Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah…Eponine, Marius, etc….they're not mine…blah,
blah, blah
It was nearly two months after the night when the Comte had accepted Eponine as his daughter. Since then, Eponine still called the Comte "Uncle Erik", but they had grown so much closer. The Comte would take Eponine with him when he visited his groundskeepers, gardeners, farmers, and other tenants of the cottages on his land, which he tried to do each week. Every month, the Comte would travel through the town and visit the shopkeepers, blacksmiths, masons, and other working-class people of Riqueville. The Comte's count-ship wasn't incredibly demanding for Riqueville was a small town between the more important Le Havre and Rouen along the River Seine. Eponine's inclusion into his business was all so new to her, but she was managing quite well.
One night, as the Comte and Eponine sat in the music room after dinner and port, the Comte interrupted Eponine in the middle of her piano playing. He had seemed rather distracted during dinner and acted as if something was weighing heavily on his mind. Eponine had come to the conclusion that if he was going to tell her what were his thoughts, he would do it in the music room.
"Eponine, my dear." He said as he gestured for her to stop playing the piano. Eponine stopped, eagerly wanting to hear what he was going to tell her. Finally! she thought. I thought he was going to take an eternity to tell me!
"Yes, Uncle Erik?"
"Ever since we have become father and daughter, I have tried to include you into my business affairs. Well, now comes the somewhat political part of my business. There is a ball coming. I have ceased to go to most of them, but I go to one every once in a while to keep up appearances. They know that I am old, but you are not. You must attend, because one day you will become the Comtess de Riqueville."
Something stirred inside Eponine. Comtess! Her insides flamed with happiness at the thought that he was truly making her his daughter and planning to bestow upon her his living responsibilities. It was in every way a dream come true. Uncle Erik truly was her Fairy Godpapa! But wait! thought Eponine. The only time I can become Comtess is if my Uncle Erik passes away! He is the only soul who is genuinely kind to me! He cannot die! I no longer have Marius! Should I also lose Uncle Erik, I shall be destitute!
The Comte saw the amazement on her face turn into an urgent dismay. "Now, now, Eponine," he reassured. "I do not plan on dying any time soon if I have any say to it. I understand that my weakness for cigars is slowly shortening my mortal coil, and so I have resolved to only indulge on special occasions. I dearly love you, Eponine, my daughter, and I don't not think I'm wrong to say that you love me, too."
"I do, Uncle Erik! I do!"
"Good, then. No more tears. Let's talk more about this ball…"
* * * * *
The ball in question was to be a maquerade held in the nearby city of Rouen. Dukes, Barons, Counts, and some wealthy business owners were to attend. Masked balls were a favorite of many for the anonymity it offered. It was the perfect way to wedge Eponine into the life of a future Comtess.
Uncle Erik had a simple black mask to match the simple, yet stylish black suit he planned to wear. With Eponine, he ordered that she be dressed " to look every bit the part of a future Comtess. I want her resplendent in reds. When I see her dress, I want the words simple, elegant, and ravishing to jump out at me. Whereas her dress will be discreet sophistication, her mask must be extravagant! I want it to be the loveliest bejeweled red mask that ever graced a woman's face! Diamonds! Many, many diamonds! Red silk! Gold thread! And I want it to be designed in such a way that would make me that someone sold his soul to the devil to get it! In that "Guess Who?" ball, I want everyone to be pining to find out who that lovely red creature is!"
When the anticipated night finally came, Eponine stepped out of her room to find the Comte already waiting. She walked over to him and he had an expression of full approval on his face. Her dress seemed slashed by many shades of scarlet and her mask was a fantastic mixture of terror, beauty, and romance that covered her all her face except for her chin and crimson lips. Eponine was Desire incarnate. "My dear, you are absolutely breathtaking," he said. He held his arm out for her to take and they met the luxurious carriage waiting outside in the cool night air.
When they finally arrived at the grand Château de Rouen where the masquerade was being held, they were met with mob of curious onlookers. Whispers spread among the crowd and everyone couldn't figure out who in the world was that lovely vision in red. Eponine kept close to her Uncle Erik, afraid that she would get lost in the enormous ballroom that hosted a throng of masked strangers.
The ballroom was quite impressive. It had four gold and crystal chandeliers at each corner of the ceiling, but in the center, there was a magnificent chandelier that outshone the rest in detail and grandeur. The walls were crème with a golden marble floor. Everywhere Eponine looked, there were people in luxurious costumes and fabulous masks dancing, laughing, and drinking glasses of golden champagne. The masks ranged from plain to wild. There were many studded with expensive stones and other had feathers of many shades shooting out from the tops. Some masks were reminiscent of fairies with pastel colors and glitter all over them. Others were terrible and frightening with long crooked noses and sharp, evil eyeholes like demons. Some were misshapen goblins and others hair like trolls. It was like a nightmare and a dream all at once, but it was all very enchanting to her.
Throughout the entire night, she was never without a dancing partner. The Comte joined her in a couple of dances at the beginning of the evening, but tired soon, and soon she was swept away into the mass of dancers. To her surprise, she often found several men bowing to take her hand. After a few hours of so much dancing, she finally tired basically had to escape the room to keep from getting a dance proposal. She didn't even care if she got lost in the chateau, she was just to exhausted to dance any longer. She grabbed a class of champagne and a nibble of cheese from a couple of passing waiters before escaping through a door opposite the ballroom from where she and Uncle Erik entered.
She had entered a dimly lit hall that had only one other door at the other end. She went to the door at the end of the hall, the clicking of her hells echoing in the short hall. She was afraid the door was going to be locked, but when she tried the crystal knob, it turned easily as if it was often used. She could still faintly hear the music booming from the ballroom, but once she walked into this new room and closed the door behind her, the music seemed to no longer exist.
She wondered if the chateaux could read people, because the hall had led her to a music room. All around the large, domed room were musical instruments of various kinds. The room was immaculate, not a speck of dust on anything, as a result of regular maintenance, but it still looked as if the instruments were hardly ever used. In the center of the room, there was a lovely white grand piano that seemed to call her name. She walked over to it and sat on the bench ran her hand lightly over the keys. She got up and raised the lid to see if there were any complications in the mechanism of the piano. It seemed in good condition and left it propped up. She heard the rustling of papers and went around to see that there had been sheet music on the lid that fell when she lifted it. She picket up the booklet and read it as she went back to the bench and sat down.
Eponine set the music before her and tested the keys. They were perfectly in tune. Looking up to the sheet music, she began to play. The music was soft and romantic, yet full of a deep fervor of hidden angst. There was something dark in the lovely tune that the author of the music had seemed to catch perfectly. Eponine played the music expertly, binding herself to the music…her love, her past misery, her aching heart. She almost believed that an angel had led her to that room, and the piece had been written just for her.
Eponine closed her eyes and swayed as she played the music a second time, having branded the notes into her memory. The music was easy to remember, impossible to forget. Tears streamed down her face and soaked into the silk fabric of her mask and she seemed lost in the music. The ball, Uncle Erik, her past, even Marius…they were all forgotten as she slipped into the music.
Suddenly she was frightened out of her musical reverie when a man's voice, echoed by the large dome room, called out, "What do you think you are doing!"
It was nearly two months after the night when the Comte had accepted Eponine as his daughter. Since then, Eponine still called the Comte "Uncle Erik", but they had grown so much closer. The Comte would take Eponine with him when he visited his groundskeepers, gardeners, farmers, and other tenants of the cottages on his land, which he tried to do each week. Every month, the Comte would travel through the town and visit the shopkeepers, blacksmiths, masons, and other working-class people of Riqueville. The Comte's count-ship wasn't incredibly demanding for Riqueville was a small town between the more important Le Havre and Rouen along the River Seine. Eponine's inclusion into his business was all so new to her, but she was managing quite well.
One night, as the Comte and Eponine sat in the music room after dinner and port, the Comte interrupted Eponine in the middle of her piano playing. He had seemed rather distracted during dinner and acted as if something was weighing heavily on his mind. Eponine had come to the conclusion that if he was going to tell her what were his thoughts, he would do it in the music room.
"Eponine, my dear." He said as he gestured for her to stop playing the piano. Eponine stopped, eagerly wanting to hear what he was going to tell her. Finally! she thought. I thought he was going to take an eternity to tell me!
"Yes, Uncle Erik?"
"Ever since we have become father and daughter, I have tried to include you into my business affairs. Well, now comes the somewhat political part of my business. There is a ball coming. I have ceased to go to most of them, but I go to one every once in a while to keep up appearances. They know that I am old, but you are not. You must attend, because one day you will become the Comtess de Riqueville."
Something stirred inside Eponine. Comtess! Her insides flamed with happiness at the thought that he was truly making her his daughter and planning to bestow upon her his living responsibilities. It was in every way a dream come true. Uncle Erik truly was her Fairy Godpapa! But wait! thought Eponine. The only time I can become Comtess is if my Uncle Erik passes away! He is the only soul who is genuinely kind to me! He cannot die! I no longer have Marius! Should I also lose Uncle Erik, I shall be destitute!
The Comte saw the amazement on her face turn into an urgent dismay. "Now, now, Eponine," he reassured. "I do not plan on dying any time soon if I have any say to it. I understand that my weakness for cigars is slowly shortening my mortal coil, and so I have resolved to only indulge on special occasions. I dearly love you, Eponine, my daughter, and I don't not think I'm wrong to say that you love me, too."
"I do, Uncle Erik! I do!"
"Good, then. No more tears. Let's talk more about this ball…"
* * * * *
The ball in question was to be a maquerade held in the nearby city of Rouen. Dukes, Barons, Counts, and some wealthy business owners were to attend. Masked balls were a favorite of many for the anonymity it offered. It was the perfect way to wedge Eponine into the life of a future Comtess.
Uncle Erik had a simple black mask to match the simple, yet stylish black suit he planned to wear. With Eponine, he ordered that she be dressed " to look every bit the part of a future Comtess. I want her resplendent in reds. When I see her dress, I want the words simple, elegant, and ravishing to jump out at me. Whereas her dress will be discreet sophistication, her mask must be extravagant! I want it to be the loveliest bejeweled red mask that ever graced a woman's face! Diamonds! Many, many diamonds! Red silk! Gold thread! And I want it to be designed in such a way that would make me that someone sold his soul to the devil to get it! In that "Guess Who?" ball, I want everyone to be pining to find out who that lovely red creature is!"
When the anticipated night finally came, Eponine stepped out of her room to find the Comte already waiting. She walked over to him and he had an expression of full approval on his face. Her dress seemed slashed by many shades of scarlet and her mask was a fantastic mixture of terror, beauty, and romance that covered her all her face except for her chin and crimson lips. Eponine was Desire incarnate. "My dear, you are absolutely breathtaking," he said. He held his arm out for her to take and they met the luxurious carriage waiting outside in the cool night air.
When they finally arrived at the grand Château de Rouen where the masquerade was being held, they were met with mob of curious onlookers. Whispers spread among the crowd and everyone couldn't figure out who in the world was that lovely vision in red. Eponine kept close to her Uncle Erik, afraid that she would get lost in the enormous ballroom that hosted a throng of masked strangers.
The ballroom was quite impressive. It had four gold and crystal chandeliers at each corner of the ceiling, but in the center, there was a magnificent chandelier that outshone the rest in detail and grandeur. The walls were crème with a golden marble floor. Everywhere Eponine looked, there were people in luxurious costumes and fabulous masks dancing, laughing, and drinking glasses of golden champagne. The masks ranged from plain to wild. There were many studded with expensive stones and other had feathers of many shades shooting out from the tops. Some masks were reminiscent of fairies with pastel colors and glitter all over them. Others were terrible and frightening with long crooked noses and sharp, evil eyeholes like demons. Some were misshapen goblins and others hair like trolls. It was like a nightmare and a dream all at once, but it was all very enchanting to her.
Throughout the entire night, she was never without a dancing partner. The Comte joined her in a couple of dances at the beginning of the evening, but tired soon, and soon she was swept away into the mass of dancers. To her surprise, she often found several men bowing to take her hand. After a few hours of so much dancing, she finally tired basically had to escape the room to keep from getting a dance proposal. She didn't even care if she got lost in the chateau, she was just to exhausted to dance any longer. She grabbed a class of champagne and a nibble of cheese from a couple of passing waiters before escaping through a door opposite the ballroom from where she and Uncle Erik entered.
She had entered a dimly lit hall that had only one other door at the other end. She went to the door at the end of the hall, the clicking of her hells echoing in the short hall. She was afraid the door was going to be locked, but when she tried the crystal knob, it turned easily as if it was often used. She could still faintly hear the music booming from the ballroom, but once she walked into this new room and closed the door behind her, the music seemed to no longer exist.
She wondered if the chateaux could read people, because the hall had led her to a music room. All around the large, domed room were musical instruments of various kinds. The room was immaculate, not a speck of dust on anything, as a result of regular maintenance, but it still looked as if the instruments were hardly ever used. In the center of the room, there was a lovely white grand piano that seemed to call her name. She walked over to it and sat on the bench ran her hand lightly over the keys. She got up and raised the lid to see if there were any complications in the mechanism of the piano. It seemed in good condition and left it propped up. She heard the rustling of papers and went around to see that there had been sheet music on the lid that fell when she lifted it. She picket up the booklet and read it as she went back to the bench and sat down.
Eponine set the music before her and tested the keys. They were perfectly in tune. Looking up to the sheet music, she began to play. The music was soft and romantic, yet full of a deep fervor of hidden angst. There was something dark in the lovely tune that the author of the music had seemed to catch perfectly. Eponine played the music expertly, binding herself to the music…her love, her past misery, her aching heart. She almost believed that an angel had led her to that room, and the piece had been written just for her.
Eponine closed her eyes and swayed as she played the music a second time, having branded the notes into her memory. The music was easy to remember, impossible to forget. Tears streamed down her face and soaked into the silk fabric of her mask and she seemed lost in the music. The ball, Uncle Erik, her past, even Marius…they were all forgotten as she slipped into the music.
Suddenly she was frightened out of her musical reverie when a man's voice, echoed by the large dome room, called out, "What do you think you are doing!"