A Tale of Jondrettes

Cosette cautiously took a seat on an upturned cask while Eponine found a broken down stool. "So are you living in Paris now?" the older of the girls asked.

Eponine hung her head. "I don't like it here. Too many people. Our house doesn't even have a garden, and our concierge hates us," she said, tossing a stone against the cask. "I miss home."

Cosette sighed as she glanced at Eponine. The cheeriness had left Eponine's face, and her once rosy cheeks were now thin and drawn. "Why, what's happened?" Cosette dared to ask at last.

Eponine looked up, biting her lip. "No one came to the inn anymore. Well, Maman didn't want to sell it, but Papa said we'd have better luck in Paris," she whispered. "It's not fair."

Cosette gestured to her own darned clothing. "Paris isn't so bad. There's so much to do here."

Eponine's gaze now grew thoughtful. "Oh, what do you mean?"

"I'll show you. There's some people you could ask..." Cosette said more brightly, getting off her perch and heading back up towards the street.

Eponine followed suit after a few moments, but she walked more anxiously. "Where are you going any how?" she asked Cosette after a few moments.

"To the Sorbonne. There's a bakery not far from there, and there's someone I want to meet," the older girl replied. It was not far to their destination, but the sheer awkwardness of their meeting made the walk seem much longer than usual.

Finally, Cosette caught sight of a man painting fans at a small table. "Bonjour, Monsieur Feuilly," she greeted him with a friendly wave.

Feuilly looked up from his handiwork, a painting of a seascape. "Why, Mademoiselle Cosette. I still have the fan you wanted," he said, bringing out a fan decorated delicately with a rose border.

"I'll give you two francs for it, M'sieur," Cosette said. "It's terribly nice. You should be a painter of the first-class sort!"

The fanmaker blushed at the compliment, just as he realized that Eponine was also admiring the fan he had been working on. "It's not quite finished, Mademoiselle---"

"Jondrette," Eponine replied. "Eponine Jondrette."

Cosette stared at her confusedly. "What? Why a different name?"

"A 'stage name', as my father's friend Monsieur Babet liked to say," Eponine replied.

"Babet? You know him?"

"Yes, and what is it to you if I do?"

Cosette laughed and shook her head. "I would have told you to tell your father to ask him, but well, that makes things a little easier now."

Feuilly glanced at the girls curiously. "If you don't mind me asking, what is this all about?" he said after a time.

Cosette handed him the five-franc piece. "Nothing much, M'sieur. Just a certain arrangement, as we like to call it around here in Pantin."

"Pantin? You mean Paris," Feuilly said.

Eponine looked from him to Cosette. "I don't understand argot."

"I used to be a gamin once, till an artist was kind enough to take me in," Feuilly explained. "I had to learn how other boys liked to speak, otherwise I would have been in a great deal of trouble. Still, I find it better to have gone respectable."

"Ah, respectable," Cosette said wistfully. "Sounds like it would be nice for most other people. What gives you that idea?"

Feuilly paused, as if considering his words. He carefully counted out three francs for Cosette and handed the coins to her. "One day, you'll see," he replied quietly before turning back to his work.