Morning Tidings
"Wake up, wake up now," Cosette whispered as she rubbed her feet. It was already morning, and she'd spent the night talking to Montparnasse in his small room till they'd both fallen asleep. Now, Cosette found that the rest of her was awake, save for her feet, which still tingled.
"Go to sleep, Cosette," Montparnasse groaned from his pallet. Cosette threw a blanket at him before opening the door and ambling out slowly into the hallway and into the kitchen.
The concierge was there, boiling some water. "Ah, good morning, Rosette...Cosette, am I right?" she asked.
Cosette rubbed her eyes. "Good morning, Madame. Where's everyone?"
The old woman shook her head as she pointed to the ceiling. "Tatiana is upstairs, with some man from the theater. Musichetta isn't home yet."
"And Claudette?"
"Still asleep."
Cosette nodded thoughtfully. "Madame, what work do they do at night?"
"You ask an awful lot of questions for a little girl---" the woman said disapprovingly before footsteps sounded in the passage.
"Ah, Monsieur Babet, are you sure you want to have breakfast here?" Tatiana said from outside.
"Better here than out in the cold," Babet's voice said, still cracked from sleep.
Cosette dashed out into the passage. "Tatiana! Monsieur Babet!" she greeted them loudly.
Babet, whose hair was disheveled and his clothes slightly rumpled, took a moment to comprehend the child's face. "You're looking well, little girl," he grinned.
Cosette peered at him, and at Tatiana. "You're in a hurry. You didn't dress up too good," she noted.
"Now, now, Cosette, don't disturb Monsieur Babet," Tatiana said, ushering them all into the kitchen. "Good morning, Madame Victurnien," she said to the concierge.
The matron rolled her eyes. "I will not have this place as a brothel, mademoiselle," she said, glaring at Tatiana.
"Oh, never mind her. She can prattle on, but I tell you, students are worse than we are," Tatiana said. "You were telling me of news?" she asked Babet.
Babet whistled as he ran his hands through his hair. "Some comrade of mine, Panchaud, went by La Force. Awfully interesting folk they have there," he said. "There's an old man they brought in recently, a quiet one who misses his daughter."
Tatiana sighed. "Oh, and why is he there?"
"A whole series of crimes, including escaping from the galleys,"
"What was his name?" Cosette asked.
Babet scratched his head. "They called him Jean, that's all. I can't remember very well."
Cosette tugged at Babet's sleeve. "Tell me more if you remember."
"Why would you want to know?" Madame Victurnien asked.
Just then, the kitchen door swung open. Musichetta entered, looking haggard and exhausted. Her clothes were not unkempt, however, and her hair was still neatly arranged.
"Chetta! What's happened?" Cosette gasped with horror.
Musichetta smiled weakly at her and brought out a small bag "I have it. I got the medicines."
"So quickly!" Tatiana exclaimed. "How did you get all that money? Who did you meet?"
Musichetta sat down wearily, but her smile was still triumphant. "I went about, spent some time with a man Bamatabois, then when he left, I went to see if I could meet anyone else..."
"What then?" Babet asked, now intrigued.
Musichetta laughed. "You wouldn't believe just who I happened to meet at the Rue de Gres..."