Chapter 10: A Foot In a New World
For a reason that she could not quite put her finger on, Eponine still felt shabby while walking with Claudine in the Latin Quarter. It was more than just the woman's smart dress, or her confident manners, whether it was when greeting an acquaintance or reasoning with a shopkeeper. 'I could have been like her,' she thought as she and Claudine paused before crossing a street. After all she was an innkeeper's daughter, and that did confer some degree of respectability in her eyes.
"So you work?" she asked, by way of starting a conversation.
"Yes. I help out my father in his shop," Claudine replied candidly. "He's had a sort of shaking palsy lately, and though we have someone helping us out nowadays, there are some things he trusts only me to handle, such as the account books."
"Oh," Eponine murmured, raising the hem of her dress to keep it from falling into the mud. She had seen her father with his own grubby tallies of costs and charges back in Montfermeil, but she was sure they were quite crude compared to whatever work Claudine had to do. "Isn't it difficult?"
"Not really. It can be tiring, but I have been able to do it quickly enough, with practice."
Eponine nodded, trying for a moment to envision herself behind a desk, but she found the image far too jarring. She tugged at her sleeve. "How did you meet Citoyen Combeferre?"
Claudine took a deep breath. "He was there when my younger brother fell from a carriage." Her hands gripped her skirt. "Francois was walking and saw the whole thing. He had my brother brought to the Necker. He helped the doctors who tried to save him, but well, they tried." She swiped at her eyes and frowned at the stains on her glove. "Francois was so kind; we were friends for a long time after since he liked my father's library and I liked his library. That's how it begun."
Eponine raised an eyebrow, finding this tale much too tragic for her own taste. "Are you two ever going to marry?"
"Maybe, but not for some time," the older woman said, but her tone was one of contentment as opposed to the impatience that Eponine had been expecting. She looked around and smiled. "Well wouldn't you look at that, the bakeries are giving out free bread."
The young girl turned and saw a queue of people outside a large stall. Even from this distance the fragrance of freshly baked bread filled the air. Eponine was thankful that she'd had a little to eat back at Enjolras' apartment, otherwise the sound of her stomach rumbling would have embarrassed her. "Can they really do that?" she asked.
"Do what?"
"Give away so much bread!"
"The Republic pays for it, gives the bakers enough reason to do it," Claudine explained.
"Hah! They used to chase people like me away," Eponine said sardonically. "If I lined up..."
"You'd get a loaf for your household," Claudine finished. She bit her lip, as if she was unsure what to say next. "How did you come to know Citoyens Enjolras and Combeferre?" she asked in a whisper.
"I was at the barricade," Eponine said simply. It was all she was willing to speak of at this time. What was this new world anyway, the one that she had heard Enjolras speak of? Was it a world where bread was so easy to come by? Where did that leave people like gamins? She shook her head, remembering Gavroche. Where was he anyway?
"The one who is really more of a friend to them is my brother. He lives with someone else, Citoyen Bahorel now, I think. Do you know him too?" she whispered.
Claudine nodded. "Oh him? I've met him a few times. A very cheerful fellow, in a manner of speaking." She gently took Eponine's arm and led her to a shop window. "Here, let's get you some things that are more suited for you. The concierge's things are far too big and old-looking for a girl your age!"
Despite this sordid truth, Eponine managed to laugh. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the shop's interior: it was a clean and busy place, filled with swatches of exquisite fabrics and yards of lace. 'Not even Maman had anything so fine!' she thought.
Claudine walked up to the counter. "Chetta! Musichetta! Where are you?"
A rustling came from a backroom. "Ah, Claudine!" a melodious voice greeted as a fair, slightly buxom woman made her appearance. Her fingers were scarred and pricked from sewing, but her deep eyes were merry. She kissed Claudine on both cheeks. "Who's your new friend?" she asked cheerily.
"Eponine Thenardier," Claudine said, motioning for her companion to come forward. "Eponine, meet Musichetta Laurain. Chetta, meet Eponine."
Musichetta smiled warmly as she came out from behind the counter. "Of course you're here to get a dress for yourself, Eponine?" she said. "That shade of purple clashes with the color of your hair."
'Well what hair I have left,' Eponine thought. At least she could feel it occasionally brushing her shoulders. "I don't have any money," she said.
"Now don't you worry, I'll help you with it," Claudine said. "It's not a gift though; you'll get a job and you'll eventually pay back for your share, how is that?"
Eponine bit the inside of her cheek, unsure what to make of this idea 'I can't have anyone's pity...' she thought, but Claudine was offering her anything but that. She balked at the idea of a debt, but then again it wasn't as if she could go about so badly clad. "Fine then," she said.
"And how goes it with you lately?" Claudine asked Musichetta.
"With my young men or with my personal affairs?" Musichetta asked.
"The latter. I know of the former."
The seamstress' eyes flashed. "Damn that cholera. I've been doing two shifts in this shop ever since half the girls fell ill. We're lucky that two have come back."
"At least you live with someone who knows something of staving the disease away," Claudine said.
"Ah you know Patrice; he will make himself ill more easily with worry than with what he is actually studying," Musichetta said with a long-suffering sigh. She motioned for Eponine to stand on top of a small stool. "I suppose you'd want your skirt to fall to your ankles?" she asked as she began to take measurements for a simple dress.
"Can't it be longer?" Eponine begged. She'd seen Cosette's trailing dresses, and she'd envied them greatly. "I shan't get them muddy."
"That depends what you do," Musichetta said. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of Eponine's twisted hand. "Did you have a bullet go through this?" she asked in shock.
Eponine bit her lip, not wanting to answer this question. "It was a silly thing."
"My dear, I wouldn't call being at the barricade something so 'silly'," Claudine said.
'Well I was there to die,' Eponine thought but she shook her head to clear away these words. "I was wounded early, so I don't remember all that much."
"The more interesting part comes after the barricades, if you ask me," Musichetta said. "We get to see how these ideals do sound outside of the cafe." She smiled as she straightened up and went to fetch some swatches of fabric. "Here, you can take your pick. The blue cloth is very nice, but I think the green would set your hair off much better."
Eponine sighed as she glanced at the fabric, and then at a small mirror nearby. 'I can never be pretty, can I?' she wondered. There was no way that anything she had on would make her match up to Cosette, but it wasn't as if there was anything more for her to lose.