"The Shadow Lengthens for Dusk"
Samuel had come perfectly innocently to the cafe. He had sat himself down at some table, and begun reading. And now, as Courfeyrac suddenly bounded towards his table, he wondered what he'd done wrong to deserve it. Perfectly innocently, he reminded himself. Without the least suspicion of being subjected to a Joy of Courfeyrac's. He had taken to calling it a Joy when Courfeyrac found out something which delighted him so much that he'd pounce whoever was nearest.
Courfeyrac flopped down in the chair beside Samuel's, his handsome, friendly face glowing triumphantly.
"You'll never *guess*. Guess!"
Incidentally, Courfeyrac was the only Ami who wasn't at all awed by Dimitri. No matter how much of Dimitri's stunning, beautiful solemnity Samuel put forward, Courfeyrac engaged him as though he were anyone else.
"Can't you guess? Ha!" Courfeyrac leaned towards Samuel, in a conspiratorial manner. "I've found out why Feuilly keeps harping on about liberty, equality, for every man *and* woman. He's got a little family. God, they're all dirt poor, but it's dear." He looked utterly proud of himself. "There's his wife; she looks so thin one thinks she may blow away in the wind. And a son, terribly young. Do you know, I've half a mind to do something for the son. Do you think Feuilly would let me be his adopted uncle Michel? I adore children, so long as they're not mine."
Samuel stared dubiously.
Courfeyrac gave him a knowing smile. "Ah, now if you had any children, you wouldn't let me be their adopted uncle Michel, would you? You'd keep them far away from Courfeyrac and his interfering. Well, *I* like the idea, and I shall go ask Joly what he thinks." With that, he sprang to his feet, and fairly skipped off.
Samuel began rubbing his temples. Clearly, Courfeyrac was mad, or bordering it.
But Feuilly had a wife? A family? He frowned. A young son? The Samuel part of him was sorry he hadn't known. It wanted him to ask Feuilly, and meet them. Of course, the Samuel part of him was a child. He frowned again. Dimitri didn't mind knowing, but Dimitri couldn't afford to distract himself. He needed to be interested in the people who were *there* and the men who would fight, not the women and children who would stand in the shadows and watch.
Samuel wanted friends, whose families would love him and welcome him and smile hello if he met them on the street. Dimitri wanted warriors, and their families were unimportant if they couldn't also be.
He groaned softly, and shook his head. Oh--
With a startle, he realised Combeferre had come up and was sitting beside him.
"Bonjour, Enjolras."
"Salut, Combeferre. Combeferre?"
"Yes?"
"What's your first name?"
"Edmond." Combeferre smiled. "After my father, and my grandfather. That makes me Edmond Combeferre III, doesn't it?"
Samuel nodded and closed his eyes. Combeferre's smiles always made him lightheaded. Suddenly he looked up. "Combeferre, I have some things to read, and--and something else I've got to study for school. May I read at your place? I--" He paused, searching for a justification for his request.
"Of course," Combeferre cheerfully interrupted his train of thought. "I'd be happy to have you."
"Merci," Samuel said softly.
Combeferre was the only safe thing in the world, he thought. There was something reassuring about everything he did and every word he said. If Samuel needed someone to tell things to ever, Combeferre was the person. He thought, perhaps childishly, that Combeferre knew the answer to everything.
It would, perhaps, have disillusioned him horribly to learn that Combeferre couldn't solve all the problems in the world with his sweet, friendly smile and his gentle voice.
Samuel had come perfectly innocently to the cafe. He had sat himself down at some table, and begun reading. And now, as Courfeyrac suddenly bounded towards his table, he wondered what he'd done wrong to deserve it. Perfectly innocently, he reminded himself. Without the least suspicion of being subjected to a Joy of Courfeyrac's. He had taken to calling it a Joy when Courfeyrac found out something which delighted him so much that he'd pounce whoever was nearest.
Courfeyrac flopped down in the chair beside Samuel's, his handsome, friendly face glowing triumphantly.
"You'll never *guess*. Guess!"
Incidentally, Courfeyrac was the only Ami who wasn't at all awed by Dimitri. No matter how much of Dimitri's stunning, beautiful solemnity Samuel put forward, Courfeyrac engaged him as though he were anyone else.
"Can't you guess? Ha!" Courfeyrac leaned towards Samuel, in a conspiratorial manner. "I've found out why Feuilly keeps harping on about liberty, equality, for every man *and* woman. He's got a little family. God, they're all dirt poor, but it's dear." He looked utterly proud of himself. "There's his wife; she looks so thin one thinks she may blow away in the wind. And a son, terribly young. Do you know, I've half a mind to do something for the son. Do you think Feuilly would let me be his adopted uncle Michel? I adore children, so long as they're not mine."
Samuel stared dubiously.
Courfeyrac gave him a knowing smile. "Ah, now if you had any children, you wouldn't let me be their adopted uncle Michel, would you? You'd keep them far away from Courfeyrac and his interfering. Well, *I* like the idea, and I shall go ask Joly what he thinks." With that, he sprang to his feet, and fairly skipped off.
Samuel began rubbing his temples. Clearly, Courfeyrac was mad, or bordering it.
But Feuilly had a wife? A family? He frowned. A young son? The Samuel part of him was sorry he hadn't known. It wanted him to ask Feuilly, and meet them. Of course, the Samuel part of him was a child. He frowned again. Dimitri didn't mind knowing, but Dimitri couldn't afford to distract himself. He needed to be interested in the people who were *there* and the men who would fight, not the women and children who would stand in the shadows and watch.
Samuel wanted friends, whose families would love him and welcome him and smile hello if he met them on the street. Dimitri wanted warriors, and their families were unimportant if they couldn't also be.
He groaned softly, and shook his head. Oh--
With a startle, he realised Combeferre had come up and was sitting beside him.
"Bonjour, Enjolras."
"Salut, Combeferre. Combeferre?"
"Yes?"
"What's your first name?"
"Edmond." Combeferre smiled. "After my father, and my grandfather. That makes me Edmond Combeferre III, doesn't it?"
Samuel nodded and closed his eyes. Combeferre's smiles always made him lightheaded. Suddenly he looked up. "Combeferre, I have some things to read, and--and something else I've got to study for school. May I read at your place? I--" He paused, searching for a justification for his request.
"Of course," Combeferre cheerfully interrupted his train of thought. "I'd be happy to have you."
"Merci," Samuel said softly.
Combeferre was the only safe thing in the world, he thought. There was something reassuring about everything he did and every word he said. If Samuel needed someone to tell things to ever, Combeferre was the person. He thought, perhaps childishly, that Combeferre knew the answer to everything.
It would, perhaps, have disillusioned him horribly to learn that Combeferre couldn't solve all the problems in the world with his sweet, friendly smile and his gentle voice.