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On Sunday morning, Eponine was at the Musain. Somehow, she had found herself in a conversation with Marius again. She was surprised he still wanted to talk to her after she had refused to deliver any more letters, but here he was, sitting on a stool next to her. He looked conflicted and lovesick. Neither of these emotions were unusual for him.
"I'm so confused," Marius lamented. "I truly want to stand with my friends if the time comes, but I cannot risk losing Cosette so soon after I've found her! Eponine, what should I do?"
There was a time when Eponine would have been thrilled to have Marius ask her advice. Now, however, she simply found it annoying.
"I don't know," she said. "Why not ask Courfeyrac or someone else who knows more about relationships than I do?"
"I tried the other day," explained Marius, "but they said I talk about Cosette all the time-"
"You do," muttered Eponine.
"-and then Enjolras came over and started talking about how my love for Cosette is unimportant compared to the cause-"
"It is," said Eponine, again under her breath.
"-so I came to you. Please help me."
Eponine made a mental note that she had been Marius's last choice and for some reason found that rather amusing.
"What do you want to do, Monsieur Marius?"
"I want to be with Cosette forever."
"Then be with her."
"But I cannot abandon Les Amis."
"If you really believe in what they stand for - what we are one day going to be fighting for - then Cosette will understand. She should support you. But if you do not really care, it is not worth risking your life."
"I care," said Marius stubbornly.
"Then talk to Cosette. She is the first person you should have consulted. Besides, you have time. It is not as if the revolution starts tomorrow."
Marius blinked as though he had just been enlightened.
"You're right. I will go immediately. Explain my whereabouts to Enjolras, please."
"I expect Enjolras will be able to guess where you went," said Eponine as Marius dashed off. Glancing around, she realized suddenly that Enjolras was nowhere to be seen. Where is he?
Eponine suspected that Enjolras's wounds had been more serious than he let on. She wished she could visit him or contact him in some way, but she had no idea where he was and he had not yet responded to her last letter.
"Mademoiselle Eponine."
Combeferre stood next to Eponine's table, holding a map. "Would you help us with something?" he asked.
Eponine nodded, and Combeferre spread out the map on the table. "This is a map of Paris," he explained unnecessarily. "Enjolras told me that you have extensive knowledge of the streets, and I think that could be helpful. We may need to smuggle in supplies, which will likely look quite suspicious. Do you know of any streets that are not frequented by the police?"
Eponine studied the map and tried to reconcile it with her mental image of the streets and buildings of Paris. She had never seen her city from this angle before, but it only took a few moments for her to recognize familiar places.
She began to point at streets. As she spoke, Combeferre marked them with a pen.
"The police never go down this street. I don't know why, but they don't ... This one is an alley by the nearby bakery. I use it a lot ... You could run into officers here, but there are no street lamps, so if it is night you will be safe ..." Eponine paused to consider. "This street is really long, so you wouldn't have change paths much, but it might be out of your way ... Oh, and avoid this one ... and this one ... and this one, because you will definitely be caught."
Combeferre marked the last three streets with large black Xs and looked up at Eponine. "Thank you very much, Mademoiselle. This helps tremendously." He rolled up the map and inclined his head to Eponine before turning back to his friends.
"Wait, Monsieur Combeferre … please," she added.
Combeferre turned back with a raised eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Do you know where Enjolras is today?"
Combeferre frowned. "No, I do not. I think perhaps his recovery is taking longer than expected. Do not worry, though. He is probably just resting in the apartment." Despite his words, the concern did not leave his face.
Eponine nodded, biting her lip.
At that moment, another student appeared at Combeferre's side. His face was scraped and bruised, but he seemed unbothered.
"Why, hello there," he said to Eponine with a smile.
"Hello," said Eponine.
"Combeferre," said the student, switching his focus, "we have been here for an hour and there is no sign of Enjolras. I do not believe he is coming."
Combeferre sighed. "Yes, Bahorel, I was just speaking of that with Eponine. I would adjourn, but I think Enjolras would want us to keep working and making progress. With that in mind, how are you doing with the plans for the weapons?"
Eponine saw that the conversation had taken a turn that did not include her, so she moved away and gathered her small bag to leave the Musain. It was early, but she had already decided to spend the day looking for work of some kind. She would never be able to live on her own without a way of making money.
On her way out of the cafe, a frazzled young man ran past her. Eponine watched as he threw open the door and hurried inside. He looked familiar, and she thought he was one of the Amis.
What is going on today? wondered Eponine. Shaking her head, she shouldered her bag resolutely and went looking for work.
The next day, Eponine stood once again in the first spot she had gone after leaving her family's home: the closest bridge crossing the Seine. This time, it was not yet dark, and the river looked different in the fading sunlight. The bridge was one of Eponine's favorite places, but she only liked to come when the traffic across it was low.
Her job search the day before had been completely unsuccessful. No one wanted a dirty, undernourished street girl working for them … no one who did honest work, at least. Eponine would try again later, but now she had a new letter from Enjolras to read, and she was dreading it.
She stared at the letter without opening it, the edges of the paper beginning to crinkle from her grip. Obviously he had healed enough to write her, but what had he written her about? Surely he would not want a lying criminal taking part in the revolution, let alone want to be friends with said criminal.
Eponine decided that it didn't matter. She had gotten along fine without him for years, and she could do it again. Moreover, she would help the revolution whether he wanted her help or not. Before she could change her mind, she unfolded the letter.
Eponine –
You asked about Lamarque in your last letter, and there are very few words that I can say that would truly be able to do justice to him. He is a man who has always spoken for the people and stood by their side, and he is the only man in the government who does this. However, I have just been informed that he is very ill and might not last the week.
If Lamarque dies, the people will have no one, and that is when our revolution will begin.
Eponine looked up from the letter, eyes wide. She wondered if that news was what had bothered the young man who ran past her the day before. If Lamarque was truly about to die … Eponine's heart began to beat faster as she considered what that might mean.
Nervously, she continued reading.
This letter will also be short, due to the preparations I need to make for our next meeting. But before I go, about what happened the other night … you needn't blame yourself. I am just glad that you have left such a family that causes you emotional and possibly physical pain. People often say that I do not care about other's feelings, but that is vastly untrue. I care immensely for my friends, and you are a friend so … I care. All right, enough of that, I just wanted to be sure you knew that I forgive you (even though it was not your fault).
I will be all right, I promise.
Vive la Révolution!
-Enjolras
Eponine stared at the paper in her hand in disbelief. He was not angry with her. Moreover, he did not want her to stop coming to the Musain or to stop corresponding with him. He had called her … a friend.
Glancing up at the sky, Eponine realized that it was probably almost time for the upcoming meeting Enjolras had mentioned in the letter. She stuck the letter in her bag and darted off the bridge and down the street. One line of Enjolras's letter continuously ran through her head.
… the people will have no one, and that is when our revolution will begin …
… that is when our revolution will begin …
… our revolution will begin.
