In Which Eponine Smiles
Eponine moved softly in the shadows of the streets, alone in the silent night. Her eyes, gleaming in the dark, reflected the thoughtful solemnity of the stars, and above her the moon shone, glorious and bright, its sleepy rays glowing gently in the darkness.
Everyone in Paris was sleeping; everyone but her.
Brown cap set over her reminiscing eyes and long overcoat wrapped around her shivering frame, she slipped through narrow passages and took a stroll beside the quiet Seine. Usually she had observed its foaming waves with longing—it was only the freezing touch of its waters and the tender love for Henri that now kept her from leaping in and putting an end to her suffering. Perhaps there was something else also, but she did not know.
Walking along the river, she closed her eyes and began humming softly. Eponine had never been beautiful; her voice had never possessed that soft beauty of the voice of Marius's beloved. But now, moving under the moonlight, singing to herself, and looking perfectly mournful as she thought of him, she was transformed into a beautiful creature of the night, her voice rising slowly to the ether. If only he had been there to see her! But she was alone.
Only the sleepy, smiling moon and the silent heavens were there to mourn for her. As she sang, the skies poured forth a shower of rain as if to show their sorrow for her. Together they sang, the rain sparkling on the pavements and Eponine's voice rising and rising. Together they mourned, her tears mingling with those of the heavens.
…
"Henri!" Enjolras's voice rang with relief. "What are you doing here? You've got Eponine and I worried to death!"
The child raised his eyes sheepishly. "I'm sorry, monsieur. I just couldn't leave you to die here. It will be a massacre! Please, come back with me and make Eponine happy too!"
"And what makes you think she'll care if I die or not? You know Eponine better than I do, Henri, and we both know that revolution doesn't mean a thing to her."
"Not in that sense, monsieur. She'll think of you as wasting your life over something that is purposeless; do you want her to think of you like that?"
There was a pause. "Of course not. But I am not wasting my life over something purposeless, and I'm sure Eponine is aware of that. I am fighting for the right of the people! Surely you of all people must understand that."
"Of course I do."
"Then what makes you say that? And anyway, I am sure if this revolution took place before you even met that girl, you would be joining the war yourself!"
"Yes."
"Then?"
"Isn't it clear to you yet, monsieur? Eponine needs me! And I am sure she needs you too!"
"But the people of France need me!"
"Yes, but you don't know how many lives will die tonight! And besides, they haven't called for your help yet!"
"Eponine hasn't called for my help either!"
Henri drooped his little head. When he lifted it, Enjolras saw his eyes shining with fierce boldness. "Fine! Then I'll fight with you too!"
"Absolutely not!"
"Why not?"
"I… I won't let you."
Suddenly a loud boom cracked in the barricades. Enjolras leapt to his feet.
"What was that, monsieur?" said Henri, trembling slightly, and the fierce blaze disappearedin those child-like eyes.
Enjolras's handsome face was grave. "Hush! Wait here!" said he before slipping away, leaving the child alone in the dark.
Quietly, Enjolras made his way towards where the sound had come. What he saw when he arrived made his stone heart beat faster. He stared in horror.
Eponine was lying in Marius's arms; she was smiling and looking perfectly content, so that Enjolras would have thought nothing was wrong at all, except for the horrible fact that she was lying in a pool of something very dark and her hair was wet with it.
Marius was holding her with a face of quiet despair. Enjolras stumbled towards her.
"She is gone," mumbled Marius softly.
"No!" was the desperate denial as Marius drew aside and Enjolras took his place. As Enjolras looked at the sweet, peaceful face in front of him, his shoulders shook and he felt an unfamiliar ache in his chest. Seeing her lying there, cold and senseless, brought forth a strong stab of pain and anguish in him and the love he had for her came rushing upon him like a fierce wave. "She can't be!" Tears dropped from his cold, marble cheek to her peaceful face, and, as if in response to their gentle despair, her eyelids slowly opened. There was a sweet drowsiness of death in them.
She was smiling gently. "Did you find Henri, monsieur?"
"Yes," he said hoarsely.
"Thank you, Enjolras. Can you promise me something?"
For a moment, Enjolras wondered if she was going to ask him to take care of Henri—and he dreaded this greatly, for certainly if Eponine died he would head straight for war. But what she said struck him even more.
"Take care of yourself," she whispered. Her eyes began to close again.
"Wait! You can't…"
She smiled sadly, pushing herself up to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek before falling, exhausted, on his knee.
Light footsteps pattered down the steps of the barricade. Dread filled Enjolras's heart as he heard and recognized them. He looked up to see Henri watching with horror-stricken eyes.
"Henri…" Enjolras began.
"No!" cried the child, rushing and throwing himself at Eponine's side. She opened her eyes again, but this time the peace in them was shattered. Now there was only regret.
"I'm sorry, Henri," said she softly.
"You can't die, Eponine. I need you here!" said the boy, expressing Enjolras's own feelings with child-like simplicity.
Worry filled her eyes. She was silent for a while. "Then," she began slowly, "I suppose I must try…" She endeavoured to sit up but ended up clinging to Enjolras's arm with one hand and suppressing a cry as pain shot through her.
"I'm being selfish," said Henri quietly. "It's alright, 'Ponine. I love you, okay? And I promise to take care of myself."
Eponine smiled and, with tears muddling her vision, she looked questioningly at Enjolras, whose face was a mask of suppressed pain.
"Be at peace," was the hesitant yet sure answer to the silent question.
It's very odd, thought Eponine, that I've never smiled so much in my life until I was about to die. The last things she saw were the faces of her three beloved friends watching her with accepted grief. And then she was lost in the darkness.
I'm sorry, dear readers. I had to do it, you know. It's not the end of the story, but, after a whole day of torn indecision, I have decided to follow both the book and musical and let her die. Perhaps she will find happiness when there was none in life… but that's another chapter. Hope you keep reading after this disappointing event—if you look at it, though, it's really not that tragic. Don't think of me as cold and cruel; and feel free to ask me about why I think it's not really that sad.