably return this. Éponine thought as she climbed up to Marius's apartment the next morning, holding Agamemnon in her right hand. Éponine wondered whether she should borrow the last two parts of the trio, she wanted to see how it would be resolved. But then again, it was not really a good time to keep pestering Marius. Éponine knocked on the door but there was no answer.

He is probably busy with les amis. Or with Cosette. The thought made her heart bitter. Éponine turned the knob and pushed the door open with little effort. Marius was never careful enough to lock the door properly. He was a rich little young boy at heart, naïve and trusting about the world around him. That's probably why Éponine was so drawn to him. To see somebody so honest and trusting was a fresh experience from the people she associated with.

She looked around his apartment, wondering if this would be the last time she came here. Surely Marius would not want her here if he happened to invite Cosette over. It was another painful realization. Éponine bit her lips and tried to swallow the lump that was slowly making its way up her throat.

"Marius I swear to France, this is the last time…" a stoic voice came from behind her then abruptly stopped. Éponine stood frozen by the bookshelf, the Agamemnon still in her hand.

No, she panicked, recognizing the voice. No, it can't be.

"Marius is not here." She uttered, dared not to turn around.

"I can see that." The voice responded calmly.

"…"

"Turn around." The voice hardened.

"No." she replied stubbornly, but her legs were shaking. She wanted to open the window and jump down, but Marius's apartment was on the third floor. She was not sure if she wanted to risk breaking her leg. Or her neck.

What are you doing Éponine? You can't run away now. Running away would only make it worse.

"Is that Agamemnon that you're holding?"

"…"

Turn around, make up some sort of lie and deal with this like a grown-up, goddamn it Éponine!

"Please Mademoiselle, would you please turn around so that we could talk in a civilized manner?"

Slowly and painfully, she turned around so that she could face the young blonde revolutionary standing behind her. The expression on his face was one that Éponine could not read? Shock? Surprise? Disgust? Loath? Disappointment?

"So…" he snickered. "Agamemnon huh?"

She did not dare to speak, the shame was too big for her to absorb. Enjolras shook his head and placed his hands on his hips.

"Cassandra?" He stared at her. "Priam's daughter?"

"The mad prophet, yes." She stared back, unsure why.

"I remember you." He said. "You were here once, reading Agamemnon. Marius said something about you and your hobby of reading."

"That is correct Monsieur."

"I should have known. That's why your face was so familiar." He mumbled.

"I'm very sorry." She declared coldly and placed the book on the shelf. "I didn't mean to lie to you. Actually I did not. I did say Cassandra was not my real name."

"What is your real name then?"

"Éponine."

"Just Éponine?"

"What are you? Just Enjolras?" she snapped back. It came out harsher than she intended it to be.

To her surprised, Enjolras took no offense and only nodded. He turned around and started heading towards the door.

Is that it? She freaked out. Is he going to let me go that easily?

"Wait!" she cried out. "Please, stop!"

He stopped walking and turned around.

"Will you tell Marius?"

In a second, his expression softened and became more sympathetic as he looked at her. "Is Marius why you're here?"

Éponine was irritated by this sudden invasive question. "Why are you here then?"

"Same reason." Éponine decided to ignore this remark. "I was looking for Marius, he hasn't been to our meetings for several days. I thought I could find him here."

"I'm very sorry." She had an idea of where he might be, or what he might be doing. Whether it included a blonde two a penny bourgeois thing or not, she did not want to think about it.

"Do you happen to know his whereabouts?"

"Probably. Maybe."

For a moment they stood there, staring at each other until Enjolras stepped ahead, reached out and touched the large bruise that was beginning to form on her forehead.

"Rough night?" he asked.

"Quite, but not from what you're thinking of." She brushed off his hand rather defensively. "You haven't answered my question." For a little rat on the street Éponine sure had some nerve when she talked to rich aristocratic boys. "Will you tell Marius?"

"No." he declared simply, taking a step back.

"Why?"

"Because there is nothing worth talking about."

Éponine was not sure whether she should be insulted or not. Enjolras must have realized this, as he corrected himself. "What I mean is, there is nothing shocking or harmful that I should feel the need to warn Marius about."

She bit her lips. "But I'm a prostitute." Éponine shook her head. "Don't you understand? I'm filthy. I'm disgusting. I should not be around Marius and taint him with my presence. I'm sure Marius would not want me around, knowing that I'm a prostitute."

"Marius is somewhat still too Bonapartist and raw to understand this, I know." Enjolras stared at her, his eyes piercing through her detached expression. "However mademoiselle, I remain firm in my opinion. You are just another citizen of Paris, no better…"

"…Or worse than anyone else, I know I know." She smiled tiredly, but her face softened. "You always tell me that."

"Only because I believe it's true." He replied. "I may not know about your circumstances, but I believe that you did not choose to do this, and that only because of circumstances were you forced to be in such position."

She was silent, in awe of what he was saying. Is this man too good to be true or what? She lied to him, manipulated him, interrogated him, yet there he was, defending her from herself.

"There is nothing wrong or immoral about you Éponine. The only immorality here is the inequality thrust upon you."

"Hmph."

"So no, I will not tell Marius." He concluded. "Now if you excuse me, I am rather busy right now. I must go."

"Thank you." She muttered as he started walking towards the door. Enjolras nodded silently and closed the door. She stood by the window and watched Enjolras blending into the crowd, his blond messy curls flying in the wind.

What a strange man, she thought to herself, a smile slowly crept on her face.