Conscience Pricking

Six Rue des Filles du Calvaire

Jean Valjean could not sleep.

The old man got out of bed with the practiced step of one who has learned to move quieter than the still air. He put on his coat and headed out of his room, into the tranquil hallway.

The stillness of his surroundings held a sanctity that he was reluctant to break. "Would that I could stay here forever!" he thought as he went downstairs into the darkened front room. At his age, Jean Valjean was still sharp of eye and sure of step. He did not fear anything in this house, save for the sound of opening doors.

"I've stayed here too long. Every day that I am here, I cannot rest," he said to himself. True, he wanted for nothing; he was comfortable, he had the respect of men, and most of all, he ensured that Cosette was happy.

However, he could not banish the memories of Monsigneur Myriel, of Fantine, Javert, Petit Gervais, and all the people who for a while had vanished in the mist of his bliss.

Jean Valjean slowly went back to his room to contemplate the silver candlesticks he still kept on the mantel. He sat for a while, as if turned into stone, before turning to begin packing his things.

"It's 1833 in a few days. There, I must begin again."
Rue Richelieu

Enjolras made sure that all was quiet efore going back outside the tenement. He doubted that any cafe or bistro would be open so close to midnight, on Christmas, of all nights, but he preferred not to disturb anyone's sleep for the sake of a litle reading.

He shook his head as if to dispel a dark thought gathering in his mind. "A friend of Eponine had died at the barricades?" he wondered aloud. He recalled the names on the roll, the voices and faces he'd seen in the fight. "Unless...that wasn't his real name." he concluded.

Enjolras looked up at the streetlights, which threatened to flicker and go out completely. He recalled Eponine's sudden silence, and her reluctance to discuss the matter even with her sister. His mind drifted to the window, the old porter, the gunshot, and the horror that had happened after. He felt again the weight of the pistol he'd held that day, against another man's head.

"His name wouldn't be Le Cabuc, wouldn't it?" he said.

"If that was his name, I'll never know," a soft voice said from nearby. Out of the shadows, Eponine stepped forward. She was still in her best dress, but she had no hat, and her shoulders were barely covered by a shawl.

Enjolras glared at her. "Have you been following?"

Eponine looked down. "You looked rather sad. I...I was just walking around, like I do sometimes when I need to do some thinking,"

Enjolras nodded skeptically, unsure whether to believe her. "What name did you call him?"

"Claquesous. He was no friend of mine, but one of the Patron-Minette," Eponine replied. "Don't know why he was there at the barricade anyway. I guess it was a bad week for him, since I kept him an' the others away from Rue Plumet."

"Rue Plumet?"

"Where Cosette used to live. Where Marius would visit her."

"What were they...Patron-Minette...doing there?"

"They tried to rob the place. You know people like us. We'll get what we can,"

Enjolras crossed his arms. "I'm amazed that after all this time, you still consider yourself as incapable of doing good."

"I didn't know till the barricade that someone like you could do murder," Eponine said quietly.

"He killed, so I had to do execute him. I did not like what I did; it was awful, and his blood is on my hands," Enjolras reasoned. He knew she'd been there; he'd seen her in the throng. "You know that. You heard me, and I saw your stare."

"I could pity him a little , but I was afraid. Then, I wasn't sure anymore if I wanted to die with Marius," Eponine confessed.

"We never know our choices till we face them, All we can do is prepare for what may lie ahead,"

"Much like looking for a meal, or building a barricade?"

Enjolras felt a smile creeping on his face. Somehow, talking to Eponine made the most complicated things seem simpler. "We have a long day tomorrow," he said at last. "You'd better go home."

"Do you feel better?" Eponine asked, cocking her head.

"I need time to think. Alone," Enjolras said firmly.

Eponine shrugged. "You know where to find me," she said before walking back in the direction of her own flat. Time and again, she looked back till she got to the door of her home.

For a long time after Eponine was gone, Enjolras stood in the half-light, as if in a dream. He sighed resignedly and looked at his watch for a moment before heading off to find some refuge in slumber.