Well happy Friday everyone! (: I survived the SAT (Whoohooo!) I actually finished up most of this chapter in my math class believe it or not which I guess shows how much I care about dividing square roots. Anyways as usual thank you for all the reviews and all that fun stuff! (: It makes me want to continue this even more and I'll do my best to update at least once every week maybe even twice! Enjoy!
Mariélle felt considerably better once they left the Rue Saint-Michel. She was aware of Enjolras' steady arm helping to guide her and was appreciative. For some reason, seeing the cart once more had troubled her deeply and made her feel ill. She focused on the sounds of the few people that passed them here and there, and took in deep breaths of fresh air that mixed with the scent of budding flowers that were typical for the season. For maybe ten minutes they walked in nearly complete silence. After a while she began to notice that they were walking along the streets of the wealthier side of Paris, which she rarely traversed through.
At times she forgot that there was this clean and agréable side of Paris that existed. Juxtaposed with what she had witnessed this morning, and nearly every day, she was astonished at the great differences between the two. The citizens that passed them seemed to be for the most part, well-to-do. Gentlemen in tall hats, with silk handkerchiefs in the top pockets of their finely tailored coats, accompanied women wearing decorative bonnets, whose long skirts billowed out around them and swished with every movement. Occasionally questioning looks or odd glances were given to her and Enjolras as they walked, but some gave polite gestures or a word or two in brief greeting.
As they approached a bridge that overlooked the Seine, their rather brisk walking pace slowed down to more of a stroll. Mariélle had by that time, nearly forgotten about the cart once more. The image still existed, but it did not dominate her mind. Besides it did no good to think of frightening things, it only made them worse in the long run. If she could help it, the man and his cart would never take away Amélie.
"Are you alright?" Enjolras spoke quietly but the concern in his voice seemed considerable. When she looked at his face, his expression was passive and did not betray any emotion in his voice. But his eyes were piercing.
They seemed to be evaluating her or searching for an answer. It wasn't unnerving, but it wasn't pleasant either. Breaking his gaze she nodded, "I am now, thank you. I don't know why but just seeing," She paused not knowing how to continue.
"You don't owe me an explanation." As he spoke, for an instant a look of understanding appeared, changing his features and the seemingly harsh and analytical searching in his eyes vanished. No longer did he look like a marble statue of some ancient god, but more human.
But then another unreadable emotion clouded his face, and once more he became almost distant. He slowly withdrew his arm from hers and wandered over to the side of the bridge. For a moment she felt a small pang of hurt, but quickly brushed it off, and soon followed him.
Resting his arms on the stone ledge in front of him, Enjolras stared down at the river below. Even though the sun was blazing high in the sky above, the water, especially in the shadowy recesses of the bridge, appeared murky and dark. It seemed to almost give an ominous warning, perhaps foreshadowing events to come. He did not know whether to feel apprehensive or ecstatic. But he was prepared. Prepared to prevail or prepared to die. What did it matter? Either way he was ready for the silent cry that had been escalating for years. All that was needed was the final push. The push that might occur at any day, or any second for that matter. It was something that he looked forward to with enthusiasm and perhaps a small amount of dread. Dread and a sense of foreboding that he could not explain.
"What do you see, Enjolras?" He turned to Mariélle who now stood by his side. He must not have noticed her walking towards him. The young woman peered over the ledge looking for whatever she thought he saw. A few small strands of her hair that the wind must have loosened from her braid, whipped about her face before she tucked them back behind her ear. It was a simple gesture, yet at the same time captured his attention.
"Nothing." He responded quickly and straightened up. Glancing at him, she gave him a puzzled look before turning her attention back to the river.
"The water is very clear today," she remarked, "Look, there are even a few boats out!" She extended her hand and pointed in a direction further out on the water. He saw a few small sailboats gliding lazily along the river, which the sunlight now made glitter. He thought it almost amusing how she did not even see the shadowy depths that he had been focusing on, but right away only saw the light.
"I remember once when I was younger, before my mother died and when Amélie was just a baby, my papa he paid to take a sailboat out for the day. " As she spoke, she smiled fondly and her eyes appeared bright and cheerful, "My mother also packed a picnic and after we went sailing, we ate and for the rest of the afternoon until almost sunset, I think, we played games until I was so exhausted that my papa had to carry me the rest of the way home because I fell asleep." She then turned and rested her back on the side of the bridge and stared down at her hands, "We did not have a lot of money, but I remember it so well not just because of the sailboat, but because we were all together."
Enjolras found himself listening carefully. He knew that he was probably one of the few people to have heard this story. It was a very personal memory that she had just shared with him and he also knew it was important to her. "Your father is he..." He found himself asking, not meaning to pry, but he was curious. She had never mentioned anyone else in her family before, other than her sister.
"Dead? No." Her features darkened a little, whether from sadness or anger he could not tell. "He left us about a year ago. I do not know where he went, but I don't think I shall ever see him again. Amélie does not know, she thinks he is off working in the country. I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth."
An immense feeling of pity suddenly overcame him. He had assumed that both of her parents were dead up until what she had told him. He almost felt ashamed and foolish for asking the question he had. She stared down at the ground for a minute or so, before once more staring at him. All traces of hurt or anger were gone.
"Does your family know about what you do? The revolution I mean." She spoke quietly.
He paused before answering, "I have not spoken to them in almost five years, so I do not think they are aware of it."
Do not return to this house again unless you have emptied your head of these foolish notions! You are a disgrace to this family and to me as well, your own father. Get out!
He still remembered the last words his father has roared at him before he left, as well as the sound of the door being slammed behind him. That was one of the few moments in his life that he had felt alone. But that feeling soon disappeared once he had met his companions and soon afterwards the revolution was established.
"Oh." her face reddened slightly and she stared at her hands.
"Besides they wouldn't support it, they come from money, but I didn't belong with them. I'm now considered the black sheep of my family." He looked around and saw how empty the bridge had become, noticing that they were the only two left. It was getting later and soon he should be returning to the café.
Soon they were walking back the way they had come. They had stayed at the bridge for a few more minutes, mostly staring at the river, but occasionally spoke to one another. Her hand rested lightly on his arm now, as they passed a variety of shops. Suddenly she stopped and pointed to a rather small looking establishment, with Toússaint emboldened andpainted grandly in emerald on the outside window.
"I am a seamstress there." She explained, and he suddenly had a vague recollection.
"I believe when I was younger my mother used to purchase some of her gowns there." He began, "I remember one day I accompanied my mother and there was this rather fearsome looking woman there and by accident I tilted over one of the displays and received a rather shrill sermon about clumsiness and indecency." As he spoke, Mariélle tried to stifle her laughter.
"That must have been Madame Toússaint herself." She said, staring through the glass at a large shadow in the background. He soon found himself looking curiously, and soon they were both met with the site of the owner in the flesh, staring back at them with a look of shock which a second later was replaced with a glare.
He too found himself trying to control his laughter. "We better leave." Mariélle suggested, "She may still recognize you, she never forgets a face, especially one she has screeched at."
Before they could continue, the door to the shop suddenly burst open and three raucous gentlemen exited. The tallest of them, stood in the center and had an air of superiority about him, and when his eyes spotted Mariélle he sneered and mockingly tipped his hat before making his way down the street with his friends. Enjolras found himself instantly disliking the young man. Mariélle's laughter had stopped abruptly and he noticed that an uncomfortable look had replaced it. "We better continue." She suggested.
He soon thought no more of the young fop and they continued on. They soon arrived where they had both been this morning, before any incident had occurred. No longer were there any bustling crowds or strangers rambling about in a hurry. Just like the bridge had been before they had left, this street was now quiet as well with the café simply standing in the foreground.
"I must admit I am glad we came across one another again." He was the first one to speak and found that what he was saying was the truthfully how he felt. Some of the restlessness he had felt earlier and the days before had left him. The conversations that they had held had lightened his mood considerably, "We shall have to meet again soon. Hopefully before the revolution."
For an instant her face appeared despondent, but she smiled so quickly that he even wondered if he had seen it all. "Yes," she nodded "and again, thank you." Once more a few strands of her hair loosened and fluttered around her face. He found himself reaching out on instinct, as if to fix them. But he managed to realize what he was about to do and pulled his hand back, as she reached up her own to fix it. But as he did so, his hand grazed hers and he nearly froze at the peculiar contact. Once more everything that he lived by and had told himself countless of times rushed back to him and flooded his thoughts, particularly the argument he had had with Marius. He stepped back.
She stared at him with a look of confusion, much like the one after she had spoken with Éponine. "Good night Mariélle." He uttered promptly and took his leave. Not matter how much he told himself otherwise,he found it was hard not to feel guilt as he left her standing alone in the street.
Translationsss:)
agréable- pleasant
